Valentine's Arrow

40: Now, Death Has Parted Us Forever

The roof had always been Rebecca's favorite place to sit. Isabelle and Clary had joined her ten minutes ago, but neither of them had said a word, and Isabelle had simply squeezed her sister's hand in a reassuring sort of way. And they waited in silence for the Council's verdict. With every passing minute, the heavy feeling in her heart was diminishing, replaced by a jittery anxiety so intense that she shuddered.

Years passed before the door to the roof opened and Alec came out. The three of them were on their feet in an instant. Rebecca waited for Isabelle to say something, but she remained silent. She had been quiet ever since they had returned from Edom; the only time they had really talked after coming back was when Rebecca had shown Alec and Isabelle her birth certificate, and explained who her parents really were.

She missed Simon terribly, Rebecca knew. After all that had happened, the only things they had found solace in were each other's company. So when they stood up, Isabelle didn't let go of Rebecca's hand.

"It's bad," Alec said hoarsely. "The Faeries... they've been ordered to disband their armies. They can't carry weapons anymore."

"And Mark?" Rebecca said frantically, her throat dry. "What about Mark?"

Alec's blue eyes were dim. "He... they're not going to do anything about him, Becca. Since he's a part of the Wild Hunt now, there's nothing they can do."

Rebecca felt numb all over. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing did.

"Helen is being sent to Wrangel Island to work on the wards," she heard Alec say.

"What for?" Isabelle demanded. "Just because she has faerie blood?"

"That's horrible!" Clary said. "That's horrible! What about Aline?"

"Aline's going with her," Alec said. "There's some uncle that's coming to take care of the Blackthorn kids and the girl- Emma."

There was silence as everyone digested the information. It stretched on for so long that Rebecca thought she might scream, just to fill in the silence. Finally, Alec retreated back down the steps, leaving the three of them on the roof.

Izzy stared out at the city skyline. She had the sort of fixed stare that said, I'm trying not to cry. When she looked back at Rebecca, there were tears standing in her eyes. "I want to tell you something," she said. "And I don't want you to hate me."

"I couldn't hate you."

"Not possible."

"It's almost worse," Isabelle said. "than if Simon were dead. If he were dead, I could grieve, but I don't know what to think- he's safe, he's alive, I should be grateful. He isn't a vampire anymore, and he hated being a vampire. I should be happy. But I'm not happy. He told me he loved me. He told me he loved me, Becca, and now he doesn't even know who I am. If I were standing in front of him, he wouldn't recognize my face. It feels like I never mattered. None of it ever mattered or ever happened. He never loved me at all." She swiped angrily at her face.

"I hate it!" she broke out suddenly. "I hate this feeling, like there's something sitting on my chest."

"Missing someone?" Clary said.

"Yes," Isabelle said. "I never thought I'd feel it about some boy."

"It's not just some boy, Iz," Rebecca said softly. "It's Simon. And he did love you. And it did matter. Maybe he doesn't remember, but you do. We all do. And that's how we can keep him alive - by remembering him the way he was."

Isabelle didn't reply. What could she say? When someone has lost so much, can words offer any semblance of relief? Probably not. So they didn't say anything more. They just sat there, side by side, shoulders touching. And for a while, they felt a little less alone in this cruel world.

The evening air was dry and cool, sending strands of hair whipping across Rebecca's face as she stepped out of the Institute and drew her hood up. What she was about to do was against the Law, she knew. But for some reason, that didn't scare her very much. She wasn't sure anything ever could, not after what she had just been through.

Walking through the streets, riding the subway - it all felt like she was in a dream. Everything seemed so... mundane. But despite the surreality of it, it was a relief to finally be able to move around unnoticed, without people whispering and pointing at her as if she was an interesting yet dangerous specimen that had been set loose, as had been happening the past few days. In the bustling streets of New York City, no one gave her a second glance.

It was a short ride to Queens. Rebecca hurried past evening commuters, people walking dogs and chattering school children until she reached 68th Street. It took her a few minutes to find #11 - a two-storey brownstone with a plain white door. Scented geraniums grew out of flower pots placed on the window sill, nodding merrily in the breeze.

This was it.

Rebecca couldn't muster up the strength to climb the steps. She couldn't move. A lump formed in her throat. She had been so focused on actually finding the place, she hadn't thought about what she'd do once she found it.

She gazed at the door. Her parents were behind it - her real parents. The ones who had given birth to her. And the same ones who had given her away.

Mustering every bit of courage she could, Rebecca slowly walked up the steps, and rang the doorbell. She could hear its shrill echo from somewhere inside the house.

For a few agonizing seconds - seconds that seemed to last years - there was silence. Then footsteps sounded behind the door.

Rebecca had the mad urge to run. She could leave right now, pretend that she had never found out her parents' address, put it all behind her and move on-

The door opened.