Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lucie turned to the boy at the window with wide eyes. “What?” she gasped, unable to put together a more sophisticated question in her surprise.

Jesse shrugged. “It’s all right. I don’t expect anyone to, really. No one knew me.”

Lucie shifted her body to face Jesse directly, her surprise morphing into concern. “What on earth do you mean no one outside your mother and sister mourned for you? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Jesse Blackthorn.”

Jesse only eyed her, his arms crossed before him. “My uncles didn’t know me, Lucie. Nor did my aunts or cousins. Why would they mourn someone they did not know?”

Heat burned in Lucie’s cheeks down to her neck. How absolutely self-deprecating, she thought to herself. Does he really think uncle Gabriel and uncle Gideon didn’t grieve him?

“They did,” she scolded. She stood from her desk and straightened her skirts. “I’ll prove it to you.”

This time, Jesse’s face did change. He looked wary. “You’re not going to command me to time travel, are you? I don’t think I can do that.”

Lucie huffed as she pulled on her evening coat and gloves. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jesse,” she said. She held her chin up high. “We are going to have an evening stroll to Bethnal Green to pay visit to our mutual uncle.”

“Bethnal Green?” Jesse replied with a long exhalation of breath. “By the Angel, Lucie, at this time of night alone? Absolutely not.”

“I won’t be alone,” said Lucie, gesturing to him. Jesse only gaped.

“I don’t count!”

“Fine,” Lucie snapped. “It’s only dusk anyway.” She took a step forward to stand before him and look up. “You leave me no choice. Jesse Blackthorn, I command you to take us to Uncle Gabriel’s front door.”

Lucie knew Jesse wasn’t happy with her, but at the moment, she did not care. She wanted to prove to him that his mother had been wrong: his uncle were not monsters and cared about him very much. She straightened her skirts once more before giving Jesse a pointed look and knocking on the door.

Footsteps grew louder beyond the door. Uncle Gabriel appeared once it had opened and his eyes widened in surprise. “Lucie?” he exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here by yourself? Your father is going to have my head. Come inside.”

Lucie only smiled politely and stepped inside.

Her Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel’s home always smelled the same: of smoke, chestnut, and baby powder. She could hear Christopher clanking and tinkering away from his room on the second floor. Aunt Cecily’s voice drifted in from the parlor, where she was no doubt trying to convince Alex to eat his dinner while he refused for no reason other than to be particularly difficult. There were traces of the cologne Thomas wore though he had since moved back to his parent’s home to be with them and Eugenia. Lucie’s heart clenched.

“Are you all right Luce?”

Uncle Gabriel had his arms crossed in front of him, but he did not look angry. He looked as if he was analyzing her face for signs of distress as if he was prepared to shed his suit jacket for gear at the drop of a penny. He and her papa were similar like that, though neither of them enjoyed hearing it. “Yes, I’m all right uncle,” Lucie said with a smile. “I just wanted to visit. I had something I was hoping to discuss with you, if you had the time.”

This did not ease the concerned look on his face, but his shoulders relaxed. “Of course I do,” he said. Lucie thought he would say so—it was always made clear to her, her brother, and all her cousins that if they ever needed anything, at any time, that they could go to uncle Gabriel. He led her over to the sofa before the furnace. Lucie sat herself down and removed her gloves, placing them neatly on her lap. “What’s going on?” he asked her again.

“I was thinking about Barbara,” she said hesitantly. She knew it would be a sensitive topic; not only because it was so recent, but because she knew Uncle Gabriel had a particularly close, special bond with Barbara, having been his first niece, the very person who made him an uncle in the first place. His eyes glazed over in a defensive silence; he was definitely still hurting. “And how we all miss her terribly. It—It got me thinking...”

When the moment came, Lucie suddenly hesitated. Was it right to potentially put her uncle through more pain to prove a point? But Uncle Gabriel eyed her, worried. “Lucie?”

Lucie blinked and was back in the moment. She couldn’t hesitate now—no, not with Jesse standing beside her in a tense manner, having never been this close to Gabriel in life or in death. She wanted him to know that his mother had been wrong.

“Do you ever think about Jesse?” Lucie blurted, her breath hitched in anticipation. Uncle Gabriel stared at her in surprise.

“Jesse?” he asked, incredulous. It was obvious that he was not expecting to hear her say that. “Why are you asking about Jesse?”

Lucie bit her lip. “I just—I spoke with Grace and I wonder what it must have been like. To know you had family but could never see them and had never met them. Barbara passed much too young and so did he, but we got to know Barbara; not many of us got to know Jesse.”

She felt a pang of regret in her chest at the sadness in her uncle Gabriel’s eyes, but he nodded. “I always thought about them,” he answered gently. “All of them. My sister, Jesse, and Grace. I wanted so badly for them to know that Gideon and I cared and wanted to be a part of their lives. Tatiana—she is one to hold a well-aged grudge. I had hoped she wouldn’t have made her children a part of it.”

“I met uncle Gideon,” Jesse said suddenly, almost as a whisper. Lucie acted like she hadn’t heard him, for she did not need Uncle Gabriel to think that Jesse’s ghost was beside her.

“Uncle Gideon met him,” Lucie added with hesitation. “Jesse, I mean. Didn’t he?”

“He did,” said Gabriel. The house was eerily silent of other voices, only the crackling fire filling the silences between them. “Technically I did as well, your aunt and I. Jesse was only an infant then. He wouldn’t have remembered me.”

Lucie continued, despite knowing the sensitivity of the subject. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I know very well that you are a great uncle, Uncle Gabriel. I wish Jesse and Grace had had the chance to learn it, too.”

Gabriel smiled sadly. “I offered Grace the choice to stay with me,” he said. “Gideon did, as well. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she declined. It must be easier to live with complete strangers than it is to live with family you’ve never met. No expectations.”

Before Lucie could speak again, he continued. “I think I know what you want to ask, Lucie. It’s all right. I did grieve Jesse’s death.” He paused, took a deep breath, then continued. “I cried, I got angry, I cried again. I regret not trying harder to get through to Tatiana so Jesse could form his own opinion of me. I should have tried harder to be an uncle to him.”

Jesse made a pained sound beside her but said nothing. Lucie felt sadness for them; uncle and nephew, separated by death but seated only a few feet away from each other, unbeknownst to one party.

“Here’s the thing about grief, Lucie,” uncle Gabriel said. “It never truly goes away. You see it in your father, don’t you? I see it in Cecily. They both grieve their parents, your grandparents, all the time along with your Aunt Ella. I grieve for Barbara; that wound freshest of all. I grieve my own parents, and I hardly even remember my mother. You don’t need to know someone to grieve them; sometimes, you grieve the missed opportunity. I didn’t get to know my mother or Jesse and yet I still grieve them both.”

Gabriel rolled up his sleeve to reveal his mourning rune, fresh and glistening, identical to the runes worn by the rest of the family. On closer inspection, Lucie could see the faded edges of past runes beneath it; past mourning runes.

“I wore my mourning rune when Jesse passed in this same spot,” Gabriel told her. “Right where I could see it daily and where others could see it as well. To remind me never to take life for granted, and to be the best brother, father, husband, and uncle I can be. When Barbara—” Gabriel paused, swallowing an obvious lump in his throat—“When Barbara passed, I was in so much pain, and angry that the world had taken another precious, undeserving life from us. Jesse did not deserve to die and neither did Barbara.”

Lucie suddenly noticed the tears streaming down her face. Uncle Gabriel leaned over and placed a hankerchief in her hand and Lucie desperately wiped at her face. She sniffed, then said, “I don’t know how much grief I can take.” She tried to ignore Jesse’s concerned face beside her and only looked at her uncle. “I remember when my grandparents died. I still hurt about Barbara. I was terrified for James and Christopher.”

At Christopher’s name, uncle Gabriel’s pained expression returned. “Nephilim life is dangerous, Lucie,” he told her. “I was thankful that you children were able to grow up in a largely peaceful London. I would have been a fool to think it was going to last forever.” He turned to her. “That is why we still trained all of you. To be prepared. Training keeps us alive, Luce. Training kept your uncle Gideon alive when we were younger. Training kept your aunt Cecily alive only a few years ago. And your training kept James alive.”

Lucie fought to deny uncle Gabriel’s claim. She knew very well it was Jesse who kept James alive, not her. “If Tatiana had been trained, do you think Jesse would still be alive?”

His face did not change. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Jesse was sickly. I suppose we’ll never know if training would have saved him.” He sighed and sat up taller, his hands pressed on his knees. “All I can do now is do everything I can to keep the rest of you children safe. To do for all of you what I could not do for Jesse, and I was not fast enough to do for Barbara. Grace Blackthorn, included.”

Lucie glanced at Jesse. Despite being a ghost with no real form, she could see the hint of tears in Jesse’s eyes. Bright green eyes, she noticed, that he shared with uncle Gabriel. He was not looking at her but at Gabriel, with a sense of sadness and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, though his intended recipient could not hear. “For looking out for Grace.”

“What are you looking at, Lucie?” asked Uncle Gabriel, attempting to follow her line of sight. To him, she was looking at the furnace, but Lucie knew with a soft sense of bittersweet that Gabriel was looking right at Jesse.

“Nothing,” she said softly. “Only thinking. Thank you, uncle.”

He smiled. “Will you tell her?”

Lucie blinked. “Tell who what?”

“Grace,” he answered patiently. “You said you had spoken to her. Will you tell her that Gideon and I are here for her, should she ever want it?”

“I’ll tell her,” said both Lucie and Jesse at once. Lucie suppressed an ill-timed giggle. “I’ll be sure to tell her. Don’t worry.”

Lucie turned to leave before pausing, a brief, comforting thought coming to her. “For what it is worth,” she said to her uncle. “I think that somehow, Jesse Blackthorn knows you loved him. And I’m sure he’d be grateful to know that you will look after Grace.”

She nearly cried at the look on her uncle’s face, so grateful and hopeful. “You don’t—You don’t see him, do you?” he asked carefully. “He’s not trapped here?”

“Oh,” said Jesse beside her.

Lucie forced a smile. “No, I don’t see him,” she lied. “You needn’t blame yourself, uncle. He must be in a better place.”

It was another bullet on the long list of lies Lucie Herondale was now harboring.