This is an idea for a one-shot that's been nagging me for a few weeks. It's Clace, because they are my OTP. It's not up for continuation.

It had been five years since I'd returned to the woods.

I used to come here everyday, with my parents when I was six years, to when I would wander around on my own at age twelve. Despite their immense size, I never got lost - in fact, I considered the size a blessing since it meant I rarely ran into people. I would always just wander, with no destination in mind, trying to lose myself in the peace of my thoughts and the peace of the woods.

And then the storm had hit.

The one that had dredged up the age-old trees like scallops in a fishing net, that had terrified the wits out of half the village of Alicante, that had left my forest in an almost unrecognisable state.

I'd come back once since: the day directly after the event. It had broken my heart to see the state that it was in, with trees having been wrenched up mercilessly and left to die.

I'd never come back since.

It had come close sometimes. When I'd discovered that my father, Stephen Herondale, had been cheating on my mother, Celine, the pain had threatened to cleave me in two. The part of me that craved peace and quiet had compelled me to go, to walk around and lose myself amongst the living trees the way I had for six years. But I remembered the broken scene that had awaited me when I last went, and the stifling, crippling hopelessness that had overwhelmed me, and I stayed away.

And then when my parents divorced and my father moved away, I suddenly found that there was no constant supporter at all my football games, or person to help me with my homework instead of lecturing me about the dangers of leaving it until the last minute. And I wanted things to be the way they had been, and almost walked back amongst the trees, where everything else was forgotten. But I remembered that nothing, not even the long-lived trees, was as it had been, and I stayed away.

And then when Kaelie, my girlfriend of five months, had broken up with me harshly and out of the blue, and I felt pain flash within me like lightning in a cloud, still, I stayed away, if only to keep myself from infecting my woods with my undeniable brokenness.

And now I walked amongst the February trees, stripped of their leaves, and observed just how empty the forest was in winter. Without the sun it was a mass of unadorned pale limbs, with no colour whatsoever.

I couldn't help but think that it reflected the depths of my soul. A once-vibrant barren wasteland with all the great pillars having collapsed in the storm.

The only difference was that my storm was much longer.


After a while of walking, I stopped. Up ahead I spied a little red bob. Confused, I looked closer.

If I was honest, my first thought was that you were a fairy. And my second was that I had gone crazy, or that I was hallucinating.

Then I recognised the girl sitting on the rotting log.

Clary Fray. Not one of the 'popular kids' at school, but not one of the 'nerds' either, despite your nerdy friend Simon. I'd always thought you fairly pretty in your own way. Not like Isabelle - stunning, flawless, and untouchable - but in a more natural, more human way. You never drew attention to herself, keeping yourself to yourself, and were one of the few people who didn't ever acknowledge to me in an either sympathetic or gloating way that you knew about my break up with Kaelie. You just didn't appear to care, content in your own world.

You hadn't appeared to notice me and I didn't announce my presence, instead just watching you for a moment. A sense of joy had always seemed to radiate from you, which only increased when you talked about your art. Whenever you did so your enthusiastic hand gestures would whip the peace you emanated into excitement and your eyes would sparkle in a light, carefree way. The heaviness that had burdened me since I stepped into the woods and seen all the fallen, leafless trees suddenly seemed less now I could sense your presence.

I was faintly astounded that I knew so much about you. I hadn't paid you that much attention had I?

Suddenly you put down your 2B pencil and sketchpad and packed them into the small satchel sitting next to you. You stood up, brushed the bits of rotting wood off of you, and turned around, locking eyes with me as you did so. You betrayed no alarm, or even surprise that I was there. It was like you had been expecting me to be there.

"You look sad" was all you said as you stood there in a light grey winter coat, and boots, with your satchel slung over your shoulder. The ends of your wildly curling hair bounced as they were buffeted by the breeze and your green eyes were wide with concern.

If you hadn't looked so calm in that moment, if I hadn't thought that you were simply asking because you cared whether people were in pain, then I would have snapped at you and walked away. But instead I simply said "It's depressing, how all the trees are still lying dead on the ground from the storm five years ago."

You smiled slightly at that. Your right arm clutched the strap of your bag. "The original ones, yes." You walked back over to where you'd just been sitting. You ran a hand along the broken trunk. "The original trunk was too large, and the tree had too little water supply to support the whole of it. So it left that part to die." Your hand came down the horizontal trunk to where the roots stuck high in the air, clumps of chalk hanging between them. Just where the main body met the roots, vertical, slimmer trees had sprung up. "So it grows new stems, that will be easier to supply, and will be able to reach the sunlight." You turned and looked me in the eyes. I vaguely wondered if you could see all the broken pieces of me swirling in them. "Never underestimate a living thing's will to live."

Then your solemn streak broke and you smiled a broad, mischievous smile. I stared; it was like the sun breaking out from behind a pale grey cloud. "Besides," you said, laughter ringing in your voice. You turned to a tree fairly near and hoisted yourself into the branches. "The new trees are amazing for climbing."

I just stood there, baffled, until you poked your head down and said in a teasing tone "What's wrong, Herondale? Don't know how to climb trees?" You laughed again and I was surprised; I didn't even think you knew my name.

I took you up on your challenge and totally showed you up when it came to who could climb the highest. We parted ways later with a solid friendship building, promising to do it again sometime.

As I walked out of the woods, I felt a tiny sprout forming inside me.

Like the fallen trees with water, I didn't have enough happiness to reform the Jace I used to be. But in the woods where we first spoke, you gave me enough happiness to form a new one.

And I like this Jace much better.


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