Disclaimer: I do not own anything... Unfortunately.
Hey, this is Lily. How this will work is my best friend and I will take turns writing chapters but plan it out together and everything. This is my chapter as you can see. Our first shot at a fanfiction hope you enjoy!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Clary! Can you give me a hand with this?" Luke called, grunting under the weight of the box he was holding.
"One second," Clary mumbled, focused on the picture she was sketching.
"CLARY!"
"I said one second!" Clary said louder, tilting her head up, eyes closed. She looked down at her drawing, the beautiful city of Alicante warped under her pencil tip. It had been almost a year since she had been there anyway and longing to go back was somewhat empty. Clary's hand came down on the paper, twisting it in her fist. She just couldn't get the detail right. Each picture felt like something was missing, something vital and important. She let go of the crumpled sheet, letting it fall to the floor of Luke's pickup truck with the rest of her failures. With a small sigh, she reached for a new piece of paper and laid it across her lap. Clary squinted at her fresh piece of paper, imagining Idris as she'd like to remember it: The fireworks, Jace's arm around her, the smiles, the celebration. Nothing before had ever been like that to Clary and never again would it be exactly the same if she ever witnessed it, participated in it again.
She suddenly became very aware of a presence near her. Clary looked up, the shadow falling on her. He was in the direct path of the sunlight and it made him a silhouette. Luke was standing there, hands on hips. Gray parts of hair shining in the sunlight, seeming to sparkle at her.
"Been busy?" He asked, looking at the floor of his car. Balled up works of art littered the ground.
"Very," Clary answered, hopping out the door past Luke. He was bent down, carefully unfolding the papers one by one. She stretched her muscles outside, realizing how her foot was asleep. How long had she been sitting in the car? She was about to ask Luke this when she noticed how quiet Luke suddenly went.
"These are very good," Luke said softly, putting them down and reaching for another box -this one marked fragile- out of the trunk. Clary shrugged, embarrassed of leaving her pictures out like that. None of them were really any thing to gawk at.
"They're just random drawings," Clary said, kicking at a piece of grass. She knew Luke knew otherwise. They weren't just random, they were the Shadowhunter's home. Even if they did not have a house there, they would always have a home there. She thought of Amatis, Luke's sister, with her graying hair and the way she had acted when Luke showed up with her dying in his arms. The way she thought she should act because of Valentine.
"Well," Luke broke the silence awkwardly, "They're still very good."
Clary smiled a hard smile, the bitter taste of Valentine's name in her mouth. She felt the sudden urge to spit, to rid herself of the foul flavour. She shook her head silently and helped Luke get a box. Several boxes lay in the corner of the back of the trunk, all marked Weapons, all staying currently untouched.
Clary opened her mouth, about to say something to break the echo of Luke's last words when her mother showed up.
"Guys! What are you doing? Boxes won't unpack themselves." Jocelyn Fairchild said, poking her head in the door, looking at Luke. Clary was also looking at Luke, struggling to move the box out the car door. Jocelyn's eyes scanned the car's floor and Clary could tell, even though some were still balled up and twisted, that she was making out the images.
"Clary," Her mother said, expressionless, "Can I speak to you?"
Clary sighed, guessing what she wanted to talk about. She had tried to bring it up so many times but Clary had told her each time that it was fine, it was great, nothing was better. This was the response that she knew her mother had wanted to hear and it wasn't a lie. It really was what she had hoped for, in a way.
They walked away from the car until they got to their new house's wall. Clary's mother took her daughter's hand in hers.
"Clarissa, I know you keep saying that you're okay with this but I know how different -how strange this must be for you. Us moving in with Luke, with a new house on top of that. I just-"
"Mom.I am fine with this! Actually," Clary thought for a moment, "I am more than fine with this! I am ecstatic with joy over this! I am bursting with happiness!"
"Clary..."
"Mom," Clary whispered, squeezing her mother's hands, "I am seriously, truely, undeniably okay with this." She wished her mother would just leave it alone, seeing as Luke was staring at them curiously now. Her mother still had a disbelieving look on her face and Clary couldn't take it anymore. She dropped her hands out of Jocelyn's and ran to get a box.
Parents. What's with them not trusting?
Jace grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, reaching at the same time for his stele with his other hand. His mind flashed briefly to the manor house where Clary had lost his. He quickly erased the memory, although some of it was pleasant. He shook his head, as if to clear it of all thoughts. He left his room, marching towards the library, not for the books but for the people he was hoping to find there.
"ALEC! IZZY?" Max. The word played in his mind until Jace called out again, "ALEC? ISABELLE?" His voice echoed off the walls until realized he was alone. Where are they? He thought, turning around to walk to the door. Each room now had somewhat sour memories, even if they had been just memories before. Hodge sitting in the library, Hodge giving them their lessons and there was Hodge at the Gard... Jace, He told himself, stop it. Right now was the present and that was the past.
He left the library in a hurry, pulling on his jacket. He needed to get out but he knew he didn't want to get out alone. "Alec? Isabelle?" He walked up the stairs, poking his head in Isabelle's bedroom. It was empty. Probably out with Simon, Jace thought with disgust. He knew calling out for her would be useless. "Alec! Where are you?" He walked past several doors until he got to the one he wanted. "Alec?" He asked, pushing the door open.
His eyes widened when he walked in. There was Alec but he wasn't alone. He was with someone. A very glittery, cat-eyed someone. He was perched on the bed, spiked hair drooped slightly. At first they seemed not to notice Jace, who stood in the doorway, not daring to make a sound. Alec's hair was messed almost to the point of bedhead, and he was pressed up against Magnus, hands around him. Jace thought they would realize that he was there but he knew they were oblivious to the world. Jace couldn't take it anymore, "Now, I don't mean to intrude but..."
The sound that Alec made, a part choking-part gasping-part swearing sound, would always be burned in Jace's brain. "Jace!" He shrieked, nearly falling off the bed in the rush to button up his shirt. Magnus glared at Jace then rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he did it.
"No need to pout, Maggy poo, I shall be leaving if your busy?" Jace sneered on the last word in amusement, enjoying the look that flashed in the warlock's eyes.
"Don't be an ass," Alec muttered, his face still red, "What do you want?"
"Once an ass, always an ass," Jace grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe, "Want to come hunting?"
Alec's eyes narrowed and his lip twitched up slightly. "Did you ask Mum?"
"Of course not. Why? Is she ironing your favorite pants again?" Jace knew he was hurting Alec but a little sarcasm every now and then wouldn't kill him. Alec should know better than to make out with a warlock with his door open by now. Alec blushed, cursing silently but Magnus brightened. "Oh, the pair with the sparkly stripe on the side? I like those." Alec stared at Magnus, hoping he would get the message.
"No, Jace, she's not ironing them because they're wash and wear," Alec mumbled, getting off of the floor. "Jace, I don't think you should go out demon hunting after the lake."
"Oh, you don't think I should do you?" Jace's face was full of mock surprise, "Well, now, that's just too bad because I'm going out anyway."
"Jace..." Alec cautioned, taking a step towards him. Jace backed out of the door, smiling sarcastically.
"As you were," Jace said as he started to walk away, his stele gripped tightly in his hand. He held the stair railing on his way down and quietly, from Alec's room, he heard, "I'm going to have something cooler to say than him one of this days. Just you wait."
Jace grinned as he took the stairs down two at a time, his thoughts on where he would hunt still uncertain. New York was lousy with demons anyway, he would find one soon enough. He walked to the weapons room, filling his belt with seraph blades and a dagger or two. His hand slid across the sharp side of one, relishing the slight sting of pain. A thin line of red followed and Jace didn't wipe it away. He stared at it for a long time before he brought the blade down on his hand again and again and again. When he looked down at his palm he saw what the blood spelt. Clary. He rubbed his hands together, smudging the blood. He knew it wasn't forbidden anymore and it was so hard to keep his happiness inside of him but sometimes he forgot. Forgot that he wasn't Clary's brother anymore, forgot that their relationship was fine, forgot that he wasn't a sick-minded person for loving his sister in a way he shouldn't have. But she wasn't his sister anymore, never actually was. Jace, he told himself, why can't you just shut up?
He started towards the door, watching his feet. He didn't bother lifted them and they scraped against the cold floor, sometimes leaving small, if not unnoticable, marks. His thoughts were still turned to Clary, the way she seemed so ... delicate. He gritted his teeth, wishing she was a mundane so then he would always know she was safe.
"Going somewhere?" A voice came from the doorway, a shadow against the night.
"What's it to you?" Jace smiled, showing his bright white teeth.
"Oh, you know how I cry when you're away, how my inside's ache at the loneliness and-"
"What do you want, Isabelle? If you're just here to try out some lame sarcastic remarks on me, I'll be sure to be on my way." Jace had already started to push past Isabelle but she didn't seem to want him to go out anywhere.
"Jace," Isabelle's voice was softer now, pleading, "Please, not tonight."
"Not tonight what?" Jace was confused, especially at Isabelle's gentle tone.
"Don't go looking for a fight tonight, stay home! We can watch a movie or something." Isabelle's eyes, like her voice, were digging into him, begging him to stay.
"Oh, not you too!" He threw his hands in the air and collapsed, cross-legged, on the floor, the casual stance of his shoulder's swayed while he leaned on one arm. "Between you and Alec, I have a fairly good set of parents."
In the darkness, Jace could see Isabelle's eyes narrow. When she spoke again, she still had her soothing voice but there was an undertone now, something telling him that she probably didn't have the best day today. "Jace, you're still not well enough to go demon hunting, do you think we don't all know that? You may have healed almost all on the outside but-"
"Isabelle..." Jace said, looking at his hands.
"Yes?"
"Please shut up and move over so I can leave."
Isabelle glared down at him, hands on her hips, her whip in one hand, "You're impossible!"
"No," Jace corrected her, putting one finger in the air and waving it at her, "I'm impeccable. It's a totally different matter."
Isabelle's hand tightened over her whip and then he could tell from the slump of her shoulders that she had given up. Jace tensed. It was so unlike Isabelle to give up a good ragging, or to give up anything. Her whip uncoiled and, as she walked away, it dragged behind her.
"Isabelle?" Jace's voice was full of actual concern. He had never seen Isabelle like this, and if he had it had been swift and short-lived. He scrambled to his feet, the slight weight of the numerous weapons slowing him down just a bit. "Isabelle?" He could hear the click of her heels going up the stairs. She was moving and she was moving fast.
He hurried up next to her but she didn't look at him. He finally stood in front of her and held one of her wrists. "Isabelle, what's wrong?"
Each word that she spoke came as a cold slap afterwards, "I lost a family member before and I can't stand to lose one again but you're only thinking about yourself, not caring about the pain." Her voice rose and he flinched, "Not caring about the hurt." He dropped her wrist and stared at her, realizing what he had done in the weapons room.
"I did shut up and I did move over, now," Isabelle's voice was cold as she stepped around him, "Leave."
Jace stood there, searching her face for a clue to make her feel better. For a hint on a way to comfort her. He found none. She side-stepped him and hurried up the stairs, not looking back. Jace stood there, thinking about what he should have said and what he should have done but knowing it was too late now.
He dashed down the steps, grabbing at one of the daggers and racing to the door before he could make hell with another Lightwood. They all seemed to be out to get him today. Even Alec. Alec, his parabatai. He ran his hand through his blond hair, tousling it as he reached for the doorknob. The door swung open before his fingers connected with it and he took a step out of the Institute before realizing his magical powers hadn't opened the door, Maryse Lightwood had. Great, Jace thought while he stared at the mother of the Lightwoods, I guess I'm still being haunted by Valentine's ghost.
Maryse smiled pleasantly at him but he knew the loveliness wasn't all it was cracked up to be, "Where are you going?"
"Out." Jace replied, trying to think of a way to get past her without seeming all too rude. He snorted internally, what was politeness to a demon hunter? But then, a small voice whispered at the back of his head, what was politeness to Jace?
"And by out, I will assume you mean in because, Jace, you're not well enough to go demon hunting."
Jace's jaw tightened, leaving a taste like copper in his mouth. "And by out, I'll assume I mean out because when a person generally says out, that usually implys out."
"Jonathon-" Maryse began.
"That's not my name. I am Jace and Jace shall be on his way."
"Jace," She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead as if to cover her face. "Do you really want to get out-"
He cut her off, "Yes."
Maryse, put both her hands to her sides and straightened up. Her black hair was so severe and her face equally strict. "You cannot go out tonight and that's final."
Jace was taken aback, his eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly. He took a step back, lightly putting the dagger back into his weapons belt. In the corner of her eye, Maryse could see a slight movement and saw that he was already stocked on fighting gear. She put one hand out, her hand not shaking at all. Silently, Jace drew the dagger out again and put it in his mother's outstretched hand. Her fingers curled around it and put it down at her foot. Her hand came again. Jace drew weapon after weapon into Maryse's hand.
"Now," She said when a huge pile of daggers and swords were resting at her feet, "Bed."
His lip curled slightly upward and his eyes shone of disbelief. "I'm almost eighteen! You can't send me to bed at 8:00." He chuckled out loud and stuck his hands in his pockets when he realized how quiet Maryse was being.
"Bed." She said softly.
"You're serious?" Jace's hands fell limply to his sides when the old words of his late father rung in his ears. To love it to destroy. Going to bed wouldn't kill him but it would be a big blow to his self-esteem. He met Maryse's eyes and slowly, turned, and went up the stairs. When he was walking away, about to close his door with a click he heard her voice again, talking to her husband.
"I don't think he should go out again. The world's just too big for him."
Jace's mind was abruptly filled with nothing but fury and involuntarily, his hand shaped itself around the door and slammed it behind him.
"Is that the last box?" Clary asked between gasps for air. Her hair was matted with sweat and her fingers were coated with grime. She pushed the hair off of her forhead, leaving dirty marks behind. At the moment, she couldn't have cared less.
"I think so," Her mother said, wiping her forhead with a washcloth, "I hope so."
Together, they collapsed on their new couch in their new home. Jocelyn wound her arm around her daughter's shoulder and smiled, "It's all ours, honey."
A couple of coughs came from the door way and they both turned. Luke was standing in there, eyebrows raised, head cocked ever-so-slightly to the right. Clary's mother caught on before she did.
"Oh right," She said, giving her daughter's shoulder a squeeze, "It's all ours and Luke's."
"Much better." Luke grinned while he strided over to them, smelling suspiciously of sawdust. Despite the smell, Luke radiated happiness off of him and couldn't seem to stop smiling. He put his arms around them both, leaning over the coffeetable to hug them. A woodchip dug into Clary's shoulder but the pain it brought was almost pleasant because it took her mind off the ache in her legs and arms for a few seconds. The pain of it was like the stele drawing a rune on her, possibly in the shape of a woodchip.
"Whoa," Jocelyn said, finally seeing Luke close up, "Did you brush yourself off before coming in here?"
Luke's eyes darted sideways before resting on Jocelyn again. He gave a weak smile. "Should I have?"
She rolled her eyes, "Yes." Then, they were all laughing. The joyfulness was contagious like a yawn but much more pleasant. She couldn't remember feeling this way in a long time and her laughter choked in her throat a bit. Suddenly, everything felt a little too perfect, a little too right. Stop that, she told herself, you're just getting paranoid after all the stuff that happened. Another voice in her head argued with her, of course she should be paranoid, besides it was more like aware anyway. She had every right to be aware. But, the first voice whispered, there was such a thing as being too aware. A shadowhunter can never be too aware, the second one scolded. Yes they can, the first one said angrily, and it's called being paranoid. So, Clary's own thoughts sighed for once, we're back where we started.
"-Then we could hang one of your pictures here," Luke said, cutting into Clary's little moment of oblivion. Clary sighed, not because of Luke but because of the ongoing battle with herself.
"Tired, honey?" Her mother said in a gentle voice, giving her a light hug, "It's been a busy day, go get yourself in bed." Clary sat there for a few moments in the comfort of her mother's arms. She realized then she couldn't have forced herself to move even if she had wanted to. She stretched her legs out in front of her and took in a deep breath, still smiling.
"No thanks, I think I'll sit here and relish Luke's ideas for decorating," Clary looked at Luke as she said this and she could see a light sparkle in his eyes. It wasn't one of anger, it was one of happiness. Nothing could break into his ecstasy today, not sarcastic remarks, not heavy boxes or dirty dishes and not-
The doorbell rang and no one else moved. With a groan, Clary heaved herself up, shaking off Jocelyn's embrace and heading towards the door.
"Simon?" Clary said in surprised after she had opened the door.
"The one and only," Simon threw his arms out but from the flat tone of his voice and the droop of his posture, Clary knew something wasn't as perfect as she hoped the world was at the moment.
"Come on in. You haven't seen the new house yet, have you? My bedrooms upstairs and it's got-"
"Clary," Her mother called from the other room, "Who is it?"
"An evil vampire who is here to suck my blood." She answered at a yell. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Simon weakly grinning.
"Oh," She heard Luke say, "Simon, eh?"
Clary shook her head and grabbed her best friend by the wrist, pulling him up the stairs and to her new room. The room was a bland pinkish-beige at the moment but she barely looked at it as she closed the door behind them, the only thing she was looking at was Simon, her expression expectant.
"Spill it." She said, sitting on the bed with her arms crossed. She knew that she was filthy and that she probably getting her bed dirty but she barely gave that a thought.
"Spill what?" He answered, going to sit cross-legged beside her.
"You know... the beans!"
"I don't have any beans. Are you implying something?"
"SIMON." Clary said, reaching over to push Simon off the bed and he toppled to the floor in laughter. Clary knew it was a voluntary fall because his strength was much greater than hers now. Clary savoured the sound of his laughter, thinking how it sounded like it always did. Letting it fill her up like food, breathing it in. Laughter. So some things were still the same. She smiled at the thought.
"Seriously though," She grinned down at him, "What's got you all upset?"
"What makes you think I'm up-"
"You're stalling," She pointed out, giving him a small kick with her foot. He had made no move to get up, not even to right himself. Maybe vampires could be comfortable in any position.
"Am I?" He said, raising one eyebrow. He gave a crooked grin but no light was shining in his eyes.
"Simon!"
"Okay, Okay." Simon finally pushed himself on to his stomach and gazed up at her through his eyelashes. "I think I really hurt Isabelle."
"Super vampire strength got her, huh?"
"You know what I mean." Simon looked in no mood for jokes anymore and Clary pressed her lips together. His expression was close to murderous and Clary had the sudden urge to burst into tears. She wondered if looking deadly was an effect of vampirism because no matter whatever she had said or done, never had Simon looked like this.
"What happened?" She said softly, looking out the window that was directly over her bed. She couldn't really see the window, she was just looking away from the hard set of her best friend's face.
"Well, I couldn't just go between Maia and Isabelle, you know odd days for one and of them and even for the other, because I would end up hurting both of them and considering one is a werewolf and one is a Shadowhunter, both of them would end up hurting me. So I obviously had to make a decision and-" He said, making wide hand gestures that would turn violent if he did them any rapider.
"Wait," She cut in, "You chose Maia over Isabelle?"
"Yeah." Simon's voice was as miserable as he looked at the moment and Clary was shocked. If he was upset that he chose Maia over Isabelle maybe he should have chosen Isabelle but it was his life and Clary had to stop intruding in it before she got hurt.
"Well, there's got to be a first for everything."
Simon shook his head grimly, not looking at her anymore. "I don't think you get it. She's a Shadowhunter, Clary. A Shadowhunter." He enunciated the last one very clearly as if she had never heard the word. She narrowed her eyes.
"And?"
"And now I'm waiting for Alec to come bursting in my window with about 3 daggers, two serpaph blades and several other weapons in which to kill me with."
"Oh, come on." She laughed, shaking her head as she spoke. "That's insane! -"
Simon blew a sigh of relief.
"-You know Alec wouldn't come alone! Magnus would be with him if not his father and possibly his mother too." She finished.
Simon sucked the breath back in almost inaudibally. "Thank you so much Clarissa. This is what I have friends like you for." His sarcasm stayed in the air for a few moments longer and then he stood up and turned towards the door.
"No!" She called the second he twisted away from her and even with his back facing her, Clary could tell he was smiling, "Don't go. I was just kidding."
Simon plopped to the ground again and whirled around to face her. "So now what?" He said.
"What do you mean, now what?"
"What do I do?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Clary," He was pleading now. "You're a girl. What would you do if you were Isabelle?"
Clary thought for a moment, "Well, first I would print off your picture, stick it to my wall, throw darts at it while I'm holed up in my room not letting anybody come near me. Then I would mess my room up and not brush my hair and-"
"Let me rephrase that: What would you do if you were Maia?" Simon repositioned himself, straightening up and sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of him.
"If I were Maia, I would want to be with you right now." Clary whispered as gentle as a feather's kiss, "I would want to hear how you gave up someone else for me. I would want to know that I'm wanted. I would want you."
He looked up at her and smiled, the lightest smile she had ever seen Simon wear but it had every unspoken thing in it. Everything she loved to see but wished she never had to witness again. Why can't you just be happy that he's with someone who loves him? The voice said stubbornly in her head. But she already knew the answer to it, it was because he had always loved her and now seeing someone who could make him happier than she could was like a cold poke in the stomach. Not entirely painful but not pleasant, something you wished never happened at all.
"You would do that?" Simon said quietly.
"If I were Maia." She reminded him hurriedly.
"If you were Maia," He repeated, eyes staring off in the distance. Clary's inside's clenched, the words playing over in her mind. If she were Maia then she could make Simon happy, she could always be with him. Forever. Clary knew that their time wasn't exactly limited but it would end. She would grow, she would age and she would die. Simon, beautiful immortal Simon, would never get older and she would have to live with it. Slowly, she got up and went to sit in his lap like she would to her mother when she was a child. Still looking away, he rocked her gently as if he knew what she was thinking.
"Don't worry," He breathed, "I'll always be there for you." She knew this couldn't always be true and she started shaking a bit.
Cold, silent tears ran down her cheeks and, as she reached over and hugged him, fell onto Simon's shoulders. Clary held him tight, her face pressed into his neck, trying to forget that no heartbeat met her own.
Jace had practically memorized his ceiling as he lay on his bed, fuming. How dare she, he thought angrily, who does she think she is? I am not a child anymore and I can make my own decisions. As he thought the last words, a new idea popped into his head. Carefully, he reached over and threw open his window. The chill of the open window sent a shiver down his spine. He gulped in the night air as if he had never breathed before and it sharpened his mind. Taking on more deep breath, he plunged himself into the darkness of the night. This was a decision he was making because he was not a child anymore. It was later than he had realized and he wondered how long had he exactly been staring at the ceiling of his room. He shook his head and took a deep breath, gliding smoothly down the side of the Institute. He hit the wet ground with the sound of mud getting stuck to somebody's boots when he realized that leaving his window open might be too obvious. Don't be predictable, he thought as he cursed and started the journey up the wall again. The trip down again was faster because now he was in a hurry. His hand went to his pockets just as he remember that Maryse had taken all of his weapons away from him. Basically, anything could be used as a weapon but, out here behind his house, all he could think of was to rip a tree out of the ground and fling it at somebody and that wasn't even for an emergency. While he was looking around, a familiar voice sounded out.
"Jace? Jace!" Alec called, and Jace could see the outline of his head poking out the window. He froze, hoping that Alec would just think he imagined him and get back to whatever he was doing. He remembered a trivial fact, how a dinosaur couldn't see you if you held still. Or was that a bunny that couldn't see you if you held still? He didn't care. Alec was neither dinosaur nor bunny.
"Jace, what, in the name of the Angel, are you doing out there?"
So he did see him after all. With a sigh, he answered.
"No four walls can contain Jace Lightwood." He had started to walk away now, not really in the mood to stop and chat.
"Jace, you better-"
"Oh, and Alec?" He said, smiling, "Tell your mother that the world is my playground and I intend to push many little kids off of the monkey bars." His voice rang out in the night, as confident as it could be.
"Ja-" Alec sounded urgent now and more of his body was hanging out the window.
"Good day Alexander," With a flourish, Jace gave a sweeping bow and walked nimbly away. Alec could do nothing but stare after him as the shadows swallowed him up.
He turned and faced the other person in the room.
"So," Magnus said, hands in pockets, "Now what?"
"Well," Alec said, "How well can you impersonate Jace?"
Maryse slowly came up the staircase, grief weighing down on her chest like bricks. Each breath she took felt like one taken under water. She knew she had upset Jace but nothing on earth could have made her let him go out that night, nothing on earth had been stronger than her crushing need to protect her new youngest son. Tears pricked her eyes but refused to fall. Not even one rolled down her cheeks. When she reached the top of the stairs, she hesitated. She knew how angry Jace could get when she treated him like that but that's what mother's do, be protective. Jace just couldn't understand that. Slowly, slower than she had been coming up the stairs, she headed towards the only door that stood blank. It could have been anyone's room but it had an owner. An owner who was possibly sulking in there right now. She took a deep breath before even considering what she would say to him. 'I'm sorry?' 'I wish it never happened?' You could wish as hard as you wanted but wishing never changed a thing. She knew how true that was.
Maryse brought her hand down on the doorknob and turned it. The door creaked lightly as she pushed it open fully before even putting one foot inside Jace's room. The light's were off, she noted and it was very dark in there, seeing as the window was closed. She reached in and, with a quick flick of the wrist, light flooded the room. She then looked inside. With a smile, she saw how nothing was out of place. Out of all of her children, he had always been the neatest but it had begun to reach the point of obsessiveness.
There was a curled up figure under the covers of his bed and Maryse was surprised that for once Jace had listened to her. She took a step forward and then another and another until she was looking down on the cluster of blankets on his bed. She touched a spot she assumed was his elbow and shook it lightly.
"Jace?" She whispered, a smile touching her thin lips. She remembered how she stand here, long after he had fallen asleep, and sing to him. A la claire fontaine, She thought, M'en allant promener. Il y a longtemps je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai. J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle, que je m'y suis baigné. Sous les feuilles d'un chene, je me suis fait sécher, Il y a longtemps je t'aime. Jamais je ne t'oublierai. There were many more verses, in fact, there was a hole other part but it had been lost in Maryse's mind.
"Jace?" She said louder, shaking him a bit harder. She was beginning to get worried. She reached the front of the covers and drew them back. When she saw what was under there, she gasped out loud.
"Magnus?" She almost shouted in shock. The warlock smiled at her from in the bed. She was at a loss for wards when Alec rushed in. She turned to him, hoping he would be as surprised as she felt.
"You're a warlock, for gosh's sake!" Alec threw his hands in the air, "When I told you to be Jace, you could have done better than that."
Clary embraced Simon for what felt like a massive amount of time but she could not bear to let go. She could almost tell he felt the same way. Soon though, he pulled away and smiled at her while he gently moved her off of his lap. She could do nothing but stare at him.
Simon cocked his head and looked at her, his eyes exhausted. "You soaked my shirt." He motioned to the large wet spot that started on his shoulder and rolled down his chest.
"Sorry," Clary muttered, looking away and out her window. The sky had darkened considerably and she wondered if Maia was still out, prowling the night and maybe howling at the moon. Simon said something back but she did not catch it. She put her hands to her eyes and wiped away the last of the wetness. With a jolt of surprise she realized there were barely any tears left and her cheeks were amazingly dry but she knew they were only saved from her salty tear water by having the tears fall onto Simon. Clary stood up and stretched her muscles. Simon followed although Clary knew it was more a reflex than anything now.
"Go," Clary said, her voice hoarse.
"What?" Simon looked confused and a little bit hurt. He had on the face that she recognized to be his thinking face. He was wondering why she might be mad at him and why she would want him to go.
"I mean," She said with a small smile, "Go get Maia."
"Um, okay?" He still had a confused air about him but the hurt had completely vanished. He returned her smile like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
She pushed him out the door but he struggled against her hold, "Wait, what am I supposed to say to her? What if she doesn't want to speak to me? What if I can't find her? What if-"
"It'll come to you," She replied, fresh out of better advice.
"But Clary-" He whined, as he was pretty much catapulted down the stairs and into the new house's front doorway. She pushed him still, giving him a little elbow.
"No buts. Go get her, tiger." She smiled as she slammed the door in his face. She waited about three seconds and then the doorbell rang. Laughing, she blew open the door, already speaking. "Simon! I mean it-"
But it wasn't her best friend in her doorway, it was a more fair haired person, one with Marks up and down his body.
"Jace?"
His smile was dazzling. He threw his arms out. "I'm moving in with you!"
"WHAT?"
Nothing about his expression changed, not one muscle moved. He was still smiling and he still held his arms out. The only thing that happened was that he took a step forward and his voice rung out.
"Surprise."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reviews are better then running out of windows.
Lily