First off, a bit of honesty.
1. I HONESTLY don't like Clary Fray very much at all. I don't know if it's because she's too timid for my liking, because she "stole" my hair color *Si, I am a redhead.*, or because her boyfriend is the smexiest thing to ever walk this Earth and I'd give up all my lugnuts and body glitter to even MEET him. Regardless, I like The Mortal Instruments. The plotline, the characters, the setting... Everything.
2. This is HONESTLY my first real fanfic, so please be HONEST and nice cause I'm a sensitive person. Actually, I'm not. But just for sake of argument, let's pretend that I am.
3. I'm HONESTLY a bit random and weird, so I'm sorry in advance if that leaks into the story somehow. If you think something is wrong with the way I wrote a part of it, let me know and I'll do my best to make it better.
4. I'm HONESTLY not Cassandra Clare. Sad, I know. In my mind, Cassandra Clare is actually the Seelie Queen. Don't ask why, but that's my mind!
5. This is HONESTLY a long AN... so... ON WITH THE STORY!
(First chapter has been revsied to avoid some confusion. Sorry and thanks for all the reviews!)
Jocelyn Fairchild woke with a start. Something was amiss, she could feel it in her bones. Though it had been years since she fled the Shadow World, her Shadowhunter instincts never left her. She scanned the room she was in, prepared to meet certain death, or perhaps find that she was already dead.
The ceiling was stark white. In fact, the entire room was stark white. The walls around her were painted the same color as the ceiling, and there was a startling absence of pictures. As she looked down, she noticed she was laying in a bed with clean, white sheets and metal railings on either side of her arms. As she lifted her right hand, she found wires and tubes coming from it. An I.V. was stuck into her wrist, just below her palm. As her heartbeat quickened, she began to pull on the wires in her arm.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice came from her right. She jumped at the sound, afraid because moments before, she'd thought she was alone. When she searched for the source of the voice, however, she noticed a colorful teenager leaning against the wall and looking on with a bored expression.
"Wh-who are you?" she stammered, unsure of what was happening. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, telling her she must find someone immediately. Though she couldn't remember anything. She didn't know where she was; and she didn't know who she was talking to.
The boy pushed himself off the wall, and walked over to her, his hands in his pockets.
"Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn," he said, thrusting his hand toward her for a shake. Hesitantly, she stuck her hand out as well.
"Well, I'm Jocelyn Fairchild. I'm not really sure what--" she trailed off, suddenly unsure of anything. She took a deep breath and began again, "I'm Jocelyn, but I'm afraid that's all I can tell you. I don't remember a thing."
The High Warlock of Brooklyn furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, staring at the redheaded woman on the bed. After a moment of thought, he snapped his fingers and smiled brightly at --what must have been-- a moment of illumination.
He moved closer, placing a hand to the middle of her forehead. Jocelyn's eyes widened as he touched her. Something about this was all so familiar.
"Look at me." It was a simple command, and if it had come from any other person, Jocelyn Farichild would have fought it; but his voice was so hypnotic and trusting, she couldn't say no. She simply stared into his cat-like eyes, which seemed to change color. As she looked deep into them, she suddenly remembered everything.
"CLARY!" She screamed, throwing the covers from her and running out of the room and down the hall in nothing but a hospital gown. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she probably shouldn't be running after being in a self-induced coma for the Angel-knows-how-long. At the moment, however, she couldn't bring herself to care. Her daughter was in trouble.
She'd almost made it to the elevator when her legs gave out from under her, and she sprawled head-first onto the white and blue tiled floor. She groaned, her energy already quickly fading. Some sadistic, self-mocking part of her began to wonder: if she'd been asleep in a coma for however long it was, why was she so tired?
When she lifted her head, prepared to make it to the elevator door by whatever means necessary, she saw a pair of shiny black shoes step into her vision. Her body immediately tensed as she prepared to face her ex-husband Valentine.
"You know, I could have helped you," Magnus Bane said from above, amusement leaking into his implied offer.
"Help. Now." she grunted from the floor. She was exhausted, there was no way she was making it to her daughter's side alone. She had to struggle just to get two words out.
"Magic word?" he requested, blue sparkles protruding from his fingers as he said it.
"Please?" she said. As soon as she requested, she felt two cool hands under her arms lifting her dead-weight body from the ground. When she was standing, she began to sway. After a minute, the stars in her vision faded and the hall stopped moving as much. When she was completely normal, she turned her attention to the warlock.
"What happened, Bane? Where is Clary?" she asked, knowing she sounded harsh. She couldn't seem to care, however. Her child was in danger and it was all her fault.
He quirked a smile at her request, apparently amused about something. "The short one is just fine, though I think you may need to conjure up a few explanations for her."
"What is that suppposed to mean?" Jocelyn said through gritted teeth.
"I'll explain on the way," he said, pushing the elevator button.
"On the way?" she asked, suddenly confused. She'd been asleep all this time, and she had no idea how she got to this hospital or what had happened to Clary or Luke. Her heart constricted at the prospect of Valentine discovering the whereabouts of either of her loved ones.
Magnus strolled into the elevator when it reached their floor. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, however. He held the doors open as Jocelyn shakily walked into the metal box and stood beside him. Three seconds after the elevator had begun to descend, he hit the stop button on the control panel, and snapped his fingers.
A large, gaping hole with swirling light of all different colors opened in front of the Shadowhunter and warlock. As Jocelyn squinted her eyes against the bright light, she asked, "Magnus, where exactly are we going?"
He looked at her, a smile forming on his face. He placed a single hand on her shoulder and looked back to the portal.
"Idris."