Hello my lovelies! Sorry I haven't written anything for so long, I've had no ideas. This fic is just something for the wonderful people who have reviewed one of my stories. I'm just going to make it up as I go along.
If you've read my other fics, neither of them end well for Clary and Jace, and people seemed to like that. One day, I swear I'll write a happy fic, in light of the fact that Glass had a happy ending. But not now. This is my version of what might have happened if Simon hadn't interrupted Clary and Jace in Ashes. Enjoy!
"I wish I could hate you," he said, His voice was light, his lips curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I–"
Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?"
"What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everything about how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on a wall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall I'd be able to make myself stop."
Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded. "Do you think–"
"Do you think –" Clary broke off, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "What do you think, Jace?" she said finally.
Jace's face was masklike, unreadable. "I don't know what you think," he said quietly. "I have no idea what you think. Why else would we be having this conversation?"
The truth fell from her lips before she could stop it.
"I tried to make you go away," she whispered, her eyes on the ground. She could see her knuckles, white with her death grip on the blanket. "I did try, Jace. But I think about you. All the time. Every day."
A sudden rush of violent emotion filled Clary's chest. She couldn't exactly identify what it was; anger or sadness, love or hate, but it burst to the surface before she could stifle it. She flung her head back to glare at him defiantly, tears streaming openly down her face.
"And I hate it!" she screamed, and was rewarded with the shock that flickered across Jace's face at her outburst. "I hate that it's so hard, and that you can hurt me so much. I wish I hate you too, but I don't. I can't." Her voice broke, and she stared at the shock on Jace's face. She knew that he had never expected her to feel this way. The same way he did.
"Clary," he began, but stopped when she turned her head away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She hadn't meant to cry. Nice job, she told herself sarcastically. Really great composure. Just perfect.
She turned back to Jace, and looked at him, actually looked, as she had never allowed herself to before now. His face was the epitome of misery, his beautiful eyes wide with sorrow. A few golden curls fell over his forehead, shading his eyes. For a moment, he did not look like the fierce warrior she had come to love so much. He did not look like a young man whose sole instinct was to survive whatever was thrown at him. He looked like a boy, lost and abandoned, and she yearned to go to him, to smooth the hair from his brow, to hold him to her and comfort him, to wipe the grief from his face.
Jace returned her miserable gaze, and moved towards her automatically, his left hand outstretched.
Before Clary knew what was happening, she had dropped the blanket and was backing up as fast as she could. Her back hit the wall with a bang, her head cracking against the cold timber. Jace immediately stopped moving, hurt flashing across his face. The sight of his pain made her feel as though she'd just been kicked in the stomach. She turned away from him, her hair falling forwards to shield her face. "Don't," she said in an agonized whisper.
There was a pause. Clary realised that she was trembling, her shoulders shaking with her pent-up emotions. She glanced up at Jace through her hair. His face was completely blank.
"Clary," he began.
She couldn't help it; she shrank from him, pressing herself harder against the wall. If he touched her, it would all be over. She would do whatever he wanted. "Don't," she hissed.
Jace's beautiful face twisted in anger, and he strode past her. He didn't so much as look at her as he left the room
The door slammed shut behind him, and Clary was alone.
Hope you enjoyed that! Sorry it's so short. This is definitely NOT my best work, the writing quality is quite poor compared to The Mirror of Erised. My creative juices just weren't flowing. But I wanted to do something nice for all the people who STILL review my stories.
I do love the old Clary/Jace angst. All the fics now are about them making out. Now, I do have an inclination to write a fic where they do some good, WELL-WRITTEN making out, without the crass language that is so often used. If you would like something like that, something loving, review and let me know. Please read my other fics if you have time!
Please, review? Pretty please?