Title: Always (1/1)
Author: veiled_shadow
Fandom: Mortal Instruments
Rating: K+
Pairing:Luke/Jocelyn
Spoilers: City of Ashes
Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments belong to Cassandra Clare. No rights infringement intended.
Summary: Jocelyn runs after Luke after he tells her he loves her at the end of City of Ashes.
Author's Note: I've noticed there is very little Luke and Jocelyn related fanfic out there so I thought I'd fill the gap as I think their story is just so bitter sweet. This is the second of the series so far. The first was the very short drabble Brocelind Forest.

Always

I love you, Jocelyn

Luke's heart throttled against his ribcage as he walked out of the living room and away from her. And although he had promised he wouldn't bring it up again – never out loud - the words lingered in his head, thick and heavy, pressing against his temples to the point of pain. Yanking the door open he stepped out into the fresh air, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the memory of her silence; her green eyes startled like a deer caught in headlights.

He'd always expected her rejection but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. His chest was tight, as if someone had placed a hard kick to it and it made it hard to breathe. And really, he should have known better. He should have followed his gut instinct to keep quiet. He had her and Clary and it was enough. It had been. But then Clary had given him hope; a spark that had started off small but had bloomed to probe his curiosity until he could no longer stand it. I love you, Jocelyn. I have for twenty years.

Walking with a determination that he hoped would counteract how awful he felt, Luke squared his shoulders and hurried along the canal path. The sunlight glinted brilliantly off the canal's surface and he could hear the splash of water, the playful shrieks of children, but he left them behind, taking a sharp left onto a wide, cobbled street, filled with the shouts of men and women as they hauled away debris that still littered the ground.

Even though he knew how devastating the attack had been – he'd been in the midst of it after all - it still shocked him to see how many people were wearing their white mourning clothes as he weaved his way towards Angel Square. Their faces were hard – warrior's faces – but their grief was palpable. It hung in the air, clinging to the walls of the shops with their smashed windows and the cobblestone streets still stained with the remnants of ichor and blood.

The angel Raziel rose above the square tall and victorious. Despite the damage to most of Idris the statue remained untouched: perfection in chaos. Moving on towards the Accords Hall he could have sworn he heard someone shout his name, muffled in the crowds but he dismissed it, continuing towards the waterfall of white steps. But then it came again, louder this time and he stopped.

'Luke!'

Luke turned, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and then he saw a flash of red hair and a figure running towards him. His heart thumped. Jocelyn.

Her chest was heaving when she finally reached him, and she panted for air as she pushed her tangled hair back from her face. She straightened up, her eyes softening as if she was looking at him for the first time, and she raised an arm as if she was going to reach out for him but then thought better of it, letting it drop back to her side. 'Luke', she said quietly.

He stared at her warily. His glasses had slipped down his nose and he desperately wanted to push them back up but he was so tired. He waved a hand at her dismissively, unable to bear the pity laced in her voice. 'It's fine, Jocelyn. I said we don't have to talk about it'.

The hardness in his voice – something so unlike him he knew – took her back and her eyes widened in surprise. He went to turn, unable to look at her anymore but she made a strangled noise, grabbing for his arm. 'No! Luke wait! I want to talk about it'.

'Well no offence, Jocelyn, but I don't think I can right now'.

'You don't understand', she insisted, but her voice wavered and he looked down at her sharply, surprised to see her eyes were glazed over with tears. 'I didn't know Luke,' she said softly, loosening her grip on him. 'When you proposed in Paris I thought you were just being kind'.

Her green eyes pierced into his and he could tell she was waiting for him to speak – to say something – but the words caught in his throat. How could he tell her that asking her to marry him had been the most selfish thing he'd ever allowed himself to do? He desperately wanted to look away, but she looked so distraught he stood transfixed, watching as she swallowed and then more words came spilling out; a tumbling confession.

'You're always so kind, Luke. I couldn't let you give up your life for me, and I couldn't let you raise a child that I thought might be demonic. I thought I owed you that much at least, after all you'd done for me. Leaving you at the airport was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. We grew up together. You were my childhood. And I was so alonein New York. I was too scared to really get to know anyone in case they found out who I was. Things got better once I had Clary, she was just so perfect, but something was still missing. Until you turned up and then despite everything – being scared Clary would find out about what we were – I always, always wanted you to stay'.

Luke thought back to him turning up at her door, bedraggled and homeless, to find a little girl with fiery red hair – Jocelyn's hair - looking up at him with big, green eyes. His heart twisted and a wrenching pain shot through him as his chest tightened into a knot.

'That's not enough', he interrupted sharply. Unable to look at her any longer he fixed his gaze on Raziel; the elaborate bronze carving flashing bright in the sun.

Jocelyn shook her head and her hair rippled over her shoulders in a fiery wave. 'You haven't let me finish,' she insisted. She loosened her grip on his arm, sliding down to find his hand, her long, thin artist's fingers threading through his. She stared at their intertwined hands and her voice dropped vulnerably. 'You saw me in the Accords Hall when Clary drew the rune, didn't you? I heard you say my name'.

Luke managed a curt nod, dragging his gaze to their hands and trying desperately to ignore his thumping heart.

'I saw Clary,' she said softly. 'But if I hadn't seen her it would have been you'.

Her confession was met with a stunned silence. Luke stared at her incredulously. Of all the possibilities, he'd not expected that.

'Don't leave Idris,' she finished quietly. 'Be with me and –' She paused worriedly, and he realised save for a few words he'd stayed eerily silent for a very long time. She swallowed, struggling to keep her tears at bay. 'Please Luke'.

As if she couldn't bear his silence any longer she stepped towards him. He could feel the heat of her body as she pressed against him, and he couldn't help but think how perfectly her small frame moulded against his, as if they were two puzzle pieces designed to fit together.

'Lucian,' she breathed, her eyes full of a fervency he'd never seen before. And then she was reaching up, closing the last distance between them as she brushed her lips against his.

It was a gentle and tender kiss – as if she was testing his reaction – and it was then that he snapped out of his daze, pulling her closer to him, biting back a quiet moan as she gasped into his mouth in surprise. And then his hands were in her hair as he kissed her with the ferocity of twenty years of pent up love as his heart burned.

They were heaving for breath when they finally drew apart. Jocelyn fists clutched at handfuls of his jacket with a dependency that made him wonder if she was about to fall over, and he slipped his hands down the length of her back, coming to rest at the arch of her spine, his thumb gently stroking the skin where her shirt had ridden up. He rested his palm against her warm cheek.

'You came,' he murmured.

Jocelyn wound her arms around his neck and kissed him again as if she couldn't quite stop herself. And that alone, Luke thought, was enough to tell him that this, all of this, had been worth it, because by the Angel just one kiss had made up for the pain of loving her in silence for all of this time.

She smiled up at him. Her words were a breath of fresh air against his cheek; 'Always.'