Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments
Word Count: 6,838
Genres: Family/Angst
Rating: T
Warnings: Abuse, gore, lots of angst, and, worst of all, ducks.
The Thirteen Fears of Jace Lightwood
Because even the almighty Jace Lightwood has fears.
1. Storms
The thunder boomed outside of the Wayland Manor as four-year-old Jace Wayland hid underneath his covers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His body was shaking, even though Jace pleaded himself not to. He so desperately wished that he could run to his father's room and have his father hold him, but he knew that Father would not be proud of him for being afraid. He wanted Father to be proud of him.
Because when his father wasn't proud of him, he was upset. And when his father was upset, he was angry. And when he was angry, he hurt Jace, one way or another.
And when he hurt Jace, Jace died a little more inside.
A flash of white lightning cracked across the dark sky as the heavy rain splattered against the windowpane. Branches and leaves blew off of trees, making loud crashes and rustles that could barely be deciphered over the droning sound of wind and rain. Another clap of thunder came and Jace cringed.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Jace threw the covers off of himself and ran down the hallway, not caring about being brave anymore. All he wanted, all he needed, was comfort at the moment, even if it guaranteed pain in the future.
The door to his father's bed chamber banged open and Jace ran into the room, his eyes wide with fear. He ran over to the king sized bed where his father laid asleep, unflustered by the commotion sounding from outside. Jace timidly touched his father's shoulder and shook it lightly.
"Father," he hissed.
No response.
"Father."
Nothing.
"Father!"
Valentine Morgenstern's eyes flew open and he stared at the little, terrified boy in front of him. He scowled with frustration.
"What is it, Jonathan?" Valentine asked, exhausted and impatient.
Jace looked down at his feet, suddenly at a loss for words. A clap of thunder boomed outside and a shiver crawled up Jace's spine.
"I'm scared," he admitted softly.
Valentine sighed and rolled his eyes. "Go back to bed, Jonathan.
Jace's eyes widened. "But-"
"That's an order," Valentine barked. "Leave. Now."
Jace hung his head in defeat and slowly padded out of his father's room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He walked back to his own room, crawled under his covers and started to cry.
His father never came to console him.
2. Anger
Valentine slapped his son.
"I told you to make it obedient," he barked, dropping the bird on the ground carelessly. "Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets. They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken."
Six-year-old Jace looked away from his father and down to his feet where the falcon laid. Its neck was twisted at an odd angle and its eyes were open and unmoving.
His falcon. His friend.
Dead.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
Valentine shook Jace by the shoulders. "Look at me when I am talking to you, you pathetic child!"
Jace hesitantly stared directly into his father's cold and unloving eyes. Valentine's fingers started digging into his shoulder blades, and Jace bit his lip to keep himself from screaming.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
"Yes father," he whispered meekly.
Valentine slapped him across the face. "Good."
I will not cry. I will not cry.
"Now," Valentine said, gripping the handle of his whip. "Remove your shirt, Jonathan. This is a learning experience."
Jace shut his eyes before discarding his shirt into the corner of the room and facing his back to his father. He knew what was coming; it always came.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
The first lash came in an instant, and Jace bit down on his lip until he drew blood. Several more came after that, and Valentine screamed at him. Pure words of hatred spewed from his mouth and implanted themselves into Jace's heart like knives, each word more piercing than the lashes on his back.
I will not cry...
When Valentine finally finished, he wiped the fresh blood from his whip and splattered the slick liquid from his hand into the floor. Without another word, he walked out the door, slamming it behind himself forcefully.
It was only then that Jace allowed himself to drop to his knees and start to cry.
The boy never cried again.
3. Blood
There was so much of it.
Some on the floor, some on the ceiling, a lot on the floor.
A trail of blood ran from the family room all the way to the door, where the murderers dragged ten-year-old Jace's father's body from the Manor.
Jace didn't cry. He didn't cry when the sight of the blood made his stomach turn so fast that he was barely able to make it to the bathroom before puking his guts out. He didn't cry when he collapsed on the freezing white bathroom tiles and shut his eyes tightly, only to be greeted with the image of red splattered along the floor once again. He didn't cry when people from The Clave came to look for him, and didn't cry when they found him laying there and started screaming for more help. He didn't cry when two strong and gentle arms lifted him off the floor and carried him through the portal into the Accords Hall, and didn't cry when they drew his first runes along his arms.
He didn't cry when they introduced him to the Lightwoods, and didn't cry they told him that they were going to be his new family. He didn't cry when they each introduced themselves, and didn't cry when his new mother grasped his hand as they walked through the portal to the New York Institute. He didn't cry when his new little sister and new older brother showed him around the building, and didn't cry when they led him to his new room. He didn't cry when they left him alone so he could settle in his room, and didn't cry when he plopped down onto his new bed and closed his eyes for what felt like the first time in years, letting the vision of blood haunt him as he drifted off into a light slumber.
He didn't cry because he wasn't sad.
He didn't cry because he wasn't angry.
He didn't cry because he couldn't think about anything except all of the blood he saw, all the blood he couldn't unsee.
All the blood of his father.
So when Jace went to sleep that night, in a new place with a new family for all of the wrong reasons, he didn't cry because he couldn't cry.
He couldn't cry.
4. Isabelle's Cooking
It started with the cookies.
Fourteen-year-old Jace Lightwood was in the training room, sparing with his step brother, Alec Lightwood. Alec was one year older than Jace, so when Jace tried to throw a punch at him, Alec easily blocked it and was about to knock Jace to the floor when-
"JACE! ALEC! KITCHEN!"
Jace and Alec shared a look of annoyance before putting their equipment away and walking into the kitchen. The scent of smoke was the first thing that the boys smelled, and they were instantly alarmed until they saw their thirteen-year-old sister waving a towel over a tray of hot rocks, attempting to clear the smoke away. Eventually she gave up and threw the towel on the floor, a small scowl on her perfect face. Then she sighed and turned towards the door, her expression of despair immediately replaced by a delighted one. "Good. You're here."
Alec looked at her skeptically. "Izzy... What do you want?"
"Sit," she ordered, pointing to the chairs. "I made you each a surprise."
Jace and Alec both shared an uneasy look as they sat next to each other, but each realized their mistake when Isabelle placed a plate in front of them, each containing a rock.
Jace blinked. "What's this?"
Izzy scowled. "A cookie! A chocolate chip cookie!"
"Are you sure?" Alec asked, rolling the so-called 'cookie' in his hands. "Doesn't look like it."
Isabelle whacked him over the head with a rolling pin. "Ow! Angel, sorry."
Jace continued to stare at the thing that sat on his plate. He pulled a strand of what looked like used dentil floss from the top of it and immediately stood up to walk out.
"Nuh-uh," Isabelle said, pulling Jace by his shirt collar and throwing him back into his seat. Jace cursed under his breath and rubbed the front of his sore throat. "Neither of you are leaving until you've at least taken one bite."
Alec and Jace groaned with displeasure. Are we really going to have to do this?
Isabelle glared at them with her if-you-want-to-have-children-in-the-future-I-suggest-you-shut-it-and-do-as-I-say look.
Apparently so.
Slowly, at the same time, Jace and Alec each lifted the 'cookie' into their hand and raised it to their mouths. But neither took a bite.
Isabelle scowled. "Sure, you guys can wrestle each other with Seraph blades, but you can't eat a damn cookie," Isabelle said bitterly, shaking her head with disgust. "And you call yourselves men."
Jace and Alec merely scowled back at their sister before they ever so slowly took a small bite out of Isabelle's creation.
Not a second passed before the two boys both spit the bite out at the same time and rushed to the sink, pushing each other out of the way to get a glass of water first. They both rinsed and spit into the sink several times before paying attention to Izzy's banter about how 'rude' they were being.
"...no idea how much blood and tears I spent to make these, and what do I get? Spit! That's what I get!" Isabelle sighed dramatically and shook her head. "And to think I thought that you two loved me."
Jace couldn't help but laugh. "Aw, Isabelle. Nobody loves you."
"Jace!" scolded Alec, but it was clear he was trying not to laugh. Isabelle sucked in a breath before picking up a knife.
Never again, Jace thought to himself as he ran up the stairs to escape his sister's vicious wrath and profanities.
Never again will I let Isabelle feed me.
5. Regret
Ever since he first saw her, he was in love.
She was beautiful, with luscious, fiery red curls and sparkling jade eyes and a laugh that could make the angels cry. She was stubborn and rude and got into business that wasn't hers to pester upon. She was honest and intelligent and had a big heart. When she smiled, he smiled. When she laughed, he laughed. When she cried, he wanted to hold her close to him. And when he heard her name, it repeated in his head like a mantra, never ending.
Clary.
Clary. Clary. Clary.
It was perfect. She was perfect.
Clary.
This all ran through his head as he sat next to her on the floor of the greenhouse at midnight, cutting up an apple with his knife, listening to her speak about her life and answering all her questions, even the more personal ones about his father.
Clary.
"She hates me," Clary stated suddenly, speaking of Isabelle.
Jace blinked, surprised. "No, she doesn't. You just make her nervous, because she's always been the girl in a crowd of adoring boys, and now she isn't anymore."
"But she's so beautiful," she said wistfully.
"So are you," Jace replied before he could stop himself, "and very different from how she is, and she can't help but notice that. She's always wanted to be small and delicate, you know. She hates being taller than most boys."
Clary stared at him, and he knew that she had heard what he said about her. Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful, and now there was no taking it back.
Not that he should take back the truth...
"We should probably go downstairs," he said, hoping she would stop staring at him like he had just said that he killed an orphaned puppy.
"All right," said Clary finally, changing her expression to look as if nothing had happened. They both stood up when Jace felt her bump into him. Clary opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. They stood in an intense silent, and Jace couldn't help but stare intently into her deep, green eyes. He saw passion and love, hope and desire.
Clary. Clary. Clary. Clary.
The bubble of desire that had slowly been forming in Jace's stomach ever since he first saw her felt as if it were about to burst. All he could do was stare at her, until he could register that his brain was violently screaming, Now! Now! KISS HER NOW!
And then the bubble of desire inside of Jace exploded as he crashed his lips against Clary's.
At first she was startled and turned rigid, but she soon melted into his arms, and over the rapid beating of his own heart, Jace felt more joy than he had ever felt before. He was finally happy.
Clary. Clary. Clary...
But, if Jace had known that he would regret ever kissing her, he would have never done it in the first place. He would have stopped himself. He would have walked away from her. He never have kissed her.
Never.
6. Love
He hadn't left his room in days.
Everyone left him alone, because they knew that he needed time. Time for what, Jace wasn't sure.
Initially, he was shocked. Shocked that it could possibly be true. Then he started to deny it, begging that he was wrong, but when Valentine just shook his head with that mocking, disapproving face, he knew that it was true.
It was true.
He felt so broken.
He felt so stupid.
He should have known, he should have known.
To love is to destroy, and to be loved it to be the one destroyed.
And it was at that moment that Jace knew, for sure, that he would never love again.
Never.
7. Ducks
To be honest, Jace wasn't exactly sure how he felt.
He had told Clary that he would just be a brother from now on and nothing more, but that wasn't what he wanted to be. He wanted to be more, and he knew she knew that. But even though he'd said it for her sake and made her feel more comfortable, it didn't change the throbbing desire in his chest.
Albeit, quite frankly, it seemed that the Angel didn't give a damn about what he wanted, so that was that.
Jace needed to clear his head, and that's how he ended up strolling through Central Park, keeping the hood of his black hoodie up to conceal his identity, even though it was seventy-five degrees outside. He kicked a pebble along the pathway, avoiding making eye contact with any mundanes as he walked along.
He stopped at the pond, sat on a bench and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sounds of quiet voices and the soft wind calm himself.
That is, until something bit into his shin.
Jace cursed and looked down to see a fluffy, yellow baby duck standing proportionally close to his now-bleeding leg. The duck quacked, causing unwanted shivers yo spiral down Jace's spine. He kicked the duck away with his foot forcefully, sending it a few feet away from him.
"Jace!"
Jace whipped around to see Max, the youngest of the Lightwoods, standing next to Jace, staring at his older sibling disapprovingly through his oversized glasses.
"Did you come here by yourself?" Jace asked.
"No one would take me," said Max, as if it was totally fine that an innocent nine-year-old boy walked all the way through New York City, past dark allies, speeding cars and creepy strangers to Central Park. Alone.
"You aren't supposed to cross the street by yourself, let alone walk all the way here," Jace scolded.
Surprisingly out of character, Max rolled his eyes. "And you aren't supposed to abuse innocent wild life. But that's not what's happening here, is it?"
Jace stared over to the baby duck that was now twitching violently on the ground, flapping its feathers and quacking venomously.
"It'll live," Jace dismissed.
Max glared at Jace.
"Hey! It provoked me!"
Max rolled his eyes again and sat next to Jace on the bench. "I may be young Jace, but I'm not stupid."
Jace stared at his brother in shock. "I'm serious! It bit me!" Jace rolled up his pant leg to prove his point. "See?!"
Max stared at the pathetic, red line that was slightly longer than a paper cut and sighed. "I'm disappointed in you."
Jace frowned.
Max turned his back to his brother and started walking away.
"Where are you going?" Jace called.
"Home," said Max monotonically without stopping.
"Why?"
"I'm embarrassed to be with you in public."
Ouch.
"You can't go by yourself!" Jace cried.
"Yes I can," Max called.
This was one of those rare times that Jace was flustered- and the only time by a nine-year-old boy who was obsessed with comic books. "Wha- Wait!"
Max turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
Jace slumped back against the bench and slid forward, puffing a steady stream of air from his mouth. He looked directly in front of him and saw the fluffy yellow duck standing there, seemingly undeterred by its previous blow, looking directly at Jace, his head cocked to the side innocently. He looked adorable and cuddly on the outside, but on the inside, it was only a black space where its soul never existed.
Bloodthirsty little beast...
8. Permanent Loss
They say that you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it.
Jace didn't understand just how right they were.
Robert held onto Max's limp body, Maryse held onto a bawling Isabelle, Alec stood there in shock and Jace fell to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his own grief. He slowly and shakily laid down on the cold floor of the Accords Hall next to the small boy and gently stroked a hand through his dark curls, whispering to him. Jace didn't even know what he was saying; all he could register was that his lips were moving and his throat was straining to speak. Everything else was unconscious, like the tears that slowly glazed his eyes like sheets of glass.
Through his haze and the choking sobs of Isabelle, Jace caught bits and pieces of the story: Sebastian, knocked out, hammer, instant, my fault. Jace shut his eyes tightly and felt the tears start to slip, and soon he was sobbing into the front of his dead brother's shirt, feeling a horrendous, ripping pain throughout every part of his body as if he were exploding, begging him not to go, telling him that he needed him, that they all needed him, to please come back...
Jace couldn't stop. He kept crying, and crying, and crying, for Isabelle, for Alec, for his parents, for Max, and for his poor, damned self, praying to Raziel for an absolution from his suffering.
He felt Maryse's arm wrap around his shoulder and held him along with the still weeping Isabelle. Jace looked up and saw Alec standing there, his cheeks wet with tears, and tugged him into the embrace. Robert soon came over and wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders, his face grave and his eyes tearing.
And there they sat, a broken, sobbing family, mourning a loss that no family should ever have to experience, gripping onto each other with all they had in fear that if they loosened their grip even the slightest, they would lose everything else.
9. Death
For a long time, Jace lived to die.
Granted, he didn't have the ideal childhood and he was orphaned twice, but but even when he found a new, loving family, he was so far gone that his mind couldn't tell the difference between courageous sacrifice and giving up.
So as Jace stood there, facing Valentine, a sword protruding from his chest, instead of immediately reacting, he started by depicting his emotions.
Shock. Betrayal. Pain, yes, pain.
But mostly, fear.
Jace had tried to think that death wouldn't be so bad. That he would be able to see his real parents, and he would be able to see Max again. Max, little Max...
But then he thought of the living. Alec would feel his parabati connection cut off. Isabelle would have a breakdown again, screaming and crying. Maryse and Robert wouldn't be able to and shouldn't have to handle the burden of losing another child, not again.
And Clary...
She was sitting there in the sand, frozen silent and unmoving, her beautiful green eyes widened with fear and horror. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she would be. If he were her, he would feel like the whole world was over because the whole world would be over.
He would give up.
He couldn't leave her, not like this, not after all that they'd been through, not after all of their harsh suffering, not before all that they could finally be.
Not now, not now, please not now...
I'm not ready.
Slowly, Jace pulled the bloody Mortal Sword from his chest. And then, as if in one big crashing wave, pain devoured every inch of Jace's body, an agony so pure and vicious that he fell to his knees in one big rush, dropping the sword onto the sand. Jace opened his mouth, as if to say something, but only a steady stream of blood poured from his lips.
He could feel Valentine pull his body into his lap while he whispered, "My son, my boy..."
In his final moment, Jace wanted to scream. He wanted to cry and thrash and pull his hair out and scream like a little kid because it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair.
He wanted to live.
He needed to live.
But the only thing that Jace could do was lay still in the red sand and bleed as his heart gave away until he couldn't feel
one
single
thing.
10. Glitter
"Jonathan Christopher Herondale Lightwood!"
Jace let out a sigh of annoyance and turned to face his girlfriend. She was dressed in an emerald green gown that brought out her eyes and had her curls spilled loose down her back in a silky, red waterfall. Her face was in a frown and her hands were on her hips as she clearly attempted to portray anger when, to Jace, she looked adorable.
He couldn't help but smile.
Her eyes flared with anger. "Don't you laugh at me! This is serious, and you're treating it like some joke."
Jace bit his lip to hold back his laughter. "I'm sorry...?"
Clary growled as she sat on the edge of the bed, facing her back towards him. When Jace tried to place a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it away.
Sprawled across the bed laid the tuxedo that Jace was supposed to wear to the large formal dinner that Clary's parents were hosting. All down the front was a mud-brown stain that refused to come out. There was also a large, burned hole in the sleeve, a tear down the pant leg, the collar was torn in half and the left shoe was all chewed up. Not to mention the hundred of claw marks that scarred the material, making it permanently unwearable.
He sighed. "I'm sorry, love."
She didn't budge.
"I didn't mean fall down the stairs, okay?" he said. "Or land on Church. Or make him vomit on me and take out his anger on my suit. It was an accident. A terrifying accident that deserves consequences."
Clary looked at him in awe. "Is Jace Lightwood admitting to making a mistake?"
He hung his head. "Tragic, what the world has come to."
Clary sighed. "Fine, I forgive you." Jace opened his mouth to thank her when she hastily added, "But if you ever want me to kiss you again within the remainder of your life, you must do something for me first."
Jace eyed her cautiously. "What...?"
She smiled. "You must wear one of Magnus's tuxes to the dinner."
"I can't believe you could get him to do this," Isabelle said, sitting on the edge of Clary's bed. Isabelle was wearing a floor-length, strapless blue gown with a pair of high-heeled sandals. Her dark hair was curled and piled on top of her head in a perfect bun, loose curls framing her face. Simon sat beside her, wearing a tuxedo with his dark hair neatly combed at its part, making his pale skin even more noticeable. Behind them, Alec leaned against the wall in his new tuxedo, his hands shoved in his coat pockets, his dark hair swept in front of his blue eyes. Magnus stood next to him, ever so ironically wearing a neatly-pressed normal tuxedo.
"It wasn't that difficult," dismissed Clary. "I just blackmailed to never have sex with him."
Simon made a choking noise and Isabelle laughed. Alec looked like he was going to burst out laughing at any moment while Magnus just shook his head. "Wimp."
"Amen."
At that moment, a muffled 'ugh' came from behind Clary's shut bedroom door. There was a pause, a curse, and a shuffling sound before the door swung open revealing Jace, who wore a look of despair. He was dressed in a sparkly pink blazer with purple hearts, fluffy rainbow pants, a neon green dress shirt and neon yellow shoes.
Clary grinned and bit her lip, Isabelle leaned against Simon near tears, Alec held a hand to mouth to prevent himself from snorting and Magnus looked like he wanted to vomit.
"Aw, come on!" Jace whined. "Even Magnus isn't wearing any glitter!"
"Nobody cares what you have to say, Jace."
"Hey! I have feelings!"
Isabelle snapped a photo of him on her phone. "I'm never letting this go."
Jace gaped at Isabelle, then turned back to his girlfriend, his eyes wild and distressed. "Clary!"
Clary sighed and rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Okay. Fine. Just this time." Jace sighed with relief while everyone else groaned in disappointment.
"Dammit Clary," Isabelle snapped. "So close. So close."
They sat at the dinner table, everyone eating the casserole that Jocelyn prepared, completely engrossed in Jace's hilarious tale about a demon he'd recently encountered. Luckily for him, he was wearing Alec's old tuxedo that Alec managed to smuggle out of his closet at the very last minute.
"You should have made him wear Magnus's tux," Simon hissed to Clary when no one was paying attention, taking a small sip of blood.
Clary smirked. "I know." She looked over to Jace, who had just said something that made everyone burst out laughing. His eyes met Clary's and he grinned at her, that grin that made her heart stop in her chest and her knees go weak.
"But I love him too much."
11. Sebastian Morgenstern
Jace couldn't sleep that night.
He laid in bed, restless. He didn't feel like he was on fire anymore, he just felt... warm. Cooled down. There wasn't any other way to describe it.
He had just woken up that morning, and even though he was tired, his brain wouldn't let him sleep anymore. In his mind, he kept replaying everything that had happened like a film. Sebastian, Clary, Venice, Prague, the Seventh Sacred Site... There was so much he wished he could go back and erase from his memory, but there was nothing he could do. He would have to live with the blood on his hands and the pain in his heart. The fact that there would be a gruesome scar over his chest didn't help in the least.
A flash of lightning cracked across the sky outside the window.
Jace let out a groan and threw an arm over his face. He didn't like bad memories. When you remembered good memories, you smiled and laughed and felt better about your life. Remembering bad memories was committing a slow suicide.
Suddenly, the door to the infirmary creaked open and footsteps padded into the room. Jace removed his arm from his face and saw the dark silhouette of Clary walking towards him.
She was wearing a green raincoat over a loose tank top and shorts. Her hair was plastered to her back and her clothes slowly dripped onto the floor. She realized that he was staring at her and blushed a deep crimson. Jace bit back a smirk.
"I snuck out," she whispered quietly before Jace could ask, discarding her wet raincoat lazily to the side and sitting on the edge of his bed. She tucked a stray curl of blond hair away from his eyes. "I couldn't sleep without seeing you again."
He smiled, already calming down by seeing her there, in front of him. He knew Clary felt the same. "Me neither."
Clary laid down next to Jace and curled up against his side. She lightly drew invisible designs on his abdomen with her pointer finger while he stroked a tired hand through her slowly drying hair until they both eventually drifted off into sleep. They didn't speak; there was nothing that needed to be said. Jace found that the best acts of love were the smallest and the ones that went unspoken.
Of course, Jace was met with nightmares frequently throughout the night, but this time, as he woke, she was there to coax him and soothe him until he could fall back into slumber, greeting him with nothing but love and patience. And when morning finally came, they looked into each other's eyes and smiled, feeling accomplished.
He would never be able to forget what Sebastian did to him, and that was what scared him the most.
But he would find strength through his weakness.
He killed Sebastian once; he could do it again.
12. Helplessness
There are some situations in which you may wish you could say something to make things right, but the words you want to say aren't helpful enough. Where nothing can be done to fix what has been broken.
This was how Jace felt.
"Stop!" Isabelle cried, her eyes brimmed with tears. "We know your name, demon. Do you think I am afraid to slay even a Prince of Hell? I would hang your head on my wall like a trophy, and if you dare touch Simon, I will hunt you down. I will spend my life hunting you-"
Alec quickly wrapped his arms around Isabelle and hugged her close to him. "Isabelle," he whispered. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" Clary demanded, her voice shrill and off key. She turned to Jace, her eyes wide with emotion. "We can't let this happen- Jace-"
Finally, Jace knew what to say, even though he didn't want to have to say it. But sometimes the truth needs to be said, no matter how much it may hurt. "This is Simon's choice. We have to honor it."
Simon looked into Jace's eyes, then slowly looked around to everyone. Alec, Magnus, Jace, Isabelle, and then to Clary, where it stayed. He looked so torn, so broken, and Jace thought he could actually hear Clary's heart breaking. Jace watched Simon reach down and retrieve something from his pocket that flashed as he tossed it to Clary, who caught it. She snuck a glance at it and gripped it in her hand until her knuckles turned white.
"Enough," Asmodeus said. "I hate goodbyes." He tightened his grip on Simon, and Jace watched as Simon's eyes flew open wide and he touched his hand to his chest.
"My heart-" he whispered in disbelief. Tears filled Clary's eyes, threatening to topple over.
All of a sudden, a white mist exploded around them and Simon cried out in agony. Clary hurled forward before anyone could stop her, only to smash into an invisible barrier and ricochet backwards into Jace, who caught her and gripped her tightly, refusing to let go. A small tornado formed around Asmodeus and Simon. Images began to form in the mist: Clary and Simon as kids, Simon and Clary sitting in a coffee shop, Hotel Dumort, Simon kissing Isabelle, Simon drinking blood, Hodge, Maureen bleeding out her life in the ally, the roof where Sebastian was raised, Clary handing Simon a gold ring, Simon kissing Isabelle again...
"Please-" Clary begged, her voice hoarse.
But before anyone could move, they were all lifted up by an invisible force and torn away from each other, leaving Jace by himself. He couldn't hear or see anything over the chaos, just float there as his heart beat so fast that he thought it would burst-
And suddenly, he was crouched on the cold floor of the Accords Hall, blinking once, then twice.
He looked around the room, relieved to find that the war was finally over. Everyone was standing silently, staring at them, dumbstruck. His gaze immediately fell on Clary, who was lying next to the mermaid fountain that sat in the middle of the room. Isabelle was a few feet away from her, standing up and searching the room, desperately, even though what she was looking for wasn't going to be there. And then the room burst into sounds of cheers as everyone began to rush towards them to help them. It should have been a celebration. It should have been happy. It should have been relieving.
But Jace watched in horror as Clary slowly sunk back down to floor, curled up in a ball and started to cry.
Jace didn't know Simon particularly well. But he did know that he meant a lot to Clary, and he did know that he wasn't as bad as Jace thought initially. And he did know that he shouldn't have been such a jerk to Simon in that short time that Jace knew him. Because the world has a tendency to rip the ground out from beneath you when you aren't looking. And whatever you might have done, whether good or bad, will be turned into a knife, with the blade pointing directly at you.
Simon helped them in the times they needed him the most, and all he got from everyone was hell that he didn't complain about. Nobody ever thought about how Simon felt, what Simon wanted, what Simon needed. He killed the Greater Demon when Clary was about to get killed, even though he was completely and utterly furious at all of them. He got captured by Valentine and bled within minutes of his life. He was banned from Idris and thrown into a cell without any food, just to protect them. He drank Sebastian's poisonous demon blood to spare Clary's life. He risked his life and raised Raziel so they could save Jace. He slit his wrist and healed Isabelle's wounds so she would live, practically ensuring his death. And he sacrificed his precious memories so Magnus could live and they could all escape Edom unharmed.
Simon wasn't just the mundane, or the vampire, or the freak Daylighter, or the damned Downworlder, or the outcast, nerdy bloodsucker that wasn't as important as the high and mighty Shadowhunters.
He was a friend. Family. A hero.
So as he stared at his weeping and screaming girlfriend whom everyone feebly attempted to console, Jace knew that he was probably the last person on Earth she wanted to see, or ever see again.
And at that moment, out of his entire life, Jace had never, never, felt so helpless.
13. Rejection
"Are you okay?"
Twenty-year-old Jace lazily looked away from the library window to see Alec, who was sitting across from him. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly and he looked concerned.
"Yeah," Jace lied. "I'm just thinking."
Alec, though, didn't buy the facade. "All right. What is it?"
Jace sighed in defeat and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out the small, blue velvet box that had been burning against his side all week and tossed it to Alec for him to see for himself.
Swiftly, Alec caught the object and stared at it for ten seconds, as if not believing that box could possibly be existing. Then he opened it and whistled.
"Looks expensive," complimented Alec.
"What looks expensive?" asked Magnus, causing both of them to jump. Alec shoved the box inside his pocket. Neither of them said anything and Magnus looked at them expectantly.
"Uh... That- that book," Alec tried, pointing to no specific book on a bookshelf. Jace put his head in his hands.
Magnus laughed. "Where's the ring?"
Jace's head shot up and Alec coughed violently. "What ring?"
The warlock rolled his eyes and sat next to Alec. "The ring Goldie is using to propose to Biscuit, Alexander." Alec opened his mouth but Magnus cut him off. "I saw Jace hand it to you."
Alec looked at Jace, then Magnus, then Jace, then Magnus, before looking at Jace apologetically and handing the box to his boyfriend. Magnus opened the box and gasped. "It's gorgeous. And sparkly."
Jace looked out the window again. "It was my mother's."
"When are you proposing?"
"Proposing?" Isabelle asked. "Who's proposing?"
Jace sighed.
"Jace," revealed Magnus.
"JACE?!" Isabelle screamed.
"Jace what?" asked Simon.
Jace began banging his head against the windowpane.
Everyone started talking at once, and Jace thought was miracle that Clary herself hadn't walked into the room yet. Finally, Jace stood up and screamed, "SHUT UP!"
They all stopped talking.
"Yes, I'm proposing," Jace said, shifting on his feet. He had never felt this nervous for such a stupid reason.
"When?" Isabelle asked, practically jumping out of her own skin.
"...Tonight?"
Isabelle frowned. "You don't sound very sure of yourself."
Jace ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "You know that I've never been good at these types of things."
"You'll be fine, Ja-"
"I won't," he assured, cutting her off. "I'm gonna somehow screw up these two years of perfection into an utter disaster, just by being me."
"You? Screw yourself over?" Simon laughed. "I never thought it was possible."
"Stuff it Stacy," Magnus said absentmindedly. Simon glowered.
"Jace," said Alec seriously, "why are you so nervous? Why now? There's no reason-"
"That's just it!" Jace burst, standing up and startling everyone. He didn't understand why he was so angry all of a sudden. "I've always been nervous! And there are so many reasons! I've lost so much and made so many mistakes and have been hurt and betrayed so many times. Now that I have the best thing that ever happened to me, and everything's so perfect, I'm so scared that she'll slip right through my fingers when I need her the most."
Everyone stood in shock, looking at each other. They hadn't known that Jace was holding all this back.
"You're afraid she'll say no," Isabelle said bluntly.
He slumped back into his chair, nodding. "Nothing could possibly stay this amazing for so long," he answered grimly. "Besides, who would want to spend the rest of their life with someone as broken as me?" His voice cracked near the end, and he put his head in his hands.
"I would."
Jace jumped out his chair and spun around, startled.
Clary walked out from behind the bookcase, her arms folded over her chest and an angry glare plastered over her face. By the looks of the others, they'd known she was there the entire time.
"Jonathan Christopher Lightwood," Clary said, her eyes flaring, "these past few years, I have experienced the worst trauma that a girl my age could possibly receive. I've been beaten down so many times I can't count, and, most of the time, I had to get back up on my own."
He gulped. "Clary, I-"
"But that's gone, Jace," she said, her voice shaking. She took a step forward. "Valentine, Lilith, Sebastian- it's all gone. There will still be demons, but who cares? We have each other. And nothing will ever, ever, change that."
Jace felt tears fill his eyes. "But-"
Clary cut him off by snatching the collar of his shirt and dragging him towards her until their mouths were centimeters apart.
"You don't have to be afraid anymore," she whispered, cutting off any remark he might've had with a kiss.
Jace was shocked at first, and he was 99 percent positive he heard Simon gagging in the background, but then he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend to pull her in closer.
They pulled away slowly, and Jace leaned his forehead against hers. "You're making me soft, Clary."
She laughed, her green eyes sparkling. "I'd hope that you're in love with me, because I'm here to stay. For good."
He didn't say anything. He only reached into his pocket and pulled out a certain box.
"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern," he whispered, "will you marry me?"
"Yes," she said. And their lips connected once more.