All people, places, references etc...belong to Cassandra Clare. Christopher Max Lightwoods belongs to me though =)
He was so small, so fragile that Clary was scared to break him if she held the blue bundle tighter to her chest. Exhaustion and soreness battled her consciousness but she fought to be awake, to hold her son for the first time. It was morning and the gray light of a rainy dawn shone in through the open window, staining the sterile, white walls of the mundane hospital with gray.
It took forever to convince Jace to allow the birth of his child be in a mundane hospital.
"I'm not going to trust my son in the hands of a clumsy mundie nurse!" He protested. Luckily Jocelyn's heckling and Clary's not so gentle pushing forced him to deal with it. Christopher Max Lightwood deserved everything, to be everything, to experience everything. That meant having a chance to do human things like go to camp or open a bank account and that won't happen if his name doesn't exist in the system.
Clary chuckled as her son let out another small yawn and waved his tiny fist in the air. It brushed her long, red hair. She hadn't been able to cut it and it had grown rather quickly during the pregnancy, Jace loved running his hands through it of course.
Christopher gave a little cry as his eyelids flitted open for half a second, revealing a deep shade of green before closing again. He had her eyes. That was the part that overjoyed Jace, well other than having his actual son.
He was scared at first, scared of ending up like his father, afraid of Christopher ending up like him. Clary reassured him that if he was worried that Christopher was ever going to be hurt like him, he was already thinking like his father. Clary was worried about another thing entirely. She thought about her mother and her first child.
Even when Jocelyn had held Jonathan in her arms, she knew this wasn't her child; it was a demon, a demon with black eyes. What if Christopher had turned out like that? Clary was sure that no one had injected demon blood into her food but who knew what the extra angel blood would do? What if Clary didn't and couldn't love him enough?
As Christopher shifted and Clary immediately positioned her arms to accompany his new position, "mothering instincts" Jocelyn called it. Clary knew that those worries would never be true. Jace was unable to leave both of them alone for a second, hovering over them constantly. Clary glanced over and grinned at the sight of Jace sprawled out in the chair next to the hospital crib. Even in his sleep he had to be near him.
As for Clary, her worries melted away the moment the doctor handed him to her. Here he was, the person that she had been counting and waiting on, even praying to the angel for (as irrational as it sounds) and finally he was here. Christopher depended on her for everything, food, shelter, guidance, protection. His life was forever intertwined with hers and Jace's a testament to their relationship.
It was hard to wrap her head around that fact that this person, this life would call her mom and eventually grow up and have adventures and love and a family of his own. But here and now, he was just over a little two days old and he was exhausted too. Apparently being cooped up for nine months exhausted you to spend most of the two days sleeping.
Clary watched, fascinated with the small, rhythmic breathing, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled small breaths of air. She was like any new other, nervous, scared but excited and happy, so blissfully happy in this moment. She leaned in and gently kissed her son's forehead.
"Welcome to the world, Christopher Max Lightwoods, may your life be yours."