A/N:
Okay. So this is a story that is very, very, loosely based upon the Mortal Instruments Series. However, I like to think that it is mostly original :) Please review! It makes me update faster! Thank you!
Clary awoke to a knocking on her window. She looked up to see Ben standing outside her window, peering in. She blearily stood up and brushed her long, dark brown hair out of her face. Her head felt as if a dwarf was pounding her with a warhammer. She slowly stumbled over and pulled open the window.
"Hey, Ben. What's up?" She still wasn't fully awake and alive yet. Her eyes hadn't even adjusted to the light yet and her pupils were screaming.
"Are you alright? You look like you just got plowed over via monster truck."
"Yeah, I'm o.k. I just have a pounding headache."
Ben was only half in the window when he paused and asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
"Well, you were supposed to meet me this morning at the Gorgon's Café. And I tried to call you last night, but I just got your voicemail."
"I'm sorry. I can't for the life of me remember what happened last night. It's all a blur. I—guess I was just really tired." Clary cut off abruptly, her face going blank.
Blood. Blood everywhere. There was just so much blood. How could there be so much blood in one body? There was someone, a woman, bending over a body with a long hand-and-a-half sword in hand, her dark hair concealing her face, crying over the death of a man, whose face she couldn't see. She was wearing black leather armor stained with blood and gore. A baldric was slung over her back holding an immaculately polished black scabbard.
"Please. Come back. Come back! I c-can't live without y-you." Her words came in gasping sobs. "Don't leave me! Y-You can't l-leave me! I need you." She brought the dead body to her in a last embrace. A man entered Clary's view, only his back was visible, walking in front of the woman weeping for her lost loved one. She looked up from the man's dead body and brought her eyes to the man in front of her. Her face was so ridden with grieve and the remnants of what appeared to be a large battle that she couldn't even make out the details of her face. "You." A snarl crept into he features. "What do you want? Haven't you taken enough from me?"
"You haven't completed Domine un Gokashna. It must be done. With the new threat, it is even more imperative that you complete it. There will be time for grieving when we leave this place." His voice was quiet but demanded respect; low and commanding. He moved his foot as if to take a step forward but then thought better of it. "Think not that I am devoid of sympathy. Remember that I, too, went through Domine un Gokashna and suffered much the same as you have. But, as I have said, your destiny cannot be stopped or left behind." He paused, unsure of himself. "I am sorry that this is your destiny. I would not wish this life on anyone. I did not ask for this and every day I wish I could go back to when my life was normal. But, sadly, it is not to be so."
The woman's posture softened. "I know." Tears began streaming out anew. "I just don't know what I'm going to do without him. He's- I just... can't."
The man moved to kneel next to her. He put his arm around her in a comforting embrace. "I know. I know. But the sands of time cannot be reversed." The man ran his fingers over the dead body's eyes. He started to chant. Though Clary didn't know the language she somehow understood what he was saying. Over and over he said, "Boreí i̱ psychí̱ sou na vreíte to ypóloipo pou axízete. Boreí na sas vrei anápaf̱si̱ sto exí̱s o̱s Polemistí̱ ti̱s Moíras. Boreí na tous daímones pou thi̱rév̱ontai sas afí̱sei se i̱sychía." May your soul find the rest that you deserve. May you find rest in the hereafter as a Warrior of Fate. May the demons that you hunted leave you in peace.
The woman looked at him in gratitude. Clary got the feeling that this was a great sign of respect for this dead man. His voice soft and consoling he said, "Come on. Let's get out of here. I'll make sure that his family knows and gives him a funeral that he deserves."
"Clary? Clary? CLARY! Snap out of it, Clary! Come on!" Ben was shaking her. Clary realized that she wasn't breathing and inhaled with a gasp. There were tears in her eyes. Ben, seeing that she had come out of it, stopped shaking her. He let out a huge sigh of relief followed by a look of concern and... foreboding? apprehension? "Clary. What's wrong? You went, like—catatonic for a whole minute."
"Yeah. I don't know what happened. I just saw this weird flash." Tears started trickling from her eyes again.
Ben brought her close and hugged her in a warm embrace. "Hey, it's okay, Clary. It wasn't real. Okay?" She put her head on his shoulder. After a minute, Ben said, "Hey. What do you say we keep that date at Gorgon's Café?"
Clary nodded. "Okay. I'll just get a quick shower."
"I'll have a Number Twelve, no onions; a Number 4 with large fries; Pepsi, no ice and a double fudge Sunday." Clary handed her menu to the waitress. She was wearing an apron with a severed gorgon's head laying next to a bloody, smoking sword. That was the restaurant's motif, as indicated by the name. It wasn't a very appetizing place, what with gorgon heads everywhere, but, once you got used to it, it was an awesome place to be with amazing food. Ben looked at her across the booth and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked defensively. "I'm starving."
Ben turned to the waitress who was grinning at him. "I'll take a Number Seven; Pepsi, no ice." He handed his menu to the waitress. The waitress shot a nasty glare at Clary. As she walked back she kept glancing over her shoulder at Ben, trying to catch his eye so that she could just look away coyly again.
"She was trying to flirt with you."
Ben turned around to look at the waitress. The waitress grinned and hooked her long blonde hair behind her ear and turned back around, continuing to clean off the table. "Eh. She's not really my type."
"Oh, please. She's every guy's type. Blonde hair. Big green eyes. Long legs. Nice curves. Great butt. That's what you guys like, right?"
"Well, I suppose I'm the exception to that little stereotype of yours." Ben sat there for a second thinking about how that sounded. "Not that I'm gay," he said hurriedly.
Clary smiled. Ben always put a smile on her face. "Then what exactly is your type, if not her?"
Ben paused, looking into her eyes. He took a deep breath. Time to tell her, I suppose...
"Clarissa Malone?" Clary recognized that voice. That low, calm, commanding voice.
She remembered him saying to the woman, "I am sorry that this is your destiny. I would not wish this life on anyone. I did not ask for this and every day I wish I could go back to when my life was normal. But, sadly, it is not to be so." It was the man from her… vision? premonition? Or whatever it was. It was the man who had taken everything from that woman. The man was wearing a black leather coat over a brown hooded sweatshirt, the hood over his head, hiding his face, and old dark jeans. To match his face he had a very powerful, commanding presence. "Yes, I'm Clarissa. You are?"
He handed her a small, black box. She saw that his hands were strong and calloused. She saw that they were the hands of a fighter. Then he left. Without another word.
"What was that about?" asked Ben. "What's in the box?"
Clary opened up the box. There was only a piece of paper. Written on it was:
1803 Delnair Ave.
719-528-3858
"It's an address and a phone number. 1803 Delnair Ave. Do you recognize it?"
Ben seemed to be thinking. His eyes were unfocused, staring into space. Clary snapped in front of his eyes. "What? No. I have no idea where it is. What do you think I am? Google Maps? Gosh! I'm so used." He shook his head, mocking her. "This all feels a little too ominous for my taste."
She shrugged. "I suppose I should call first."
Alarm shot across Ben's face, then vanished. "I don't know. Maybe you should just leave it alone. That guy looked very… menacing." He took a sip of his Pepsi.
Clary stared at the paper. She glanced up at him. "I don't know. I think I've seen him before. To me he just looked sad... or defeated." She paused, thinking. "I don't know… maybe you're right."
He looked at her eyes for a moment. "You're going, aren't you?"
"Yep." She knew there was no use hiding her intent from Ben. He knew her better than anyone.
Ben sighed, exasperated, seeming resigned, even though he was accustomed to Clary's personality and actions. "Alright. I'm going with."
"You don't have to."
"Yes I do. Someone has to look after you." He winked at her.
She smiled. "Thanks, Ben."
The waitress came back with their food, accompanied by another waitress carrying the rest of Clary's food. "Is that all you need?" she asked, looking at only Ben.
"Yes, thank you."
She tore off the bill from her order book and quickly wrote something else on it. She smiled flirtatiously at Ben. He didn't even notice. He just said, "Thank you," again.
As soon as the waitress was out of earshot Clary started chortling. "Oh, my GOSH. She was totally hitting on you. It was really quite embarrassing."
"You're imagining things Clary. Girls don't hit on me. I'm the 'friend'," he said, putting air quotes around "friend".
"Oh, come on, Ben. The girl who catches you will be very lucky. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to just be your best friend."
Ben looked at her shyly. He always felt shy when he was being praised. "Thanks. I feel really lucky, too." He was even shyer about complimenting and expressing feelings.
They both smiled in companionable silence.
"Alright," Clary said, "let's eat!"
She dug into her food.
Ben couldn't help but to laugh.