A/N: Hi guys, im pretty new at this so if any of you more experienced writers have any comments or suggestions please review! and..

also if anyone could explain all the lingo and abbreviations to me that would be great, like what is AU?

Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments or any songs I mention! :)

Clary POV.

I bow down and look out into the dark wave of arms and signs in front of me. The screams and yelling are so loud that they pierce through my muting earpieces. My manager speaks into it, "Well done Clary, another concert perfectly performed, Hows your voice?" Having perfected ventriloquism, i can speak to him without my fans seeing my mouth moving. "Bit rough, im not used to a concert every night for two freaking weeks"

I hear him chuckle on the other end, "well dont damage it further telling me off, remember you are going live on national radio first thing in the morning."

I groan inwardly, but keep on my smiling mask on the outside. I am stinking hot and fully regret wearing my bodysuit of scintillating colours. But thats not the worst thing, my stylist put me in black 7 inch heel, 3 inch platform shoes. I can hardly walk let alone perform on a stage and they're so very ugly that i am tempted to throw them into the audience… actually, that could be a good idea and then i wont have to attempt walking off the stage in them.

I throw them out and one of them hits some person on the head. Ouch, that must have hurt. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea? But there instantly becomes a scramble to get one. In the confusion that follows, i walk barefoot off stage, ready to yell at my stylist.

"Those were bloody expensive Clary, what the hell was that for?" my manager yells at me before i get a word in.

"Firstly, I am not performing one more concert unless i get to have final word in my outfit. I would be so much more comfortable in secondly, well… " I make a pitiful attempt at yelling at them but i am so tired i cant even formulate my argument well.

A smile spreads across my managers face; "go to bed Clary, if you're like this on the radio tomorrow you will lose all credibility. If you can't talk, how can you possibly sing?"

I poke my tongue out at him like a 5 year old and try to walk in a dignified way out the room but fail miserably as i trip over the wires littering the floor. And some people think i am perfect? … how deluded they are.

I stop my chauffeur and hop out of the car, my bodyguards pushing back the paparazzi. A smile is fixed on my face and my eyes are hidden behind dark shades. Even if I am feeling terrible, I need to keep the positive publicity up, or so my manager says.

"Over here!" "Give us a smile" "can we be expecting any new albums or photo shoots? can you give us an account of why you threw your shoes last night?" questions are hauled towards me from all directions, an aspect of being famous that I have never liked.

My bodyguard, Simon, comes up to me and bends down to whisper in my ear, "dont say anything you might regret, maybe you should just go inside." His big hand wraps around my back and he helps me get through the crowd. I sink into him, feeling his calming presence around me.

Once inside i warm up my voice hurriedly, i got out of bed late causing me to not have time for a run-through of the song beforehand.

My manager comes running down the hall towards me, looking like a ruffled goose and i cant help but smile at him. But my smile soon vanishes.

"Oh Clary, there's been such a mess-up. It seems like they need you to do a duet with some 'up and coming talent' or whatever, LIVE." he says exasperatedly and fuzzled.

"What? but what could we sing, i dont even know this person, dont know what they sound like and have never sung with them before, but they are expecting me to do it live to a song i dont know. I am pulling out" i say infuriated, my thoughts spewing out of me before i check if they make any sense.

"No look, i know this is crazy but they've been advertising for ages that you will go on air and we signed you up for it. Alright, yes, we can sue them afterwards but first you have to do this. No use trying to argue with me, we have 2 minutes to get ready," he speaks fast and is fluttering all over the place.

Taking a deep breath, i try to think logically to make up for his uselessness "Ok, i am not going to let this 'up and coming' freaking singer ruin my reputation. I hope he can at least bloody sing. But firstly, we need a song," I look through the music on my phone, knowing the other artist needs to know it as well as me, which means it can't be something too new. Randomly I pick one out of the songs popular ages back. "Right, go check whether this person knows Fix you by Coldplay, i think i still remember it."

My manager hurries out and Simon comes in. I go into his welcome strong arms as I confess to him how scared I am of this. He tries to soothe me and runs his fingers through my fiery hair.

"Good luck Clary. And if this doesnt work out, don't worry, I'll still be your fan" his smile warms me slightly and i reply, "Oh Simon, you've always been such a good friend." If i hadnt been so stressed i might have seen a shadow pass across his face as i finished replying to him but there are other things on my mind. He goes outside to get rid of the growing press waiting out the front of the building and I am left alone.

I bite my nails, i am not usually so nervous as now. I take little sips from my bottle and warm my voice, the recent concerts having overworked it a bit. I fidget and keep my eyes on the clock as our two minutes disappear rapidly. Its really unfair, this person probably knows what i sound like but i have never heard them. Shit! i don't even know if it is a guy or girl! I bounce up and down on my feet, my red hair falling in front of my eyes, but i am too occupied to bother putting it back.

My manager comes running into the room as fast as his short legs can, "yes they know the song, or at least their manager said they did, and its all set with the music but you have to go on air NOW". I hurry out the room and he follows me, shouting encouragements as i walk down the corridor to my recording studio. They could have made it so much easier for me if they had given us a shared studio, then we could have done hand signals and i could have told them to shut the hell up if they get really bad or I could even mouth the lyrics to them if i got that desperate. I can feel my career seeping through my fingers all because of a stupid radio station and some beginner artist they like.

The speakers are turned up in the studio so I can hear when to come in.

And now we will be having a live song, which many of you should know and love, and when we come back we will be talking to these fabulous artists. See if you can guess who the duo singing are and we will reveal it all to you afterwards. Once again, thank you for listening to National Radio and we now present to you… a cover of Fix You by Coldplay. Enjoy…

My hands are clammy all of a sudden and i shake uncontrollably. Why am i doing this? I should be sitting at home, painting or drawing. At least i am good at that. But no, here i am stressing myself out, thinking i can sing? To calm myself I imagine painting a landscape in time to the hushed electric organ ballad intro to the song. Breathing in deeply, i step up to the mike.

When you try your best but you don't succeed

Why is it only me singing? I continue anyway, sweating profusely and super pleased that nobody can see me.

When you get what you want but not what you need

The song is already starting to lull me to serenity.

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

Oh i love this song. I can't help but start moving my hips and swaying to the music, completely at ease. And thats why i missed the entrance to the next verse… but my mouth drops open as i hear the other artist come in.

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

I feel my eyes tear up as i hear his voice. It is liquid silk, like an angel but at times it becomes rough and husky with emotion. Almost too beautiful to be real, i am drugged.

I change my voice to meet his and catch him on the last word, harmonising perfectly.

We come in together for the next verse, our voices swooping around each other, climaxing and falling as if linked together.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will fix you

Tears stream unchecked down my cheeks as I take the next verse solo, yearning for his voice to join me.

And high up above or down below

his humming reverberates underneath the melody, lifting it and carrying it higher.

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try you'll never know

and then as i begin the last line his voice softly comes to meet mine, joining in the melody seamlessly.

Just what you're worth

An ache inside fills me with longing and my voice meets his in harmony as a melancholy tranquility envelops the song as we continue.

We meet and sing the last two verses together, our voices shaping each other and the world seems to have stopped. How could anyone possibly be moving when they have been captured and taken so beautifully? How could people be fighting? How could war happen when such simple but haunting love can bind us?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Our voices fade out in synchrony as the song finishes, but in the silence that follows the memory of the song is enough to keep me entranced.

There is silence. A silence so very complete that talking seem so unnecessary.

Finally the radio hosts come out of their dream…

Well… I am lost for words.. but, um, wow, that was… powerful, I am not sure about you but us here in the studio were at different stages of crying…in a good way of course...

he drones on as the door to my studio opens and my manager and Simon come in, both weeping in the most manly way they can, smiles stuck on their faces. We have a group hug, but i am in shock, lost without that voice.

I step past them, and they turn to follow me as I walk out the corridor towards the other recording studio. But the door is opened before i reach it. Stepping out of it is a god, too heavenly beautiful to be true. His body fits his voice perfectly. Sculpted and … indescribable. The meaning of perfection. I don't know how i must look with my makeup running down my face and my short legs sticking out of running shorts, i must be like a wilting flower in comparison to him.

In that moment i don't care what his personality is, whether he's a player or not, taken or free… but I run up and put my arms around him, holding him tight, as he does the same to me.

A/N OOh, who do you guys think it is? :) please leave me a review letting me know your thoughts (which bits are good/bad) and if I see an idea i really like i will adapt the story to fit it in :) Sorry it's so long but I just couldn't decide where to cut it!

Another question, should i do different perspectives or just Clary's?

I am only posting next chapter when i know you guys want to read it! So please, LEAVE A REVIEW telling me what you think and any suggestions on how to improve it, and also hit follow!

I hope you guys do because i really want to keep updating so you can see where my ideas are leading me ;)