A/N: This is a oneshot I wanted to upload whist trying to get my other, main account to work. I hope you enjoy, please review and send me requests for ideas or concepts as I like practice, and I haven't written in a long time. A bit angsty, kind of fluffy, and some frightening scenes. Read on :)
Fight or Flight.
2016:
Clary Fray pulled her thick, woolen coat tighter around her as she exited the office. She worked at a dreary newspaper editor's, and she wished the days away filing pointless stockphotos and writing endless drabble on the latest celebrity gossip. She was twenty three, without a college degree, and alone in the big city; not looking forward to returning home to her dingy, stale apartment and the dinner of leftover take out that awaited her. Turning and jamming the stiff key into the door, she twisted the lock shut and dropped the keys into her satchel. It was a convenient bag for the long trek home; Clary earned little, and felt it was pointless to waste her money on a subway card- instead opting to walk the long distance every morning and evening, taking it at a pace as the darkness descended.
Tonight Clary quickened her pace, tightening her hands on her coat as she crossed into busier streets; usually she left early enough to avoid the sleezy night life, however tonight she was not so fortunate as she could already see some of the slimiest of New York's inhabitants crawling around the streets outside of various bars and nightclubs. Fear clutched at her heart as a group of people laughed loudly and she quickened her pace- ignoring the ache in her legs.
She was nearly home; her head pounded from the onslaught of techno music that bombarded her every other step; her feet cursed her, throbbing dully with every step. Anxiety had a tight grip on her, and she kept her head down, eyes glued to the pavement, avoiding eye contact with the rowdy strangers that grew in confidence as time ticked on.
She was distracted, trying to keep her mind off of the deadly terror that had enveloped her.
This is why she didn't notice the strangers that began to fall in step behind her.
This is also why she didn't notice their growing jeering.
And this is why she was shell shocked as a large, strong arm wrapped itself around her mouth and spun her into a dark alley.
Clary's heart nearly stopped as she was flung against a hard, brick wall, her head making a sickening thud; the same arms reached for her again and pushed her harshly against the wall, pulling her up so that her short stature reached their height, pressing an arm heavily against her throat, constricting her airways. The assailant leaned closer and their hot, acrid breath fanned against her face making her cringe. Jeers and drunken laughter assaulted her ears as the attacker pressed harder, and she let out a gasp that caused their arm to press her neck and hand to fly to cover her mouth.
"She doesn't like that, does she?" An, astoundingly feminine, voice called out.
"No, she really doesn't." Masculine this time. Clary's eye forced themselves shut as her head struck the wall again, and a grimy, greasy hand pushed into her coat.
God no, not like this. She couldn't die this way. She screamed into his hand,a nd was met my more laughter.
Okay, she thought. Three people. She could get out of this, right?
As if reading her mind, her attacker pushed his stubbly, wet mouth to her ear.
"There's no getting out of this my sweet. You're all ours." Clary grimaced as her satchel was ripped from her side, preparing to bite or kick adrenaline building slowly.
Then he stabbed her.
Whether with a knife or a shard of bottle, Clary didn't know, all Clary knew was the torment, the dirty, unyielding pain of the weapon in her stomach. She was truly going to die. She had spent her life running away; from her life, her friends.
Her love.
And now she would die alone, in a disgusting alley, surrounded by sadists.
She could't let that happen.
Her attacker pulled the object from her and slackened his grip as he turned to laugh with his companions; this was a mistake. Clary sucked in a deep breath, braced herself against the wall, and flung her head as hard as she could against her attacker. As soon as his startled arm fell away from her throat she dropped to the ground, rolling onto her side. Releasing her breath she let out the loudest screams that she could, scrambling through the pain in her head and the throb in her stomach to stand up.
"Help!" Her screech was desperate, and she just managed to pull herself to her feet when two bodies collided heavily with her and knocked her to the ground again. She thrashed wildly as her stomach was pressed against the ground, and she let out a guttural scream as a boot clad foot smashed down onto her arm. She could see the end of the alleyway, the dull light of the street only illuminating it slightly; that's when she saw the shadow. Clary screeched, a face from her past swimming into her mind as her attacker smashed her face into the damp ground once again.
"Quiet, bitch!" He hissed, but it was too late.
"Hey!"
A masculine voice sounded, followed by hurried footsteps, and Clary felt the meagre freedom as the stinking weight of the man was pulled off her. Through tear blurred vision she could, just about, see the chaos ensuing in the dark; it was finally too much though, and as she spun onto her back, the searing pain in er head felt as though it had split her open. She couldn't even cry, and settled for collapsing onto her back, one hand pressing desperately at the sticky, hot wound on her stomach. The night sky above her was unusually empty, no stars or light pollution, and the endless black was so appealing. She could hear the fight ending, but her eyes were already fluttered shut.
Oblivion.
Every sound was like water, washing over her, muffled by her own pain. She heard someone call for nine-one-one. Another voice calling out for help. Then she felt a grip on her waist, as she couldn't bring herself to fight at all as her head was pulled into someones lap: Clary was ready for pain, ready for the end; but nothing came. Instead, large warm hands caressed her face, soothing her throbbing head.
"Oh, God. Izzy! Send an ambulance!" The voice was frenzied, choked up and... familiar?
"C'mon, just hold on. Help is coming... help is..." The soft voice trailed off, and Clary felt soft hands stroking her hair.
"By the Angel."
"No."
"It can't be."
...
"Clary?"
The last word was barely a whisper, but Clary had had enough. The darkness that had seemed so eagerly appealing was opening it's arms to her, and Clary allowed herself to be taken.
...
2006:
"Clary? Yoohoo, Clary- are you listening?" Clary shook herself from her daydream and turned to face her best friend Simon. His coffee coloured eyes were shining behind a pair of broken glasses, and an amused expression crossed his face.
"Yeah, yes- sorry Simon, go on." Clary replied, trying to pay attention. But Simon was already laughing.
"You were staring at Lightwood again." He chuckled, throwing a greasy chip at her head. She dodged it and tried to hide her blush in her unruly, red hair, but Simon just laughed harder.
"I wasn't..." She squeaked, embarrassed that she had been caught staring at the attractive newcomer. He was in her Literature class, and ever since he and his raven haired siblings had arrived in town, she had been captivated by him. His long arms, unusually tall stature for a thirteen year old, and his mesmerisingly gold eyes, like molten sun.
"You're doing it again!" Simon yelled, and Clary had to turn back to him and cover his mouth as the three siblings turned their heads toward the noise, curious looks on their face.
"Okay, okay! Maybe I was a tiny bit." He grinned and pushed Clary off of him, laughing at his best friend's embarrassment.
"Why don't you just talk to him?" Simon asked; to him, Clary was the most spectacular person he knew, and knew that any guy would love to be hers. She just narrowed her eyes at him and growled.
"Not funny, Si. What would a guy like him see in me?" Simon's eyes widened, but Clary had already pulled out her sketchbook. "Besides-" She smirked, looking at him. "I don't see you chatting up Isabelle."
It was Simon's turn to blush.
...
2007:
"Ugh! Isabelle, I hate your brother!" Clary stormed into Isabelle's room, where the ebony haired girl sat painting her toenails sky blue. She turned her dark eyes on her best friend.
"What has Alec ever done to you?" She queried jokingly, met by Clary's vicious glare as the redhead sat heavily beside her.
"You know who I mean- yellow haired, freakishly tall bas-"
"Wow! Keep it PG Morgenstern." Isabelle laughed. Clary wasn't amused, so Isabelle turned to her.
"Okay. What did Jace do this time?"
"He called me short." Isabelle raised her eyebrows, frustrating Clary further.
"Would you prefer vertically challenged?" Clary's glare was killer.
"He called me short, in front of all of his moron friends, and then he took my sketchpad." Isabelle sat up straighter at this. Clary was the happiest girl Izzy knew, but behind it all Clary's family was like a nuclear war; and her sketchbook was where she kept all of her dangerous emotions safe.
Tears swam in Clary's eye's, as she realised the magnitude of what had just happened, and Isabelle ditched the polish to give pull the red head into a tight hug.
"You're okay, Clare." She rubbed her back soothingly. "Where's the sketchbook now?"
Clary sniffed. "In the bin." Isabelle looked shocked.
"Jace chucked it in the bin!" She yelled. Clary shook her head.
"I did." Isabelle's red lips dropped open.
"Why on Earth, Clary?" The crying girl shrugged and pulled away.
"Safest place for it." Isabelle shook her head.
"Look, Clary-" She passed over a bottle of brilliant emerald nail paint. "You do your nails, and I'll grab it out of the bin. Back in a minute." Isabelle rose to her feet, shooting a quick glance at her red eyed best friend, and headed downstairs.
The hallways of her large house were quiet, so Isabelle assumed her brothers arrogant football friends had left. She didn't know why he hung out with those idiots.
Crossing the hall to the kitchen, Isabelle swept her hair back in preparation to dig through the trash- she was met with the sight of her tyrant brother standing in the middle of the kitchen, Clary's spiral bound sketchbook in his tanned hands, his nose buried deep.
"Jonathon Christopher Lightwood!" Isabelle yelled, throwing a hand over her mouth.
Jace dropped the book, his golden eyes guilty as they met Isabelle's.
"What the hell were you doing, Jace!" He squirmed under her gaze, but his arrogance and curiosity got the better of him.
"Hey- it was in the trash, it's not my fault." Isabelle his his arm, and he flinched.
"That does not give you the right to go digging through my best friend's stuff! And she already told me you took it, so save your breath."
Jace had the decency to look ashamed, and he knew he should drop it, but his burning curiosity came out as Izzy bent to retrieve the book.
"Izzy-look I know it was wrong, I do. It's just that she's always had that thing, ever since I met her, and I just wanted to know... and now that I do..."
Isabelle ran her eyes over him scornfully.
"What, Jace. What 'now that you know'?" His gold eyes blazed.
"Is she okay? I mean, some of the stuff in there... It's pretty dark."
Isabelle had a look that could kill.
"Don't you dare ever ask her, okay Jace? Pretend you never saw, don't ask her, don't try to look again, don't even think about it. She's had enough of you taunting her- just leave her alone. She doesn't need your help to be any more miserable."
And with that she spun out if the room, leaving a shell shocked Jace stinging from her words.
...
2008:
Clary lay on her back alone on the green. Izzy and Simon had 'gone to hand in a project' - code for 'gone to make out behind a bush', so she was alone; she didn't mind though. She liked the serenity, watery sunshine filtering through the clouds, warming her face. What she didn't enjoy was the sudden onslaught of jeering.
Peering her eyes open, Clary looked over to see two boys in her grade fighting, a crowd gathering slowly, the fight travelling toward her. She stood up and brushed herself off, getting ready to leave and ignore the fight; then she saw Jace. The idiot was locked in a brawl with Sebastian Verlac, his golden features becoming clearer. Clary sucked in her breath- she had barely spoken to him in a year, but both of those boys were in her homeroom this year, and she found that Jace had been nothing but nice since the 'Sketchbook Incident'. Groaning at what she was about to get into, she stepped forward with purpose and moved toward the fight, getting there whilst only fifteen other people were beginning to crowd. People were cheering them on and she watched in horror as Sebastian threw Jace to the floor. His lip was bleeding, but he rolled over and stood up again. She heard a teacher call out and Jace turned; but Sebastian fought dirty, and raised his fist back to throw a punch, so Clary did the only thing that her spontaneous mind could do.
She threw herself in front of Jace, directly into Sebastian's fist's line of power; the punch had been the right height for Jace's chest, but as Clary was so small, his harsh fist connected directly with her head. She fell hard, and saw through blurred vision Sebastian- the coward- swearing and running off, and the crowd separating. Only Jace and Clary were left, and Jace dropped to his knees beside her.
"Clary! Clary, can you hear me. Oh God, I'm sorry." Clary dragged herself to her feet, Jace gripping her hand.
"Really Jace, I'm fine-" However, right as Clary stood straight and tried to reassure Jace, she pitched forward dizzily. She prepared herself to fall when a pair of strong, quick arms spun her and she fell into Jace's warm chest.
"I'm sorry." She muttered, dazed. But Jace just laughed guiltily.
"You're sorry! You saved me from that coward- I should be sorry. You could've gotten seriously hurt." Clary tried to pull away, but his arms tightened involuntarily around her waist.
"Are you okay, Clary?" His voice was surprisingly gentle, and Clary raised her eye's to meet his own. Jace could have gasped at her intense gaze, warm under a layer of auburn lashes.
"I'm good." She breathed. So good, she thought. Spotting the split in Jace's lip, she reached up and gently caressed his chin. Jace tensed at first, unused to the contact, and Clary tried to pull away once more, but his hand snaked up atop her own and kept her there, their eye's locked.
Neither of them moved, mesmerised by eachother, like they were seeing eachother for the first time, and they couldn't stop drinking eachother in.
That is, until Izzy and Simon coughed, and they broke apart hastily.
"So." Smirked Simon. "What've you guys been doing?"
...
2009:
It was the evening after Isabelle's 16th birthday, and Jace had stayed behind in the empty house as the rest of the family went out for a meal. Izzy loved her birthday, but Jace was weary as he knew that Simon would be there- and that Rat Faced kid was getting on his nerves. They were the same age, sure, but he was just so... scrawny and irritating; not to mention nowhere good enough for Izzy.
He found himself wondering where Clary was; when he had asked Isabelle about it she had just shot him a scathing look. It had shocked him, as himself and his sister's fiery red headed friend had been getting along better than ever; Clary hung out with Jace at lunch when their friends were busy, she insisted on going to every football match- despite not even being on the cheer squad, and she was always laughing with him. Clary was the only person that could make him smile until his face hurt, and staring into her glorious emerald eyes...
He could do that forever.
Shaking himself from his reverie he walked from his room to the kitchen to grab some water; shivering as the wind whistled viciously against the windows.
It was freezing.
He switched on the light, opening up the fridge to get his drink before crossing to the living room where he lit a small fire in the pristine fireplace. He was just settling down to turn on the stereo when a timid knock made him jump. Laughing at himself for being so jumpy, but still cautious, he got to his feet, wondering who could be calling so late. Grumbling as the knocking came again he picked up the pace to the large double doors.
"Alright, I'm coming!" He called out, irritation colouring his tone. Jace ran a hand through his messy hair and he reached for the bolt- he expected a delivery van, or maybe a preachy neighbour handing out pamphlets.
What he didn't expect was a soaking wet Clary, standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night.
"Clary?" He asked hesitantly, eyes wide in shock. Her usually freckled skin was pale and drawn, green eyes wide and dull, dark bags hugging her under eyes. Her hair was plastered to her head, like glistening streaks of blood, and her lips had taken on a deathly blue hue. It was only then that Jace realised she had no coat, and was hugging her thin arms to herself as if she might break.
"J...Ja...Jace." Clary's teeth chattered uncontrollably."Is...Is Isabelle...here?"
Jace snapped out of his shock, tugging Clary inside and locking the door whilst responding.
"She's out tonight- I thought you knew." Clary seemed to deflate further, folding in on herself, so Jace continued slowly, trying to figure out a plan to help the girl; her eyes were so sad he thought his heart would break.
"Just...just sit on the couch for a minute Clary- I'll be right back." He turned and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and then raced to his room, grabbing a shirt that was big on even him and a pair of socks. Jace was about to leave when he turned back and grabbed his white duvet and pulled the whole thing off- racing back to Clary with his loot.
He expected her to be in the living room, but she was still stood, as rigid as a statue, in the entry hall.
Something was really wrong.
"Clary. Hey- Clary, can you hear me?" Her empty eyes turned to face him.
"Go down the hall and change, okay? You'll warm up quicker. Here's a towel." He handed her the clothes and she took them mechanically; turning on her heel and heading to the downstairs bathroom, locking the door.
Jace spun around and dumped the blanket on the couch, turning the fire up. He was just closing the large curtain when he head a movement behind him.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw her in only his shirt. It reached her knees, but still.
"Clary." He breathed softly, and held out the blanket to her. She came over to him and sat on the couch; Jace followed, sitting beside her, and he threw the blanket over them both - placing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. He felt her small frame hesitate, but she gave in and melted to his side, her tremulous shivering stopping after a moment.
She curled up beside him, pressing her cold hands against his warm chest. She didn't speak.
"Not that I mind, but... Why are you here Clary?" Clary turned her eyes on him, staring into his gold ones with fixed sincerity.
"I didn't know where else to go." Her voice was cracked and shaking, like the crackling of the fire. Jace thought for a moment.
"Where were you? And why were you out in the rain- did something happen?" He could tell by the way she tensed that he had hit the nail on the head, and waited for a response. Suddenly, her green eyes welled up and began to spill over; hot, wet tears blurring her vision as her sorrow assaulted her.
"She's gonna die Jace!" She sobbed and buried her head into his neck. Jace's blood ran cold, and he squeezed her tighter and her body was wracked with sobs.
"Who Clary, c'mon, talk to me. I'm here. I've got you."
Her breathing evened out, but she continued to cry silently, then began to talk.
"My Mom." She whispered, and Jace could hear the pain, but he allowed her to continue.
"They were arguing; my Mom and Dad. It got bad- he was lashing out, they were swearing and my Mom just... she left. Ran outside. But God, Jace..." Another sob hit her. "It was so dark- she couldn't see, and this car- it came out of nowhere.!" Jace caught his breath. No. Not Jocelyn.
"I heard her scream, so I ran out- called nine-one-one; I went with her but..." She pulled her hands up to clutch at her chest as if it were breaking. "They said she wouldn't make it! I ran out of there. I couldn't take it. She's gonna die and Im going to be all alone. Oh God, oh God."
Jace couldn't stand it; his own heart was breaking, and he remebered back to seven years ago when he had lost his parents, how he had been torn in half.
He wrapped his arms around her, encircling her in warmth and held on- whispering sweet words, comforts into her ear, praying that she would be okay.
That's how the Lightwoods found them, Clary asleep in Jace's arms, and a stricken teenage boy explaining the situation.
The next morning the sombre group of Jace, Clary, Isabelle and Maryse Lightwood made their way through the hospital, stopping at Jocelyn Fray-Morgenstern's door. The white, stale room was filled with beeping moniters; Clary's father was nowhere in sight, and Jace felt a great urge to punch him in the face. No one talked as they filed into the room, Maryse placing a large vase of purple flowers by the sleeping woman's bed.
Jocelyn's face was calm, a large yellowing bruise cutting across her soft features, washing away any youth. Still, both Jace and Isabelle saw the startling resemblance.
Clary asked to be left alone for a moment; the three others trailed out in search of coffee, informing her they would be right back, but as Jace turned back to see the tiny red head gripping her mother's cold hand, he knew she hadn't heard.
It took four hours for Jocelyn Fray-Morgenstern to pass away, peacefully to a cacophony of beeping moniters.
Her funeral was a week later; outdoors in the cloudy, grey cemetery by the Church. Clary hadn't spoken since she had died.
Clary had gripped both Simon and Izzy, her pale skin deathly white against the long black dress she wore.
She didn't show up for the Wake.
...
2010:
It was New Year's Eve senior year, and Isabelle had thrown a massive party in her house; people of all ages were streaming through the corridor, bright shoes and tight dresses slinking through doorways.
Clary had never been one for parties, but being alone on New Year's was worse than being alone on Christmas. She had stayed home alone whilst her father was on a business trip, or so he said, and she truly thought that one more second alone would send her over the edge of madness.
She had changed her name to Fray. It was more fitting.
She had gotten close to Jace this year. He had asked her on a date, but she hadn't been ready for that, for closeness, for love. So he settled for being her bestfriend; he drove her to and from school every day, trying to make her laugh- she could always make him smile, but the light didn't quite touch her eyes anymore. They went to sleezy restaurants in the middle of the night, when both of their nightmares became too much. They fell asleep watching movies together, she wore his jersey to every match, he was the first to pick her in any project.
And he was totally in love with her.
And she was utterly in love with him. It's just that they were both too blind to see it.
Izzy and Simon were plotting.
"He needs to ask her out. He needs to; they are perfect for eachother." Even Simon reluctantly nodded at this; ever since Jocelyns death she hadn't been the same. Clary felt more whole, more real when she was with her bestfriends, but when she was with Jace-
She lit up like fairy lights.
"She needs him, Iz. I just don't get why he doesn't just..."
"Go for it?" She finished. He nodded, coffee coloured hair spilling into his eyes.
"I'll go talk to him."
Rushing through the crowds of unruly teens in her house, Isabelle swiftly descended the stairs in her sky high stillettos and approached her brother, whose golden head stood high above any others.
"Jace!" She hissed, and he turned in surprise as he was tugged into the pantry.
"Wow! Iz, what's up? Why are we in here." Isabelle interrupted him.
"Kiss her." He blanced, rubbbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Um...Kiss who?" Jace retorted sheepishly. Isabelle raised her brows knowingly, and Jace sagged.
"I can't Izzy. She told me before- she doesn't want me." He leant against the wall; all he wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to be Clary's, for Clary to be his. But she didn't want him. He felt a sharp slap to his head and cried out.
"Hey! What was that all about!" He rubbed his head, but Isabelle was glaring.
"Trust me Jace, she wants you. She needs you. So buck up and make her yours before I kick your ass; and hurry up, there's only five minutes to go.
She stormed out of the cupboard, short dress disappearing into the crowd. Jace closed his eyes. Clary.
Conviction took hold of him and he sped off, looking for the girl he loved.
"Clary!" He yelled, traipsing through the downstairs. She was nowhere in sight. "Clary!" He yelled again, and only as he reached the top of the stairs did he find her.
Four minutes.
"Jace! Are you okay, you're out of breath." Her soft hands were on his arm and he lost focus. Only for a second. He grabbed her hand, relishing the soft, perfect way they fit together, and pulled her into his room where it was quieter.
Three minutes.
"Look, Clary. I would never ruin our friendship- you now that, right? And if you still don't want me I would get it- I would still be your friend-"
Two minutes.
Clary looked shocked as he continues, staring up into his golden eyes, melting as he talked.
"But the thing is, I can't be your friend! Not anymore." Clary felt a sting, and Jace backpedalled, running out of time and coherent thoughts. Had Jace brought her here to be insulted.
One minute.
"No! That's not what I mean- why is this so hard? The thing is-" He took a deep breath. Take the plunge. "I love you. I'm in love with you, and I always will be. I want you to be mine- you know that- and I want to be yours. I want to make you happy, I need to and..."
Five.
"I need you. I always will."
Four.
"But I know what you've been through..."
Three.
"...and if you don't want me, I'll understand."
Two.
"Just know-"
One.
Jace was cut off as a fiery redhead leapt up and wound her soft hands around his neck, straining to press her lips against his. Something exploded in his; something better that anything he had ever experienced. Clary was kissing him. Clary. His Clary.
Winding his hands around her waist he bent down, deepening their kiss, both of them smiling, as the clock ticked into a New Year.
...
2012:
Clary was leaving.
"You can't go Clary- what about college!" He rushed after her as she loaded bag after bag into her beat up truck.
"What about it Jace? My money has run out, it's over. I need to go, I need to find myself."
Jace was desperate. How could she be leaving him?
"I am begging you, don't do this. You're life is here, you're friends, you're-"
She cut him off shortly.
"My family?" She laughed, the usual emptiness filling her. "I haven't got any of that left Jace. My father is just an empty shell now. My Mom is dead. I'mall alone, and I need to.. to figure some stuff out."
Anger errupted from him.
"What am I then- what's Izzy, Simon, Alec? I thought we were family. I thought it was gonna be you and me, Clary Fray, you and me forever. I can't watch you leave, Stay! Get a job- move in with me. I'll keep wou safe." He grabbed her hand to stop her from going inside to get another bag. "Stay with me. I love you."
She smiled sadly.
"And I love you, Jace. So bad that I think sometimes, when you're not there, that I'm going to break in half. But that's not right; I should love myself. I should be a person on my own, without you. I can't be a half of a whole anymore Jace. I need to be me."
Jace understood, but he couldn't take it.
"I'll be back, one day." She whispered as she loaded the last box into her truck. She climbed in, Jace watching helplessly. "I've already said goodbye to the others. Goodbye, my love."
"I love you." He said desperately, and leaned in to kiss her once more, pressing the taste of her into him, remebering every line-
She broke it apart.
"So let me go, Jace. Let me go."
And with that she pulled away from the curb, hiding the tears that came freely from her green eyes, not noticing the broken man that dropped to his knees in anguish, unmoving as she melted into the horizon.
And that was the last time he saw her.
...
2016:
Until now.
The hospital room was white, too bright, and had the same smell as all those years ago.
The body of the bed was too similar to her mother's, too pale and drawn to be his Clary. She had changed; her hair was longer than ever, trailing in a fan on her pillow like fire engulfing paper. Her lips were bluish, under eyes dark and tired. She was thinner, but not taller, and that worried Jace.
She said she would come back, but she never did. It had been four years since he had seen her love, and his heart ached for her exactly the same as all thise years ago.
When she first left he had been furious, pacing the city every night for her, screaming out in drunken misery for her. His demons caught up with him without her; and he still loved her.
Isabelle and Simon were engaged. They had been looking for her for a while, trying to get her to come back for the wedding, but she had hidden herself.
Jace had been engaged. To a gold digger, albeit, and it was a short engagement, but still.
And all that time, with every ounce of himself, he loved her.
His siblings and Simon had arrived and they were getting coffee. When he had exited the nightclub that night, he never expected to be met with a deadly fight between three dirt bags. He never expected to take all three down And he never expected that their victim would be his first love, his only love.
He wondered if she still loved him.
Suddenly, a soft moan escaped Clary's lips and Jace jumped. It had been a week since she arrived in the hospital, and the doctors said she had severe brain bleeding and a perforated stomach.
Jace could've killed the bastards.
The doctors had said that she wouldn't wake, not for at least a month. But there she was; defying the odds as always and fluttering her intense green eyes open.
"Jace." She mumbled. "Am I dead?"
He could've laughed. Or cried.
"No, you're not. We got you out of there. You're gonna be okay."
Her eyes welled up with tears, and through her blurred vision she saw the only man she had ever loved. It couldn't be real.
"I was so scared. I was so..." She broke off into a sob and Jace gripped her hand. "I'm sorry Jace. I'm sorry."
He didn't know what she meant, but her eyes were closing again.
"I love you, Jace Lightwood. I always..." She trailed off, and Jace was left in shock.
"I'll always love you too, my Clary." He whispered, holding her hand, intending to never let go.
THE END.