Life's Disappointments - Chapter Two

(Jace is a horrible sick person)

Ophelia, The Lumineers

Thunder, The Imagine Dragons

The Lightwood's apartment

12:30 p.m.

February 1st

A week later

"Now, kids, Jace had gotten sick that weekend. And he would call it, "the worst thing to ever happen to me since I was discharged from the army." Of course, Jace was being completely serious when he said this. He hated being sick. Which, looking at later events, is ironic.

ACHOO!

As said before, Jace had been sick.

All weekend. That was only one of the several sneezes he had released during the prior two days.

"I forgot, being sick sucked," Jace grumbled, slurping soup. He sat on the couch, cross-legged, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His face was red, probably from his fever.

Izzy clapped his shoulder happily. "I know, but we all suffered, only fair you do, too." See, Jace hadn't been sick since he left Afghanistan, but after being in the hospital - which he blames for his sickness - he had gotten sick.

Jace grumbled something else, but it was muffled by the sound of several gunshots going off. Izzy jumped up, yelping. "What the hell was that?" She screeched.

I'll admit, I was a little panicked as well - Okay, a lot of panicked, but Jace was the picture of calm. He snorted, lying back on the couch cushions, smirking. "Your idiots." He pointed to the screen. "It's the movie I'm watching."

Izzy glared at him, obviously unhappy with the insult. "Whatever," she snapped. Police sirens blared, again from the movie. Izzy glared at the T.V. then at Jace. "Turn it down," she snapped.

Shaking his head, he smiled. He held up the remote and muted the T.V. "Better?" He rose an eyebrow at Izzy.

"Extremely, thank you," she said with a big mocking grin.

Jace was about to whip a comment out but was cut off by his loud coughs. Once the coughing dialed down, Izzy smiled worriedly at him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get some medicine?"

"Iz, no -" But then he started coughing again, and it seemed to be causing pain because he clawed slightly at his chest.

"I'm getting you medicine, end of discussion." She sat up, grabbing her purse from the coffee table. He tried to protest, but the attempt was futile for when he opened his mouth, another set of coughs racked his body. "What was that? Couldn't hear over your disgusting coughs."

He glared at her, his face very red.

"Thought so," she turned and opened the door, grabbing her coat and heading out.

Once she was gone, Jace unmuted the T.V., grumbling about how he didn't need any medicine.

CVS

12:40 p.m.

As Izzy walked into the pharmacy, she saw a man she was sure she had seen before. Walking closer, she got a look at him. He had brown hair and glasses. Sammy, she thought, trying to recall his name. She stared at him, trying to remember. He looked the exact same as last time, she had noticed. Just with a different t-shirt. See, at that point, he was wearing a shirt that said Rock Solid Panda.

Deciding that just standing there and staring at him was more embarrassing than just talking to him, she walked over.

"Hello," she said, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, and when he saw her, his cheeks flushed. He looked her up and down, assessing her outfit. Black skinny jeans, a black wool sweater that had a low v-cut, and high heels. Her hair was straight, falling wispily over her ears.

He gulped. Izzy was having fun seeing how he reacted. "I remember you."

He had looked nervous. "Huh," he said. "Jee, I don't remember you."

She laughed. "Pretty sure we took a taxi together to the hospital."

He laughed nervously, looking down. He shifted his weight onto his other foot. He looked up."Yes, you're . . . Izzy?"

"Yup," she popped the 'p'. "And you're . . . Sammy? Something like that."

"Uh, no." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Simon."

"Oh!" she said. "I'm sorry, Simon."

He muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

He sighed. "Your brother said you acted like a bitch when your drunk. I see now he was wrong."

"Excuse me? Alec said that?" Izzy had been hurt and angry at me. She couldn't believe I had said that. "Really?"

He nodded. "How was he wrong?" She said.

He grinned. "Well, see, your not only a bitch when your drunk, but you're a bitch when you're sober . . ." She scoffed. "Unless you're not sober right now."

She bit her lip, fighting back the urge to slap him in the middle of the pharmacy. "That was . . . rude!"

"No," he said. "How you acted towards me last week was rude, this is just the truth."

"What's a filthy little rat doing in this part of Manhattan, anyway?" She looked distastefully down at his clothing. "Especially dressed liked that."

"Well, I just came back from Afghanistan, and my friend lives in this part of Manhattan, and I'm staying with her."

"My brother just got back from Afghanistan, as well." She said, thoughtfully.

"Huh, what force? Maybe I know him."

She was about to respond, but her phone rang. She turned away from Simon, who had looked irritated with the interruption, grumbling about how it was rude to turn their back on people. She answered the phone. Spoiler alert: The phone call was from me. I was wondering where

the hell she was, and what was taking her so long.

"Izzy," I said through the phone. She glanced back at Simon, who had his arms crossed over his chest. "Where are you?"

"At the pharmacy. I got distracted," she said, smirking at Simon, who scoffed, looking offended.

"Well, hurry up. Jace isn't getting any better." I said, then I hung up the phone.

Izzy shoved the phone into her coat pocket and turned back to Simon. "Look, this was a lovely chat, but my brothers need me. Bye." She held her hand up and wiggled her fingers as a goodbye, leaving a scowling Simon.

Lightwood's Apartment

12:50

What you kids don't realize was how stupid your uncle was. See, after I got off the phone with Aunt Izzy, I saw Jace drinking a beer. Now, you may wonder what's wrong with that. What's wrong with that was that that was really out of character for Jace. As I mentioned before, he used to never drink. And then, poof! He did. And it was bad. After he had almost died from alcohol poisoning, he craved alcohol. It was disturbing, really.

I maybe would have let him off the hook for that beer another time, but he had been sick, like really sick, and he was going to take medicine soon, so it was bad for him to mix the two.

So, I yelled at him. "Jace," I had shouted. He looked at me. He was shocked.

"What?" He was annoyed. "Why'd you yell?"

"Why the hell are you drinking?" I yelled.

He glanced down at the cold beer in his hands, and then at me, and shrugged. "I wanted too." He was lying. He didn't just want to. It had been like he needed it.

"Who cares if you want too!" I yelled, snatching the beer from his hands.

He glared at me. "I do." He snatched the beer out of my hands and gulped the whole thing.

Some of it dripped down his mouth.

I started at him, horrified. "What the hell is going on with you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing." He sneezed.

"It's obviously not nothing!" I shouted, my patience finally breaking. "This isn't you! You never drank, and now you gulp it down like water!"

"What do you want me to say?" He yelled. "That it's some sort of cure to all my burdens and guilts? That I use it to drown out my sorrows, and I need it?"

I said nothing. That was exactly what I wanted him to say.

"It's not," he said, gently. "I am not the same person who refuses to drink or do anything like that anymore. I grew up. I'm not scared to drink anymore. It no longer plagues me. I let it go, I've matured."

"Killing yourself is not mature," I said quietly.

"I'm not killing myself," he growled. Jace knew something was wrong with himself. In reality, everything he said was a lie, and he knew it. He knew it every time he woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting from having a nightmare of his parent's death. But he was never going to admit it to his family. If he did, then it would only prove the worst: that there was something wrong with him. And he was never going to admit that.

"That's what everyone says before they kill themselves," I said.

Lightwood's Apartment

1:00 P.M.

"I'm home," Izzy sang from the doorway. She pulled off her coat and hung it on the coat rack.

"Shh," Jace groaned from where he lay on the couch, a bundle of blankets and pillows. "I have

a headache."

"Sure it's not a hangover?" I said from where I sat at the kitchen island.

"Shut up, Alec," Jace growled.

Izzy looked at the both of us, confused. She planted her hands on her hips and asked, "Okay, what the hell happened between you two."

Jace knew Izzy was going to side with me, especially after what she had seen a week before.

He didn't really feel like being yelled at. "Nothing. Give me the fucking medicine." He held out his hand over the couch's back pillow.

She stalked over to him. "Moody, moody," she muttered.

"Wait!" I shouted. Izzy looked at me confused, her hand in mid-air. Jace groaned, grumbling, "not again."

"What?"

"Jace drank a beer, medicine doesn't mix well." Izzy snapped her head at Jace, shocked.

"What the hell, Jace?"

"It was one beer, jeez, it won't kill me." He sat up, turning towards her and snatching the bottle of pills. He held them up, shaking them. "And neither will one of these." He popped one into his mouth, swallowing it dry. He dropped back onto the pillows, groaning.

"Jace, your so . . . stupid! What the hell is wrong with you. There is something wrong with you if you think drinking when your sick is good!" The words hurt deep. What was wrong with me? He thought.

"Do you want to kill yourself? Is that it?" She yelled. When he said nothing, she continued. "Because that's what it looks like. Drinking every night, for a week straight?"

"Izzy," I stopped her. "Stop."

She glared at me. "Why should I? He deserves to be yelled at! He drinks, and drinks. It's not healthy."

"Izzy," Jace snapped, having enough of her yelling. "Shut up. You're my sister. Not my carer, not my nurse. So, shut the fuck up."

"I'm your sister, so I do get to yell at you about being stupid. I get to yell at you and care about your health." She huffed and stalked over to her room.

"Your an ass, Jace, you know that?" I asked him. I got up and called Magnus - papa - and told him to pick me up.

Hunter's Moon

A week later

February 8th

8 P.M.

After the episode when Jace was sick, we all walked on eggshells around him. Scared to set him off. As we suspected, he drank every night. The difference was that he went to the Hunter's Moon that night, as Jace would say, drinking away his sorrows. He sighed, placing his head on the counter and groaned.

"You okay?" Someone asked him. He looked up, seeing a woman. She had black hair, and she was Asian. Pretty, Jace thought. It was obvious she was a bartender, wiping a glass with a cloth napkin.

Jace shook his head. "Aww," the bartender laughed. "Can I guess?"

He nodded. "You won't get it. It's not the usual 'drown my sorrow out with alcohol' stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she bit her lip. "I have seen a lot of stuff, so I'm going to guess…" She studied him, tapping her fingers on the counter. "You . . . are a guy who . . . thinks that he is bad. Something is wrong with you. You think you mess up everything you touch, including your family. Who, I'm guessing, hates you."

Jace looked up at her, smirking. "And," she added. "Girl problems. As usual."

Jace nodded. "Okay, my family doesn't hate me. You're wrong. We are having a quarrel because apparently, I have an alcohol problem." He sipped his whiskey.

"Do I have to be worried about this 'alcohol problem'?" She eyed the drink in his hand.

He laughed. "No, no. My siblings are paranoid, that's all."

"Ahh, those are the worst. I'm sorry." She placed her hand on her heart. They laughed. "How about, because I pity you, I give you the next one on the house?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, grinning. "I like you." It was true. He really did like her. Being with her gave him a sense of freedom. No one was looking over his shoulder constantly like they were scared of what he would do. They were just being with him like he wasn't completely messed up.

She laughed again. "Many may disagree."

"Well, then they're stupid." She lifted an eyebrow at him. He held up his glass in appreciation. "I mean, anyone who gives a person a free drink because the pity them is a great person in my book," he explained.

"I don't think I have ever seen anyone be happy about being pitied," she said, amused.

"Well, then maybe I really do have an alcohol addiction, or I am really, really drunk. But, because I don't want to prove you or my siblings right, I am going to blame it on my drunkness."

"Good idea."

"You know," Jace thought. "I think I do have girl problems."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

"Because a few weeks ago, I went to the hospital -" She was about to ask why, but he rushed out, "the reason is unimportant." She nodded. He continued, "and I met this girl, she was very pretty, and a spitfire. But then I got discharged, and I keep thinking about her!"

She stared at him, her head cocked to the side. "Well," she finally spoke. "It seems that you

happen to like her."

"What?" He exclaimed. "I can't. I'm totally in love with this other person, and I love them, but it didn't work out."

She nodded her head a couple of times in understanding. "I think I may give you another pity drink." He laughed. "Honestly, if you like her, and it seems you do, then it didn't work out with the other person, then go to this girl!"

He groaned. "Two reasons why I can't. One: I don't know how to find her, so . . ." She lifted both her eyebrows. "And two: Even If I did find her, she doesn't deserve to be a rebound."

She sighed, shaking her head. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why she shook her head. Seeing his expression, she said, "I would never have pawned you for the

considerate type. And I am actually giving you another pity drink." He smirked, liking that a lot.

She took his glass and poured another whiskey.

So, he sat there, talking with the bartender, laughing and joking. And for the first time in a long time, your uncle Jace enjoyed himself.

Hunter's Moon

9:00 P.M.

By the time Jace's night was coming to a close, Jace was wasted. He had a lot of drinks in that one hour. So much that his new bartender friend had gotten worried. But when she rejected his requests for refills, he called for another bartender to get another drink. And soon, he felt the same symptoms he felt two weeks ago when he nearly died.

But Jace knew that what was happening was the same thing that happened two weeks ago. He was too drunk.

When Jace stood up, claiming he didn't feel good, he was unstable, falling back down on the stool. He closed his eyes, placing his head on the counter.

"Um, sir," the bartender asked, not knowing Jace's name, even at that point, "Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?"

Jace barely heard her. He felt dizzy and hazed. He was aware of what happened around him; the chatter of the people around him, the cheers of people watching football on the T.V, the laughs, but he was disoriented.

"No," he mumbled.

"Sir," the woman asked again. "Are you okay?" When Jace didn't give a response, she said, "I'm calling an ambulance." That was the last thing he heard before he fell into the unconscious.

Jacobi Medical Center

February 9th

Two weeks after Jace came home

5:00 A.M

When Jace became self-aware again, he couldn't open his eyes, and his throat was raw. He remained calm, knowing that if he freaked out it wouldn't help. So he waited to regain complete control and conscience.

I had stayed the night after hearing that Jace had gotten admitted again. Izzy and I had fought over who got to stay with him. But in the end, I stayed because I was Jace's emergency contact, which I had happily reminded Izzy, who frowned, unhappy with the reminder that she wasn't. I was at Magnus - papa - and I's apartment, sleeping, when I received a call from the

hospital, telling me that your uncle Jace was taken to the hospital, OD'ing again.

I was furious. I lugged myself out of bed, throwing the covers off my body hastily, grumbling. I had woken Papa up. He sat up on his elbows and whispered to me in the dark, "What happened? Where are you going?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Jace. He's in the hospital again . . ."

Magnus immediately stood up on the floor. "I'm going with you."

I was stunned. "What?"

"Well, this a hard time for your family - for you - and I'm going to be there for you. And as much as I hate to admit it, I care for Jace. He's family." Immediately, I fell in love with your father all over again. I walked over to him, pulled him by the elbows, and kissed him.

"I love you," I had whispered to him against the lips. He smiled and pecked me on the lips.

"I love you," he replied.

None of this was known by Jace when he opened his eyes and looked around the room.

Magnus had slept with me throughout the night, waiting for Jace to open his eyes. So, he was startled when he opened his eyes and saw a waking Magnus. As you, kids, know, Papa wheres very . . . exotic clothing, but when he wakes up, he has none of that. Therefore, Jace jumped back from where he lay.

Magnus snapped his head towards Jace, who calmed down. "Are you okay?" Magnus said rushing to Jace's side.

"Yeah, you just look really different not all dressed up," Jace said.

Magnus laughed. "Of course I do! What? Do you think I wake up like that?"

Of course, Uncle Jace knew he didn't, but he never really thought about that. "No, it's just strange."

Then I walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee. I handed one to Papa, kissing him on the cheek. "Eww," Jace groaned. We glared at him. "I don't want to witness that!"

"It's your punishment for almost dying," I said, gripping the ends of his bed.

Jace groaned. "That was uncalled for."

"Whatever, we're talking about this later." Jace rolled his eyes, not wanting to talk to me at all. "In the meantime, how do you feel?"

"Not good."

"Well, you did almost die," I smirked. He glared at me.

"Let's not bring that up again, shall we?"

"No, Jace -" I started, but then a nurse and a doctor came in. When Jace's eyes glanced at the nurse, he was filled with disappointment. Disappointment at the fact that it wasn't the red-headed nurse. I looked over at Magnus, who stared at Jace. It had been obvious he, too, saw the disappointment that flashed across his face. And we both knew why.

"Based on your records, you were admitted here about two weeks. Almost dying both times. And because this could be a sign of suicide, we'll be keeping you here overnight for observation. As well as a psych consult," The doctor told Jace, Izzy, Magnus, and I.

Jace didn't like the news. He thought it was unreasonable to think that he was suicidal. "I am not doing it," Jace protested. "I am not staying."

"Mr. Herondale, while you can deny the treatment, we strongly urge you to take it. We are concerned."

Jace growled. "I a -"

He tried to retaliate, but Izzy walked up to him, taking his chin in her hand, and forcing him to look at her. "Jace," she said with an eerie calm. "You have a problem. Okay? You are going to take the fucking consult, you will talk about your feelings, even if you want to be a stereotypical male, and you will listen to the doctor, or I'll call mom and tell about your problem." His eyes widened in fear.

We all knew that our mother - your grandmother - Maryse was strict. She raised us telling us not to pick up drugs, not to do bad things, not to drink a lot. And it wasn't just a regular thing, like all parents, she reminded us weekly. She threatened to cut off our money if we did.

After a few moments of silence on Jace's end, he said "fine," deciding it was better to take one consult than to be poor.

Once the doctors left the room, Magnus turned to Jace and drawled, "You know you have hit rock bottom when you use your alcohol addiction to get a girl."

If Jace hadn't been connected to millions of wires and an I.V, he would have punched your papa so hard it would have sent him flying. But, luckily, when he tried to move, he found that he couldn't, so Jace glared at him instead.

"Shut up, Bane." Jace lied down on the bed, breathing hard. Jace had been angry because he hated that Magnus had been right; he may have - deep down - tried to drink away his desperation for the girl. And he had hoped to see her again when he came to the hospital. And he didn't want anyone to associate the word addiction with him since he was sure on the fact that he was not an alcoholic."

One Line Preview: "He needs a therapist - or something!"

Goodnight (or day), Las Vegas (or where ever you live)!

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