Hello again! The long awaited conversation is here!
Thanks to all the reviewers, favoriters, and followers.
Icankickurbutt: Take it, it's here!
Hiiina: Thanks!
OneLoneStar: Take a guess at who, I want to see what you think! And here's the update :)
Guest: Glad you think so! The conversation is below...
kclare: Good job :)
"How do you have my number?" Jace asked, sounding slightly perplexed.
Clary shook her head. She'd rung him up out of the blue, and he was going to ask how she had his number. "Isabelle gave it to me once when her phone was out of charge and she needed to ask for a lift home."
"Ah, right."
It seemed neither of them were going to say anything about why she'd really called, but she knew he had a fair idea of why.
"So, have you asked Maryse and Robert about me yet?" She winced, knowing how it sounded. "I mean, have you told them about my artworks and everything?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah. They're quite interested."
Clary saw her opening to ask him out, make good on her side of the deal with Sebastian. "Do you…" want to grab a coffee after I come over?
She couldn't do it. She felt sick. This was the day his parents died, and she was trying to use for her own selfish reasons.
She wouldn't do it.
"Do you want me to come over and show them some of my stuff?"
Jace agreed, asking her to wait so he could see when was good for Maryse and Robert. Clary lay on her bed, staring off into the distance. She let the phone fall from her ear onto the bedspread, letting her mind clear completely.
She lurched back into reality when she heard a tinny voice from the voice. She jerked the phone back up to her ear, only to Jace's half panicked "Clary?"
"I'm here," she said, clearing her throat. "Sorry, I drifted off."
He breathed a small sigh of relief. "Robert and Maryse are good for to come over tomorrow after school. You can probably get a ride home with Iz and I."
Clary wasn't sure if she was still breathing. The reality of a commission- a real, paying commission- had hit her square in the chest. Excitement and nerves mixed in the pit of her stomach, and she convinced herself that this was the perfect time to deal with Jace.
"Sure." Her voice didn't sound strangled, did it?
"Alright, see you tomorrow." He hung up, the beep echoing in her ear.
She tried not to focus on the significance of the day. Instead, designs for artworks swirled behind her eyelids until they all blurred together, and all that was left was a simple, black canvas.
But she didn't sleep. Sometimes, she would jolt awake out of a light doze, convinced she was four again and watching Stephen die. Guilt unfurled inside her, an ugly flower growing and growing in her chest. If only she'd done more, ran to the phone more quickly, anything, Jace's parents might still be alive.
Light filled her room with sunrise. Everything was waking up, time was passing, and there were things she had to do; school beckoned, unfinished artworks… but Clary didn't move. Dimly aware of people moving in and out of her room, she caught snatches of conversation that floated away as soon as they appeared, dandelion seeds blown away by the wind.
It had never been this bad before. She'd never allowed herself to get swept up in the undertow of the past. Talking to Jace again as if their old friendship meant something had unlocked it all.
"Clary." Someone was shaking her shoulders. Hard. Their fingers were holding her so tightly she could practically hear her flesh complaining. "Clary, look at me."
She blinked the haze away.
Then blinked again.
Once more.
Her voice croaked from disuse. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to come." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Your parents didn't know who else to call. And Izzy… she's distraught."
Izzy, distraught. It was incongruous, the idea so laughable that she almost didn't believe him. But the expression on his face convinced her otherwise. The mask, the façade, the very statue itself was gone. Jace was raw with emotion.
He had let go of her shoulders at one point, but he caught her hand in one quick motion. "Come on. We're going out."
She stumbled as he pulled her out of bed. "I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me where."
"You're coming, whether you like it or not."
Clary crossed her arms, pulling her hand from his. She was quickly remembering why she didn't like the new Jace. Pulling on a contemplative expression, she tapped her chin. "Hmm, I think… not."
She realized as a genuine grin flitted across his face what the purpose of his little game was. Drawing her out of the past, into the present. He still knew her, despite years slipping by them.
"I'll be back in five." He said, shutting the door behind him.
Clary pulled on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve top. She winced, easing a brush through her tangled hair.
Exactly five minutes later, Jace pushed through the door. He looked good today, she noticed as if the day had no particular importance.
Wait. She thought. "How long… how much…"
He leaned against her cupboard, his posture still perfect. "From the night we spoke to this morning? Almost thirty-five hours."
He watched her guardedly, almost as if he was waiting for a reaction. She said nothing. Thirty-five hours. About a day and a half.
"Come on." He nodded towards the door. She followed without complaint, still a little shocked. No one had been able to get through to her for that long?
The back of Jace's car was filled with Clary's artworks.
"Jonathan." Jace clarified, obviously catching her surprised glance, but didn't explain further.
They drove in silence for about twenty minutes until Clary recognized the route and she made a small sound. He glanced at her but didn't say anything.
As they pulled up at the Lightwood's impressive gates, she wondered if Jace was getting her to talk to Robert and Maryse. Why else would he show up at his own front door with her and a dozen pieces?
Everything he was doing was making it harder and harder for Clary to think about using him, only to try and break his heart. She still didn't like him, but it was hard not to feel empathetic.
He'd never liked people feeling sorry for him, but he was going to have to learn to deal with it.
"What is it?" Jace asked, his tone skeptical.
She blinked. "What's what?"
He shook his head, eyes now focused on the road. "You're making that face."
Clary was starting to get annoyed. "What face?"
"The face where you think you're right. You just stuck your chin out and sat up straight in your seat."
She didn't say anything. He was right, but that didn't mean she wanted to admit it.
Jace broke the silence after a few moments. "Aren't you going to tell what you're right about?"
She pretended to ponder the question. "Nope."
"Nope?"
She quashed a smile.
The meeting had gone brilliantly. Clary knew exactly what she wanted to do after Maryse had let her know she could have free reign. "Your other works are impeccable and you know our house better than anyone." She'd said.
Clary had dragged Jace out to his car, demanded he give her the keys and set off. He hadn't protested, hadn't said anything, which was unusual, but she was going to make the best of it.
They pulled up at an old car park, the pavement split and cracked in places and roots showing underneath, as if the giant tress around them were taking over this ugly man made structure.
Clary pulled the keys out of the ignition and dropped them in her pocket, ignoring Jace's protest. She ignored the guilt snaking around her shoulders, making them heavy.
She had to make Jace fall in love with her, plain and simple. It was high time she got started.
"You want some coffee?" Clary asked, setting off towards her regular coffee shop in the park.
Jace jogged after her to catch up. "Do I have a choice?"
"No, not really." She grinned at him.
He looked exasperated. "Why ask?"
"Seemed like the polite thing to do." Clary shrugged. "So," she started, trying to sound natural. "Favorite place in the world."
Jace gave her a strange look but answered. "I'd have to say the front door of the sports rehabilitation center."
Clary wrinkled her brow, confused. "Why?"
He paused for a few moments, catching a falling leaf out of the air and toying with it. She let the unusual sun cut through the bite of the cool air, warming her face.
"Because you see people alive there. You watch them light up because they've conquered whatever injury had put them out of action. Sometimes you even get to watch people who hadn't been able to walk… just walk away."
"You work there?" She asked, curious.
"I volunteer there." He corrected, sitting on a nearby bench, overlooking the fact that it was wet with dew.
She raised her eyebrows, impressed that he would do something that tough for other people without pay. Joining him on the bench, she started to speak. "That's really-"
Jace interrupted her. "What are you doing, Clary?" His words weren't harsh or abrupt, but they stung anyway.
She scrambled for a reply, hoping her face didn't betray anything. "I'm hanging out with you."
"Maybe I should have asked why, instead."
She looked down at the bench so he couldn't read anything in her eyes. "Maybe I missed you."
He exhaled lowly. "Maybe I missed you, too." His voice was quiet. She glanced up at him. His eyes weren't impenetrable; just looked like they had a thin layer of ice, waiting for someone to come along and just tap it, shattering the wall.
"Yeah?" She said, trying to sound pleased when the deceit was choking her.
"I said maybe." He smirked.
"Oh, shut up." She laughed in real humor.
They bought their coffee, Jace wrinkling his nose when she asked for black. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff."
She used her usual line for Simon on him. "It's black," She said dramatically. "Like my soul."
He'd laughed. "Well, my soul is an attractive golden colour, and I like my coffee to go with it."
Funny, she'd thought, how her soul might really be blackened after this heedless deal.
Sitting in the car, drinking their coffee, Jace repeated her question beck to her. "So," he said, his voice slightly teasing. "Favorite place in the world."
She didn't even have to think about it. "A carnival. Particularly…. particularly the one we went to."
Clary started the car after her last sip of coffee, tossing Jace the keys when they got to her place. "I would say thank you, but you didn't really do anything." Before she could back out of it, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek, his skin cool. "See you at school."
She jumped out of the car and hurried to her front door, unlocking it hastily. Her new favorite word; ignore. She'd ignored the fact that Jace hadn't started his car and left yet, she ignored the fact that butterflies were bashing into the walls of her stomach, and most of all, she ignored the burden weighing her down like a ton of bricks.
Can Clary get over her guilt to follow through? Or will she call off the whole thing? And what's up with Jace? He doesn't seem to be hiding behind that mask anymore...
