I have to be the most horrible human being ever! I sat here for months with writer's block and just a complete lack of inspiration for this story. I was driving myself crazy over how I was going to get the next chapter up for you. Then I finally log back on and find that I was one chapter behind and had the next chapter already written.
I am so extremely sorry that you are stuck with such a forgetful idiot.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the characters in this story. All rights belong to Cassandra Clare.
The trip back to the Institute was traveled in a frigid silence between the two. On the subway, Clary sat on the bench across from where Jace was seated, staring down at her shoes the same way she had been since they left her apartment. On the other hand, Jace took advantage of her distraction and studied her from across the aisle. Her red hair fell in front of her face, acting as a curtain between her and the rest of the world. And Jace found himself itching to push the curls back behind her ear so he could see her green eyes. Stop it, Jace! Get a grip, will you? He mentally slapped himself at these foreign feelings that were sidetracking him from the task at hand. Find Clary's mom.
The sound of the brakes screeching and the slight lurch as it skidded to a halt just at the platform vibrated the car they were in. Clary stood up, almost robotically, and exited the doors the second they slid open, without knowing if Jace was following. But of course he was. Something about Clary drew him to her and he knew in that moment that he would follow her wherever she went.
…
After they successfully trekked back to the Institute, Hodge met them in the library where they discussed the events of the night, which wasn't much. Still, Clary was in her own mind and was barely listening to Jace relay the details of the state in which they found her apartment. It wasn't until the silence caught her attention and she realized both Hodge and Jace were staring at her. She just looked back at them with dull eyes.
"Clary," Hodge started, "I have to tell the Clave about what has happened."
She just gazed at him, as if he hadn't said anything.
"They will want to meet with you and question you about what you know."
"But she doesn't know anything!" Jace answered for her in a more angry tone than she would have given.
"Maybe she does, like I said before, but she just doesn't realize that she knows," Hodge countered. "The Council could vote to use the Mortal Sword an—"
"How can she undergo the Mortal Sword if she doesn't remember? She would be telling the truth, her truth, what she believes is the truth." Jace was visibly frustrated now, Clary could see a vein in his temple throbbing. "She'll have to go through all of that for nothing. They won't get the answers they need from her."
"But I can't just sit here without telling them that Jocelyn Fairchild is missing, we're harboring her daughter and the Mortal Cup might be within our reach," Hodge chided Jace's attitude. And before Jace could make another comment on Clary's behalf, he finished his thoughts. "I'm telling the Clave." And with that he stood from his desk and walked out of the library.
Clary stared at the table in front of her as the huge door Hodge just disappeared through shut tightly. In her peripheral vision she could see Jace pacing back and forth in front of Hodge's desk. She could hear him grumbling to himself and could just imagine the look on his face, his hands clenching into fists and then unclenching. After a few moments he seemed to have calmed and now was facing towards the windows, his back to her.
"You should go to bed, Clary," he sounded tired.
"I'm not tired," Clary defiantly stated.
Now Jace turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised in surprise. It was the first time she had spoken, let alone made eye contact with him, since they left her apartment. He shook his head and chuckled to himself, Clary's eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
"You're exhausted." He was thrumming his fingers against the wood of the desk either from being anxious or impatient. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your room. Unless you remember how to find your way on your own."
Clary merely nodded and stood from the chair she was sitting in just as Jace's hand brushed her shoulder. She looked up at him for a split second and his hand settled on the small of her back, steadying her in case she fell over at any moment. But Clary was glad to have the reassurance because quite honestly she didn't trust her legs to carry her safely down the long corridors.
…
Clary didn't know what time it was when she finally fell asleep nor did she know what time it was when she shot out of bed drenched in a cold sweat. The white bedding was twisted around her legs and her tank top clung uncomfortably to her back. She was trying desperately to calm down and steady her heart beat but with every inhale of air came a sharp stab in her ribcage.
The door to her room flung open and Jace bounded in, wearing only sweats, a wild look in his eyes as he surveyed the room. His gaze finally came to rest upon Clary and he sighed in relief, his shoulders dropping from their apprehensive state. Her breathing still hadn't slowed so she raised her hand to cover her mouth as she continued to gasp for air through her tight throat. Jace was kneeling at her side instantly, worry clearly written all over his face.
"I killed him. I killed him." Clary repeated over and over in between gasps.
Jace's hand reached up instinctively and cupped the side of her face so gently. She didn't even know she was crying until his thumb was wiping wetness across her cheek. For a minute he just stared at her, his expression unreadable, but he snapped out of his reverie quickly.
"Shh, Clary it was just a dream. Just a bad dream." His golden eyes were set on hers, trying to get her to look at him. "It's alright, you're okay, Clary."
Even with his soothing voice in her ear, Clary still found it difficult to control her breathing. Finally, she caught Jace's eyes and felt her body relax at the kindness and concern in them. For the first time since she woke up, her heart slowed down to a steady thump in her chest. Jace was still speaking and comforting her, his free hand now rubbing slow circles on her back.
"It's alright, Clary. It was just a bad dream." He moved to sit next to her on the bed and she found herself leaning towards his warmth and security. Without even thinking about it, Jace pulled her closer into his chest and tightened his arms around her. "Shh, it's alright."
When the gasping subsided, her breathing evened out and only the occasional hiccup was evidence of her mid-night fit, she leaned away from Jace and glanced up at him. Realizing how close they were and the reason for his presence in her room, Clary dropped her head in embarrassment. Luckily, it was dark in the room and she prayed that he couldn't see her blush. She was hyperaware of his arms still wrapped around her shoulders, of every place his body was touching hers.
"I'm sorry," she was able to mumble out just loud enough for him to hear. "For waking you," that was an afterthought.
"You didn't wake me up, I couldn't sleep." Jace's voice was so soft and gentle, like if he spoke too loudly she'd break into pieces. He leaned back and tried to look her in the eyes, "are you alright?"
Clary lifted her head to see his gaze boring into her, searching her eyes for an answer. "I think so." There was a small pause when Jace's eyes narrowed, questioning if that was the truth.
"Do want to talk about it?" Now his gaze wandered away from her face and nervously glanced around the room. Clary assumed he didn't show this much concern for someone else very often but she wasn't so sure if she wanted to spill her guts out to him. So she just shook her head instead. "Oh," he sounded disappointed and stood up from the bed. A cool rush of air ran down her side and she shivered in response. "Well then, I'll just let you go back to bed."
He started walking towards the door but Clary's heart ached and she realized she didn't want him to leave, at least not just yet. "Jace?" He stopped mid-step and turned slightly to look back at her, his eyes hardened back to their usual expressionless gaze, all signs of his earlier vulnerability disappeared in an instant. "I don't think I can go back to sleep. If you can't sleep either," she hesitated with the next part, "you can—uh, it's just that—I'll be here." Smooth, Clary.
Clary was positive she could see Jace's lips twitched up in the corners and his eyes softened again, but only a little. She watched him closely as he glided over to her bedside so gracefully that she immediately envied him. With just a minor pause of hesitation, Jace lowered himself so he was sitting on the edge of her bed. Stiffly, he leaned back against the headboard and his head hit the wall. They just sat there in a silence that had become so common that it was almost comfortable now.
"I—" Jace started but cut himself off and Clary swore she saw his cheeks flush. She watched him expectantly and waited for him to finish his thought. He looked at her but quickly turned his head to the side again, rolling his eyes. "I could, um, tell you a story. If you'd like?" The last part came out more like a question and he finally looked back at her.
Clary smiled at this new side of Jace that she had never imagined even existed. Maybe it only comes out after midnight, she thought to herself. "Yeah, I'd like that." She settled back into bed, turning to face him and burying her head into the pillow. It was soft, just like Jace's voice as he began to tell his story.
That was my favorite part of the first book, when he told her the story of the boy and his bird. Anyway, I don't know how to apologize enough for my stupidity. But I want to thank everyone for staying around even though I know it sucks to wait for me. Also thank you for the continued love and support. I'm working on the next chapter as we speak so if you could send good thoughts and prayers my way that I'll find that inspiration again. Thank you.
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