WAHAHAH! 200 reviews?! I love you guys - so much. This makes me so much more happier than it should. Wah!
Dedicated to Lindsayhonaker - my 200th reviewer. Thank you so much! Xxxxx
Ice Cold
9
Tonight was the last time Clary would have a chance. She was going to try, she didn't care what the consequences were.
After the episode the other night, she had been terrified of her father, sneaking round the house to avoid him at all costs. But she needed that signature. And she was going to get it. Well, she was going to try to get it at least.
He had been drinking again. She could smell it the second she walked into the living room. Her heart froze as she thought back to the other night, stopping herself in the doorway.
He was where he normally was, sitting on the sofa, a beer bottle hanging lazily from his hands as he watched some rerun of some old TV show on the little satellite screen they had. Normally, she wouldn't have been afraid to approach him. She could approach him anytime she wanted to; she just tended to avoid it. But unlike normally, it seemed like a physical incapability. Her legs wouldn't move, her mind consumed by images she never wanted to revisit. It took a moment to push them away and focus on what she was seeing here and now.
They hadn't spoken since poker night, not that it wasn't uncommon for them to go without conversing with each other for weeks – even if they did live in the same house. But this time it made Clary uneasy.
She turned, maybe she could come back once he'd sobered up? Who was she kidding; he would only drink more as the night progressed. He was as sober as he was going to get until the deadline. It was now or never.
Suddenly, she didn't want to go on the trip. The stupid trip wasn't worth this. She started to walk away when one of the floorboards under her creaked. Clary shut her eyes.
Valentine turned at the sound and caught sight of the redhead in the doorway. He shook his head and turned back to the TV.
Something inside her snapped. Now she was angry. What kind of daughter should be afraid of speaking to their Dad? As her father, he shouldn't have ever made her feel like this. He should never treat her as though he never wanted her in the first place. But he had, and Clary knew he had because she could remember when he loved her – though, only barely. She could remember telling her so. What happened? Surely you forgave the ones you loved? Clary took a shaky breath. But did you forgive those you loved if they were the reason the rest of your family was dead? Maybe not.
He did want her once upon a time but maybe not now. Clary's heart clenched, she always felt as though the tiniest bit of him cared. It was only now she realized that he didn't at all. And he never would. Since she was seven, not once had he ever come to a school play. He had never picked her up from school, never been to a parents meeting. And he had never wanted any physical or emotional contact, let alone tell her he loved her.
She could vaguely remember the days after the fire. Mostly, she remembered pain. What condition the fire had left her physically and how it had taken all of her family were to blame for that. Losing her mother and brother was bad. But losing someone who was alive was almost worse.
Valentine started with the shouting, then the drinking, and then the drunken shouting. Depressed? Not that Clary could remember, he must've good at hiding it. But it must have been the worst kind of depression he had fallen into, one that completely ate at and destroyed your soul. Leaving only a shell of your former self with a completely new being trapped inside. And what comfort was a seven year old? Not much. Just a reminder of what you lost.
She remembered be terrified of this new person. Because that's what he was. Unrecognizable from the wonderful father he was before. From the person who protected the evils the world had to offer from his little girl.
Her brother had helped with that too. He was always looking out for her. Out of all of them, her memory was strongest of her big brother. She remembered how they hardly ever fought. He always talked to her about her troubles, stood up for her against school bullies. She remembered him teaching her how to fight one day, in the back yard. After some kids had been mean to her, she made her brother promise not to tell her parents and he agreed on the condition that he taught her how to throw a punch correctly. She smiled sadly at the memory.
Then there was the time he had saved her life, pulling her out of the way of a car when she ran out onto the road, catching a ball Simon had thrown. The second time he had saved her life had cost him his own.
Clary hadn't realized she was crying until tears started to fall off her cheeks, making her shirt wet.
They were closer than any siblings Clary met nowadays. She wondered if they would be like that now. She certainly pictured them being so when she imagined all of her family alive again.
She had looked up to him so much. So much so that she used to copy habits he did, passions he had, sayings he liked. Jon was only two years older than herself but she remembered him like a hero
She gripped the end of her sleeve in her fist and quickly wiped at her eyes.
She laughed bitterly to herself, if only her brother could see her now, cowering to speak to her father.
With that thought, she walked up to her father and tapped him on the shoulder.
"What'd ya want?" He slurred, looking up at her bemusedly.
Clary wanted so badly to go to her room and not see him again. Images of the other night flashed through her mind.
No. He's your father, she thought. He wasn't some sort of monster, he was human. Was she seriously scared this much of another human being? She internally slapped herself, telling herself to get a grip.
"Can you sign this?" She asked, her voice wasn't quite as strong as she intended it to sound but it was better than nothing.
He looked down to the piece of paper she held out in her hand. It was crumpled and had wrinkles all over it. He eyed it once than turned his charcoal-beady gaze back up to her. "I said I wasn't signing nothing."
Clary hurried to her argument, "But I have the money now." He looked up at her in half-hearted suspicion, "You said you wouldn't sign it because I didn't have the money. Well now I do." She elaborated. She fumbled nervously as she pulled out a brown envelope from her back pocket.
Valentine snatched the brown package from her grasp and tore it open, a wad of cash held together with a hair tie falling on this lap. He picked it up and started flicking through the notes. Clary felt a copper taste as she bit down on her lip, her hand twirling knots into the tips of her hair.
"What is this?" He asked. Clary couldn't tell what was in his voice. Suspicion? Anger? Confusion?
"Six hundred and twenty five dollars." She said anxiously.
"What the bloody hell is this!? Where did you get this from?" He yelled, all of a sudden on his feet.
Clary stepped back as what she dreaded started to happen before her. "You stole it from me?" He asked, though it wasn't really a question.
Valentine's eyes were on fire. Charcoal orbs set alight. She could feel the anger radiate off him.
"No, no." She stuttered, "I didn't steal it. I-"
She was interrupted as Valentine flew from the room, heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs.
She stood, stunned to the spot for a moment, before she ran up the stairs after him.
She found him in his bedroom, a safe opened on the bed and he was counting how many wads of cash he had. Clary gaped. He had this much money? How had he got so much? He didn't have a job. He never earnt anything, never bought anything. He left all the buying to me, and all the earning. Every holiday she had to get a stupid job at the local freaking bookstore, trying to earn enough money try to pay for both of our basic human needs until next holiday. And meanwhile he was stocked up with what? Thousands of dollars?
He was throwing each wad of cash haphazardly onto the bed. There was enough there to pay for her university fees and still have more to spare. Ha ha, as if he'd use it on me.
She could see him mumbling to himself as he counted, his bleach-white hair in stark contrast to the pink flush sporting on his face. When he finally had ran out of money to count he looked up at Clary with confusion, which quickly turned into anger. He strode across the room in two strides, appearing right in Clary's face, "Where. Did. You. Get. That. Money. From?" He fumed, his veins standing out on his forehead.
Clary took a breath and quickly found her voice. She was just as pissed, if not more. Where had he got that money from? What was he saving for? "I told you. I didn't steal it." She said, less shakily than she would've expected, "I earned it."
Valentine scoffed, "Who would employ your scrawny ass? Other than that weedy nerd at that fucking bookstore."
"No one." Clary said, standing her ground. He only looked angrier at her defiance, but she was too stubborn to back down. "I sold art in a market. After school. Every day."
Valentine glared at her. Clary stared right back at him, the same Morgernstern fire burning in her eyes as it did in his. She thought this would only get her in more trouble than she was already in, but she didn't care. She was too angry to care.
There was no noise for a long moment, only the sound of both of their heavy breathing.
Then, Valentine did something unexpected. He swiped the small, battered permission slip from Clary's hands and pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket.
He moved to push the paper up against the wall, scribbling his signature at the bottom of the paper. When he turned to Clary, she was staring at him in shock. He moved over to her once more, holding the slip up in his firm grasp.
"We're even now okay. From the other night."
Clary's shock only deepened. He was… apologizing? Valentine Morgernstern – the most stubborn, bitter man Clary had ever known was apologizing to his good-for-nothing daughter?
She nodded her head frantically and he gave the slip back to her.
When he shoved passed her and back down the stairs, no doubt to bring out the Jack, she stared down at the slip. A wide grin split itself on the face.
Simon had never been one for wearing his heart on his sleeve. But, around Isabelle, he felt so free to tell her about things, things he had only ever told Clary. Not even Rebecca.
He shared memories with her of him and his dad, or him and Clary. And over the past couple of days (had it really only been two days?) he had gotten to know her pretty well too. Things she was a bit more secretive about, like how her mother kept pushing her into going into medicine, but she had her own dreams of going into law. Or how her little brother scared her sometimes. Having Cystic Fibrosis, he was always in hospital for pneumonia or some other horrible thing. She said she hadn't let anyone know that. She couldn't tell her family how scared she was for her little sibling, he was their family too and she would only scare them more with her fears.
She also told him of lighter subjects; funny stories of her and her brothers, what kind of foods she liked, her suspicions of the sexuality of her eldest brother.
Simon couldn't tell if she was saying all of this stuff to him because she felt sorry for him being in the hospital, or maybe the fact that she was bored being at the hospital and she was just telling her things. He was pretty sure it wasn't that – or at least he hoped it wasn't. He was starting to like her. The hours they spent together at the hospital laughing with each other while Simon was meant to be resting and Izzy was meant to be working was giving him reason for quickly falling for her.
He loved Clary and Maia's company, but it got him all fuzzy whenever Izzy came in and sat herself into the chair next to him. He still didn't understand why a girl like her would talk to a guy like him for hours on end each day. That was the only thing that gave him doubt. They had never spoken before the night of the accident. She was definitely the most stunning person in the school and Simon… well, not so much. He had to be one of the biggest nerds the school had to offer. He was captain of the D&D club for Christ's sake. What could he possibly have to offer the beautiful girl he had an undying crush for that some buff, muscular jock couldn't?
But still, even if he didn't have a chance with her, it didn't mean he couldn't get to know her. They sometimes did talk about things that were out of there comfort zones but something she bought up that evening was something he almost choked at.
"So what was the fight with your mother about?" She asked, her large doe, dark eyes looking right into Simons.
It caught Simon off guard. He hadn't even told Clary about the fight yet. He didn't know if he was ready to revisit the whole thing yet.
When she saw him hesitate, she spoke up again, "I've been fighting with my parents recently too." She said, looking down, playing with the hem of her t-shirt. "They've been… arguing a lot. I think they've started to pick up on Alec's… secret. He hasn't told them yet. He had a very coded talk with me about it, which I think was his way of coming out. But it's so obvious. I hate how he feels like he's done something wrong. And I hate my parents even more for making him feel like he's done something wrong. I don't like how it's affecting Alec, but I don't like how it's affecting Max either. He's still so young, he doesn't need to hear his parents screaming at each other 'til their hoarse."
Simon didn't know what to say. What could you say to something like that? More than anything he just wanted to reach out and put his hand on hers reassuringly. He realized that he had done just that with a wave of mortifying embarrassment. He moved to pull it away, muttering a 'sorry', when she clasped onto it, holding it in hers. She smiled warmly back up at him and Simon felt his face flush red, his heart pounding in response to the physical contact. She wove her fingers through his until they were intertwined.
"I walked in on my mom with some guy." He said suddenly. Isabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand.
"I haven't seen my Dad in about a year now and I catch her with some stupid blonde." Isabelle squeezed his hand reassuringly, urging him to continue. "I don't know. I was just… so mad. It all went so quickly. I ran out of the house and she followed after me. She kept telling me how she did love my Dad, that she didn't want to hurt him. Something about how it was so hard… But if she loves him so much, surely it shouldn't be that hard? Surely she should be able to suppress her… sexual… urges." Isabelle could see him cringe and she had to fight from giggling, it was so cute, "Ugh" he groaned, wiping his free hand down his face, "I wish I could erase it from my memory." He said and this time she did giggle. It was the sweetest thing Simon had ever heard.
And what he loved even more about her, she knew exactly what he needed. She didn't tell him to go talk it out with her, that he should try make up with her. He just needed some space. He deserved to be mad, he wasn't ready to forgive her yet. Maybe she knew from her own experiences with fights with her parents. So, instead of asking him if she could get his mom into the hospital room to come see him – which he was sort of expecting – she asked something completely different. "So where are you going to stay when you get out of hospital?"
Simon looked up at her with a thankful look. He couldn't bare seeing his mom right now. Then he pondered the question over. Where was he going to stay? He would say Clary's but he had learnt it was never best to stay over at Clary's – her dad didn't like it. She usually went over to Simons most nights.
"Um… I hadn't thought of that."
"You could stay at mine." She blurted out very uncharacteristically, then blushed which was even more unlike her. "I mean, my mum's a doctor. She could look out for you, make sure you're okay." She explained quickly. Simon deflated slightly and she hurried to correct herself, "And it would also be an excuse to hang out with you more." She said, and then looked up, lifting her hand to stroke her chin in mock thought, "Hmm… then again, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea now I think about it."
Simon scoffed and threw a cotton ball that was on the side of his bed at her.
She giggled and threw it back at him with a lot more force Simon flinched, "Ow." This only made Izzy laugh more, "Maybe I don't want to stay with you anyway, you're abusive."
Izzy huffed and picked up the cotton wool holding it in the air, "Really Simon? Abusive?"
Simon held up his hands in front of his face and pretended to shy away, "Please. No more. I beg of you."
Isabelle only laughed and hit him lightly on the arm, sitting back in her chair, "But seriously," she said, changing the subject back, "Our house is huge. We have enough rooms. You could stay with us. My mom wouldn't mind."
"And your Dad?"
"Has learnt to agree with everything Mom decrees." Isabelle grinned. Simon knew she was excluding the fights between her parents.
"Then yeah, I'd love to."
THE NEXT DAY
Clary walked through the hospital doors bang on four pm – the biggest grin slapped on her face; Simon was out of hospital today. The second the bell rang for the end of school, she was leaping out of her seat and running for Jace's car. He came out five minutes later to find her hopping round the passenger side as if she had really needed the toilet for three days. He had done the classic Jace chuckle and, after Clary's pleading, he unlocked the car and they both drove straight to the hospital.
When she finally got to his room, she found him sitting eagerly perched on the side of his bed. Isabelle was standing nearby and nurse was questioning him about how he felt, a clipboard in her right hand that she copied down his replies in to.
"Clary!" He beamed excitedly as he spotted the redhead over the nurse's shoulder.
Jace looked to Isabelle confusedly, "How did you get here so fast?"
"I had a free period last lesson." She explained.
"You didn't skive any lessons, did you Isabelle?" A dark haired woman Clary believed to be Maryse Lightwood, Isabelle and Jace's mother. She was dressed in a smart black skirt and white blouse, a stethoscope hung round her neck and a name tag pinned to her shirt – the typical doctor appearance. "Free periods are still lessons."
Isabelle just glared heatedly at her, clearly stating she shouldn't be getting any sass from her. Had they had a fight? Maryse seemed to ignore it and turned to Simon, "So, Simon. You ready to get out of here?" She asked, grinning. Simon beamed and nodded enthusiastically. "I asked your mom and she agreed to letting you stay with us for as long as you want to."
Clary raised her brows, that was new. She turned to Jace in question but he just shrugged – he didn't know either. Then it clicked; the fight. Was it really that bad? She still hadn't questioned him about it yet. Isabelle must've told him he could stay. He must've told her about it. She tried to ignore the pang of jealousy, or hurt, that he'd told Isabelle before her, but brushed it away quickly. She knew he had a crush on her – that much was obvious. It was good he was confiding in someone else as well as Clary.
"Well, hospital rules." Maryse said, taking out a wheelchair from against the wall and wheeling it up next to Simon.
Simon groaned staring at the contraption, "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Maryse replied, no-nonsense.
"I can walk fine." Simon complained. Maryse only pushed the chair closer, gesturing for him to sit in it.
Simon's face flushed in embarrassment as he lowered himself into the wheelchair.
The group all made their way to the front of the hospital and out of the doors. Maryse stopped pushing Simon and told him he could walk now. "Well that was fun." Simon grumbled, recovering from his hurt pride, "I feel so much better now. It's like I was never hit by a car."
Everyone laughed at him and Maryse smiled, "I'll see you at home. Isabelle will show you to your room."
Simon thanked her and Maryse went back inside the hospital.
"Shit!" Isabelle gasped, looking at her watch.
We all turned to her, "What?" Clary asked.
"Jace has to be at the oral surgeon in half an hour!" She exclaimed. "I can't take Simon back and then drive there in time. And Simon isn't aloud to drive yet."
"Jace could go by himself, he bought his car here." Clary said in confusion.
Izzy laughed and looked warily at Jace, "I don't trust him. He wont go if I'm not there." She grinned evilly, "Jacey-wacey doesn't like the dentist now does he?" She teased in the most patronizing tone she could pull, pinching her brothers cheek. Jace batted her hand away irritably.
Clary and Simon laughed, "You're scared of the dentist?" Simon grinned amusedly.
Jace pointed a threatening finger at him, "Shut it."
The pair only laughed harder, Isabelle joining them.
Jace fought determinedly to change the subject, "Well, Clary could drive Simon to our house. You could take me to the dentist." He suggested.
"She doesn't know the way." Simon said.
Clary nodded, "Yeah, I've never been to your house."
Isabelle smiled mischievously, "Oh, okay. Well, you could go to the dentist with Jace to make sure he goes and I can take Simon back to mine." She winked at Clary, making her blush, "We'll meet back at the house when you're done." She said, turning back to Clary, "Get Jace to give you directions to where we live in the car, you're probably going to have to drive him back home."
Jace stepped forward, "Wait, why can't I drive?" He asked warily.
Isabelle looked to him cheekily, grabbing Simon's arm behind her, "Because you won't exactly be yourself when you're done." She quickly hurried off to her car. Simon was caught by surprise as his arm was yanked but he quickly caught on and ran to the passenger seat, Isabelle moving round the drivers side.
"Wait!" Jace yelled after them, moving towards the car, "Isabelle Lightwood! You never said anything about-"
"Bye Jace!" She called and was already starting to drive away. But she quickly slowed down to roll down her window to shout to Clary, "Make sure you film it for me!" She winked and drove off.
So let me know what you think! I need suggestions on loopy Jace on local anaesthesia!
And please let me know what you think of the Sizzy. Too cliche?
And what do you think of Valentine? it would be interesting to know.
Thanks for reading! (Also, do you like Tex's character? Should she come back? or should I leave her?)
Questions asked you might want to know the answer to-
1 ~ How many chapters will there be? (asked by REVANGE5EVA & tang-shipper) - Hmm. I'm not really sure. I know it will be fairly long. I want to say about twenty, but thinking about how quickly we've got to nine, it may be longer. Or shorter. Who knows? But it should be fairly long I think. I haven't planned the chapters, I've just got loads of ideas in my head. So I have no idea tbh.
2 ~ Will Jon come back? (I couldn't remember or find who asked this, but I remember it was asked.) - Well. I wasn't planning on it, but if anyone has any ideas on how to bring him back to life I'm all ears. Cause I have one idea, but it's really cliche. So I'm not sure. But I'm all ears if anyone has any ideas X
3 ~ Y you so bad at spelling? - I am dyslexic, so sorry if I get something wrong. If you could point them out - that might help a lot. But it might also be the fact that I'm awful at re-reading through - I always update so late and I'm always like, meh, I'll look through in the morning. And I don't. And for that I am sorry. *hangs head in shame*
