Wait no further!
Here's the second to last chapter in The Art Of Kissing!
Enjoy!
As I'm sure you can tell by the exclamation points, I'm very excited to share this chapter with you!
Disclaimer: I! OWN! NOTHING! WHOAAAAAA! Wow, that was good to get off my chest.
It had only been three weeks. Two of which had been spent in the ER; the doctors had been frightened that the trauma to both kid's heads could cause the brain to swell and induce death. Needless to say, Clary had been fawned over by both her parents and her brother. Her parents took turns watching her all through the night. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday Clary spent the day with her mom and every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday she spent them with her dad. Sundays were no visiting hours and she found she sometimes relished in the silence of being alone. She hadn't been completely sure in the beginning why both her parents didn't visit her at once. She'd once thought they were in some sort of needless fight but soon it had become clear that they took turns between her and Jace by the way each parent answered all of her frantic questions calmly and surely.
Her parents were watching and fawning over him just like they were her.
Jonathon switched between hours, instead of days, always keeping her hand in his and squeezing it. He usually mumbled when he was with her, his forehead always resting against their clasp hands. She knew he blamed himself. Knew he blamed himself for every cut and bruise; for every torn muscle and broken bone. She also knew there was nothing she could do to change what he thought, no matter how many times she said it wasn't his fault he wouldn't listen. He was her brother after all; a Morgenstern was anything but compliant. They were stubborn by blood and she knew she would just have to let him come to terms with the whole thing on his own.
And hold him tightly as he did.
Her bed had never felt so good when they'd finally gotten home the week before. Her body was still sore and high on Vicodin; the bruises of Michael's hand print on her arms were fading to green and the large tear under her eye where one of his rings had snagged on the skin was getting smaller. The dark purple spot that took up her whole cheek at one point was getting tinier. Her body was healing slowly but at least she was healing at all. Her arms were scratched and bruised as were her back and legs. Along with that she'd sprained her neck and had to wear that awful and embarrassing brace around it. The thought still brings a blush to her cheeks. She'd torn a tendon in her left leg and pulled the muscles in her right shoulder and bruised three ribs, not to mention the awful concussion she had.
Jace, from what she'd been told, suffered the same injuries she did mostly. He was severely dehydrated as if not having drunk water in days and his stomach was shrunken. A rib had been broken but luckily hadn't ruptured his lung and a couple of his fingers had shattered; she was sure that was from the multiple times Jace had slammed his fist into Michael's face. His nose had also been broken and he'd suffered several bruises to his chest cavity, legs, and arms. Not to mention the shiner he'd sported on his right eye. And the heavy concussion of his own that he had.
In other words, they had looked like they went through a meat grinder.
When her father had shown up with Luke, an extra squad car, and an ambulance as back-up they were horrified at the scene. Michael was crazily gathering the powder he craved in his hands, slicing his skin on the broken glass of the coffee table that Clary had shattered, beknownst to the police officers, with her own body. He gave no attention to his son or the officers that grabbed him by his bloody arms and dragged him back. He did nothing but shake his head, speaking incoherently trying to convince the officers to let him just gather the rest of the scattered evidence on the floor. The white powder was now crimson matching the rest of the surrounding room.
Her father had thought she was dead. She had lain limply across Jace's bruised and bloodied torso, her head lying lifelessly against his neck; her chest barely rising and falling with each breath. Two ambulance workers, Valentine knew them as Jimmy and Houston, quickly detached her from Jace though he tried to keep her close. His hands weakly fighting with the last amount of energy he had left, as if he was ready to fight to the death. But he lacked the strength as they moved her easily; Jimmy gathering her in his arms like she was nothing more than a simple rag doll, her head hanging off his arm and her hair a mix of fire and crimson. Her father half expected drops of blood to fall to the floor. She never looked so small to him and suddenly he was reminded of when he'd held her for the first time.
Clary had been a premature baby weighing about 4 pounds and 7 ounces. He remembered how wrong it was to watch as the nurses hooked tubes into her little nose and onto her chest and fingers. She had seemed so breakable he'd been afraid that she would get hurt if he even tried to touch her through the glass that separated them and into the gloved arms that were inserted into the sides. He hadn't held her for three weeks; not until the doctors had unhooked her from that infernal contraption. He remembered how she had opened her eyes and wiggled in his arms; only a half size bigger than his palms. She had made noises he had never heard before and gnawed at his ring finger, wrapping both her little hands around just one of his long fingertips. She had looked at him with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen and he'd cried; just as he had when his beautiful son was born. Only he saw something different in Clary, he knew even when she was as small as a bag of flour that she was a fighter. She wouldn't back down no matter what. And it would be his job to protect her from anything and everything that could hurt her.
And he'd failed.
He seemed frozen as he watched as Jimmy laid Clary on the stretcher and called out orders for someone's help as Luke rushed over. His best friend looked down at his bloodied daughter and a look of pure sorrow crossed his face. His hand gently touched her hair before he nodded at what the young paramedic said. Placing an oxygen mask upon her mouth, Valentine had to look away as he watched Houston try and calm the frantic boy slumped against the dirty and dented wall. He tried to reason with the boy but Jace continued to shake his head, droplets of blood and sweat fell from his matted strands.
"Sir, we have to get you to the hospital-"
"Please help her. Go help her first." Jace said breathlessly wincing when he spoke. His face was discolored, his eyes even more golden against the purple bruise that encircled the skin on the left. His nose had to have been broken at one point because it was misshapen and had a steady stream of crimson down his face.
Valentine could remember the first time Jonathon had brought the young boy home. His hair had been a rat's nest of tangles and his two front teeth had been missing. He'd been a happy boy and always smiling, his eyes would light up with delight at the smallest of things. Like when Jocelyn had given him a second helping of dinner or a gift on his birthday. When he'd been told he was part of the family or invited on family vacations, when he would play video games with Jonathon or get to pick the board game or movie for family game night, Valentine had always loved to watch as the young boy's eyes lit up with wonder and amazement and pride. But what he'd always found most amusing was when the way his whole face seemed to glow and brighten when his daughter walked into the room. He had never intervened when they argued or chased each other; he knew his daughter could handle her own and that the golden boy would never really lay a hand on her in a harmful manner. He'd always known that the young boy was in love with his daughter. You would have to be blind not to see it and Valentine was anything but blind.
Even now with his eyes fluttering open and close as if too tried to possibly fight, he continued to plead with the paramedic before him, making sure Clary was taken care of; making sure she was safe. His heart broke for his second son and he couldn't watch any longer. "Move." The kneeling paramedic didn't seem to hear him as he continued to try and console the broke boy. "Move!"
Jace didn't have time for them to wait as his hand came down hard on Houston's shoulder, pushing young paramedic to the side and taking his place. A sense of peace and safety took over Jace's face as his head slumped to the side the energy to hold it up gone. His curls were a dull blonde and dripping in crimson as if Clary had painted herself onto him. "Son, I need you to look at me."
The voice that he was so used to being firm and strong wavered slightly as his large palm lightly touched Jace's cheek. He moved the young man's head back around to lock eyes on him; unshed tears being held back in his black eyes. Jace seemed to struggle for words. "Clary-"
Valentine winced before shaking his head. "Jonathon and Luke are with her. I need you to listen to me, Jace." Valentine's eyes dug into the boy in front of him, willing him to listen. "Clary is going to be fine and you are too. I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you but I need you to listen to the paramedics. I need you to listen and be okay." Valentine's voice broken and he dropped his gaze immediately before raising it again; silent tears on his cheeks. "You both are going to be fine." He moved his hand to the back of Jace's neck. "I'm not going to let him hurt you anymore."
He felt the sob burst through Jace's chest and Valentine could practically feel the pain that spiraled up the boy's spine; the bruising on his chest a sure sign of broken ribs. "I'm so sorry, Dad."
"You did nothing wrong, Jace. You did everything right." Valentine nodded with a small smile. "You did good protecting her." Valentine was mad, not at Jace but at his father. He felt more upset than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He'd hurt his daughter with no remorse and he had been hurting his son for years. His son. Michael had been laying his hands on Valentine's son. He was going to make sure Michael Wayland rotted for what he had done. For every bruise and cut he'd given to his daughter and broken boy he would return tenfold. "I'm so proud of you, son."
Jace's face broke as if he couldn't keep the wall he'd had up for so long intact anymore. Sitting before Valentine was a shaking little boy who hadn't been held when he'd had a bad dream or when he thought there were monsters under the bed. There had been no one to teach him how to ride a bike or how to shoot a basket or how to tie his shoes. There had not been anyone to be his "tooth fairy" or "Santa Claus" or "Easter Bunny" or father. Except for him; Valentine had done all those things just as Jocelyn had. They were his family; they'd always been his family.
Valentine pulled Jace's head so it fell on to his shoulder and another sob let out. Mr. Morgenstern held him tightly as he demanded help; Luke rushed forward as both men carried the broken boy to another stretcher.
Valentine had held both his children's hands all the way to the hospital whispering to both of them that it would be okay as they watched him with scared and trusting eyes.
Present time:
Clary put a hand to her forehead as she stumbled down the steps; her limp was getting much better as she smiled brightly at her mother, who placed a plate of pancakes and bacon down on the kitchen table. Jonathon laughed as he pulled out her chair and she immediately sat digging right into the flap jacks on her plate.
Her brother rolled his eyes as he cut into his own. "I should really stop being so nice to you. You didn't even hesitate to sit down in that seat."
Jonathon was notorious for pulling her chair out from under her before she could sit down whenever he "helped" her into her seat. She shrugged with a smirk. "You can't be mean to me. I'm still injured remember?"
He scowled with a glare placed directly at her; a piece of annoying white hair hung on his forehead. "Even if I was going to forget you've reminded us all enough now that I'm pretty sure it has been ingrained into my head."
"Good. I plan to condition you."
Jonathon blinked a moment as Clary smirked at him flipping a strand of curly tangles over her shoulder. "Condition me to what?"
"To give me food whenever I yell the word 'wounded'."
Jonathon gave a large groan before letting out a laugh that he'd tried to keep at bay as he pushed her softly on her right shoulder. Clary had been using the excuse that she was "wounded" to get the last piece of everything in the house lately. The last piece of cheese cake or pizza, it was really wonderful.
Shaking his head Jonathon turned to their mother, who busied herself by cleaning the pan in the sink. Every now and then, she'd glance out the window at the old, condemned house at the end of the yard. The same house they had looked at for years and never known of the secrets. Those awful secrets that house kept and Clary felt ashamed she never even guessed.
"Where's dad?" Jonathon asked around a mouthful of pancake.
Clary smacked him on the chest as she wrinkled her nose. "Gross. Chew with your mouth closed and talk after your done swallowing. Thanks." Jonathon rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue our at her; all the mashed up and chewed food in his mouth being shown right in front of her face as she shrieked and turned in her seat swatting at her brother blindly with her head turned. "Jon! Stop! That's gross!"
"Jonathon, stop teasing your sister." Jocelyn said as she turned to the pair with a smile before rolling her eyes. "Only the two of you can act as if the last three weeks never happened." Clary and Jonathon mellowed down as Jocelyn continued to scrub at the pan in her hands with more force than need be. Clary was pretty sure that pan had been clean the last half an hour ago. "Your father is with Jace. He gets out of the hospital today."
Clary felt her stomach swell with excitement as she bit her lip. She hadn't gotten a chance to really see Jace for three weeks and it felt like years. She missed him more than she ever thought possible. The same boy she had wanted just two minutes away from was the same boy she couldn't seem to breathe without. She couldn't wait to hold him and tell him that she without a doubt was positively, irrevocably, unmistakably in love with him. She didn't care about what her brother thought or what her parents would say they had been through Hell and made it here. They belonged together.
As if her yearning had pulled them by some invisible string, Jace and her father walked through the door. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. His nose had been fixed and was still slightly purple. His eye had healed magnificently and his fingers were still wrapped. Even with all the bruises on his face, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen. She stood from her chair quickly making her left leg slightly cry out in pain but she ignored it. Her brain catching up to her heart as she took in his expression; he seemed nervous and uncertain, two things Jace Wayland had never been in his entire life she was sure.
Her father, on the other hand, just looked pain pissed. His nostrils were flared and his hands clenched at his sides as he shook his head firmly, Jace's one luggage bag in his hand as he placed it harshly on the floor. Clary couldn't help but let her heart tug at the sight of that little bag. All of Jace's life was in that little knapsack. That was all he'd ever had.
"You've got some nerve coming here." Valentine spoke through clenched teeth as Jocelyn, who had rushed forward to pull Jace close to her, blinked in confusion.
Her green eyes, so like her daughters, danced with questions as she tilted her head toward her husband and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Darling, what—"
A woman in a tailored suit entered the home next; her expression was firm as if this wasn't anything new and her eyes seemed cold and tired. As if she wanted to get this done as soon as possible, her sharp bob did nothing to compliment her intense features and she looked even more awful when standing next to a vision such as Mrs. Morgenstern. "I'm simply doing my job, Sir. You know just as well as I do the law is the law."
"Dad," Jonathon said as he stepped forward. His hair in tangles around his face and his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips; they all looked like they just rolled out of bed. Jocelyn gently pushed Jace behind her as if to use her body to protect him and he sat with ease on the couch that she stood in front of. "Who is this?"
"I'm Debra Nickels and I'm with CPS." Her answer was crisp and clean; Clary didn't like her at all as she moved toward Jace and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. He jumped slightly before glancing up at her and smiling brightly.
Jonathon frowned before shaking his head. "What's CP—"
"Child Protective Services." Valentine answered immediately his glare aimed at the woman, who had no problem making herself at home on their adjacent couch and unhooking the briefcase on the coffee table before her. "She's here to take Jace."
Jocelyn's eyes hardened as she watched the woman closely. None of the awkward silence or glaring stares seemed to dissuade Debra as she calmly moved the files around in her briefcase and turn promptly in her seat. Clary was surprised her mother hadn't offered her food or drink yet. Her mother was a wonderful host after all.
Debra looked up and sighed, her hands pressing against the tailored pencil skirt she wore. "Just as I have discussed earlier at the hospital, Mr. Morgenstern, this is out of my hands. Jace needs to be under the watchful eye of a legal guardian. Under the state law of Colorado, a child under the legal age of 18 may not be without a parent or guardian and you are neither." She sighed again before turning back to her case. "It is out of my hands."
"Like Hell it is." Valentine said in outrage as his face took on a color shade of red. "I am that boy's father. We are his family, we always have been. He has no one else."
"But not legally. It doesn't matter how attached you seem to be or how much you want to believe you are a family. The fact of the matter is Mr. Wayland is a minor and under the law of Colorado he needs to be in the CPS system or in the hands of a legal guardian." She raised an eyebrow as Valentine. "You of all people should know that, Sherriff Morgenstern."
The gab at their father was not forgotten on Jonathon who opened his mouth to retaliate but was stopped but his mother held up a hand cutting off anything that could have been regrettable from spewing from the boys open lips. "While I'm sure you do know what you're talking about," Her mother's voice was calm and toneless. It was the voice Jonathon and Clary feared the most. The calm before the storm. "I would like you to remember that you are in my home. And we treat one another with respect here."
Clary winced as Debra seemed to narrow her eyes a fraction; the fight for dominance between the two woman would have been comical if not for the hunched over boy who sat with his head down, golden curls obscuring her view of his face; absolutely and utterly defeated.
"Why don't I just go and get everyone some iced tea." Clary said through clenched lips as she watched Debra sigh and slump in her seat.
"A drink would be lovely." The primped woman turned and took a folder out; opening it and spreading it along the glass table. "I think I'll be here for some time."
Clary tugged on Jace's arms softly, pulling him into the kitchen with her. Not at all hearing the snide and rude comment her father shot back at Debra for her earlier comment. She sighed and reached up to grab the glasses from the lowest cabinet in the kitchen.
She couldn't take the look on his face; the utter hopelessness he seemed to radiate. It hurt to see him in so much pain; she missed the boy that used to tease her and pull her hair. She missed Jace's infuriating smirk and golden eyes dancing with mischief. She hadn't seen that in a while.
"Don't even worry about what's happening in there." She waved absentmindedly with her hand towards the living room where the dulled voices of her parents and Debra seemed to emit. "I'm sure it will all work itself out."
Clary tried not to look at him as she reached up on her tip toes to get the serving tray her mother always used for company. Her hand could barely reach the handle as she balanced on the tip of her toes. She knew if she didn't focus on keeping herself busy, she would jump him. She would crush her body to his in a way they could never be separated. She would implant herself on every single part of him and it wasn't the time or place for that.
Letting out a frustrated growl as she reached again with no success, Clary turned with a scowl. "Jace, can you—"
She gasp when she saw how close he was, his bruised nose basically touching her forehead and her eyes in perfect sights of his cupid bow lips. She knew just how they felt against her skin; like velvet and satin all at once. His hands were rough and soft at the same time and she knew just what heights those fingers could take her when they caressed her flesh.
"I don't want to leave."
She never would have known he had spoken if she hadn't been watching his lips. Each word shaped in perfection. She frowned and blinked a moment before looking up at him. "What?"
Jace eyes dug into her, pleading with her to understand; to see what he meant by the words he was trying to express. His golden orbs were wide and flickering as if not sure whether he wanted to memorize every part of her now or later. He looked scared.
"Shh, you're okay now. He won't hurt you again; you don't have to be afraid anymore." Clary said in a hushed tone, her eyes searching his.
"He wasn't what I was ever afraid of."
And suddenly it all clicked in her mind. Why Jace had kept it hidden all these years. Why he hadn't simply told her father about the abuse he endured every night. Why he hid his scars and bruises under lame, made-up stories and long sleeved shirts. Why Jace soaked up every minute of love and adoration her family had to offer.
Because he wanted to keep this from happening; this very moment when he would be forced to leave. When they would take him away and he would be completely alone. Because no amount of hatred and abuse from his father could ever outweigh the love her family had gave him. Because Jace truly did feel like part of the family and he never wanted to leave. But now he was being forced to; he was afraid of being forced to leave. He was afraid to lose Clary and her family.
He was afraid of losing the only thing that had kept him sane. The only thing that had helped him continue on all those years. Because every kiss Jocelyn had given him on his cheek and every time a plate of food was ready and placed on his side of the table, every time Valentine told him how proud of him he was, or every trip they invited him on made it all worth it. Every argument she and Jace had shared made him jump for joy because he was family. Even she had known that.
He was afraid of losing everything.
She thought he had already been living the nightmare but that's not the way Jace had saw it. This was his nightmare. This was his Hell. He could escape Michael here, there home was his safe haven, but he couldn't escape this. They were taking him away from the only place he'd ever felt safe.
They were taking him away from his home.
She blinked when Jace handed her the tray from above her head and turned on his heel. Leaving just as he had came as soft as a whisper and Clary found she almost couldn't move, he didn't want her to see him broken.
No shattered.
Everything she did was robotic as she got the tray together and lifted it toward the room. Her parents seemed to be even more enraged as they stood above Debra, who looked bored, and ranted on about how Jace wasn't going anywhere.
The large pitcher drop a tear of condensation down the side of the cold glass and Clary couldn't help but follow it with her eyes. She felt herself release a tear of her own as she frowned and watched how Jonathon pushed his hands into his pockets and took a seat next to his best friend. Her brother was losing the only person who understood him more than he truly understood himself. They would all be devastated by the loss of Jace.
What would she do without him? She certainly couldn't love anyone else; not in the way she felt about him. She couldn't let him go not now.
Not ever.
"That boy you seem so keen on taking away belongs with us." Jocelyn said her frail arms crossed over her chest and a gleam in her green eyes.
"With all do respect, Mrs. Morgenstern, the law states that Mr. Wayland must be under the custody of a legal parent or guardian until his 18th birthday." As if repeating the same sentence would make it easier for them to let Jace go. "And seeing as you are not either of these, Jace cannot stay under this roof."
"But he doesn't have anyone else but us!" Jonathon said in outrage.
"Then he'll be given to a good foster home." Debra pinched the bridge of her nose as she sighed. "I really am sorry; you seem like a really good family but this is how it has to be. Please, understand I'm just doing my job." Her voice was weaker and putting up less of a fight as Jocelyn slumped her shoulders, feeling guilty for the cruel way they were treating her. She was after all just doing her job. "I wish things were different but they're not. I simply can't leave him under your care legally; you're not his real family or guardians."
But Clary didn't feel guilty or bad. She was angry, furious even. They would not be taking Jace anywhere. She had promised him she would protect him and Morgenstern's always kept their promises.
"We might as well have been!" Clary exclaimed, slamming the tray down hard on the table before the older woman, who jumped with fright at the noise that followed. The pitcher tipped over and her mother gave a cry as she hurried into the kitchen for napkins.
"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern—" Her father started to scold her as Jocelyn knelt and cleaned the mess she'd made.
"I grew up with that boy," Clary said pointing a finger at Jace, who watched her with wide proud eyes. "We've been everywhere together, we spend every Christmas together, we spend every Thanksgiving together, and Halloween, and Easter. We spend everyday together." She said in a huff, dragging her hands through her hair. For once no one in her family moved to stop her from opening her mouth; she tended to regret what came out. "Hell, he even has a permanent spot around our kitchen table! I've watched him bring home his first A+ on an accelerated algebra quiz. I watched him score his first goal in soccer ever and help him tie his tie for every dance and gala we attend to support Mom's artwork." She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly.
She gave a sharp laugh as tears filled the brims of her eyes. "That might not seem like a lot to you but it's the world to me. I've watched this boy grow and every single one of us has loved him completely all along the way. Because that's what family is right? Supporting and nurturing the people you love? Blood or no blood?" She shook her head as her cheeks grew wet. "That boy may have been born a Wayland but he was raised a Morgenstern. And if you think there is anyone on this planet that can love him more than we all do, you are completely and utterly wrong."
Debra blinked wide eyed as Clary wiped the tears from her eyes and squared her shoulders, looking down at the too crisp woman who watched her with disbelief. The silence that enveloped the room was drowning to her as she felt her family watching her with different looks.
Her mother and father were proud as they smiled at her, Jonathon looked to be flummoxed and Jace. . .he looked at her just like her father did when he saw her mother. He looked like he wanted to squeeze her so close that they would become one person and could never let each other go. And all she wanted to do was kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay.
"We'll adopt him." Valentine spoke in a low tone for the first time since arriving home and looked straight at the women perched at the end of their couch. "He has no legal guardians or parents; his mother died when he was a boy giving all custody to his father. He'll be 18 in a year and old enough to decide for himself soon but until then we'll adopt him."
Jace's gaze widened as Debra turned her attention to him. She must have seen the way his golden eyes shined or how they had fought tooth to nail to keep the boy with them. As she looked at everyone in the room before ending her gaze at Clary; she seemed to want to tell her something with that look. And Clary got the odd feeling Debra was proud of her too.
"Well, alright then." She said with a smile.
As soon as she spoke her family gave a cheer and Jace leaped from his seat, pulling Clary close, his hands capturing her entire waist and trapping her before he bent his head lower and kissed her. In front of their whole family, as Valentine gave out a loud laugh and her mother a soft giggle. His lips covered hers in just the way she remembered and loved as he pressed his lips in a calm kiss certainly not wanting to get too carried away in front of her family. Not that they didn't already know; her mother and father seemed to know for years that this was bound to happen. There was really only one person who was surprised.
"What the hell is going on here?" Jonathon said with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"Jonathon, language!" Her mother yelled, taking her hand and swatting him in the head.
"I'm just so confused about what's happening here!
Clary giggled against Jace's lips as they pulled back their foreheads touching; his eyes told her all the gratitude he never needed to say as she smiled and kissed him again.
Sorry not a lot of Jace and Clary lovin' but never fear my lovelies. All the Clace fluff you could ever dream of is coming in the next chapter!
So only one more chapter left and that's the epilogue! It's sad that the journey is ending so soon but it was a good ride we were on.
If any of you have questions or concerns regarding my story, please feel free to PM me!