A bit of Drunk Jace humour here. Not as serious as other chapters, but the next chapter is a lot more serious- I promise! Let me know what you think of this though, I'm not sure what I think fo it to be honest. Thanks once again to everyone reading and reviewing!!! =]
Luke helped to force Jace into his battered pickup truck as the Shadowhunter struggled against him. Simon decided to sidle into the front seat- something told him that being any closer to Jace than was necessary would be a drastically bad move at this moment in time. Alec and Isabelle stood on the sidewalk looking extremely worried with anxious frowns adorning their faces. Alec walked over to the truck to slide in beside his parabatai, Isabelle however did not move and stood stock-still, gnawing on her lower lip.
"Isabelle, he's just drunk. He'll be fine," he soothed.
"No, Lucian, he is not fine. You- you don't understand," the raven-haired girl said. "He… he said he needed her. Jace said he needed her."
She said it with such revered shock that Luke had to cock a quizzical eyebrow in her direction.
"Jonathan Wayland has never needed anyone. Much less admitted it. That kind of dependence is not part of him. Jace doesn't need anyone. He takes pride in it, he thinks it makes him strong. You don't know what an admission like this means, Luke, you really don't." A deep frown lined her forehead and crinkled the soft skin around her dark eyes.
Luke laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Okay… Look Isabelle, the main thing right now is getting Jace home and trying to find Clary. Once we know that both of them are safe, then we can worry about the other stuff- alright?"
Nodding mutely, Isabelle climbed into the backseat as Luke started the rumbling engine.
"What the hell was Jace in doing in that dive?" Alec mumbled. "It's pretty much the roughest bar in town. What was he thinking?"
Simon peered into his overhead mirror, looking disdainfully at the trio in the back. Jace was in the middle, slumped over both of the Lightwoods in his semi-conscious state. "Clearly," the vampire drawled. "He wasn't."
He had expected to rile Alec with that comment but it was Isabelle who snapped viciously, "Shut up, Simon. I swear- you are just asking to feel the end of my dagger in your chest."
Uncomfortable silence filled the truck as Luke sped towards his place. Simon scowled in the front as Isabelle stroked Jace's hair and Alec looked on with worry set in his features. To Simon, it seemed ridiculously wrong that everyone was fawning over the golden-haired drunkard in the back. Clary was clearly the priority here, and the only one that needed to be worried about. Besides that, it was Jace's fault that Clary was still missing. Simon was convinced that had everyone else known about her disappearance, Clary would have been found long before now. But he really didn't want to feel the dangerously sharpened edge of Isabelle's dagger, so he kept his mouth shut and continued to scowl.
"Darrell is one of my pack," Luke said, breaking the silence and answering Alec's earlier question. "He was in Solomon's since Jace arrived. This morning, I told the pack to be on the lookout for Jace and when Darrell saw him in the bar, he listened in- thinking that any Shadowhunter in Solomon's might be the guy I was looking for. Good thing he did too, Jace was just about to get himself killed when we walked in. Apparently, Jace came in a few hours ago and started asking some questions of… well, the shady characters. Then he sat at the bar and proceeded to get blind drunk. When Jonas- the barman- asked him why he was drinking, Jace said something about having bad business to do and wanting to soften the blow. I figure he was getting ready to tell us about Clary. Solomon's is the worst bar in town, I guess it was his last resort and once that didn't give him any answers, he just decided to drown his sorrows."
The silence returned as the rest of the group soaked up the news.
Alec picked up his mobile and clicked at the keypad before raising it to his eye. "Hey, Max… Is Magnus still there with you?… Okay, put him on for a second… Hey Magnus… No, we found him. In Solomon's… Don't ask… Yeah, well he is really drunk. Do you have something to sober him up once we get back?… Thanks, we won't be long."
With a blush, Alec shoved the phone back into his pocket. Ten minutes later, Luke and Alec were hauling Jace out of the pickup and up the stairs.
"Well, about time!" Magnus exclaimed from inside.
"You okay, Max?" Isabelle asked.
"Oh, please, darling. He is fine! Honestly though, this babysitting gig is making me feel like such a teenage girl. Good thing you finally decided to come back!" Isabelle rolled her eyes skyward. "And you, Graymark. You seriously need to redecorate- this place is so old-fashioned that it was never in fashion! But anyway, where is the patient?"
"Geh hoff me!" Jace slurred, pushing Alec and Luke's helpful hands away. He stumbled face-first onto the couch. "Don't need any help."
"No," Magnus said wryly. "Certainly not."
"You!" Jace shouted, pointing a wavering finger 45 degrees east of where Magnus stood. "You promised not to tell anyone! You swore- on the Angel word. Name. On Angel name!"
"No, my dear boy, I swore not to tell a living soul. And that, I did not do."
"Nonsense. Warlocks make no sense. And stand still would you!" Jace proclaimed as he wobbled about on the chair. "Now. 'Scuse me. Got to go save Clary. She needs saving you know," he informed the room seriously. The Shadowhunter got to his feet before promptly tilting forwards.
Alec and Luke steadied him and dropped him back onto the couch. "How about we sit for a minute, Jace."
"No, no, no. Saving to be done. Hand me my scotch!" He shouted. "No- not scotch. 'Nuff scotch. Can get scotch laterly. Sword- hand me my sword."
Magnus sighed dramatically. "He really is quite entertaining when he is drunk, isn't he? I must remember to invite him to my next party."
"Great idea, but could we please work on getting him sober for now, please. There are pressing issues at hand which call for Jace to be less inebriated." Luke intervened, obviously worried about the missing girl he saw as his daughter.
The High Warlock of Brooklyn gestured a hand in Jace's direction. A considerable amount of water magically fell on his head, plastering his hair to his head. Jace gasped and whirled around in shock looking for somebody to blame.
He narrowed his eyes at the multicoloured warlock. "I think I'll kill you," he threatened darkly.
"Like you could," Magnus scoffed. "Here, drink this." A glass of frothy green gloop was presented.
"Hell no! It looks like something Izzy made!" He exclaimed in a horrified voice. "You drink it- I wanted to kill you."
The shock of the freezing cold water seemed to improved Jace's sentence structure, he had become more coherent and literate at any rate. Max giggled in the corner and the sides of every mouth in the room twitched upwards. Except Isabelle who just looked downright murderous. She strode over and pinched Jace's nose between her fingers and grabbed his jaw in her other hand.
"Pour it down his throat," she growled, above Jace's gaping mouth as he made incomprehensible sounds. "Before I shove the glass down along with it." Magnus hurriedly passed the glass on to Luke as Jace gurgled and struggled in Isabelle's firm grip. He sounded like he was being strangled as the green liquid slid forcibly into his mouth. Isabelle pushed his jaws together and smacked a hand over Jace's lips and nose until he swallowed.
Jace gagged. He stuck out his tongue and tried to look at it, turning himself cross-eyed in the process. "That wasn't very nice Izzy-Belle. Izzy Belly. Izza- Bizza- Bell is sooo mean. Her drinks taste like Church and Hugo thrown in a blender, you know." He told Luke conspiratorially. If looks could kill, Isabelle would have rendered Jace dead as soon as the words left his mouth.
"It will take at least ten minutes to work," the Warlock chimed in, regarding the five people in the room staring intently at Jace.
"Oh." They all sat down and snuck surreptitious glances at the soaking wet Nephilim.
"Pity really, he truly was great entertainment," Magnus sighed, tugging on one of his white-tipped spikes of dark hair. "Oh well, there's always next weekend. I'll have to order scotch."
Isabelle turned the full force of her glare on the Warlock as Luke shook his head in disappointment.
All they could do now was wait. Suddenly, ten minutes seemed very long.