A/N I'm very surprised at the fact that 1-I've managed to make and maintain a schedule for updating and 2-that this story had gotten as far as it has. I never thought it would get anywhere to be honest. And it's all thanks to everyone one of you. You guys are the reason that I do this. It makes me so happy whenever I see a review or something, it motivates me to keep writing.
I really don't want to let anyone down.
Well school sucks, but then again, when doesn't it? So how are you guys doing? I hope really well because you guys are so amazing!
ALSO, there is something I want to address. I feel really bad when I don't reply to reviews, but it's mostly because I don't know what to say. I can't express through words how happy and grateful I am for everyone in this community. So, I want you to know that I read every review, good or bad, about ten times and I appreciate each and every one. If you guys have any questions about anything, just tell me, I will respond.
Thank you for reviewing, following and favoriting, it means a lot to me!
DISCLAIMER:ALL RIGHTS TO THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS BELONG TO THE ABSOLUTELY DIVINE CASSANDRA CLARE
~~~~~~~~~~STORY TIME~~~~~~~~~~
Before going home, Clary decided to go to the store to get her emotions figured out and solved, so she could explain to Jace exactly what she was feeling if he asked. The big sign of the superstore popped up over the horizon line and she pulled into the parking lot.
When Clary looked over to the car in front of her, it looked strangely familiar. A strong sense of dizzy nostalgia gripped her heart inside her, but she didn't quite understand why. She just shook her head and walked past the front doors of the building.
Clary strolled down the aisles, searching for interesting new things while finding the items on her little grocery list. A deep color of red was all she saw as she exited one lane as she ran into someone. She almost fell to the floor, trying to understand the red in her vision, if the tender, thin hands hadn't reached out and pulled her up. She glanced up, an apology falling meekly off of her lips. Clary realized why the crimson hair was so much deeper than hers.
The woman she ran into was her mother, Jocelyn Fairchild.
Jocelyn looked so much better than when her daughter had last seen her. A while ago, Clary said her final farewells to her parents after they practically kicked her out. It was mostly Valentine doing the screaming at the same time her mother was sitting on the couch, a dull look on her face as her too slim body quivered. She did nothing to defend her only daughter.
Up to the present time, Jocelyn had filled out to a healthy weight. Her eyes had a bright glow that had been lost during her depressive times. Dark red hair had a large amount of color compared to a few years ago. The cart she was controlling contained multiple home items such as picture frames, pillows, plates, a lamp and some candles. Food products were also there, just not as plentiful.
Shock was clearly written on the elder's face, "Clary? Oh my...hi." She had the decency to look ashamed. Or was that embarrassment?
"Hello, Jocelyn." Clary stuck her chin in the air.
"It's...good to see you again. How are you doing?" Jocelyn said with the slightest hint of the motherly concern she used only when Clary was small.
"Things have been okay, I guess."
"How is," her voice immediately turned bitter, "Simon doing?"
Clary could tell that she was just asking to be polite. Jocelyn didn't care about Simon Lewis. And frankly, neither did her at the moment. "I wouldn't know."
"Why is that?" Her mother tilted her head to the right side. "Aren't you his girlfriend?"
"Things got complicated and after a very messy break up, I am much happier."
Jocelyn's face was twisted with worry, which confused Clary tremendously. She never cared too much before, so what was different now? "I'm sorry to hear that-"
"Don't lie. I know you never showed affection for him, even less than everyone else."
She flinched. "I know I wasn't there Clary. I know. And trust me, it's the thing I most regret in my life. I should have been there for you and Jonathan, I was just so caught up in my own distress and downheartedness that I never became the mother that I could have been. I can't apologize enough. I just…" At that time, Jocelyn broke down into a frenzy of tears and sobs. "I'm so proud of the woman you have become. I-I.."
"Mom." Clary hadn't said that in so long that it felt weird saying it. "It's okay. I seem to be in the forgiving mood today." She laughed humorlessly. "I guess you deserve it too. You can't rewrite time and change what you did. I understand that Valentine was terrible. I dealt with him too, and he almost turned me into something weak like he did you. Only he didn't. I had my brother to support me. You could have had us, but instead rejected us."
"That's how I dealt with things back then, but I've become different. I divorced Valentine a year after he disowned you. I'm going to a therapist now who has helped so, so much. I found someone new, you remember my old friend Luke right? We are moving into a house together. I'm the happiest I have ever been. The only thing that could make me more content is to have my children back."
"Jonathan is gone." A sudden cough attack hit her for a few moments, then cleared up.
"You would be enough." Jocelyn grabbed a hold of Clary's hands, which tensed and slowly relaxed into her mother's.
Clary looked into her forest green eyes, only seeing love and concern within them. "Fine. I'll give you a second chance at being my mother. It'll take a long time, but with everything that's happened, it would be nice to have the comfort of a loving parent."
Jocelyn pulled Clary into a tight hug, one in which Clary hesitantly returned.
They caught up with each other on how their lives played out up until now for hours until the girls were kicked out for the shop closing.
By the time Clary had gotten home, it was completely dark out. She opened the door to find Jace pacing in front of the couch, "Clary! What happened? Are you okay?" He took two long strides to be face to face in front of her, her face an inch away from his muscular chest.
"Yes...why wouldn't I be?"
"Well I was just worried if Rat Face did something to you and you weren't answering your phone so I just…"
Clary put her hands on his shoulders to calm him down. "It's okay. I'm fine. Thank you for worrying, but I'm alive, I promise. Here," she seized Jace's hand and put it over her heart, "I'm safe. My heart is beating."
They were both staring into each other's eyes for an elongated amount of time. It seemed as though littles sparks shot from his fingers and pulsed into Clary's heart, making it beat abundantly faster than an average person for her age, much more than for someone with the same height she is. The only thing she could do was to hope that Jace hadn't noticed. By the look of his face, though, he was indeed aware.
Eventually, his expression turned unsettled. His hand went up to her forehead. "Clary are you feeling alright? You seem to be very warm and unusually pale."
"Are you sure it's not just my vampire white complexion with spots of freckles?"
"No even your adorable freckles almost blend in with your skin. I think you might need to sit down."
"Jace, I am perfectly okay. I am just tired, that's all. I'm going to go to bed and you should too. Tomorrow morning I will tell you about what happened today and trust me, there is a lot."
With that, she ignored Jace's concerned face and fell asleep on her bed, in her clothes she wore that day.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Three days later, something was definitely wrong. Throughout the weekend, she felt weirder and weirder, but on Monday Clary woke up feeling like she was hit by a massive train in her sleep. It was just like the day after she and Simon played shots Truth or Dare at Aline's house in high school, which Clary, evidently, lost.
She didn't even bother taking a shower and just put her hair in a ponytail, not giving a crap about what anyone would think. The mirror reflected Clary's darkly bagged eyes and pale skin. Clary had been coughing all night and couldn't get enough blankets to keep her warm. She had debated going to Jace to find warmth, but that would concern him too much. He didn't need to be worried.
"You can't be serious about going to school today." Clary sprang up from her position of her head on the counter. "You look like you just came back from the dead, Clary. There is no way that it can be safe for you to leave."
Jace came into view in front of her unfocused eyes. "I have to," she croaked, "I have to present my midterm that's very important and I can't miss it or else the teacher will take points off.
"That's bullshit. I think he or she would understand why you can't show up."
"No...No! I can do this and I will do this." Clary, being the insanely stubborn person she is, retaliated back at him with all the energy she could manage. "You can't fight me on this, I will show up and get a good, deserving grade on this project today."
Jace looked up to the ceiling as if praying for someone to help him and her, "Fine. You can go to school today, on the condition that you put me into your emergency contacts list and you call me if you feel any worse, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay." She gave him her phone to change the contact. "Gotta go, see you."
"Be safe!"
o.O.o.O.o.O.o
Straightaway, after parking her car, Clary felt even more ill. The focus of driving started giving her a big headache, but she sucked it up and stumbled into the classroom.
Clary didn't pay attention to any of the projects that were being shown and discussed in front of her. The task of the project was to write a speech about a famous artist that interested or inspired them. Claude Monet was the person she chose because of the beautiful landscapes that he painted. Her entire speech was memorized and perfected, ready to be spoken at a moment's notice.
Finally, it was her turn to present, to get all of the weight off of herself. Clary rose with her mouth open to introduce her lecture, only to have the world fall upside down.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Jace Herondale had been sitting in the most boring science class he had ever taken. The professor was an old man who had such a thick Spanish accent that no one could understand what was being spoken.
Halfway through the session, his phone rang. Shit he thought to himself I forgot to set it on vibrate.
The number was unknown, although it had the area code of the town, which made him wonder. Despite the enraged look on the instructor's face, Jace responded to the call and put the phone up to his ear.
"Hello?"
The soft, yet urgent voice of a female replied, "Hi, is this Jace Herondale speaking?"
"Yes it is, may I ask who is calling?"
"This is the nurse at your college. I would like you to come down to my office as you are on one of Clary Fray's emergency contacts."
Jace stood up quickly, nearly knocking his tiny table over. "Is everything okay? What is going on!?"
"Miss Fray passed out during her History of Art class and I would like for you to take her home."
"What happened? Is it serious?"
What the woman said next sent a frosty chill up his body.
"I guess we will know that whether if she wakes up or not."
Oh no! Will Clary be alright? What happened? How is Jace going to react? Stay tuned for the next chapter of Things Aren't Always Perfect to find out!
Haha no this isn't a TV show, I just thought it kind of fit with the dramatic reality shows that play.
Anyways, thank you all for reading!
Keep being the amazing person you are!
~ALB