I'm back. So soon, I know...I'm that awesome...*cheesy grin*
J~C
Madame Dorothea
She was breathing heavily by the time she reached the doorway of the slimy weasel's office.
Dorothea rolled her eyes when she realized the bloody door was locked. Cowardly bastard. But whatever. That could be easily fixed...
She grinned, and leaned her side heavily against the door, then pushed with a bolts popped loose-Honestly, where did he buy them?-and the door squeaked as it fell uselessly to the ground.
Michael was still unconscious, to her relief. In order for her to pull a Britney Spears, she wouldn't be able to handle him awake. She was fifty four, not Jackie Chan.
Madame Dorothea walked-More like 'waddled'-over to where Michael was laying, face down on his desk.
She shook her head, and huffed and wheezed heavily as she bent down to pick up a fallen lamp.
Raising the lamp over her head, she glanced down at the sleeping man. Now or never, Dor, she told herself. Now ain't the time to be actin' like chicken shit.
It felt wrong, to kill the man when he was unconscious. In movies, the hero or heroine would be noble enough to wait till the enemy was awake, so they could fight fairy.
Bullshit.
Madame Dorothea chuckled. She wasn't noble; She'd done her fair share of stealin', lyin' and betrayin', all with a smile on her face. Who said she had to fight fair?
With a heavy breath, she brought that damn lamp on Michael's neck, effectively ending his life.
'Bout fuckin' time.
J~C
Clary
Please, please, please...
Her eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the other voices. Jace had to live. She'd be nothing without him. Nothing.
"Miss?"
Clary pulled her hands away from her face, glancing up to see a stoic looking doctor standing in front of her. "Are you the one who brought in Jace Wayland?"
Clary nodded, afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might throw up on him.
The doctor sighed, running his hands through his oily looking hair, sneering slightly.
She decided on the spot she didn't like him. With his greasy, ugly hair...
"He's in a mild coma, and we're afraid, the longer he's asleep, the less likely it is he'll wake up."
Shut up, she demanded inwardly. Shut up, shut up. I don't want to hear anymore...
"But we're done operating on him. You can go in and see him." Then he walked away. Queer little piece of rat shit.
Clary sighed, and tugged at her hair. Already, she was losing it...
(~~~*~~~)
He looked so peaceful, and if he wasn't in the hospital, with several different colored tubes surrounding him, Clary would've thought that he was asleep.
Except he wasn't asleep, and she doubted he'd wake up from his coma.
Clary breathed shakily, and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at him.
This is all my fault, she thought, shaking her head. I sent him away, and now he's going to die because of me.
Tears began forming in her eyes, and Clary angrily wiped them away before they could fall; she wasn't about to cry. Jace went through all this pain, for her, and not once did he cry. Now, neither would she.
Clary choked on a sob that was beginning to rise, and reached over, gripping Jace's hand gently. She carefully managed not to touch the IV that was pierced through his wrist, stroking his knuckles lightly.
"I'm sorry, Jace," she whispered, wishing he was awake so that he would be able to hear her. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm glad-I'm glad you weren't alone when you went through that, even though it was for your own sexual needs. I'm glad you had something to escape to." The tears had started falling now, and she knew there was no stopping them.
"I wish you hadn't left; so I could apologize. I never wanted you gone."
She gave a reluctant chuckle. "I guess this is my consequence for being such an assclown."
Clary released a light sob. "I'm going to miss you."
She wiped at her face, sniffing. "I still love you."
Squeezing his hand.
Very lightly, she felt him squeeze back.
(~~~*~~~)
Clary was surprised no one ran in the room to see why there was a high-pitched screaming coming from there, but she was grateful for the privacy, nonetheless.
"Jace!" She barely restrained herself from flinging herself at him, though the temptation was still there. "Ohmygodohmygod..."
His eyes opened, one at a time, and he smiled wryly at her. "Nice to see you still have such fine lungs," he said in a raspy voice. "Lord knows what we'd do without them."
Clary slapped his shoulder, forgetting he was in pain, and swore when she was him wince. "Oh, God. Jace..I'm so sorry, I forgot-"
"'S fine, fine." He waved off her concern. "I'm fine."
"But you must be in so much pain-Shit! I need to get a doctor-"
"Clary, Clary." Jace reached the arm without an IV towards her, touching her arm. "I'm fine. Don't bring in the doctors. They give me the creeps."
"But-"
He cut her off with that look; The look Father would give his clients, and at times caused them to burst into tears.
"I'm fine. Trust me."
Clary sighed, hating that she felt so helpless. "Is there anything you need, then?"
Jace nodded. "Can you get in here with me?" He raised an arm delicately, cringing. "It feels too cold and lonely in here."
She rolled her eyes. "Jace, I'll pull out your..needle, thingies." Clary shook her head. "I don't want to hurt you if I brush up against your cuts-"
Jace pouted, his eyes pleading. "Please?"
Clary bit her lip. It looked so tempting, his arms opened hopefully, and with the stress she'd been through, she sure as hell needed some cuddling.
"Fine."
She somehow managed to maneuver her way around the tubes and needles that were wrapped around him, and laid stiffly next to him, careful not to allow any part of her to touch him.
Jace rolled his eyes, and stubbornly wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her back so that he was spooning her.
Clary relaxed at the contact, recognizing the broadness of his chest, the muscles of his strong arms, and the warmth and scent that was just Jace.
"Hmm."
Jace pressed his face into the crown of her head, sighing heavily. "I missed you, too," he whispered, his breath blowing at her hair.
She 'hmm'd' again. "It hasn't even been a whole day, silly," she whispered back, though she knew what he meant.
Clary could feel him shake his head. "I thought I wouldn't see you again," he said in a soft voice. "Please don't do that to me again."
Clary sighed. "I thought you were going to die," she admitted. "If you go home again, I'm sending Dorothea after you to kick your ass into Saturday."
"You met Dorthea?" Jace sounded surprised.
"Yeah..." Clary was quiet. "She's quite...lively."
He scoffed. "Bat shit crazy, my mom used to call her." He sobered. "But I loved her, all the same. She sort of took over the 'Mom' role after Mom died."
Clary nodded. Paused. "Can you forgive me?" She asked in a timid voice. What if he didn't want her? What if he decided she was too much, with baggage he didn't want to handle?
Jace breathed out a sigh of relief. "God, yes." He nuzzled her neck. "I was afraid you wouldn't want me back..."
She smiled. "I'll always want you back," she murmured.
He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that."
(~~~*~~~)
"I killed that sick motherfucker!"
They both started in surprise, but Jace kept his gentle grip on her, as they both turned to see a proud Madame Dorothea standing in the doorway of the hospital room.
"You did what now?"
Dorothea gave Jace the stink eye. "I beat the shit outta yer fatha' with that shitty ol' lamp his daddy got him for a weddin' gift." She crossed her arms. "He ain't gonna go walkin' 'round, eva again."
Jace blinked at her. "Er, thanks?"
She nodded. "Yer welcome. Now," she clapped her pudgy hands. "You, skeetbandit," she pointed a round finger at Clary. "Imma gonna be crashin' at whateva hellhole you live in. Jace, too."
Clary frowned. Living with Dorothea? Hell, no.
Jace? Course. She would've brought it up if the old fortune-teller hadn't barged in.
Jace stroked a bandaged hand down her face. "Can she?"
"Are you serious?" She demanded in a whisper. "She'll scare away all the staff."
Dorothea cleared her throat. "Baby girl," she growled. "If them homewreakers survived a bitch of a boss like you, they gonna fuckin' adore me."
Jace snorted. "She can have my room."
Clary nodded, turning around so her chest was pressed against his, and buried her face in his neck, kissing his collarbone..."You're staying in my room," she told him.
"Yes ma'am."
Dorothea scoffed. "Whipped, that's what you are. Bloody whipped." She glared at him. "You better not have shed lice in your blasted room, you rotten pig."
How motherly. No wonder Jace loves her so much.
Jace looked offended. "Lice? In my hair? Hell-fuckin'-no."
Dorothea nodded. "You two crazy kids get his crap up 'n ready." She looked over her shoulder. "I'll distract 'em pervy docs while you and Pippi Schlong-Stockin' get out."
Clary sat up. "But Jace needs to be checked out-"
"Not on my blasted watch." Madame Dorothea glared at her. "I ain't lettin' those good fer nothin' asses poke at my baby boy. They give me the creeps."
Jace poked her. "Told you so."
Clary rolled her eyes, swinging her legs over the side, and helped Jace up. "Fine. But if I think he's looking even a little queasy, I'm bringing him back," she warned.
Jace shook his head, kissing her softly, causing Dorothea to groan in disgust.
"Ya horndogs keep that in the bedroom, ya here?"
Yeah. Living with her was going to be wonderful.
On the other hand, she might be able to scare away Sebastian, Aline and Isabelle...
J~C
Yes, I let him live...*rolls eyes* Do you honestly think that low of me?
Anyhoo, next chapter is the epilogue...*tears*
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