Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare, I do not own The Mortal Instruments, nor do I make any profit from this enterprise. However, I did recently gain a new housemate who is a sculptor of scrap metal and my lawn has now become a Mechanical Garden of Awesomeness. So that's something.
A/N: My amazing little dragonfruits! I have returned! I am absolutely thrilled with how this chapter turned out and I am so excited to see your reviews. I really hope that you think it is worth the wait.
Further disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nurse or specialist, nor do I have any medical degrees of any kind. All medical statements in this chapter are a result of research on google, and chats with friends who are in the medical profession. If I make any mistakes, please let me know so I can do further edits.
A huge thank you to:
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I really appreciate you all so much.
I'm really sorry it has taken so long to get this out, but fortunately I have found a way to counteract my crippling writer's block so I expect to get this out much quicker than I have been. Fingers crossed!
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Clary's POV
I feel warm. And dehydrated.
My mouth is uncomfortably dry and my entire body is heavy. I struggle to move any of my limbs, even my toes and fingers don't seem to want to cooperate.
My eyelids remain closed no matter how many times I tell them to open, a thick sheen of sticky sand holding my eyelashes together.
Around me, I can hear odd sounds and hushed voices but I don't recognise the context of what they are saying.
Everything feels far away and otherworldly.
Time goes by but I'm not sure how much. Flashes of memory run through my mind, the shine of metal and something sticky and the sound of something thudding and the feel of something wet on my hands.
And then something else; someone talking to me, someone pleading with me, but I can't remember what they were saying and I can't figure out what they were pleading for.
I can feel my heart pumping in my chest, louder and faster than it should be, like I'm waiting for a reason to run. There's an odd beeping sound that accompanies my heart rate, and I count it to try and figure out passing moments.
As I focus on the beeping, the hushed voices around me begin to make more sense. I catch the word 'recovering' a few times, start to recognise voices but I can't place them.
I know that I am fazing in and out, catching bits of conversations but not understanding the context.
Until, finally, I recognise one voice out of the fuzz of noise, and I find my eyes and finally open them a crack.
Jace- my Jace- is here, looking haggard and worried and unshaven. Bags under his eyes, his forehead wrinkled, hair falling across his face as though he hasn't taken the time to brush it in days, leaning with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly into space above my hand, lying limply on white, scratchy bedsheets.
"Yeah, well, they've been saying she's 'recovering' for four days, Alec." Jace is saying, sounding exasperated and concerned. My forehead wrinkles weakly, pulling muscles that feel sored and bruised.
"You need to hold onto hope, Jace. I get that this seems hopeless but-"
"Alec would you stop with the whole 'there's light at the end of tunnel' thing? I've heard this song before." Jace softly winds his fingers through my own, taking a firm yet gentle grasp of my hand. "I just want her to wake up, just so I can tell her-"
"Tell me what?" I croak; my voice barely above a whisper. Even so, Jace's face whips up to mine, his hand taking an almost painfully tight hold my mine now.
I try to muster a smile, my cheeks feeling stiff, as tears fill Jace's golden eyes and our gazes meet.
And then suddenly his arms are cradling my head and his lips are at my temple, and I can feel the wetness of his tears on my forehead as he sobs my name. I close my eyes, feeling a sense of calm and safety I never have before, slowly moving my arm to place my hand on his arm.
I feel a tap on my feet, and Alec is there, beaming incandescently at me, in a sort of elderly brotherly sort of way I've only ever seen directed at Jace and Isabelle.
"I'll go get a nurse. And a few other people." He tells me quietly. "It's so good to see you, Clary." His voice is filled with emotion, and he seems close to tears as well as he leaves the room.
A few seconds pass and I revel in the feeling of Jace holding me, feeling brilliant and light, but then my mind registers what Alec had said.
He was getting a nurse… that meant I was in a hospital… the scratchy white bedspread… the heaviness of my arms… the beeping…
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Oh, God!
Suddenly, it all comes rushing to the forefront of my mind- the glean of the knife in my father's hands as he stood grinning in front of me, my mother's blood on my hands, the phone slipping out of my hands as my father burst through my door, the pain spreading everywhere, and finally blackness and cold, unbearable aloneness.
Alone.
Completely alone.
Alone. Unloved. Unlovable.
All at once, Jace's arms around me become suffocating. I can't find my lungs, but I can feel my father's hands on me, his blows and his kicks and his blade. I can hear the cracks of my bones and the hard thuds of my body being battered, I can smell the scent of blood and fear and sickening joy in the air.
And then Jace's arms are gone from me, but his hand is on my cheek and I know he is saying something, I know that he is urging me to listen to something important, but I can't understand what he's saying as the reality of why I am here, lying in this bed, hits me all at once.
My father almost killed me. The look in his eyes as he leans over me haunts me, taunting me, laughing at me, as I cower at his feet, trying to get away from the pain. Phantom pain spreads through me, as though he's hurting me afresh, and even as my brain registers that this isn't real, this is panic, this is trauma, this isn't real, I want to scream and run away, want to find a tiny place to curl up and hide because it's too open out here.
My chest begins to hurt, my muscles so tense I can feel them starting to spasm. I feel like I'm dying, like my heart is going to pump out of my chest. Logic continues to batter at me, telling me this isn't real, and some part of me registers that Jace is talking to me, and I'm scaring him now as I quiver in terror, but I can't get away from the fear and pain and knowing that something happened and feeling like it's happening again, reliving it again and again, moment to moment.
And then a hand takes mine, and it's placed on something hard yet soft, and I hear the words 'breathe with me' and I know it means something, it sparks a different memory, a good memory, and I try to chase it, try to follow it away from this terror.
There's movement under my hand and in my panic, I try to hold it still, and the grip around my hand tightens and the movement becomes more pronounced. My hand keeps moving in time and as I slowly start to figure out what it means, I begin to hear Jace's voice.
"Clary, can you hear me? I need you to nod if you can hear me." He urges, and of course I can hear him, of course I know he's there; I always know when Jace is there.
So automatically, my head begins to nod and his voice is relieved when he speaks again.
"Clary, you're in a hospital. You're not there with him. You're safe. He can't get you here." And then my head is shaking, because he can get me. I know he can. My father will always find me, always hurt me. Because even if he's not in the room, even if he's not grinning with maniacal glee at me, he's always there in my head. His voice is always in my ear.
"Clary, I need you to listen to me: can you look around you and name five things you can see?"
Why is that important?! That's an entirely unhelpful question!
But Jace asked me… maybe it's important… I don't know…
"The bed and… sheets and… tubes and… and…" I start, but the images in my head won't quit, distracting me from my mission.
"That's really great Clary, just two more things; can you name two more things for me?" Jace asks me, using an extremely careful, gentle voice. My eyes dart around the room quickly, trying to find something else.
"A vase and… and you… I can see you."
"Brilliant Clary, you're doing really well." I don't have time to dwell on the compliment, because Jace gives me another mission. "Now can you tell me four things you can feel? Just four."
"I don't-" It seems ridiculous that my breathing is a bit more regular now, and that naming these things is using up all my concentration. "The sheets and this stupid dress… what the hell am I wearing?" For some reason, that question seems really important, but Jace isn't distracted.
"Two more things, Clary, try to focus." He sounds like he's holding back a smirk, his tone of voice fond.
"I feel… um…"
"It's alright, take your time."
"Cold and… metal."
"Excellent Clary, that's excellent. Three things you can hear?"
"Beeping and breathing and you."
"Much better." Jace sounds satisfied and slightly triumphant, and I smile suddenly, looking up at him. He is smiling at me like he's proud, and I suddenly blush, wanting to hide my face in his chest.
"Thank you." I say softly, feeling embarrassed.
"You're safe, Clary. No one is going to hurt you here."
"I know." I assure him. "I know. I trust you." I notice that my hand is still held in his, and realise it's his chest my hand is resting on. He was trying to get me to breathe with him, like I had so many times before. I scrunch my hand into his shirt, wanting to feel him solid and here with me.
"Biscuit!" Is suddenly screeched and my head swivels to the door.
Magnus stands there, looking depressingly plain in jeans and a t-shirt, but his smile is huge and blinding, and then he's moving towards me and gathering me in his arms, holding me close while I wrap my arm around his waist, keeping my other hand firmly locked on Jace.
I feel wetness on my shoulder and it registers suddenly that Magnus is crying, weeping into me and whispering apologies and words of comfort and safety. My arm tightens around him and I send a quick glance to Jace, telling him to stay there, as I let go of his shirt and slowly bring both my arms around Magnus, rubbing soothing circles up and down his back, placing gentle kisses on his temple, whispering soothing sounds into his ear.
It occurs to me that I shouldn't be okay with this. I should feel swamped and scared, crowded and claustrophobic. But this is Magnus. My protector. My saviour. My brother.
So I shove those thoughts aside and hold him tighter, running my fingers through his un-gelled, un-spiked, surprisingly soft hair and make no plans to let go.
"I'm coming! I'm coming! Move! Clary!" I look towards the door and see Ragnor standing there, looking as drab as Magnus, but still just as happy. I reach my hand out for him as tears fill my eyes and Ragnor jumps onto the bed, wrapping careful arms around both Magnus and I, being what would normally be annoyingly loud but somehow, I don't mind as he screams into my ear.
"Excuse me, but I believe you might be overwhelming my patient! This is a hospital, not an airport in a family comedy!" Berates an annoyed, female voice from the doorway.
Sheepishly, I retreat my hands from the boys, looking towards the doorway to find a middle aged woman standing there, dressed in scrubs, her slightly greying hair held up in a severe bun.
"Sorry Charlotte." Magnus apologises. "But we just heard and-"
"I know exactly what you heard, Mr. Bane, that's why I'm here." The woman, Charlotte, says. "Now, Miss Morgenstern… How are you feeling? Any pain?"
"I… no." I reply, a bit discombobulated to be asked such a blunt question.
"Alright then. That's good then because you're not due for another round of meds for another few hours. Do you know where you are?"
"A hospital… Where's my mother? Is she alright?" My voice is pleading as I remember my mother bleeding on the floor.
"Your mother is fine." Charlotte tells me, and suddenly her voice is no longer stern. She speaks with authority, but her tone is kind and gentle. "She lost a fair bit of blood, but after a transfusion and surgery, she's recovering well. Your brother is with her."
"My brother is…" A hand wraps around mine and I look up to see Jace has taken my hand, letting me know he is there if I need him. Ragnor and Magus stand like sentries on either side of me.
"Your brother has been rotating between you both since you were brought in. Knowing him, he should be in in about…" Charlotte glances as her watch. "Thirty seven minutes." Unexpectedly I chuckle, remembering Jonathan's penchant for routines and schedules. Someone educated would have told me it was his way of controlling what was otherwise uncontrollable, but actually it was just Jonathan.
"That sounds about right." I comment. "So how long ago was I…?" Charlotte glances around at the boys assembled around me and almost smiles.
"I suppose I would be wasting my breath if I said this was something I could only discuss between you and family members?"
"They are my family." I tell her, my voice strong. "More than my real one."
Charlotte's eyebrows rise for a split second before she schools her features into neutral, and I can feel the boys' eyes on me, but I don't, even for a second, regret the words I said. Even though I love my mother and my brother, even though I am so worried for my mother I can barely breathe, even though adrenaline is surging through me at the thought of seeing my brother again and I almost feel like crying at the thought of him coming to see me after so long, they both had abandoned me and allowed this to happen to me.
These boys though, these amazing boys- whom I have hurt multiple times, who never had to involve me in their lives, who gave me the best memories of my existence- never did. It was these boys who had come to my rescue, these boys that had given me the tools to save myself. And even though they are all so different, even though I love them so differently, I could never have gotten through my life without them.
These boys, these people, are my family.
"Well then," Charlotte declares, taking a spot at the end of my bed. "I need you to understand that you are safe here, first and foremost. However, when you came in here, you were in terrible shape." Charlotte looks suddenly exhausted, as though she's seen too many people like me in this position. "You had multiple fractures, stab wounds and a collapsed lung. When you first came in, we were worried most about your head injury and your breathing. We brought you in to surgery to stabilise you, and reinflated your lung, however, I need to tell you that you suffered a cardiac arrest during surgery."
"What? But I-" Hands graze over my back and shoulders, massaging knots out of the tense muscles there.
"You were revived almost immediately and the surgery was successful." Charlotte continues, wincing at the look on my face. "However, due to the head injury, you've been in a coma-like state for about four days; which in retrospect might have been a good thing for your fractures, giving the bones time to settle a bit."
"Four days? I've been asleep for four days?"
"It's not uncommon for severe head injuries like yours." Charlotte nods and smiles encouragingly. "I would suggest moving carefully for the next few days. The ribs that weren't fractured are deeply bruised, and your lungs are still fragile. Also, your left shin bone is snapped so you have a cast there. Also, be careful waving your arms around as you may tear the stitches."
I look down at my arms, noticing bandages wrapped up them from my wrist to elbow.
"How did-"
"It appears that you attacker took to hacking up your arms a bit before beating you." Charlotte's voice is angry suddenly, her eyes becoming stormy and dangerous. "Clary, there's one more thing- do you want to press charges against the person who did this to you? Your mother has already done so, but she left the option to you if you wanted to join her."
"My mother pressed charges?" I asked, shocked to hear this.
"Yes. She wasn't going to, until she heard what had happened to you." Charlotte shakes her head. "She was very concerned to hear about how your surgery went." Ragnor snorts and places a hand over his eyes, keeping his other hand on my shoulder.
"I- I'll have to think about it." I quickly say, wanting to get Charlotte out of here so I can process everything.
"That's fine. Just let me know when you decide." Charlotte takes the hint, taking a quick glance at the machinery around me, before nodding to herself. "If you need me, just ask for Dr Branwell. I'll be back in a while to check on you anyway." Flashing a smile, Charlotte leaves the room, leaving me alone with Magnus, Ragnor and Jace.
A few seconds passes in silence, before suddenly: "Clary, what do you mean you don't know if you're going to press charges? You have to! That maggot deserves-"
"I know exactly what he deserves, Ragnor. Of course I'm pressing charges." I tell him, looking into his eyes, seeing how aggravated he is at the mention of my father. He blinks a couple of times, registering what I said.
"But then why did-"
"Because I only just woke up, Ragnor. Excuse me for needing coffee first." I grin at him, trying to calm him. I hear a surprised puff of air from Magnus that I understand as a chuckle. "Look, I get that you want to look after me, and I love you for that." It's so freeing, finally being able to say that without fear, and I can see how it affects him as tears fill his eyes. "But I just need a little bit of time to process." Ragnor's shoulders slump but he nods quickly, cracking a quick smile and sweeping me up in another hug.
"I was really scared, pineapple. Don't do that again." He whispers in my ear. I wrap my arms around him and give him a squeeze, but then pull back.
"Pineapple?" I inquire. Ragnor grins and wriggles his eyebrows, running a hand over my head, ruffling his fingers over my short hair.
"Small and spiky." He explains. I gasp and poke his side, rejoicing in the little 'oof' he lets loose.
We chat for a little while, Magnus filling me in on some of the things I missed whilst I was 'catching up on much-needed beauty rest', but the boys notice my eyes moving back and forth to Jace, and they make their excuses, telling that they're going to go share the good news, leaving me alone with Jace.
He sits down on my bed, taking a firm hold on my hand, playing with my nails.
"Ragnor wasn't the only one who was scared." He finally admits, his voice so low I have to strain to hear it. "I was so scared when you called me, Clary. God, you sounded so- and then when I heard him bash in your door I just-" He throws his hands over his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing which has turned choppy and harsh. I realise that he's crying, but trying to stop himself, probably feeling as though he has no right to cry as I'm the one in the hospital bed. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner. When I got there, he was standing over you, just belting you and I couldn't move, I just froze there watching and it was Isabelle who finally came running in. I think she tore his eyes out with her nails. That woman is dangerous."
I chuckle at the picture of Isabelle and her warrior nails. Who knew manicures were good for anything? Girl power, indeed.
"I don't know how she got him to stay down but then he was gone and I could move and I think I got in the way of Catarina- she had a med kit of some kind and wanted to start patching you up but I just held onto you and I might've made everything worse, I don't know." I try not to cry at the shame and guilt in his voice. "And then when you got here, they wouldn't let me see you. It took hours for them to let me see you, and then they kicked me out so quickly. I slept in the car that first night, but then my mum wouldn't let me after that. I kept on having to come home. And every second, it was just running through my mind that something might be happening and I wasn't here for you and… Clary I just… I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you woke up." He does sound like he doesn't believe it and suddenly, his eyes are back on me, their sparkling, golden intensity keeping me perfectly still. His hand is on my cheek, his thumb running up and down my cheekbone. Unimportantly, I register a faint pain there, and stupidly, I wonder how bruised my face is.
"I really can't believe it… I just… Clary will you… Can I just check? Will you let me just check I'm not dreaming?" Unable to do anything else, I nod, a slow smile spreading over my face as his own nears mine, his eyes staring hard into mine.
And then his lips are on mine and that feeling is all around me again- safety, comfort, cosiness. Perfection.
And for the first time, I feel this strange sensation in my chest, this feeling of completeness and wholeness I have never felt before.
For the first time I know: I am not alone, I am not unlovable. I am not unloved.
Because I can feel it. I can feel this beautiful aura of love that Jace projects, and this light buoyancy that only love can provide. Suddenly, I am not scared or worried.
I am with Jace. I am safe and warm and loved. I am not alone. I am loved.
"Jace." I say when our lips part, my cheeks beginning to hurt from how hard I'm smiling. "I love you. I love you so much." I burrow into his chest, and his hands come around to cradle my head. "I know when I said it on the phone, you probably just thought I was saying it because I thought I was going to die. But I love you Jace. I love you so much. Don't let me go. Don't ever let me go."
"I love you Clary. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. I promise, I'll be right here forever."
"Well, this is awkward." I hear from the doorway, and we both turn to see my brother standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor and shuffling his feet. "Because I was kind of hoping you could give us a minute or two alone?"
A/N: Thoughts? I absolutely loved writing this, so I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts.
Hope that you all had/ are having a brilliant holiday season!
Thanks for reading.
Have fun, say hi, REVIEWW!
Love Dark Lady