Clary's eyelids felt like bricks, as she forced them open. A distant sound, like it just couldn't reach her ears. Something peachy-coloured, and black danced in front of her eyes. She giggled, a high pitch sound in the infinite static. "Oh," she heard, the voice familiar, and normally easily placed. Right now, though, the name just wouldn't come to her. "Magnus, come here," they called. The voice was feminine sounding, so it had to be Isabelle. Yes, it must be her.
"Clary," Magnus snapped his fingers in front of her face, but all she could make out was the blurry outline of a darker-peachy colour than who she assumed to be Isabelle. Clary used all the strength she could muster, and pushed herself up. She immediately felt dizzy, like the room was tilting and swaying. "Clary," Magnus said again, his tone gentle. "Clary, stop it. You're going to make it worse."
"What-?" Clary managed, placing a heavy hand on her head. The room had stopped swaying so much, but it still tilted gently, like waves rocking a boat. "Oh, Izzy," Magnus said quietly. "Look at this," he pulled his hand away from the back of Clary's head, where it had apparently been. The blurry image dissolved to a slightly fuzzy one, revealing to Clary something that made her panic; red. Red all over his hand. Red everywhere.
Clary whirled around, the room spinning even faster than it had originally. The hard wood behind her was painted red. The table beside Clary's small bed was red. It looked like a scene from a horror movie of some sort. Only, there were no dead bodies, or serial killers after them. Clary ran her hand over the red, her fingers felt wet afterwards. She rubbed her fingers together, spreading the thick, warm substance all over her hand. She looked back at Magnus and Isabelle, her expression somewhat distraught, but over all confused. The room had stopped spinning and swaying, giving her a clear view of both Magnus and Isabelle, who didn't look themselves; Isabelle's hair was matted, her under- eyes decorated with dark circles, while she was clad in an overly large t-shirt, and flannel shorts. Magnus, just wasn't Magnus without his glitter. His usually gelled and spiked hair, was gone, replaced with a messy, bed-head look. His eyes lacked the usually flamboyant makeup that just made you want to look at him. To say they looked stressed was the biggest understatement of the year.
"Clary, how do feel?" Magnus asked, he was crouched down beside her, brushing hair back and behind her ear. Clary brought her hand back to her head-not the smartest choice, since it was covered in blood, but she didn't really care. "Dizzy, sore...awful?" It came out as more of a question, than anything else. "My God, Clary," Magnus said, his tone still gentle as ever. "Do you know how worried we were? You've been out for over two hours-and we...we didn't know what to do-there isn't a hospital for miles from here."
Isabelle sat down beside Clary, and brought Clary into a hug. "You scared me so bad," Isabelle whispered into Clary's abundance of red curls. Soon, Isabelle was sobbing quietly into Clary's hair, a hiccupping noise escaping her ever once in a while. Isabelle tentatively ran her hand over the back of Clary's head, where the cut lay. Clary winced, when her hand passed over it, bringing Isabelle's hand to an abrupt stop. Isabelle pulled her hand away, looking down at her hand, it was covered in Clary's blood, which only managed to make Isabelle sob even harder. Magnus soon pulled her away, whispering something into her ear. She nodded, wiping at her puffy under-eyes, before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom. Magnus approached Clary, he stayed silent. She felt numb, in a way, like nothing was reality, like this was all a dream. But it wasn't, and she'd had enough "dreams" to last her a lifetime. Clary needed to tell Isabelle-tell her she was okay, and that something had come out of her...accident.
Without warning, Clary stood up, bringing on a wave of dizziness. She fought through it, bringing her fist down on the bathroom door. Three hard knocks, each like lifting a pile of bricks. Isabelle whipped open the bathroom door, her eyes red along with her cheeks. "Clary, you shouldn't be walking around-and you need to get that cut cleaned up. Stitched, or something," Clary shook her head, a fresh wave of dizziness taking over her.
"I have to tell you something-ask you something, Iz," Isabelle looked at her like she was insane, but nodded, and let Clary into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. She forced Clary to sit on the toilet, with the lid closed, while she tried to clean up the cut. First, there was the peroxide, which ran down Clary's back, partially soaking her shirt and making her head sting. Then, Isabelle tentatively wiped the cut. It was only when Isabelle took out a large package of bandages from under the sink, that Clary could find the right words.
"Iz," Clary said, looking up to met Isabelle's obsidian gaze. "What were you so worried about-when you told me to stop whatever was going on with Jace?" Isabelle stopped dead, the bandage she had been in the process of opening, completely still in her hands. "You...remember that?" She asked, turning away from Clary, just enough so that Clary couldn't see her face. "I remember everything, Iz," Clary said quietly, staring down at her hands. She laced them together in various ways waiting on a response from Isabelle, even the slightest sound of a sob would be enough to calm Clary. "Izzy?" She asked after several long, excruciating seconds of silence.
Isabelle turned to face her, a guilty expression plastered over her face. "Clary," she said. "I was going to tell you-but, then you almost died, and you didn't remember and I didn't think I would have to! It would have broken your heart! It still will, now that I know you still feel the same way about him-" Isabelle rambled, tugging anxiously on her matted hair. Clary stood up, fighting off dizziness, grabbed Isabelle by her wrists, her iron grip not allowing for no movement. Not even when Isabelle jerked her wrists, trying to free them. "Tell me, Iz," Clary said, trying to keep her voice steady, even as the room shifted and swayed around her.
Isabelle swallowed, and looked down at Clary's hands gripping her own before she spoke. "Jace-he had a girlfriend, and Alec knew about it," Clary shrugged. "We all know who he is, Izzy-Jace isn't exactly boyfriend of the year."
"That's not even the worst part," Isabelle said, tears glossing over her eyes. "He had an on-going bet, with one of the guys on the football team-that he couldn't get you to fall in love with him." Clary looked up into Isabelle's eyes, her mouth slightly agape. Sure, Jace wasn't the best person ever-far from it, actually-but she'd never thought he'd sink so low as to do something like that.
"But he was my best friend," Clary said. "He didn't even care, did he?" She demanded, suddenly angry at someone she now knew, through and through. It shouldn't be like this, she thought. I should be celebrating with Magnus and Isabelle, maybe even telling Jace that I remember.
"I don't know, Clary, I just couldn't figure it out," Isabelle shook her head back and forth, her matted hair forming a curtain around her face. Clary felt lightheaded, and a little nauseous. She pulled away from Isabelle completely, stumbling over her own feet, until she grabbed the door knob, holding onto it for balance. She twisted it, pulling it open, nearly falling to the ground when it did. Magnus was waiting outside the bathroom door-manifestly eavesdropping. He caught her, steadying her. But before Magnus could even get out a syllable, Clary was out of the bedroom, stumbling down the stairs, fighting off wave after wave of dizziness.
She could make out chatter from the kitchen, and knowing it must be Alec and Jace, she walked into the room, feeling groggy, and slightly like she was in a daze. Alec stood, leaning his back against the granite counter, his inky hair identical to Isabelle's falling in his eyes, covering the vibrant blue they were. Jace, on the other hand, was standing on the opposite side of the counter, his golden hair shining in the sunlight. His tawny eyes landed on her, and the sight she must be, bloody hair, bloody t-shirt, huge bandage on the back of her head, and trying to keep her balance while she walked.
"Our very own Sleeping Beauty. Who finally kissed you awake?" He asked, eyes shining.
Clary glared at him. "Shut up," she growled. "I have a gigantic cut on the back of my head that I think is bleeding through the bandage, I can't keep my balance to save my life, but yet, I have bigger problems. Any guesses, pretty boy?" She asked, one hand pressed against the wall to keep her balance. Both Jace and Alec looked taken aback, but the first to do anything was Alec. He quickly walked over to her, looking at the back of her head, and turning a surely unhealthy shade of white. "Clary," he said. "You're loosing a lot of blood, no wonder you're dizzy," he muttered the last part.
She ignored him. Not to be mean, but because she wanted-needed-to confront Jace. "Hm," She prompted him. "No guesses, then?" He remained silent. "You'd never guess what the good part about this injury is," she grinned. She must seem like a complete lunatic. "I remember everything, Jace," she cocked her head to the side, and smiled sweetly at him. "Like, remember that time I scared you in the woods, by hanging from a tree? Or how about the time Isabelle and I drove to your house in a blizzard?"
"Clary?" Alec asked, "You actually remember everything?"
"Prove it," Jace said, over top of Alec, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Prove it?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "Fine. How about the time you kissed me-while you had a girlfriend?" At Jace's shocked expression, she continued, enjoying every second of it. "Or maybe when Isabelle called me late at night, telling me to stop whatever I had going on with you? Oh, and you definitely can't forget the bet you had going with a teammate!" Clary exclaimed. "Ring any bells, Jace?"
"You didn't know those things before the crash," Jace's Adam's apple bobbed.
"No, you're absolutely right," Clary agreed. "The sad part is that as my best friend you did those things, and I had to find out three years later-from my friend, who is crying her eyes out in the bathroom upstairs." Clary turned away from him, wanting to back upstairs. She suddenly felt very tired, and weak; like she couldn't hold up her body for a second longer.
And then, she simply couldn't.
Her body gave out, and she fell to the ground with a loud thud. She could feel her shirt sticking to her back, and smell the blood that soaked it. And then arms were under her, and she was being lifted, there was shouting, and then she was moving. And finally-a lot quicker than earlier that morning-everything turned to black.
Jace POV
Everything after Clary fainted was a blur, he had rushed to her, carrying her to Isabelle's car, shouting at people, ordering them around. Next thing, everyone was at the hospital, waiting impatiently, worriedly in the waiting room. None of them were allowed to go in, because, well, they weren't family. There was no way to reach Jonathan-no phone number, nothing. Only Clary had that. Jace tapped his foot in an almost angry manner on the white tiled floors. He hated hospitals, nothing ever good came from them. Not in his experience, anyways.
It felt like years later, when the doctor finally came out of a long, ever-white hallway, a clipboard in hand. He looked up, his eyes searching the room. "Clarissa Fairchild?" He called, and they all stood up, as if it had been planned. "Is she alright?" Isabelle asked immediately, her voice strained, her face streaked with tears. The doctor's face was devoid of emotion, an empty mask-giving nothing away. He'd probably had years to practice it, given the greying hair on his head. He looked down at his clipboard, tapping a pen on it, one Jace hadn't noticed before. He was prepared to hear the worst, as the doctor took in each of their faces, before speaking.
"Clarissa is stable," he said, Jace could hear him hesitating before he spoke again. Isabelle let out a breath of relief-one Jace could almost be sure had come out too soon. "But, her concussion was rather serious, and with the pain medication we're giving her...Well, it could be a few days before she wakes up. Other than that, though, she's fine. We've stitched up the wound on her head, and took a look at a few past injuries, which seem to have healed almost completely. Her file said she had been suffering from selective amnesia?" He looked around at their sullen faces for an answer.
"That's correct," Magnus said, his tone sounding cautious.
The doctor nodded, and looked back down at his clipboard. "Well, it's been almost three-four years since that happened, according to what I read. So, if her memories haven't come back by now, they will soon. Of course, this is just a guess," he stopped talking, probably realizing he had been rambling on. "Either way, you can go in, if you'd like-room two-oh-four," and he walked away from them.
As soon as his back was fully turned, Isabelle darted down the hallway, followed by Magnus, and then Alec, who ran after them, yelling at them to stop and to be quiet. Jace stayed where he was for a few moments, before following behind. The hallway was lit by bright fluorescent lights, Jace felt like he was being interrogated. There was the occasional moan of pain coming from open doors, but other than that it was deathly silent.
Then, he reached room 240. All he could see was his friends gathered around a bed. Alec was holding Isabelle tightly, as he whispered something in her ear. Jace approached them quietly, trying to get a view of Clary-his Clary, his best friend. Of course, she was probably really confused about how that even came to be, and it was a long story. One he wasn't prepared to get into-not right now.
He pushed in beside Alec, looking down at Clary's small form. She looked so...lifeless. So unlike the girl he knew, the one that had a temper to match her hair and an easy blush. Her hair was splayed out around her, like a circle of flames surrounding her head, only, her hair looked duller in colour. And not for the first time since the accident, he felt lonely without her by his side. He felt the regret that had been instant upon seeing her laying the same way in a hospital bed after the crash. The regret that he had waited so long to act upon his feelings for her-because, hers were more than obvious but he had been so oblivious to them. How she had never liked his girlfriends, always wanted to be around him, the time she caught her looking at him when she thought he wouldn't see, and the way she giggled at almost every joke he made-given, he was naturally funny and looked like a God.
Magnus was uncharacteristically quiet and still, while Isabelle-who never cried-drenched her brother's shirt in her tears. She hadn't even cried the time when he had tackled her in flag football, and broke her wrist. The mood in the room was anything but pleasant. Clary's hand twitched, not much, but with the way Jace was focusing his attention on her seemingly lifeless form, he noticed it. "She moved," Jace said quietly, but Isabelle seemed to hear him all the same, as if he had shouted it. "What did you say?" Isabelle asked, sounding hopeful. "She moved," Jace pointed to Clary's hand, when her head jerked to the side, in a violent manner.
"And here we thought you didn't pay attention to anything," Magnus murmured, his eyes meeting Jace's. "I can't believe you noticed her hand twitch."
"Didn't you?" Jace retorted, his voice rising with his increasing temper. That was one thing that hadn't changed since the crash-his temper. It seemed someone was always testing it, daring it flare up-which it always did. Magnus held up is hands in surrender, his gaze swiftly going back to Clary, who's mouth was moving, mumbling incoherent things. It was just like when Jace had visited her in the hospital after the crash. He had hope it meant she was waking up, but no matter how long he sat there, she hadn't woke up, and he was left feeling empty and lost without his best friend. Much like the last few years.
Isabelle buried her face in Alec's dark blue shirt again, "I can't go through this gain, Alec. I can't!" She near shouted. "I know, Izzy, I know," he said softly, his voice calming, as he rubbed circles on Isabelle's back. No matter the situation, Alec was always the rock of the group. It was strange, how calm he could be, how he could stay so level headed in such awful, horrible situations. But Jace new differently; underneath the calm front, he was just as distraught as the rest of them, barely holding on to his restraint.
"Whoa," someone said, their voice sounding tired, but they were all so focused on Isabelle they didn't notice. "Thanks for the personal space, guys," Jace whipped around, to see Clary, her eyes open, her chest rising and falling at a normal rate; she was awake. She was alright. He wanted nothing more than to hug her, hold her tight in his arms, just to make sure she was actually there.
Isabelle pulled herself free from Alec's grip, and looked Clary up and down. And then, she threw her self at Clary, wrapping her arms around Clary. Clary's eyes widened in shock, as she wrapped her arms around Isabelle as well. Next, Magnus piled on to the hug, muttering something to Clary, who smiled softly at him. Jace found himself wishing the smile was directed at him, that he was the one she was hugging. Reluctantly, after a few minutes of squishing Clary, both Isabelle and Magnus composed themselves as best they could and Clary's gaze shifted to meet Jace's. "You." She said, pointing to him.
She caught Jace off guard, and he almost jumped at the surprise. "W-what?" He stuttered. The only person who could make him nervous. "You don't believe that I remember anything, do you?" She cocked her head to the side, looking at him curiously. "I never said that," Jace shook his head.
"You implied it."
Silence. Silence. And more silence. What do I say?! A stressed voice in Jace's head demanded, working on a suitable response. He shrugged, finally. "Well, I do, Blondie," Clary said. Blondie, that was something he hadn't heard in...forever, it seemed. "Every single thing, ask me anything," Clary said, although it sounded like more of a demand than anything else.
"Alright," Jace said, gripping the plastic footboard of her bed. "How did we become friends?" that was surely something she didn't remember.
"I became friends with Isabelle, she introduced you to me-I hated you. Then, I went to my first high school party, and you being yourself, got drunk, an I had to bring you home. But, of course, instead of telling me your real address, you told me you lived in Olympus, because apparently you were a God," Clary rolled her eyes, "after that, we started hanging out, and then, boom! Best friends," she finished sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. "Next question."
Jace was stunned. She actually remembered that? He didn't even remember that. He gripped the plastic footboard tighter. "What did I do to you in tenth grade?" Jace asked. Clary scoffed at him. "You 'accidentally' dumped your lunch on my head, and then I punched you in the face, and ended up giving you a bloody nose that didn't stop for almost an hour," Clary smirked triumphantly at him, like she was proud of herself.
"Your sixteenth birthday," Jace said, it almost felt like an argument, the way they were shooting out questions and answers.
"We watched horror movies at my house, and when I told you not to get me anything, you went ahead and bought me an anklet. And then, when I was sleeping, you somehow got into my house, and woke me up-waking me from a rather enjoyable dream about shaving off your hair, I might add-all to take me to the park, where you ended up pushing me on the swing."
Jace was caught speechless for a minute, still trying to grasp the concept that Clary remembered their friendship, not just how much she had hated him. It seemed unreal, like an all too good dream that someone would shake him awake from.
"Oh, and you can't forget the time I pushed you in the pool, and then you decided to scare me with an anonymous mask-although, I don't see why you'd need the mask; you're scary enough without it." Isabelle laughed, along with Alec and Magnus. Clary had already told him she remembered that, but still, it was further proof she did in fact remember.
"Why did you want to prove that to me so badly?" Jace questioned, once the laughter died down. Clary hesitated, picking at the thin blanket that covered her. She pulled on a loose thread, unraveling nearly two whole rows of stitches on the blanket. She bit her lip, in that way he loved, and then she looked back up. Her green eyes got glossy as she spoke, "I didn't know it, but I missed you. I missed my idiotic, blonde best friend."
He was rendered completely speechless this time, no way he could recover from what she'd said. All he could do was wrap her in a hug, breathing in her smell of oil paint, which seemed to be permanent, spring-if it had a smell-and right now, blood. It was an odd odour, coppery and metallic in the air. She was surprised at first, probably taken off-guard by his sudden actions, but then, she was hugging him back, just as tightly, if not, tighter.
It was almost like before he lost her. But Jace was no fool, he knew nothing would ever be that way again, no matter how much he wished it would be.
Clary POV
She had been in that hospital three long, painful slow days. There had almost always been someone or multiple people in the room with her, keeping her company. But at the moment, the room was void of any living thing-aside from her. But she wasn't so sure she could last in the over-clean room without going insane. The lights were too bright and white, the smell of cleaner was too heavy in the air and always present, the room was too clean for her liking in general, not a thing out of place. Nurses had checked in every few hours, or more often, but after the first day, visits had become less frequent-from staff and her friends.
Now, going on her fourth day in the hospital, she watched the sunrise from the rectangular window that stretched across one wall, but was narrow, not very wide at all. After the throbbing and dizziness had subsided on her second day in solitary confinement, she had ripped out the IV tube, so there was nothing preventing her from moving around the room-sae for the heart rate monitor, but it had a fairly long cord, so she had refrained from ripping that one off, too. Besides, it would have probably caused a panic from a few dozen nurses.
Both of her arms resting against her sides, Clary stared out the long, narrow window as the sun rose over the rocky hills, covered in grass. It wasn't too bad of a view, for a hospital room. From here she could she the side of a brick wall, with large, faded blue letters on the it; Montgomery Regional Hospital. Clary figured it was the first town they came upon that had a hospital. The never came through the thick clouds of blue, black and gray, though. It was rather disappointing, considering it was usually the highlight of her day. Only two-three days without her friends around, and she was already reduced to saying watching the sunrise was the highlight of her day. Of course, if she had her mother, or Jonathan around, she wouldn't be so lonely, but without any human interaction she was going insane.
Every time someone passed the door, for the first two days, she would turn, hoping it was someone she knew, someone who she could interact with, have a real conversation with, not just a "conversation" with a nurse, that usually went a little something like this; "How are you feeling?" "Fine, thank you." "Do you need anything?" "No," only a little more human interaction than I'm getting, maybe a stimulating conversation?
It was beyond frustrating for her. She didn't even have anything to draw with. She wasn't allowed to use her phone, something about it being bad after a concussion? So, in conclusion, she couldn't call Jonathan, and neither could anyone else, because she was the only one with his phone number.
Her mind wandered to Jace. He had hugged her, and then quickly left the room, like he would contract a life threatening disease from spending one more second in the room with them. She hadn't seen him since. And it was bothering her, like an itch that wouldn't go away.
Clary wished she knew why people had stopped coming to visit her, because it better be a damn good explanation. Next time they were stuck in a hospital room, bedridden, and wishing they had visitors to keep them company, she would simply avoid their room like the plague, maybe walk past their room every once in a while, and wave enthusiastically, smiling like a lunatic, as they wished for someone to keep them company in solitary confinement.
Because solitary confinement was what this was. She had no visitors, and the food absolutely sucked, so she hadn't been eating. Guess who's ribs you'll be able to see by the time I get out of here? Clary thought, almost bitterly.
Someone entered the room, and Clary didn't even bother turning around to see who it was-it was most definitely not Jace, or Isabelle, or Magnus, or Alec. Probably a nurse who was going to scold her for being out of bed.
"Ah, Miss Fairchild, I see you're on your feet," the person remarked. Clary turned to look at them, seeing a gray-haired man, he looked young to have grey hair, but it had almost a silvery tint to it, just like the colour of his eyes. Clary nodded numbly, shrugging along with it. There was a small line of blood down her arm, from where she'd ripped out the IV this morning, because a nurse had seemingly re-inserted it into her arm while she slept. "Are you still experiencing dizziness?" He asked. "No," Clary shook her head. He wrote down something on his clipboard. "Well, I have some good news for you, Miss Fairchild," he smiled sweetly. This man couldn't be more than a few years older than her, maybe twenty three? "You'll be out of here tomorrow morning."
"Great," Clary sighed. "Can I have my phone back?" She really just wanted to call Jonathan, and tell him what was going on-maybe he'd come see her?
The doctor chuckled, and looked up at her. "Of course, I'll have a nurse bring it to your room, along with the rest of your belongings." He looked around the room. "Where did all your friends go? They ran down the hall when I told them they could come see you," he frowned slightly, as if the fact that her friends weren't here bothered him. Clary shrugged again, "Haven't seen them. I think they abandoned me."
"Well, just so you know, we tried to contact your mother, but she...couldn't be reached," of course she couldn't-she had her own summer plans with some of her old friends, they were all spending some time in their hometown-Idris?-her, Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the Herondales, Celine and Stephen. And really, just a bunch of people Clary didn't know.
"I figured," Clary replied after a few moments. "She's out of town, and refuses cellphones." The doctor chuckled lightly. "Anyways, I appreciate the news, doctor-"
"Carstairs, James Carstairs," he smiled, and held out his hand for Clary to shake. She took his hand, and gave him a soft smile, before letting her hand drop back down to her side where it had been hanging limply.
"Well, thank you, Doctor Carstairs," Clary said, and he proceeded to leave the room, leaving Clary alone again with her thoughts and feeling utterly lonely.
Not even an hour later, Clary had back her own clothes-given they were her pyjamas, but they were something to wear other than the itchy, thin hospital gown-and more importantly, her phone. Clary quickly changed, splashed water on her face, and brushed through her hair with her fingers as best she as could. Next, she grabbed her phone, and dialled Jonathan's number. It rung, and rung, and rung. Finally, on the sixth ring, he picked up, sounding sleepy.
"Hello?" He asked into the phone, he sounded as if he had just woken up.
"Jon?" Clary asked.
"Yeah? Clary?"
"Can you, um, maybe come and visit me?" Clary twirled a piece of hair around her finger anxiously. What if he didn't want to see her again? "I'm-I'm at the hospital, and I just really need some company," Clary laughed nervously.
"What?" Jonathan demanded into the phone, he now sounded fully awake and alert. "Did you just say you're in the hospital?"
"Yeah, I kind, of, gave myself a concussion, and I got stitches. I've been here for four days, and I don't know where my friends are."
"Which hospital, Clary?" Jonathan asked, sounding distracted, and then there was the distinct sound of him falling over and cursing loudly. "Montgomery Regional Hospital," she answered. "Okay, that's not too far from here-I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"
"Bye, Jon," Clary said, and then the line went dead. She was alone with her thoughts again. Great.
Clary stood by the window again, watching as the clouds darkened, looking angry. There was probably going to be a downpour, an awful one at that, most likely a thunderstorm, too. She had thought about calling someone, but couldn't bring herself to do it-if they wanted to talk to her, they would be there, in her room, or calling her; she had no missed calls or texts.
"Clary," Jonathan's voice rang out through the room, as he spotted her standing at the window, her back to him. She turned, to see the relieved look on his face. He walked to her, taking a few long strides, and he was there, engulfing her in a strong embrace. "Clary," he breathed into her hair. "You're okay."
And then, "why didn't you call me?" He demanded, pulling back, his hands on her shoulders, as he looked into her eyes. "I just got my phone back, Jonathan," Clary defended herself. "I've been stuck in this room with no one to talk to for three days-do you really think I would've waited three days to call you if I had had my phone?" Clary raised her eyebrows at him.
"Where are you're friends?" He asked, looking around the room, as if they were hiding somewhere, expertly camouflaging themselves from him. "Jon, I told you, I don't know where my friends are."
"When do you get out?" He asked, letting her shoulders go, and running a hand through his fair hair, moving it out of his eyes. "Early tomorrow, I wish I could get out today," Clary sighed, slumping down onto the uncomfortable hospital mattress. "I'll be right back," Jonathan murmured, and was gone out of the room.
It was ten minutes, before Jonathan returned, a triumphant smile on his face. "What? Did one of the nurses give you her phone number?" Clary deadpanned rom where she sat, head propped up on her elbows, as she slumped on the edge of the bed. "No," Jonathan rolled her eyes. "I just got you discharged from this place."
Clary shot up from the bed, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Seriously? How did you do it?"
"When they asked who I was, I said I was your brother, and that the reason I hadn't been in your file as family was because that I have a different last name-Morgenstern. Which, by the way, is actually your name, too," Jonathan pointed out. "But, either way, they're letting you go, and I'm bringing you back to the beach house-do you have a key?"
Clary had no such thing, only Alec had a key, because he was the "responsible" one. "Nope," Clary replied, shrugging. "But I'll call Isabelle or Magnus, or somebody," she added, as Jonathan opened his mouth to say something. Jonathan nodded his approval, crossing his arms over his chest, as he waited for Clary to make the call.
Clary grabbed her phone from where it rested on the window sill, and dialled-to her surprise-Jace's number. It was almost robotic, the way she knew his phone number. She held the phone to her ear, tapping her fingers on the window sill, as the phone rang. It seemed like a whole lifetime passed before he picked up.
"Clary?" He asked, such a nice greeting, Clary thought.
"Hello, Jace," she snapped back at him.
"Why are you calling me?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by her snappish reply.
Clary scoffed into the phone, "why am I calling you? Maybe because I haven't seen anyone of you in three days?"
"Oh," Jace cursed under his breath. "Sorry, Clary."
"Just-don't worry about it," she sighed, hanging up on him-what use would he be?
"So?" Jonathan prompted.
"Oh, um, yeah I'm good," Clary lied.
"Alright, then, let's get you out of this place. I hate hospitals," Jonathan said, turning to leave the room, as Clary grabbed the rest of her stuff that was stuffed into a plastic bag. "You and me both, Jon," Clary replied, even though he probably couldn't hear her.
The drive was roughly forty-five minutes, give or take, with all the traffic, and the downpour that had started suddenly, causing them to pull over because Jonathan couldn't see the road through the heavy rain. It sure didn't seem as if they were the same age.
"Here we are," Jonathan sighed, pulling up in front of the house, he looked over at Clary, and she couldn't help but stare at his green eyes so similar to her own. She'd missed those green eyes so much. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
Clary nodded her head, "I will. Thanks for the ride, Jon," she said, and opened the car door, pulling out her small plastic bag of things along with herself. The sky had lightened, barely, though, and Clary was positive there was going to be another heavy downpour today. There were a few lights on in the house, and Clary wondered if anyone was even home...she didn't see any cars. Clary shut the car door, almost forgetting about it, and waved to Jonathan as he drove away.
The lonely feeling crept up on her again, as she walked up the front steps to the house, She tried twisting the knob, turning it and shoving at the door, but it wouldn't give. She was locked out. Clary suddenly remembered the back door, and hoped it was unlocked like it usually was. She did the same thing, twisting, pulling and kicking at the door, but to no avail. It, too, was locked, and she had no where to go. Where were her friends?
The sky was darkening again, as she sat on the front steps, waiting for her friends to magically appear, and unlock the front door for her. It was after she'd sat there for about fifteen minutes, that she realized they weren't coming back anytime soon-she'd already known that, but now she was sure of it.
Clary tucked her phone into the pocket of her shorts, and used a hair tie that was in her plastic bag of stuff to tie her hair back. At least she looked kind of presentable now. Jace had been right, she had no money, so there really wasn't much she could do. She didn't really feel like going to the bakery, or the bookstore-in fact, she didn't really feel like doing anything. So, she did nothing, but sit on the steps, waiting for someone to show up.
It was a long boring wait, and they still hadn't showed. Clary had no clue where they could be, and she didn't bother calling.
An hour passed, and Clary found herself drawing pictures in the sand with a stick. Of course, she could just play on her phone, but when she had pulled it out earlier, her resolve to not call anyone breaking, she found her phone dead. Wonderful. Now, she really couldn't call anyone, even if she wanted to.
In the pale sand, she had drawn swirls and diagonal lines, a boring configuration. Originally, she had tried to draw a flower, but it had gotten ruined when she tried to put details into it. Moral of the story? Sand was not good to draw in.
Clary found herself on the stairs again, waiting and watching for any sign of a red BMW, or black mustang. She hadn't any idea why they needed both cars. The sky was just as dreary, bringing her mood down fractionally, as time passed, and they still hadn't shown up. She groaned, as she felt the first few heavy drops of rain spatter down onto her already-cold skin. "Where are you guys?" She muttered to herself. She really hated herself at the moment for not telling them she had been discharged. But would have Jace even believed her? Why had she even called him in the first place? Why not Isabelle, or Magnus or Alec?
The rain drops got heavier, and more frequent, until it was full-out raining again. Clary cursed herself for being so stupid not to call anyone while her phone wasn't dead. She was so bored, what could she do? There was always the beach, but the beach wasn't any fun unless you had someone to go with. Clary frowned at her boredom-at life in general at this very moment. There were big cracks of thunder in the sky, and then lightening, and then more thunder, the cycle repeating itself again, and again, and again.
The rain had let up for a few minutes, only to be followed by an even angrier thunderstorm, with viciously strong winds, that forced Clary to hide under the small roof over the front door, trying repeatedly to get inside. But with her luck, the door wouldn't budge. This summer really wasn't her summer, it seemed.
Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, the black mustang pulled up, and the only person that stepped out was Jace. Clary was shaking now, from the cold of the wind and rain, her hair wet, clothes clinging to her body, any body heat she had once possessed, gone. His eyes landed on Clary immediately, and he ran up the stairs, golden hair blowing wildly in every which direction. "Where w-were y-you?" Clary said, her teeth chattering, the temperature apparently having dropped twenty or thirty degrees. Jace looked at her guiltily, and shoved his keys in the lock-where had he gotten a set of keys? "We were staying at a hotel," he said, and when Clary shot him a glare, he said, "to be fair, you didn't say you had been discharged."
"You didn't ask," Clary retorted, holding her arms close to herself, hoping to get warmer by doing so. After taking unnecessarily long to unlock the door, Jace pushed it open, the heat engulfing Clary immediately. She sighed softly, stepping inside. "Thanks."
Jace nodded, "why didn't you call?" Clary tossed her phone to him, and he caught it perfectly. "Dead." Clary said simply. "How in the Goddamn world did you afford the cab fair from that hospital back here?"
Clary shrugged, a secretive smile creeping onto her lips despite herself. "Guess it's a good thing I know someone with a car," Jace narrowed his eyes at her, "what did you do? Hitch hike?"
"Perhaps," Clary teased, "but I really don't see why it matters-I'm here now, aren't I?" The next few seconds were a blur, movement, and then she was pinned up against the wall, Jace's arms encaging her. "Clarissa, tell me you didn't hitch hike," his voice was low, and his breath fanned across Clary's face-it smelled like mint-sending unwelcome shivers through her body. She looked at him innocently, wide eyes and all, it always worked with Jonathan and Mom-why not Jace, too? Clary put her hands on his shoulders, feeling him tense under her touch, as she stood on her tip toes to reach his ear, and whispered, "don't worry about me, Blondie," and taking his distracted state, she slipped under his arm, disappearing into the kitchen. She needed coffee.
Clary rolled her eyes, as she felt his heated gaze on her. She was making a fresh pot of coffee, having dumped out the old batch from four-almost five-days ago. Jace said nothing, but continued to watch her, she could feel his eyes, like lasers pointed into the back of her head. Finally, having had enough of it, she whirled around on him, demanding, "what?"
He shook his head, and then walked over to her. "Did you mean it?" He asked, his mind seemed else where, lost in his thoughts, Clary thought, as she hoped up to sit on the counter, her legs dangling over to the edge. "Mean what?" Clary asked, running a hand through her sopping wet hair, again feeling the un-comfortableness of her wet clothes. "That you missed me?" He asked, his wildfire gaze flicking up to meet her green eyes. Even sitting on the counter, she just barely passed his head, given, these counters were taller than normal. "Is it that hard to believe?" Clary asked quietly.
Jace shrugged. "What about all the other stuff-us?" Jace hesitated on the last part, and Clary cocked her head to the side. "You mean like the kiss?" When he nodded, Clary wasn't quite sure how to respond, but tried her best. "Well, I really don't appreciate that you had a bet about me going on," she said. "I'm not some pawn in a game, Jace, I was your best friend, and I trusted you, and I really don't want things like us to stay like they have been."
"Yeah," Jace rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Clary was saved from making an awkward reply, when the door burst open, and from the kitchen, Clary could only see a little bit, but it was enough; Isabelle was sopping wet, hair sticking to her head and clothes. Magnus' glittery hair, which had obviously been spiked, stuck down to his head in a glittery, matted mess, while Alec looked the least abnormal. Clary burst out laughing at the sight, jumping down from the counter.
Isabelle looked-to say the least-relieved, wrapping Clary in a hug. It was a good thing that Clary was soaking wet too, otherwise she'd be cursing Isabelle for getting her all wet, too. "Clarissa Adele!" Isabelle said, Clary guessed it was supposed to sound reprimanding, but all it sounded like to Clary was that Isabelle was very relieved. "Isabelle Sophia!" Clary mocked, pulling away from Isabelle, who rolled her eyes, while Alec let out a soft chuckle.
"How did you get home?" Magnus raised an eyebrow curiously, hands on his hips. Clary wanted to laugh at him, but refrained as best she could, with only a few giggles slipping out. "I found a pack of flying monkeys, and hitched a ride home. What did you think?" Clary crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the soaking wet group they were. She was positive that her t-shirt was still stuck to her, clinging on for dear life.
"I always knew Clary was a witch," Jace grumbled, joining them from the kitchen. He, as always, looked perfect, even with his messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. Clary envied him, and his seemingly magical ability to look great no matter what. "And I always knew you were irritating," Clary retorted quickly, shooting him the sweetest smile she could muster up.
"No, it's just a skill I have-getting on your nerves," Jace smirked, and Clary rolled her eyes.
Isabelle groaned, "will you two please stop flirting with each other? I think I'm going to puke," she fake gagged. Clary's cheeks turned bright red, no doubt out shining her hair. Jace stuttered, grasping for something to say, his eyes wide, as he refused to look at Clary. "Flirting?" "Jace was the first to recover, as usual.
Isabelle, Magnus, and even Alec, rolled their eyes in synchronization. "We all know, lovebirds," Magnus teased. "If it wasn't obvious the way you two look at each other, the flirting would give you away," Clary coughed, choking on her own saliva, bending over, hands on her knees, as she coughed and coughed. No one seemed to be paying any attention, though, as Jace again stuttered for something to say. "No, just...No," Clary said, standing back up after her little coughing fit. She needed to change, so that's what she went and did, followed by Isabelle, Magnus and Alec, each retreating to their own rooms to do so, Clary's fresh batched of coffee long forgotten.
It was going to be a long night. A very long night.
Hey guys! So glad I got this to you before my schedule got busy again.
A lot of you asked for Jace's POV, so here it is! Originally, I had written it in Clary's POV, and everything went down differently, but then I changed it, and it works so much better now.
What do you all think? Leave me a review, tell me everything-suggestions, thoughts, predictions on what is going to happen.
When I reach 210 reviews, I'll post the next chapter.
Hope you all liked this chapter! :)