2 a.m and Dreaming

2:00 a.m. She watched the glowing numbers switch on her clock. Clary sat in her bed, in the dark, with the sheets coming up to her waist. Her sketchbook lay on the bedside table open to the page she had just been working on. Sketches of glass towers rose up from the pages, almost like a photograph. Clary found herself drawing nothing but Idris the past couple of weeks she's been home, the images blossoming in her memory every time she picked up a pencil.

Shadows of graphite smudged her hands. Her eyes were dry and blurry from keeping them open so late into the night. She knew she ought to sleep, but it wouldn't come, as hard as she tried. Lately, sleep had become so rare each minute was precious. Most nights, Clary used her insomnia to draw. But her hand was cramping, and everything tonight was shit anyways.

She lay back, stretched out like a starfish, taking up the entire bed. Clary closed her eyes and allowed her constant raging river of thoughts to become a steady stream. Each one led to another until they mushed together into incomprehensibility. Her face became slack, and her breathing deep when there was a loud crash from the kitchen.

The noise jolted her awake, and Clary sat bolt upright. Her heart fluttered wildly until her mind caught up to her senses and made sense of the sound. It was probably Jace just looking for something to eat.

He was staying the night, and had crashed on Luke's couch in the living room hours ago. Normally, Clary's mom would never let her boyfriend stay overnight but he had come to Luke's house bruised and bleeding. (When they asked him what happened, he just muttered something about running into a demon while out on a walk. Clary knew he was lying but didn't want to ask him with her mom and Luke hovering.) Jace said he was going to head back to the Institute but fell asleep on the couch before he had the chance. Nobody woke him because he looked as if he has had less sleep than Clary.

Clary glanced at the clock; 2:13 a.m. She threw off the sheets and pulled a big cardigan over her pajama tank top. Barefoot, she padded down the hallway silently, her feet tingling against the cold tile floor. Pushing the swinging door, she stepped into the kitchen, pulling her cardigan tighter, smiling at the sight of her boyfriend.

Jace stood across the room, turned away from her, the moonlight streaming into kitchen from the window gave a gossamer sheen to everything. Still in his jeans and had borrowed one of Luke's t-shirts that hung off of him, his hair shone more silver than gold, and his skin looked like marble, washed out of all the colour from the moon. He stood with his hands at his sides, clenched into fists, and his head was tilted back slightly. Clary's smile faded.

"Jace," she whispered, not moving. "Are you okay?" When he staggered into the house that evening, he had a long gash on his arm -that was looked worse than it was-blood spattered his shirt and had scrapes on his cheek. She had drawn on an iratze, but it wasn't his physical well-being she was worried about.

Everybody had been struggling the past few weeks since the return from Alicante. Unwilling to talk about their memories, trying to bury them down, and continue with life as normal. Although normal seemed to be out of reach at the moment.

She walked to him and slid her arms around his waist, pulling him close into a tight hug. He stiffened at her touch, but didn't react in any other way. There was an uncomfortable silence and Clary clutched him tighter, digger her fingers into his sides, as if she let go, he would disappear forever.

She took a breath, but closed her mouth again when he spoke.

"You're a ghost. And a pretender," he said coldly.

"What? Jace, what do you mean?"

"You're a ghost." His voiced changed then, from cold, emptiness- to soft and bare, exposing the pain he felt through each word. "I'm a ghost." Jace sunk to the floor, bringing down Clary with him, who held on, frozen with fear. He put his face in his hands breathed in ragged gasps, like he was crying.

Something was very wrong, but Clary wasn't sure what. She crawled around, so she sat facing him. Gently, she pried his fingers away from his face. When she saw his face she dropped his hands and scooted back. His eyes were dry, but they were empty and unseeing… like he wasn't here. Like he was dreaming.

Clary bit her lip and reached out to touch the boy's cheek. When they made contact, Jace's hand shot up like a viper and grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from his face. Slowly, she lowered her hand down to her side, but didn't release his grip around her wrist. He was staring straight ahead onto Clary's face but wasn't seeing. There was no comprehension or awareness evident on his face, yet he could react to things around him. It was like he was sleepwalking and sleep talking, but Clary didn't know how to wake him. Or what would happen if she did.

Jace stood up, still holding onto Clary, and started to pace, while muttering under his breath. Clary followed his strides, being half dragged along and straining to hear what he said.

"He's the Jonathan that the world was meant to have. Everything I've ever been was a distraction from the truth. I was the only way Jonathan could be what he is. Everything he did was only because of the fucking lie of a life I live," he spat. Then gasped his eyes widening as if he dawned on a realization. "Max!" he shouted.

Clary felt her heart contract. He was hurting himself with his own dreams. It was the most horrifying and saddest thing she had ever seen.

"That's not true! Please wake up," She begged. She needed him to stop for her own sake as much as his.

At this point, he had let go of her and had both arms outstretched, reaching for something that only he could see. "Max," he cried. "Max I'm sorry. You were," his voice caught, "you were so young. It's unfair, because you were somebody Max, and I screwed you over. It should have been me."

"No!" Clary wanted to shout but it came out a whisper. For a moment her vision became blurry and she blinked, her eyes wet. She ran to him and held his face in her hands. Sweat shined on his face, and his lip was split from biting it. Agony shined behind his sleeping eyes.

"Clary?" He whispered her name like he was remembering her for the first time in a while.

"Yes, yes! I'm right here. Please wake up and see me. I'm right here for you."

He looked like he was going to be sick. "I've ruined you Clary. You can't love a lie. You can't love a ghost. I'm nothing but an empty promise of something more. You don't know what love is, how can you?" Jace turned away from her and went to stand by the window. Clary was too shocked to speak. She just stood there and whimpered pitifully.

"It's selfish to love you. Look what we did. You could have done anything and you brought me back from the dead. You could have saved everybody but you saved the one that brought this upon us all in the first place. I was fucking dead! I should still be dead! What did you do?!" Jace was shouting now.

Clary knew that he was asleep, that he didn't know what he was saying, but each word was like a knife ripping at her heart. She bit her fist to keep out from crying or screaming- unsure what she felt like doing more. She hated him, she hated him for doing this and making her watch when there was nothing she could do.

Across the room, Jace let out a howl and punched the window. It shattered like glass rain falling from the pane. Jace winced, flexing his hand, now red with blood, sparkling in the light where shards of glass stuck in his skin. Reaching over to the counter he blindly searched till his hand found a mug. With a cry of rage he threw it at the wall where it too smashed, coffee splashing and staining the wall.

Jace drew his seraph blade from the sheath he always wore and lifted it high in the air. The moonlight gleamed off the blade and with a scream Clary ran at the boy. She didn't know what he was going to do with the knife, but following his previous fits of agony, Clary didn't want to wait to find out.

Suddenly the kitchen lights turned on, and in the corner of her eye she saw Luke and Jocelyn standing in the doorway in their pajamas with dumbfounded expressions. But there presence had little effect to Clary's attack.

She collided with Jace hard enough to make her gasp. But she was so small, she barely even made Jace stumble back. Steadying herself, she reached for his blade in his hand. He thrashed around trying to escape her assault. She pushed him hard with two hands against the wall. The impact made his head snap back against it. When he opened his eyes, he was awake, Clary knew instantly. But this all happened in a few short moments and a second later, driven by instinct Jace struck back.

He hit Clary. He hit her in the side of the head with a force that made her vision black and sent her sprawling to the ground. She rolled, into a position to jump back from her training, but she didn't get up. She stayed on the ground, her head was swimming slightly. She touched her temple, her hand came back red and sticky with blood. He hit her with the blade still in his hand. She stared up at Jace.

Jace looked at Clary's forehead, then at his seraph blade. His expression turned from confusion to horror. He dropped the knife like it was poisonous and it clattered loudly in the silent room. The sound sent everything back into motion.

Jocelyn and Luke had been standing in the doorway, rushed in to Clary's side. Her mom wiped the blood off Clary's face silently, her mouth in a tight line. Clary wanted to say something to explain. To say 'it's so much more than what you saw,' but she didn't dare break the silence.

Jocelyn inspected the rest of Clary's face with gentle artist's hands to make sure there was no more damage. Holding her daughter in her hands protectively, she then looked over her shoulder at Jace with a look of utter betrayal.

The boy stood against the wall, staring at Clary. She could tell he was he was absolutely terrified, at what he did and at what lay before him. But she didn't know what to do to help him. And honestly at the moment, she didn't want to help.

Luke looked at Clary, placing a hand on Jocelyn's shoulder protectively. "Get out Jace," he said.

Jace glanced at Clary. He whispered her name so quietly, she only saw it shape on his lips and took a step towards her. She just closed her eyes and let out the breath she had been holding. Unsure what else to do, Clary just stayed where she was, trying to ignore the throbbing in her temple as a reminder of the events just past. So Jace left and Clary kept her eyes close till she heard the door shut.

She was crying when she finally opened her eyes. Jocelyn and Luke had moved to the other side of the table and had their backs turned, whispering close together. When her mom glanced back, Clary hastily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

She didn't want to cry and even more she didn't want to let anyone see her cry. It only proved how much Jace had hurt her. Deep down she knew it wasn't him and that something was very wrong, and whatever happened with Sebastien must have been worse than she imagined. But she couldn't get his words out of her head. "You don't know what love it.' Over and over she heard him say it like a broken record.

But she did know what love was. It was her and Jace together for forever. But maybe, she thought, forever wasn't going to be as long as she thought.