Because this chapter is oh-so-musically-inspired, I made a short playlist of the chapter:
"Collide" by: Howie Day
"Bulletproof Weeks" by: Matt Nathanson
"Doubting Thomas" by: Nickel Creek
"Always" by: Panic! at the Disco
I just realized I screwed up the last chapter. Clary helps to *ahem* "undress" Jace. We're going to work on the assumption that he was wearing an undershirt/wife-beater thing.
One more thing: City of Fallen Angels was Ah-maz-ing.
Enjoy the chapter!
Our Favorite Mortal Instruments Quote of the Chapter:
"I know it's wrong-God, it's all kinds of wrong-but I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you, just once, just once ever in my life."
-Jace
Clary P.O.V
The first thing I notice as I wake up is the unusual angle of the light. My bright green walls are now an awful shade of off white and the room looks clean. More than clean actually; immaculate. And sitting on my desk (which apparently is metal now instead of wood) are pictures of people, most of who are in army fatigues. After the weirdness of realizing that apparently my room was redecorated by elves while I was sleeping, I notice something much more concerning.
An arm looped around my waist. A familiar, muscled arm covered in swirling black tattoos. Only then do all the events of the last twenty-four hours come swirling together and I start swirling apart. I blink against the harsh images that fill my head; Jace curled on the bathroom floor looking painfully vulnerable. Jace, grabbing at his hair and face in an attempt to rip his thoughts out of his head. Jace, begging me not to leave him. I clench my eyes shut in an attempt to banish the memories. The unmarked walls begin to close in and claustrophobia becomes my world.
I carefully lift his arm in an attempt to free myself without waking him. His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer to him so that my back is pressed against his chest. I take a shaky breath and try again, pulling away again. His arm loosens and I let out a sigh of relief.
"Morning," he mutters groggily. I close my eyes and curse myself for waking him up. I was hoping I wouldn't have to face him until I was more prepared. I brace myself as I turn around. My heart drops into my stomach. The skin around his eyes is bruised. There are scratches down his face from where he clawed at it. But my focus is on his eyes. The usual bright gold is dull and void of emotion.
"Morning," I manage to choke out. He tries to grin but it looks more like a grimace. He yawns and sits up. Even after hours of sleep, he still looks utterly exhausted. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if he's warding off a headache. I feel tired just looking at him. "Go back to sleep."
"Not a chance," he rasps as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Why not?" He stands and rolls his shoulders. I move to block his way.
"You don't want to mess with me right now, Red." He tries to sound harsh, but his voice is too weary to pull it off. I softly place a hand on his arm. He doesn't flinch away so I put my other hand on his shoulder. His eyes flicker shut and he lets out a breath. I rock onto my toes to kiss his cheek, lingering for longer than I probably should.
"Go to sleep, Jace," I say softly, placing my hands on his cheeks. He opens his eyes again and meets my gaze. His haunted eyes worry me. They usually hold a combination of vibrancy and distance. It gives him dual appearance of being a living, functioning participant in the world as well as living in the world he's created in his head. That familiar look has been replaced with vacancy. There's nothing there except the occasionally despair and self-loathing. Jace lets out a breath and rests his forehead against mine.
He nods once and lets me lead him back to bed. My heart pounds in fear. I've read about this in the textbooks, the effects of PSTD, but I've never witnessed it up close and never from someone I care about. I watch as he lies on his back and closes his eyes, his breathing slow and steady.
"Thank you," he whispers. I don't say anything. His eyes flicker open, searching for mine. He looks like a fallen angel; his shining gold hair gives the impression of a halo as it hovers over his worn features. He sits up, moving out of the light. Shadows fall over his features, erasing the effect. "And I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For grabbing you—"
"I overreacted," I say quickly, knowing instantly that I've forgiven him.
"For forcing you to come here yesterday—"
"That wasn't your fa—"
"And for not being good enough for you." I wrap my arms over my waist, trying to hold myself together. Jace closes his eyes, flinches, then opens them again. "I don't know what's worse. The images I can't shake from my mind or the expression on your face?" I pick up his hand and hold it in mine. I run my fingers over the calluses and scars that mar his palm. I find his love line and lightly trace it.
"Don't leave," he says. My fingers stop in their path. Jace's face looks pained, like he considers needing someone a weakness and he refuses to be anything but strong. "I won't bite," he says, noting my unease. "Much," an edge of his arrogant tone peeking through and assuring me that somewhere inside this shell of a man, there's Jace. I grin, looking down at my tiny, pale hand, dwarfed by his larger, warmer one.
"Move over," I say softly. He looks at me as if he didn't believe this was real. He moves over slowly, never letting his eyes stray from mine, and dropping my hand as he does. I stretch out carefully beside him on the bed, not touching him at all. He turns to look at me with an expression I've never seen on his face before. An expression that made me think of the way my father looked at my mother, the one person he could never lay a hand on. The way a man looks at someone he doesn't think he could live through losing. A look that makes my heart speed up and slow down all at the same time. I want to turn away from the intensity of it but I can't. The sunlight turns him back into an angel.
"Good morning, Clary," he whispers. I watch him as his eyes flicker closed. He reaches out and gently grabs my hand, sending waves of fire up and down the length of my arm.
"Good night, Jace," I whisper. His lips curve up into a smile and all I want to do is kiss them.
o:o:o
I texted Simon and asked him to bring me a book or something. I don't want to leave Jace. He looks so fragile and peaceful that I can't bear to leave him. Simon, being the person he is, brought me a comic book, a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, my sketch pad and a pencil. He also brings me a box of granola bars, water and a message from the hospital asking where I am. I had completely forgotten about work. Too late now, I suppose. Seeing as Jace has a strong grip on my right hand, the sketch pad and pencil are useless.
I quickly got through the comic, which turned out to be the same exact copy he's been trying to get me to read for the past year. It was awful. I placed it on the floor, resisting the urge to throw it across the room, and glanced at Jace. He's so still I'd be afraid he's dead if it wasn't for the warm pulsing of his hand in mine. Jace smiles in his sleep and lets out a contented sigh.
I pick up my all time favorite classic and start to read. I'm just getting to the part when Elizabeth agrees to dance with Mr. Darcy when Jace releases my hand. The feeling of warmth draining from my body returns me to the 21st century. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls us closer together. His head ends up on my stomach, his warm breath brushing my skin. My heart pounds furiously in my chest. Carefully, I run my fingers through his hair, marveling at its softness. My fingers trail down his neck to trace the contours of his shoulder. He relaxes, pulling me tighter to him. I repeat the motion, letting it relax me, and start to think about him.
Jace is so…everything. He's funny, annoying and depressing all at once. He's a completely normal and the most incredible person I've ever known. He drives me insane, but I know that without him I'd go crazy. Whenever I'm around him, I don't want to leave. I want to stay with him until the day I die.
I didn't know what to think of him after what I now call the "Parking Lot Incident" but then I saw how broken he is all the time and I realized how hard he tries to shield everyone from himself. It made my heart ache so much I feared it was being torn from my chest. My heart picks up in fear just thinking about it. The only thing I could think as I held him and watched as he battled his demons was, what will I do if I lose him? And the answer? Nothing. Because I don't think I can live without him. The realization hits me right in the chest.
"I think I'm in love with you," I whisper, so softly I can barely hear it myself. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest at my confession. His eyes flicker open. I stop moving, my fingertips hovering at the base of his neck.
"I heard that," he whispers. My heart pounds furiously in my chest, threatening to break through the skin. Jace pulls away from me and for a horrible moment I think he's going to leave and I'm going to break. Instead he moves so that he's holding me in his arms.
He gently plucks the book I'm gripping onto out of my fingers and reaches over me to drop it on the floor. His fingers gently trace the outline of my face. I close my eyes and feel myself tremble under the heat of his touch as his fingertips find their way to my lips.
I keep my eyes firmly shut, terrified of what I'll find when I open them. Is he angry? Confused? Or worse; just humoring me?
"About your re-do," Jace whispers. I pull away so that I can gage his expression, terrified of where this conversation could easily go.
"Hm?" I'm afraid to speak or do anything that may break the spell.
"It's crap." My eyes open in surprise. His grin widens and his eyes spark. He kisses my forehead then pulls me toward him so that my head is resting against his chest and we're tangled together. I grip the front of his shirt and pull myself flush against him. I don't want a millimeter of space between us. His muscles clench for a moment like he's not sure how to respond to me, then he puts his arms around me, pulling me closer. I'm lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing.
o:o:o
Jace is awake before I am, drawing circles into my back with the tips of his fingers. "Morning," I whisper.
"Evening," he says in that tone he uses to correct people. I roll my eyes but the gesture is wasted on him.
"What time is it?"
"Midnight."
"That's not possible," I mutter, burying my face into his neck. He laughs, his chest shaking with the movement. It's quiet for awhile, the only sound being our breaths, perfectly in sync with each other. He takes in a breath and holds it.
"I need to tell you something," he says. I try to sit up so we can talk but he won't let me. "I'd rather not look at you as I say it." I grip his shirt in my fists and bury my face further into his neck.
"Alright. I'm ready." He chuckles again and tightens his grip on me. I feel his hot breath on the top of my head as he leans down to kiss it.
"I can't be your friend anymore."
My initial reaction is disbelief; He's lying. He has to be. But he's not. And then my heart stops beating. My entire body goes cold, from the tips of my toes to every individual fiber of hair on my head. Hot tears well in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. He doesn't want to see me anymore. Can't stand to be near me.
"Clary," he says, sounding alarmed. He sits up and cradles me in his arms. "Clary, look at me." I shake my head, opting instead to bury my face so hard into his neck that I find it difficult to breathe. I inhale deeply, determined to commit his unique smell to memory. "Clary, please." His voice is soft, pleading. I peek out from around his neck and he rests his forehead against mine. "I can't be just your friend. I want to be more."
"Oh," I say quietly, feeling my cheeks heat up. He grins then flips us so that I'm lying with my back against the mattress and he's hovering above me. I reach up to cup his cheek in my palm. "How long have you felt this way?" He lets out a breath, washing my face with warmth.
"With the risk of sounding cliché, I'm going to have to say since I first met you."
"You seem to be forgetting that when we first met, your hand looked like it had been in a fight with a cheese grader and lost. That and the trivial detail that I hated you and you most likely thought I was a bitchy know-it-all nurse." He smiles and flips so he's lying on his side. I turn so I'm facing him.
"Yeah, but you were so…spunky."
"Spunky?"
"Yep," he says, popping the "p". He grins and studies me, his eyes boring into mine as if he's trying to see straight into the depths of my soul. "What are you thinking?" He sounds genuinely curious.
"How I don't want to be just your friend either," I say honestly, my cheeks heating up.
"Are you sure?" The look on his face makes my heart hurt; he looks incredulous, as if he considers me an angel and himself the Devil and is trying so hard to figure out why I would want to be with someone like him. I trail my fingers down his face.
"Don't look at me like that," I say sternly.
"Like what?"
"Like you don't deserve me."
"I don't," he says. He doesn't look like the thought bothers him. He looks like it's a universal truth; like it's the thing he anchors his existence upon. I feel myself grow angry.
"Did you ever think about what I deserve? What I want?" His brow furrows in the most adorable way.
"Of course—"
"Did you ever even consider that it's you?" He grabs onto my hand and places a kiss on my palm.
"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his golden eyes burning into mine.
"You won't."
"What about what—happened last night?"
"That wasn't your fault," I say fiercely, trying to convince him.
"Maybe not, but it didn't stop it from happening."
"I don't care," I say, gripping his face between my hands. "I don't care if you have five arms or a wife or PTSD. Actually, I probably would care if you had a wife. But that's not the point." I slide my fingers from his face onto his shoulders. "My point is that your imperfections are what make you perfect."
"What fortune cookie did you get that one out of?" he asks with a grin, able to find humor in everything. I flash him a half-hearted glare.
"I have problems too, you know. We all do. It's what makes us human." He cradles my small hand in his, tracing the lines on my palm. I cup his chin with my other hand, tilting his chin so that he's looking me in the face. "I want to be with you," I say with as much conviction as I can muster. He smiles and pulls me towards him so that our lips are hovering mere centimeters apart.
"I was hoping you'd say that." He closes the distance between us and kisses me, so light and gentle it's barely even a kiss. He pulls back to gauge my reaction, his eyes bright and shining, then crushes me to him. His hand presses into the small of my back, molding my body to his. I kiss him harder, losing myself in the taste of him. I feel lips turn up in an uncontrollable grin. Jace laughs against my mouth then pulls away.
"What are you smiling about?" Jace asks me. The light in his eyes fills me to bursting.
"I'm just really happy." He kisses me again.
"Are you now?" He kisses me again; sweet and lingering and absolutely perfect. I feel as if I could die of happiness. But of course things can't stay perfect for long and something has to ruin it. This time it's my stomach. Jace laughs and kisses me again.
"It appears I'm not feeding you properly." I wrinkle my nose in disgust and scold my stomach for its poor timing.
"Food's for wimps," I say kissing him again. His laughter breaks the kiss. He runs his fingers over my cheek, and then lightly kisses my lips.
"Let's get you something to eat," he says, rolling over and landing on the ground. I sigh as he helps me off the bed. The room is dark with the exception of the moonlight. Jace opens the door quietly and lifts a finger to his lips. He slips out of the room quickly in a surprisingly good imitation of some overdone James Bond move. I bite my tongue to stop from laughing and follow after him. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In contrast to Jace's room, the kitchen is a mess. Dirty dishes are strewn over the counter, boxes of cereal are lying on their side, their contents spilling on the surface and the oven looks like its only purpose is storage. Jace is already riffling through the pantry. He pulls something out and flashes me a grin over his shoulder.
He walks over to me and grabs my hands, running his thumb over my palm and straightening my fingers. He lays a chocolate bar in it and my stomach growls in anticipation.
"Chocolate!" I say. "Thank you!" He laughs and I grab the edge of his shirt to use as leverage and pull myself up to kiss him. His hand slips to the small of my back, pulling me towards him. My hands drift over his shoulders and loop around his neck, closing any distance between us. Without realizing we're moving, I end up against the counter. His hands land on my waist and he lifts me up to the counter. His lips stray from mine, giving me a much needed chance to breathe. My heart hammers in my chest as he makes a trail down my neck to my shoulder. He pushes the fabric of my shirt away and kisses the line of my collarbone. He stops at the end of it, his warm breath flooding over my skin as he lets out a sigh. Jace rests his forehead on my shoulder.
"You drive me absolutely insane, I hope you know that."
"Is that good or bad?" I ask with a smile.
"It depends," he says, lifting his head so he can look me in the eye, "on how much self control you think I have."
"And how much do you have?"
"Around you? None." Jace's lips find mine again. His hands slide under my shirt, his fingertips digging into my bare flesh. Without warning, he releases me. I let out a squeak of protest and he smiles. "There's food in the fridge. Help yourself. I'm going to take a shower. And no," he says with a grin, "you can't come with me." I roll my eyes which only makes him laugh.
"And who says I want to?
"Honey, everyone wants to." I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, choosing to ignore his comment.
"Do you want anything?" I ask.
"You."
"To eat, you perv." He kisses my lips lightly, teasing, then smirks as he pulls away.
"Surprise me," he says as he turns to walk away. "You always do."