A/N: Okay, so the last two chapters have kind of been drabble and fluff – chapters that creates the setting. This is the chapter that really matters, the chapter that officially starts the story. Think of the last two as prologue, and this as chapter one.
Something to clear up: This story takes place around the same time Lady Midnight comes out. If you don't know what that is, that's Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn's story – five years after the Mortal War. So while that story is taking place, this story is taking place. Remember, that story starts around 2012, so if you're thinking of this story in regards to our current time, this still took place like, three years ago.
By the way, this has a lot of Clace, a lot of Sizzy, and a lot of Malec.
Disclaimer: the pretty boy Jace sadly is not mine. Nor is anyone else. Except Amanda (you'll see *wink wonk*)
*Warning* THIS IS A REALLY LONG CHAPTER. I typed it up and it ended up being like forty pages…lol.
Lonely days of uncertainty,
They disappear when you're near me,
When you're around my life's worthwhile,
And now I long to see you smile
-Big Star, "My life is right"
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Jace P.O.V
She didn't come into his room last night.
In fact, he hadn't seen her all of yesterday.
Which is exactly why he had decided on jumping out of bed early, getting dressed, and leaving the Institute before anyone woke to get Clary some coffee and breakfast. If there's one thing to do to sucker her up, it's to get her coffee and food in the morning. And the good coffee, too – not "that cheap crap," she'd say, "the kind they sell in bars and grocery stores." Remembering her saying that to him, the way she had scrunched up her small nose, the way her freckles seemed to sparkle against her pale skin in the summer light, was enough to send his heart beating and to quicken his pace.
Tendrils of red and flashes of green caught at his eye as he made his way down the street to the nearby coffee shop. The storm from yesterday had dwindled rapidly through the restless night; though evidence from its stay lay palpable throughout Saint Avenue in regards to the slick ice roads and the collected snowflakes on the red bricks of surrounding buildings. The air remained cool and burned the throat when breathed in.
Jace Herondale never missed his Heavenly Fire more than the first few winters after losing his ability. With his hands stuffed deep into his pockets (he never bothered when it came to gloves), he leisurely strolled and shouldered his way through the buzzing crowds, pointedly ignoring the suggestive looks on-looking girls shot at him.
Reaching the small café, he yanked open the door hurriedly and rushed inside. Almost instantly warmth spread through him, and almost smiling he crossed to the counter and leaned against it. He looked around the café. It was mostly empty, with an elderly couple sitting in the corner and a girl typing furiously on a laptop occupying the table near the back. He sighed in contempt, breathing in the silence he never heard anymore. A few seconds later the barista arrived from the kitchen doors, brown hair falling loose of her sloppy bun. "Hello," she said in a rush, quickly heading around the counter to the register. "How may I help – oh…" she trailed off, staring at him with massive brown eyes.
Jace cocked an eyebrow at her sudden exclamation. He glanced down at her as if checking her out, hoping the gesture would give him a surprise discount. She was pretty, he supposed, with her tan skin and dark hair and eyes, and this contrasted well with her teal uniform, but it wasn't like it mattered. A low blush bloomed on her cheekbones as she realized he was staring at her, and she quickly casted her gaze down to the register. "What would you like?" she squeaked.
He fully leaned against the counter, staring up at the menu above her. He knew what he was doing, and he knew how this was probably affecting the employee, but he didn't care. "Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully, though he already knew what he wanted. The worker blushed furiously and busied herself with the register. After a moment Jace pushed himself off the counter. "I'd like six coffees," he said, mentally counting off his fingers, "four with room for crème, make one frozen, and the last completely black."
The barista – Amanda, her name tag read – quickly typed in his order on the cash register. She glanced up at him through her hair and lashes. A failed attempt at seduction, he realized. "Is that all?" she asked huskily.
He locked his jaw to suppress an eye roll. "I'll have a chocolate éclair," he said, naming one of Clary's favorite pastries, "and about a dozen blueberry croissants." He thought for a moment. "That's all."
Amanda seemed a bit upset as she punched in his order with a small frown forming on her lips. If Jace didn't know any better he'd say she was pouting. "Alright," she sighed. "That'll be seventy five dollars." As Jace handed over the money, she added, "The pastries will take a minute to bake. Will that be okay?" But before he could answer, she had already shoved in his money into the register and hurried back to the kitchen.
He sighed and took a nearby seat, whipping out his phone. No New Messages, his phone read. Of course. Why would he expect anything different? Clary was stubborn – she wouldn't check if he was okay. The thought brought anger, but he quickly repressed it. After all, it was he who kept all the distance between them.
He remembered how surprised he had been when Magnus and Alec came bursting through the Institute doors and into the library, yelling about how both he and Simon were major screw-ups, and how our plans for "small, inconspicuous space" had completely backfired.
"What?" he had asked the two breathless men, who had ran from their apartment all the way to the Institute.
Alec huffed for air. "You idiot," he gasped. "Clary and Isabelle both think you and Simon were cheating on them." He leaned down on his knees and breathed heavily. "By the Angel, I need to do more cardio training."
Jace, while disregarding the book in his lap, had shot out of the armchair in surprise. The book fell to the floor in a loud clump. "They said so?" he asked in disbelief. Alec nodded, and Jace viciously yanked his hair; the pain sharpened his mind. "Damn it," he muttered, beginning to pace the sitting area of the library. "Fucking damn it." He stopped his mad stride as a thought occurred. "They don't still think that, do they?"
Alec began to fidget as Magnus, who had been observing this coolly, stepped in. "No," he had said. "I had casted a spell on them to lose any aspect of suspicion under my breath. Those two, they didn't even notice." He smirked.
Jace narrowed his eyes at him. "That wears off, right?"
Magnus inspected his nails with disinterest. "Eventually."
Alec shot Magnus a tiny glare as he turned back to Jace. "You better do something for Clary before tomorrow," he had scolded. "Or else her answer may be affected. Tell Simon the same thing." He added while giving him a pointed glare, and Jace was reminded of how many times Maryse had shot him the same look.
He had held up his hands in surrender. "Will do," he said.
But he never got the chance to.
Clary hadn't been to see him all of yesterday, and only briefly the day before. The days before that didn't look much better. There has never been so much distance between themselves in years – probably ever since finding out they were siblings. The thought brought on a heart ache, and his thoughts were briefly interrupted by the barista calling out his name.
"Jace – your order's ready!"
He frowned as he got up and headed back over to the counter. "Funny," he said, taking the bag of pastries and the tray filled with coffee, "I don't remember giving you my name."
"That's because you didn't," she replied, ripping off his recipe from the cashier. She offered it to him, but Jace backed off. She sighed. "You don't have to worry." Amanda said, and as Jace stared at her, he noticed a change happening in her eyes. The brown began to bloom to an unnatural green, like the color of antifreeze or acid, and her pupil dilated to such a small speck it was like it was never even there.
He squinted at her. "So, what?" he demanded, realizing her face was caked with powerful glamor. "Warlocks are watching me now? What are you, annoying cherubs?"
"Not just you," she laughed, dropping a wink. "And no, I'm not telling you what that means." Amanda waved the recipe in front of him again. "Look, are you going to take it or not?"
With brief hesitation he grabbed the small slip of paper and stuffed it into his pockets. He was glad the civilians around them hadn't noticed the small phenomenon that had just happened. Already her eyes were fading rapidly into the same, dull color of mud brown. As he turned to the door, he heard the warlock – who may or may not be Amanda – yell after him, "See you later, Jace Herondale."
He wasn't going to lie – the warlock freaked him out a bit.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Clary's P.O.V
Waking up was hell.
After they left the apartment, Isabelle had demanded they do something fun together, since they never seem to hang out alone. Clary didn't argue on this. Technically, this was the most alone time they had in a long time. "Let's go to the hottest club in Brooklyn," she had suddenly exclaimed, stopping mid-stomp down the blanketed street of powdery snow. Clary stopped with her and slowly met her gaze to see if she was kidding. Apparently, she wasn't.
"Isabelle," she sighed, raking a hand through her wet coils of thick hair. "It's cold, and we aren't even properly dressed for a nightclub." She gestured to her black leggings (which had a small tear by the knee) and a dark gray, baggy sweater. She decided to not argue on what Isabelle was wearing, since her outfit consisted of a black leather sheath dress and sheer black tights. "I'm dressed like I just dove into a clothes trashcan behind a Walmart. And besides, it's only seven o'clock."
Isabelle waved this away. "You look hipster," she declared. "That's fashionable."
"Barely," Clary had muttered, but even her sour mood didn't stop Isabelle from dragging her into the nearest club, Europea. Though being very early, walking in felt light walking into a disco ball – strobe and neon lights met their vision, along with the bitter air of alcohol, sweat from nearby dancers, and something else that smelled suspiciously of weed. Isabelle had dragged her off to the bar, and the night faded away after that.
A pounding head ache cracked through her skull as she strained to remember last night. Damn, she thought. Hangover. Clary rolled over in bed to try to get back to sleep, when her back met with something hard and warm. Probably Jace, she thought with wonder, but that thought was instantly shattered when dark, black hair, not gold like Jace's but the color of ink, met her curious gaze.
She screamed and hopped off the bed, backing up until her back met with the wall. Fuck, she thought rapidly. Oh fuck, what did I do? Did I cheat on Jace? This isn't my bedroom, nor his bedroom. Oh, God. Am I even in the Institute? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
"Clary?" someone moaned from the bed. A feminine voice.
Isabelle. Clary's racing heart immediately slowed with overwhelming relief. It was Isabelle. Just Isabelle. And her suspicions of last night faded as Isabelle clapped her hands and light illuminated Isabelle's room. Clary nearly gasped with the relief.
"Clary!" Isabelle snapped, sitting up. "What the hell? Have you ever heard of beauty sleep? God, what are you, an alarm clock? That shriek of yours probably woke half the Institute!"
Clary closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool wall. "Sorry," she huffed, and winced at her croaky voice. "I thought I did something I would've regretted last night."
Isabelle looked confused at first, but instantly started to smirk. "How do you know we didn't do something?" she asked huskily, sending her a wink.
Clary groaned as embarrassment flooded into her cheeks. "Please don't. I already nearly had a heart attack with the thought."
Isabelle reeled back, hurt evident across her face. "You wouldn't hook up with me? Even if it was just one night?" As Clary continued to stare at her blankly, Isabelle rolled her eyes and tossed back her smooth ink hair. "Yeesh."
"You know what I mean," she said, when she heard her phone buzz. Curious, Clary bent down to her boot (she slept in her clothes from last night) and yanked her phone out. Simon texted her, with the message, "dinner at institute. tell Isabelle." Clary glanced up at Isabelle, who had sunk back into bed. "Simon sent me a text," she said, and Isabelle shot up with interest. "It said that there was a dinner here tonight."
"Hmph," Isabelle said. She cocked an eyebrow. "Mom never said anything about a dinner."
Clary shrugged and stuffed her phone back into her boot. She felt her stomach grumble as she quickly threw her hair up into a sloppy bun. "Breakfast first," she decided out loud, and quickly grabbed her stele off of Isabelle's dresser. Hangovers are a bitch without runes. "Questions later."
After a few minutes of trying to rub off all evidence of ever heading out to a club, the two girls made their way down the hall, giggling at some resurfacing memories in the club.
"I never knew I could down shots like that," Clary mused as Isabelle burst out laughing.
"Once a party animal, always a party animal," she said, and sent Clary a wink. "I should take you clubbing more often."
"No time soon," Clary quickly reassured, wincing at a throb in her head. "Too hung-over at the moment."
"I wouldn't be surprised if we both are." They immediately hushed their conversation as they entered the kitchen, where sat the sleepy Alec and Simon, an eccentric (like always) Magnus, and Jace, who had an air of the streets around him. Clary avoided his gaze as she sat down at the table next to bed-mused Simon.
She noticed with some hilarity that he was sleeping on his raised hand, propped up on the table. Smirking, she quickly swiped his arm off and laughed as he banged his head on the table. "Wha–?" he began as he shot up, and instantly broke off as he noticed Clary laughing next to him. He glared at her. "Funny, Fray."
She was still chuckling even as she pressed a hand against her mouth. "Maybe you should try this thing called sleep. I hear it's simply riveting."
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and Clary felt everyone's gaze slide off them with disinterest. Everyone's gaze except one. "You wouldn't sleep either if you had to constantly listen to two girls above constantly laugh and stomp around." He paused as Clary blushed furiously, dropping her gaze to the table. "What did you and Isabelle even do last night, anyway?"
Magnus piped up. "Clubbing, from the looks of it," he declared, squinting at the half-dressed Isabelle, who was leaning against the counter next to Jace. Isabelle glared at him.
"What were you doing at a club?" Alec demanded. "Especially without weapons? Isabelle–"
"Of course I had weapons," she interrupted, and instantly seemed to regret it as everyone's eyebrows rose. Clary almost smacked herself in the face. Good going, Iz. Isabelle sighed dramatically. "Okay, fine! We went to a bar for a few drinks and to dance! What's so bad about that?"
"Oh, I almost forgot," Jace suddenly exclaimed, and Clary watched as he detached himself off the side of the counter and ruffled through the takeout bag. He pulled out something wrapped up and grabbed a Styrofoam cup off the nearly-empty cardboard tray and headed over to her. Clary's heart raced as he leaned over her and carefully placed the two things in front of her. She felt his warmth radiate on her, and instantly felt its cooling loss as he pulled back – but not without kissing her lightly on the cheek.
She blushed as Simon and Magnus whistled under their breath mockingly, and steadily tried to ignore them as she turned in her seat to look up at Jace for the first time in two days. She thought his gaze on her would seem different – colder, maybe – but this was quickly shot down as she saw only love and adoration reflect in his golden eyes.
But the moment was instantly shattered as he turned away and walked leisurely out the kitchen, without a single word or glance to anyone. She saw Simon cock an eyebrow in the corner of her eye, but blocked out whatever smart comment he made as she abandoned her seat with her hot food and quickly followed Jace. She got what the scene meant now – it was a reminder of how they first met: Her, abandoning Simon and her coffee to follow him.
She followed him for the same reasons she did last time: Confusion, anxiety for the future, and, most of all, anger. Anger at him, at his actions, at what he had said, at what he had lied about (or was going to). Anger fueled her temper as she rounded the corner from the kitchen and into the hallway, an angry buzzing blocking whatever sarcastic comments were probably flying out of both Magnus and Simons' mouths.
It wasn't hard finding him, just like it wasn't hard finding him the very first time. He was leaning on the wall right outside, head bent into his phone, and against her will she felt her heart flutter when he lifted his head. She noticed instantly his demeanor had changed. Dark bags hung low under his eyes like charcoaled crescents embedded into his tight, hollowed skin. His golden eyes, which were usually so luminous, were dimmed to a light honey-brown. She tried so desperately to not care, but deep in her gut, she did. He pocketed his phone when he saw her, and she almost wished he didn't, that'd he have something to give half his attention to.
But knowing Jace, whenever it was just her and him, all attention was set on her. The corner of his lips quirked up. "Have fun last night?"
The question was so blunt she blinked. "I – what?"
"Last night," he repeated patiently, reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture made her shudder, and she nearly leaned into his lingering fingers if it weren't for the fact she was pissed. "Was it fun?"
Clary's thoughts of being angry scrambled into contentment as Jace began stroking her cheek lightly. "I – uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess."
"Izzy told me you woke up with a massive headache," he continued, almost accusingly. But his light smile and soft voice told her otherwise. "Let me guess–" his hand dropped suddenly to her chin, and he forced her attention up to him –"hung-over?"
Clary gulped, almost lost in his quickly blazing golden eyes that were studying her with a loving interest. "Yeah." She forgot she was mad at him as his eyes landed on her lips, and stayed there. She forgot they were in the midst of a 'fight' as he slowly closed his eyes, and she did the same. She forgot of the distance, of the sneaking around, of the questions she could not ask, as he brought his lips down, lightly but firm, over her own. The only thing on her mind was Jace, her Jace, the broken, sarcastic boy she loved more than anything in the world. She sighed into the kiss as he carefully slid his mouth over hers, and moaned as he began nipping at her bottom lip, begging for entrance.
Like a lighted match falling on gasoline, their kiss grew more heated. Her hands twined up around his neck, grasping and pulling at his hair, grinning as he groaned sexily against her mouth. She had taken control of their kiss, and took no time to lick at his bottom lip and bite it, to tug and yank at his hair, to rub her leg up his own. She felt him coming apart under her hands as he started to shiver and his heartbeat starting to pound away in her ears like a drum.
Jace growled as he tried to take it back. Roughly he fully wrapped his arms around her waist and slammed her against the wall, breaking their kiss to nip down her neck and suck at her soft skin. She gasped and clutched at him tighter; she tilted her head to give him more access to skin, almost subconsciously. He chuckled as he sucked, bit, and licked one spot on her neck, swallowing her rapid pulse, and Clary knew there was going to be a dark mark on her skin. She was whimpering his name as he moved his trail of fire back up her neck to her jawline, never breaking contact with his lips.
In between kisses, he whispered, "I'm sorry," against her skin.
She was moaning softly as he slowly trailed his lips up her soft skin and back to her parted lips. "For what – oh," her words were swallowed as Jace kissed her hard, his muscular body pressing her harder against the wall. She felt him crush her against his chest, felt his fingertips gripping her waist tight enough to leave a bruise. She gasped as he raked his hands up from her waist and caught her face, and with numbing force he pressed her face harder against his, lips smashing together.
"For" – he pressed a hard and quick kiss against her lips – "everything" – he mumbled this as he caught another kiss – "that made you"– several more kisses that made her knees shake– "go to that" – countless more kisses that made her forget he even spoke at all – "damn bar."
She was so lost in the kisses, the heavy breathing, the intense pressure, the rapid pulse of his heart, that it took everything in her self-control to lightly push him away and burry her face in his chest. She felt him sigh in an accepted disappointment as his hands dropped to her waist, holding her light enough to send shivers down her spine. She bit back a smile as she felt his head drop on her shoulder, his curling hair tickling her cheek. Her fingers slipped through his fine strands, and lightly she stroked through his golden hair. They stood there in silence for a few moments, wrapped up in each other comfortably, their heavy breathing mingling together. She felt him press light kisses on her shoulder.
"Jace," she sighed, trying to keep focus on reality. "You're not getting out of this by kissing me."
She felt him chuckle against her skin. "I know."
"Then you know you better come up with a damn good excuse by dinner, right?"
"Trust me," he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze with a burning sincerity. "My reasons aren't an excuse – they were an obligation."
"An obligation?" she repeated. "Set by whom?"
"Well, technically speaking, the Clave," he said, and quickly continued as her eyebrows skyrocketed. "But my actions were all my fault."
She stroked his cheek lightly. "You're not going to tell me what this is about now, are you?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Until dinner, my Clarissa."
"Ohh," she exclaimed, realization setting in. "So that's what this surprise dinner is about." Her head tilted to look up at him better. "You planned dinner, didn't you?"
"Well, yes," he said, shrugging lightly. "And so did Simon. And Alec. We all have news to share, and they're all shockingly similar."
"Really…" Clary trailed off thoughtfully, thinking what all the guys have an in common. A picture wouldn't come.
He smiled down at her and pressed a light kiss against her nose. "I ran out to buy you coffee and a pastry, and you probably didn't even touch it, did you?"
It was the last thing she expected him to say. Drawing back, she looked up at him in a bit of bewildered shock. "You can't possibly be mad at me for that, right?"
"I may not be mad," said Jace, "but it does prick my ego slightly. Many girls would love personal delivery by yours truly." He sent her a wink in emphasis.
She rolled her eyes. "Just shut up and hold me," she said, and added quickly, "quietly."
He did just that.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
By the time dinner rolled around, Alec and Jace prepared the large oak table in a decorative manor, making sure there were exactly the right amount of dining chairs and their fanciest plates and silverware; Magnus made sure both Clary and Isabelle were dressed up and fixed beautifully; and Simon, poor Simon, was the one who had to run to get the dinner from Taki's, ordering everything from fancy lasagna, garlic bread, creamy fettuccini alfredo pasta, the best of red wine, spinach manicottis, and so much more fancy Italian foods Simon nearly collapsed when he came back into the Institute. Quickly, while the girls were still away, they carefully displayed the food in the middle of the table and poured the red wine in each cordial glass set.
Then all the guys dressed into their nicest wear, helping each other fix their ties and straighten their neatly pressed shirts. In one of the sparkling spoons Jace ruffled his hair messily while Simon smoothed his hair down in another spoon. When Alec walked in on them doing this, he snorted. "Straight people," he muttered, loud enough for both the guys could hear, "touching their damn hair more than anything else."
"Gay people," Jace announced, lowering his spoon onto the table, "touching their boyfriend more than anything else." He waggled his eyebrows over at Alec, who blushed.
Simon, who had also lowered his spoon, rose his eyebrows. "Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud.
"Why, I'm right here!" yelled a voice at the doorway. Whirling, everyone turned to see Magnus, wearing a bright blue suit, standing in the doorway. He frowned at Simon. "That was rather rude."
"Move over, glittery blueberry," someone snarled behind Magnus, and the tone of the person picked up Simon's rapid heartbeat. Magnus smirked over at his curious gaze mockingly as he side-stepped into the dining room over to Alec, revealing the mystery girl. Simon's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Isabelle.
Isabelle Lightwood. Words cannot simply express how well she looked in her tight, white cocktail dress, her golden illusion neckline lacing down her arms like vines of sunlight twiddling down to earth. Her dark, ink black hair lay in flawless waves down to her waistline as they framed her sharp, angular face; her mysteriously dark eyes dominant underneath her smoky eye makeup. Her face lit up when she saw him, creating an indomitable glow underneath her beautiful appearance like streaks of light through cracked walls. Smiling widely, she rushed over to him in her high heels and hugged him tightly. Simon instantly responded, breathing in the aura Isabelle seems to carry around everywhere she goes.
"You look great," she whispered in his ear, and he repressed a shudder.
"I look like nothing compared to you," he replied truthfully. "God, you're so beautiful, Isabelle."
She pulled away from him, smiling widely. "The only reason I'm not clawing at your face," she said casually, "is because Clary somehow managed to convince me you have good intentions."
Simon quickly nodded. "I do," he said. "And there is a reason for everyone dressing up so nice, I promise."
"You better," she said playfully, her smile twisting into a smirk. "I saw you carrying in twenty takeout bags from Taki's."
Simon grinned sheepishly, and they both hovered around the table, going deep into conversation.
~o~
Jace stood between Alec and Magnus, anxiously glancing at the doorway. Where was Clary? Isabelle had already come in, looking (as usual) stunning. But he won't be fully satisfied until the love of his life was in his arms – or sight, from the looks of her delay.
As if noticing his worried glimpses, Magnus spoke up. "She's coming," he said, a weird glint in his eye. "She had to get something from her room."
Jace cocked an eyebrow, his pulse quickening at the mention of her soon arrival. "Which is…?"
His question caught in his throat as another Lightwood came in – a Lightwood he hadn't seen in months: Maryse Lightwood.
About a year after the War and her divorce, Maryse had moved out of the Institute and into the Enclave in the city, donating the place to the heir: Alec. No one knows Alec doesn't live there anymore except for Maryse, Jace, Isabelle, Clary, Simon, Magnus, Jocelyn, and Luke. For years now she only had contact with either Isabelle and Alec, and occasionally himself. No one else – not even Robert, for what he heard. Jace hadn't heard from Robert since the end of the War.
Maryse hushed the room as she crossed the dining room, inspecting the party forming in front of her. She wore a simple black gown, pooling around her feet in a black puddle. She changed a lot since Jace had last seen her. Her ink black hair greyed greatly from age, and prominent wrinkles cracked her striking facial features around the corner of her dark blue eyes and thinned pink lips. She studied them all coolly before being attacked with hugs from her two twenty-year-old children. "Mom!" Isabelle yelled in surprise, her arms wrapping around the older woman's slender figure. Alec joined the hug party, and Jace, Simon, and Magnus stayed away awkwardly.
When Maryse smiled at Jace, he saw it okay to join the hugging party. After all, he had been her son since he was ten years old. As Isabelle and Alec detached themselves from Maryse, he leaned in for a tight hug, and smiled as he felt the tightness returned. She pulled away after a moment and held him at arm's length. "Oh, Jace," she whispered. "You're so handsome."
"Always have been," he replied instantly, and grinned as she laughed quietly.
"I hope we're not interrupting something," another voice spoke behind them.
Maryse released Jace long enough for him to see Jocelyn and Luke walk hand-in-hand through the dining room doors, both dressed formally. Luke, probably with a lot of begging on Jocelyn's part, wore a neat shirt and grey blazer, matching Jocelyn's grey, simple wrap dress. Maryse greeted them both politely, and they responded back just as polite. Next person to rush over to greet them was Magnus, who lightly hugged Jocelyn and shook Luke's hand.
After Magnus retreated, Jace realized that as a good boyfriend of their daughter, he needed to greet them next. Carefully he walked up to Clary's parents, who were both talking to Simon. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so neat," Jocelyn gushed, causing Simon to redden slightly.
"Aw, don't make fun of him," said Luke, lightly clapping Simon on the shoulder. "He looks well groomed."
"Am I interrupting?" Jace asked uncertainly, walking up to them.
Luke and Jocelyn turned to him, and to his relief, they smiled warmly. "Jace!" Luke greeted, his smile welcoming. He outstretched his hand, which Jace gladly shook.
Jocelyn was the real challenge. She scanned him head to toe, and, as if satisfied with what she found, smiled widely. "It's so great to see you, Jace," she said, and to his extreme surprise, she drew him up in a quick hug. After releasing him, she quickly asked, "Where's Clary?"
Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "She was supposed to be down by now…"
A loud snap issued from the doorway of the dining room, followed by an "aw, shit!" Jace turned eagerly to the doorway, and felt his heart slow to an immediate stop.
Clarissa Adele Fairchild stood in the doorway in her full angelic glory, wrapped in an elegant black halter dress with a sweetheart illusion neckline that wrapped around her shoulders. Her usually messy red curls were now fixed into beautiful tendrils that reminded him of a snowflake's path cascading down to earth – twirling, twisting, and ending in one last elegant swirl. Her green eyes shone through her light makeup, and he saw with a rapidly increasing heartbeat as they settled on him, and lit up to an exceptional fire. Around her waist was a pattern of embedded golden vines, and where the dress hung loose sparked with the embers of golden thread.
She leaned against the doorway, holding a single high heel – its black silhouette completely snapped in half. Clary stared down at it in disbelief.
Everyone was staring at the oblivious Clary, and no one felt the nerve to speak – well, no one except one.
Isabelle.
"Did you seriously just break my heel?"
Clary glanced up worriedly and met the cold, hard gaze of Isabelle. "I swear," she began quickly. "I was just walking when it snapped…" Seeing the end of this conversation ending terribly, Clary quickly recovered. "I'm blaming gravity."
"Really?" Isabelle's voice dripped sarcasm. "Gravity is the one to blame?" She stepped toward Clary intimidatingly, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "Are you sure about that?"
"Er," Clary took a step back. "No…?"
Before Isabelle could take this farther, Jace quickly recovered from shock and rushed over to his girlfriend in distress. She smiled up at him, causing the blood in his veins to pound, but he ignored it. "Hey, Jace," she said.
Quickly he drew her into a light hug, careful to not mess up her delicate looks. Even if Isabelle is pissed off at Clary, she wouldn't hesitate to murder Jace for screwing up Clary's look which, undoubtedly, probably took a while. Releasing her, he quickly pecked her on the lips and bent down to collect her good heel off her foot. Straightening, he plucked the heel out of her hand and quietly threw them behind a wooden bench against the wall, thankful everyone lost interest in the dramatic scene.
When he turned back to her, he saw her smiling at him wistfully. "What?"
She shook her head, that bright smile and gleam in her eye remaining. "Nothing," she said, and eyed him, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "You look nice."
He snorted. "Nothing," he said, taking her hands, "will look as good as you do right now. Of course," he added, right after she smiled broadly, "I'd much rather see you in nothing, but we don't always get what we want–"
"Jace!" She interrupted rudely, but she was still grinning. "We're around people."
He shrugged. "Hadn't stopped us before, so I don't see how it would now."
"Pretty sure because this time," someone said at Clary's elbow, "people can see you, and judge you."
Clary whirled on her heels and saw Simon grinning at them, his once smoothed-down hair now slightly ruffled. "Simon!" she exclaimed, looking at him up and down. "Okay…" she said while stepping back. "Who forced you into a suit?"
His grin turned to one of mockery. "Very funny, Fray," he said, and then scanned what she was wearing. He squinted at her dress as if confused. "No, this can't be…" his voice trailed off in a state of shock. He met her gaze with surprise lit in his eyes. "Clary, in a dress?" He shook his head. "Nope, the scene is too absurd. I must be dreaming."
She rolled her eyes as Simon burst out laughing. "Funny," she snipped sarcastically. "You should try to actually make me laugh next time, just for advice."
"Advice?" Isabelle asked, making her way to them. "What kind of advice?" Her curious gaze immediately hardened when they fell on Clary, who swallowed heavily.
"It's advice to be a comedian," answered Jace lazily. "Though I don't know why she'd bother, since that dream could never be fulfilled."
"Don't you have a dinner to host?" Simon snapped.
"Don't we," corrected Jace, before the realization hit. His eyes widened. "Oh, crap."
In a mad rush both Simon and Jace collected everyone over to the dining table, where the food had grown slightly cold. At the head of the table sat Maryse, and on both her sides were Alec and Isabelle, who then sat with their dates – Magnus and Simon. Next to Magnus sat Luke, and beside him sat Jocelyn. Directly across from Jocelyn on the other side of the table was Clary, and, of course, next to Clary was Jace, who was sitting next to Simon. They quickly filled their plates with the delicious food of takeout Italian and expensive red wine that Simon had 'accidentally' stolen (no one but he and Jace knew of this). They all ate in a peaceful, comfortable silence, until most of the food had been swiped clean off the serving trays.
Jace, seeing everyone slowly finish as a cue to begin, stood up, and Simon, getting his lead of direction, stood up along with him. Magnus nudged Alec hard in the side before he finally noticed the other two, and quickly stood up as well. Soon enough all eyes were on them in a matter of seconds, and Jace repressed the idea of clanging his spoon against his glass in a deflating sense of disappointment. He quickly got over it, though, as he realized what he had prepared for a month now all led up to this moment.
Was he a bit nervous? He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a slight tremor in his hands.
"So I guess you're all wondering why we'd gathered you here today," Simon began, and Jace stomped hard on his foot to keep him quiet.
"What he means," he quickly continued as Simon glared at him, "is that there's a reason for our formal gathering today." In the corner of his eye he noticed Clary sending him inquiring looks, and it took everything in him to not spill it all out in a quick rush to satisfy her curiosity. "The three of us – Alec, Simon, and I – all received an important request about one month ago. This request offered similar things and demanded the same fate for the three of us."
A moment of thick silence molded around them as Alec took his time to gather his thoughts and continue. "To put it simply," he said, sending Jace a look, "we're leaving. All three of us. And we don't plan on return."
A/N: Okay, I know – it's a crappy ending.
Especially since you all probably already know where this is heading.
But hey, doesn't hurt to draw out suspense, right?
Just kidding. The real reason I cut the chapter is because of its crazy length. Honestly, this chapter was almost thirty five pages on my computer. That's crazy long! It's longer than both my previous chapters and a bonus scene I'm going to reveal much later, combined! I know, it's crazy, and I might just trim it down further after this update. I'm going to update next either this Saturday/Sunday, or next Wednesday. No in-between.
Alright, I got to go. See you next time!
~MJ