As I said in my formspring, this is going to be a flashback chapter. One puzzle piece revealed.
Air rattled in her throat as she breathed, staring down at the little pink plus sign on the cardboard stick. This couldn't be happening. She was a Shadowhunter, it was true, but she just wasn't ready for something like this.
Especially since he was gone, and he was the only person who could have gotten her to this point.
She cried as her mother enveloped her, the familiar smell of paint and turpentine helping to soothe her nerves.
"Oh, baby," her mother whispered, rocking her back and forth. "It's okay. It's okay."
Luke's hand was warm on her shoulder, spilled coffee lying unheeded on the hardwood floor.
Isabelle freaked.
"Oh my God, Clary, I'll take you to the gynecologist and help make appointments and go shopping for clothes and - Angel that bastard - it's okay, Clary, I promise I'll help and oh my God, how are you feeling?"
Clary laughed weakly. "I love you, Izzy."
Simon stood frozen in the doorway.
Alec grasped her hand tightly, blue eyes understanding and soft. "Don't worry, Clary," he said quietly. "It'll be okay. And..." Alec steeled himself. "if - when he comes back, it'll all be even better. Don't worry about it."
Clary didn't want to think about how small that chance was.
Magnus came to sit on the other side of her, a wave of glitter descending from his vest. "Look, honey, I'm all in favor of this kid thing. But if he calls me uncle even once, I'm going to turn him into a fuzzy throw blanket. Got it?"
She didn't know if she was laughing or crying. Probably a bit of both.
She didn't know that clothes could even be this small. "God, look at the socks," she breathed.
Then she winced.
"Is he kicking?" Jocelyn asked quickly, eyes flitting to her daughter's abdomen. Maryse turned around quickly, concern etched in her face.
"Just a little," Clary said. "It is the second trimester, after all."
"Fuck off," Isabelle muttered to a couple of scandalized women a few racks away. They hurried off, judgmental looks still plastered on their faces.
Clary closed her eyes. Where are you? she thought.
Stark white and bleached smells were all that she registered as she flew through the hospital's halls, terror racing through her mind and into her veins.
"It's only the sixth month, you can't possibly tell me that she's in labor!" Luke's angry voice echoed in her mind, increasing her headache.
"I'm sorry, sir, but she's undoubtedly contracting. Sir, I must tell you that there's only a small chance of survival for the child - "
There was blood everywhere - the last time she'd seen so much blood was when he had died on the shores of Lake Lyn, sword sticking grotesquely out of his chest as Valentine's expression twisted into pain and fury -
"Oh God, make it stop, Angel Raziel, Mom - "
"Clary, shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's all right - "
"There's something wrong - "
"Come on, Clary, push, just a few more times - "
"There's something wrong here - "
"Oh my God, Izzy, please, please - "
"Doctor! Doctor, there's something not right - "
"Move, everyone move - oh my God."
"Mom, please!"
"We can't do anything - no, don't stop Clarissa, keep pushing - Ms. Lightwood, please keep Clarissa awake!"
"Clary, stay with me, come on baby - "
"There's something wrong - "
Clary screamed.
Everyone stood up when the doctor came into the waiting room. Simon could tell that something was wrong already - the man's shoulders were slumped, his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose.
"I'm very sorry," he said at last. "The child died two minutes after birth."
He was a red mass of skin, with severely under-developed systems and no chance at anything. His life had ended right after it had begun.
Only friends and family were in the room; the nurses and doctor had discreetly left. Clary herself was still on the bed, sweat making her skin crawl and tiredness seeping from every pore.
It was like he was gone again - like he had just left. The one thing that was tied to him so intimately was already gone. Clary had had something inside herself that was a part of him, that resembled him, that was made by him.
And as soon as he had gotten into the real world, he had died. If that wasn't symbolism, she didn't know what was.
"He had had golden eyes," Maryse said quietly.
Clary started to cry.
I hope I captured the raw pain. I'm not sure if I did.
Review?