A/N: The chapter title is very unoriginal, I know, but the inspiration sort of dried up.

Excess of cheese in this chapter. ;) Takes place after Jocelyn leaves Amatis' house to declare her mad, passionate love for Luke.

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"Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle." -- Amy Bloom

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Jocelyn had always thought that love was something that just happened. Absolute, spontaneous… unpredictable. Like a rose among a bed of weeds. She never imagined that effort was involved; that you would have to prune it, deadhead it, make sure that nothing else could touch it and poison its beauty.

Well. With Valentine, maybe it was like that.

"Luke!"

Jocelyn hurried down Amatis' front steps, skidding slightly on loose gravel. Nothing about Luke's appearance could have told you that he had fought a battle less than a week ago. He looked the same as he always had: the same unruly hair, greying slightly at the temples; the same practical jeans and flannel shirt; the very same Luke that Jocelyn had looked at for years and never seemed to see.

"Jocelyn?" He was standing at the end of the road, squinting against the sunlight; confusion was plastered across his face. Without breaking pace, Jocelyn pelted towards him.

"Luke," she repeated as she drew up level with him, smiling slightly at the sound of his name in her mouth. "Don't go. I mean, stay. Come home with - with me and Clary."

She hardly dared to glance up and look at what was written in his eyes - Luke had always had very expressive eyes - but when she did, all she saw was bleak resolution.

"I've made my decision." He shrugged, but it was too measured, too carefully nonchalant to be genuine. "I'm staying here. We need a werewolf on the council, remember?"

Guilt was gnawing at the pit of Jocelyn's stomach - what if Amatis had been wrong? What if Luke really did want to stay in Alicante? - but she raised her gaze to his and whispered, "Please?"

Something flickered in Luke's expression.

"Why?" he asked roughly, his voice gravel underfoot. There was a certain challenge in his tone.

"What?"

"Why do you want me to come back with you?"

Jocelyn chewed her lip. Only because you're everything I want - everything I've ever wanted, actually, but I was too blind and stupid to see it.

"Because - ah -"

And even though you're a million times too good for me and I absolutely don't deserve you…

"Because…"

… I love you, Luke.

"Because I - I need you," she finished, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Luke turned his gaze to the blue, blue sky and gave a mirthless laugh.

"You've been needing me," he spat, with something horribly like a sneer on his face, "for sixteen years. More, actually. And I've never asked anything of you."

"Luke…" Jocelyn could feel the familiar burning in the back of her throat that threatened a meltdown.

"But here you come" - Luke gestured wildly with his hands - "and ask me to give up my position in the Clave, because you need me. I would have thought that you could survive on your own by now, but apparently" - here, he laughed again - "you can't. And the worst thing is" - he broke off and ran a hand savagely through his hair - "the worst thing is, I'm going to do whatever you want, because I'm completely miserably in love with you."

Jocelyn stood, stunned, tears running unchecked down her face.

"I didn't realise that you felt that way," she said, her voice thick, monotonous.

Luke just glowered at her, looking as though he was ready to pick a fight with a troll just to spite her.

"I'm sorry," she tried, but his scowl simply turned up a notch in intensity.

"Is there anything else?" Luke asked tersely, folding his arms across his broad chest, and then Jocelyn lost track of what was happening other than that her arms were twined around his neck and her mouth was pressed up against his, and Luke was almost lifting her off her feet with his response. His hands were tentatively finding their way to her waist - her fingers were lacing through his hair - she was standing on tiptoe - and then it was all over too fast and Luke was gazing down at her with a mixture of hurt and longing and elation and pain.

"What was that?" he inquired, slightly breathlessly. He was still seemingly subconsciously holding onto Jocelyn's waist. "A pity kiss?"

"Did it feel like a pity kiss?"

"Well… no."

"Then, if I'm guessing," Jocelyn said, letting a grin creep across her face, "it meant that I love you too."

Luke beamed all over his face.