CHAPTER 8

"You're almost there, Clary, just one more push and then you have your baby." Maryse tells me as my mother and Jace let me squeeze their hands for dear life.

"Come on Clary, you can do this!" Jace encourages from right my right. I groan and push until the baby pops out. I wait, breathing heavily and slumping back against the pillows, for the cry my baby should give. Silence only responds to my hard work.

Just when I think it's over, another excruciating pain comes that gives me the feeling that I want to push again. I cry out to my mother and she quickly releases my hand and takes my baby off of Maryse. The woman at the end of the table checks me and looks up surprised.

"Clary, you're going to have to push again, you're having another baby."

I stutter, "W-What?" My words barely come out on a breath of air. "No, that can't be right."

"Well, Clary, it is and right now, you have to push."

"Clary, Clary, look at me." Jace says to me, drawing my attention to him. "You can do this, I know you, and I believe in you. You're one of the strongest women I've ever met."

***PAGE BREAK***

A soft wail fills the institute's infirmary as I slump back against the mountain of pillows. I see Jace begin to rub his hand, the one I had been squeezing. As I listen to my baby's cries, I try so hard to be happy but it is hard because my mind is on the other one, the one that was born as a stillborn.

When my baby is clean and handed to me, I can't help but break down into tears. Jace's arms encircle around me, holding me tight and letting my tears flow onto him. I turn my head into the crook of his neck which is just level with me because he's sitting in the chair by my bed. He kisses the top of my head and then our baby's forehead.

Even though I know the answer, I still have to ask. I look up at Maryse, who still stands a little ways off, with tear filled eyes. "The other one?" I can't help but have my voice filled with hope but when Maryse looks away, I know the answer even more. My other baby is dead. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

"Clary, don't put yourself through this…" Jace begins but I cut him off.

"Was it a boy or a girl?" I persist.

Maryse looks at me sadly. "It was a girl."

The tears just seem to fall harder and faster now. I pull the top of the blanket away from the baby in my arms and peer down. It's a boy, I have a son. "It's a boy." I tell Jace, trying for a small smile up at him, but the corners of my mouth just can't seem to go up.

"What are we going to name him?" Jace whispers into my ear. I shrug and hand him the baby boy. I want to sleep, I am going to sleep. "Clary?" He asks me confused and warily, swinging our baby gently to help him sleep.

"I want to sleep." I snap. Maryse scurries over and begins to remove the plastic and help me into some comfier clothes and ones that aren't covered with blood and sweat. I slip under the covers and turn to my side that no one is on, content with not seeing anyone. I stare out the window, the only window in the infirmary and just wish everyone would leave me alone.

After a while I close my eyes and pretend that I have two healthy babies, instead of just one of a twin set.

***PAGE BREAK***

Maryse left hours ago but Jace hasn't left my side, the baby asleep in his arms and I still lay, facing the wall.

"Clary…" Jace attempts for the hundredth time that evening. "Clary, come on, our son needs you."

My mouth remains clamped shut and my posture continues to be rigid. I don't want to talk, he should know that. I want to sleep but that seems far off. My eyes don't feel heavy from the lack of sleep I've been having, they feel clogged with tears that are still to fall.

Days and nights pass and my baby cries out for his mother, for the food that he needs from me but I haven't moved. A week passes and the only times I get up is to go to the bathroom.

Jace hasn't given up on me yet, he sits beside me every minute of every hour, nursing and taking care of the child I should be taking care of. He tries to coax me out of my depression, but nothing can seem to break me out of it.

I haven't eaten in days; my stomach grumbles desperately for food and my throat aches for the parchment it needs.

***PAGE BREAK***

It's weeks later when I hear the door open and then let the squeak of chairs and footsteps; and lastly the closing of a door.

"Clarissa…" a voice that is familiar drawls. I'm tempted to roll over and see the face of the warlock. I feel the springs in the bed squeak as Magnus takes a seat beside me on the edge of the mattress. "Clarissa, dear… you have grieved enough for your daughter, now you must come and take care of your living son."

Heat rose in my cheeks and I roll over to face him, anger visible in my eyes. He rose from the bed, allowing myself more room but at the sight of his face, I feel the tears that have been bottled up inside me for so long well up in my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks with chest racking sobs. "I don't know if I can…" I sobbed.

"Of course you can, Clary." Magnus sighs, rubbing his temples as if warding off an oncoming headache. "Look, I'm not a counsellor or anything like that, but I do know that every person who loves you will be with you every step of the way; especially Jace. You know, you're killing him. He's barely slept, just sat beside you trying to do all he can for your son; but now's it's your turn, now you have to get up and do what's right."

I roll onto my side, ignoring the rest of his words. He was right, I realise, I need to live for my son, I have to keep trying for my son. I may have lost one child but I still have one. I wait until I hear Magnus' retreating footsteps and wait until I hear more footfalls echo towards me; and lastly the scrape of a chair.

Rolling in the direction of the chair, I watch as Jace gazes down at his hands, where our baby would be but isn't. Fear circles through my body but all of my thoughts disappear once I see his appearance; dark circles and bags surrounding his eyes, his clothes hanging off of his shoulders.

"Jace…" I croak out as I push myself up into a sitting positionand watch as he jumps, his eyes snapping to me with such surprise and shock. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," I continue to repeat through strangled sobs. "I'm sorry, so very sorry." At first Jace just sits there in his chair, staring at me with the saddest of eyes before eventually reaching out to me and curling me in his arms. He pushes my head to his warm chest, where I hear his heart beating against my ear. He doesn't say anything, just holds me, listening to my muttered apologies.

I pull back looking into his golden eyes which look so burnt of light. "Jace?" I whisper hopelessly.

I reach out to touch his cheek but he pulls away and looks at me with hurt eyes. "Don't, just don't." He looks down at his hands and then back up into my eyes. His body is shaking and he looks like he's about to cry. I want to reach out to him and hold him, but I know better. "How could you?" his voice comes out in barely a whisper and I can't hold back the shudder that runs through the length of my body as I shut my eyes. "How could you just shut yourself off like that for a month? When our son needs you, when I need you? You didn't even try to get out of your rough patch until someone other than myself talked to you."

I couldn't help the disgust at myself that welled up inside me or the anger I felt towards him. "How could I?" I answer back, louder than I intended. He sits back shocked. "I carried her for eight months, I carried her for eight months and she died. I'm sorry if I couldn't cope but you have no idea what it feels like to carry a baby for that long and then give birth to it, only to find out its dead!" I am in tears again and Jace sits there, looking at me sadly.

"Except our son…"

I admit, I'm guilty about abandoning my son, but I couldn't help it, I just felt stuck in that place of grieving. "I know and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I—I—," Finally Jace allowed himself to comfort me properly, whispering apologies of his own.

"I'm sorry, I should have helped you more or I should have pressured you into going to see Magnus." I shake my head against his chest and feel tiredness weigh down on my eyelids. He must feel my muscles relaxing, for he gently pushes me back against the pillows and slips onto the narrow bed beside me, allowing me to use his chest as a pillow. Shortly my eyelids have slid closed and my breathing has become shallow.