The Angel-Blooded One (Shadowhunters ff)

14 - The Homecoming

Jace

The sterile white of the Institute infirmary felt like a constant thrumming headache. His entire world had narrowed to the gentle rise and fall of Clary's chest beneath the starched white sheets. Seven days. It had been seven days since he'd held her unconscious form in his arms on the shore of Lake Lyn. Now she lay on the hospital bed, a heartbreaking stillness replacing her usual vibrancy. The fiery red hair, usually a defiant flame, now fanned out across the pillow like a fallen banner.

Each sunrise brought a flicker of hope, a fragile ember struggling against the encroaching darkness. Each sunset extinguished it with a deepening chill, the shadows lengthening on the walls. People had come and gone, their worried faces a constant blur. Luke, his weathered face etched with worry, had been a constant presence. Izzy, her eyes red-rimmed from tears, sitting next to the bed, holding Clary's hand. Even Simon, ever the optimist, had grown quiet, his usual playful banter replaced by a somber silence.

There had been others too. A flicker of blue light one evening, and there stood a bewildered and slightly irate-looking Oskar. But his stay had been brief, a whirlwind of hushed conversations with Alec and Magnus before disappearing to Idris, the burden of explaining his two-decade absence a heavy price for his visit.

Jace had barely acknowledged any of them. He didn't need sleep, didn't need food. All he craved was for Clary to open her eyes, to look at him with that stubborn glint that always ignited a spark of warmth in his chest.

He traced the black rune on her collarbone with a numb fingertip. It was a constant reminder of the bizarre turn of events at Lake Lyn. The doctors, after a battery of tests that yielded nothing but exasperated frowns, had found nothing physically wrong with her. Though, in truth, Jace doubted they even knew what they were looking for. He and the others had concocted a convenient lie, claiming they'd found Clary collapsed from exhaustion on the beach.

The truth, the part where Clary had descended from the sky like a radiant warrior, wings shimmering and armor gleaming, was too unbelievable, too world-shattering to share. The memory of it played on a loop in Jace's mind, a fantastical scene contradicting with the harsh reality of her stillness.

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye pulled him back to the present. The infirmary door creaked open, and Alec entered, his eyes heavy with concern. Jace offered a curt nod, his gaze never leaving Clary's face. Another day, another sunrise painted in shades of worry. He would wait. He had to. The unwavering set of his jaw was a silent promise, a vow etched in the depths of his own despair. He wouldn't let her go. Not again. Not ever.

***

 Clary

The world swam into focus, blurry shapes coalescing into the sterile white of the infirmary. lary blinked, a wave of disorientation washing over her and a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. The scratchy fabric against her skin felt unfamiliar, the thin sheet barely a shield against the oppressively warm blanket. She was in the Institute infirmary, the familiar setting a jarring contrast to the last thing she remembered – Gabriel's gentle voice, a blinding light, and... heaven? A confused frown creased her forehead.

A quiet groan came from beside her. Her gaze darted, landing on Jace slumped in a chair by the bed. His golden hair, usually meticulously styled, was a tangled mess. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes, yet a semblance of peace rested on his usually tense features. He was sleeping, and the sight of him so vulnerable, so different from his usual arrogant demeanor, sent a pang through her heart.

He looked older somehow, lines etched around his eyes that hadn't been there before. But it wasn't just his physical appearance. There was a certain weariness in him that spoke of a burden far heavier than a few sleepless nights. Though that didn't surprise her. It had been a long year and sometimes she barely recognized the woman staring back from the mirror.

He stirred in his sleep, and Clary held her breath, afraid to disturb him. While she couldn't wait to hear his voice again, a knot of worry tightened in her stomach. Would he still love who she was today, forever changed? And would she love the person he had become in her absence?

Looking at the boy next to her, a ghost of the Jace she once knew, Clary was sure about the latter. There was nothing in this world that could stop her from loving him. No matter how confused and empty she had felt at that alley behind the art gallery when she had walked away, that feeling was a distant echo compared to the fierce love that burned within her. It was the former she was nervous about.

Jace stirred again, a flicker of movement beneath his eyelids. Clary's heart fluttered, a silent prayer forming on her lips. Slowly, his eyes opened, and when they landed on her, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them. His gaze locked onto hers, his eyes swirling with a mix of emotions. Relief, a raw and desperate kind, flooded his face first, quickly followed by a flicker of fear.

"Clary?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with disbelief and a desperate need for confirmation.

"Yeah," she said, tears welling in her eyes.

He reached out a hand, then hesitated, his fingers hovering over hers for a moment before gently closing around them. The touch was tentative, almost reverent, as if afraid she might shatter. A wry smile tugged at the corner of Clary's lips at the sight of his uncharacteristic nervousness.

"Hey," she said, reaching out with her free hand to touch his face. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips felt like a homecoming. A smile, both hesitant and relieved, bloomed on his lips, and a shimmer of tears glistened in his eyes. They stayed like that for a long while. Clary drank him in, this Jace etched with worry lines and weariness. His gaze kept flickering from her eyes, down to their intertwined fingers, and back again, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He seemed on the verge of saying something, the words catching in his throat. Clary met his gaze with a loving smile. "Is the great Jace Herondale feeling a little... insecure?" she teased gently.

A flicker of a wry smile played on his lips. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "It's not every day you see your girlfriend return... as an angel." He raised his eyes to meet hers, a hint of awe mingling with the relief in their depths.

Clary felt a blush creeping up her neck. "Is that your pick-up line now?" she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Actually," Jace said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "it's the first time I've ever needed one." He looked at her with such raw love and longing that it ripped through the haze of her memories, unleashing a torrent of emotions. The desperation, the loneliness, the yearning for something she didn't even know was missing washed over her.

Driven by a fierce need for connection, Clary moved her hand to his neck and gently pulled him closer. Their lips met in a kiss that spoke of a love that had endured separation, a kiss fueled by the desperate fear of losing each other again. It was a kiss that held the weight of a year's longing, a desperate attempt to reclaim all the stolen moments.

He shifted, letting her pull him to the bed. His left arm braced beside her head, his right hand tracing a path down her body. It was as if he needed to map every inch of her, to confirm that she was truly there. He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching her face.

"I love you," he said, leaning in again, this time placing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

Tears welled up in Clary's eyes. "I love you too," she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly. "Always."