Haven

I'm gonna drive so fast
I can only drive so far
Gonna lay my bricks
And park my car
Gonna sow my seeds somewhere
But home is where you are.

-Eli Young Band
(Home)

"Haven't you upset her enough?" a cool voice asked from the door way, regarding the expression the man had on his face through the window's reflection.

The man didn't seem to have heard him. His face was a blank canvas, showing absolutely nothing.

"I didn't upset her," he replied after a moment, his eyes looking out the window, watching the red head sitting on the swing.

"You sure about that?" the other man asked, coming to stand beside him.

Below, in the back yard, Clary sat on the children's swing, her head tilted down and her hand folded neatly in her lap.

"Yes," Jace said. "This wasn't my fault."

Simon glanced at the blonde. "It wasn't hers either."

"I know— it wasn't anyone's fault: it just happened," he sighed, running a hand through his golden hair, his wedding ring glinting under the sunlight. "She's heartbroken," he added, sounding as though he was only speaking to himself, "and there's nothing I can do to fix it."

"You can—" Simon started but Jace cut him off with a humorless laugh.

"I've tried everything. It's like she's given up on everything. I don't even think she wants to be alive anymore."

"Jace—"

"I don't blame her. It's hard enough for me, but with Jocelyn and then . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, knowing it would only chip off another piece of his broken heart.

"You should be with her," Simon said quietly.

"I would," Jace said, almost casually, but the look in his eyes was forced and angry. "But she can't stand the sight of me."

"That's not true."

"I've tried everything," Jace said again. "She doesn't speak to me anymore. I can't imagine her loving me anymore. You should go see her, she needs a friendly face."

"You have to keep trying."

Jace shook his head. "I've been trying for months. I'm exhausted."

"She'll get better."

Jace's eyes clouded— the only hint to what he was feeling was much worse than Simon knew.

"Not at this rate," he muttered, pressing his hand to the window, the cold November air seeping into his skin.

"She will, in time."

"I can't do it anymore."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Simon asked, almost incredulously.

"It means I'm tired Simon. I can't love a woman who doesn't—can't love me back."

"She does," Simon insisted.

Jace's face didn't change and he didn't answer; his face still expressionless. His mind was set and nothing Simon said would change it.

….

Clary stood in the kitchen, staring out the window at the play set. It looked so alone, the swings swaying in the wind, the trees barren.

She scrubbed at the dishes, trying to get every last piece of dirt off. She tore her eyes back to the task at hand and forced her to close the curtains so she couldn't see out the window.

She had to fight her depression and she was going to be dammed if she let it in anymore. She had been upset and angry long enough and now she was just hurting the people around her.

But it was so hard. It took her everything to get up in the morning— to start a day.

Everyone had given up on helping her long ago. Even Jace, her sweet, patient Jace had given up. She didn't blame him— who could love a mess like herself?

She was trying to pull it together but the whole day was a struggle and she often thought about how much easier it would be to just let go of it all. For one day, just to not wake up.

But she couldn't do that, not to Jace. Even if he had given up on her. He worked more, she couldn't remember the last time they said more than three words to each other. She was certain he had found someone else, and was just sticking around so that she didn't try to kill herself. Because, in all honesty, he was all she had left and she wouldn't be able to cope if he left her too. She wished she could tell him how much he meant to her, wished she could tell him that she still loved him. But she could never find the words and her voice was just lost every time she saw his golden eyes.

"We can try again," his voice echoed in her head, bringing shivers to her skin. She had screamed at him when he had said that, it had upset her more then she could imagine. But now that she remembered it she couldn't help but find the words comforting.

After she finished washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen until it was pristine, she found a box of dried cookie batter lodge in the back of the fridge. She began to make it, only to keep her mind busy, as she so often did these days.

But once she found the cookie cutters she just lost it. Her mind completely shutting down. She didn't want to make cookies because that would have been something she had done with her baby. Her sweet baby girl who had been had been a still born.

She thrashed the flour around, making a complete mess; defeating the purpose she had done of cleaning it earlier. She threw the tray on the floor, disgusted and sank back against the counter her head in her hands.

She started to sob, the loss of her baby hitting her again, as fresh and real as it had the first time. Tears streaked down her face down onto her hands as she ripped the apron off of her, throwing it across the room. And as she did, it landed in the doorway, right on top of her husband's sneakers. She didn't look at him, instead keeping her face in her hands. He had just gotten back from a run, his blue t-shirt sticking to his chest with sweat, wearing a black pair of running shorts, a water bottle in his hand.

"Clary?" he asked, setting his bottle down on the kitchen table, taking in the mess before him. Flour was spewed everywhere, all over the kitchen, all over her. Uncooked cookies lay on the floor, the dough splattered across the cabinets and floor. "Clary?" he asked again, stepping towards his crying wife.

She didn't answer, just continued to sob into her hands as she thought about her unborn child whose eyes were inhumanly open as a baby, the same golden hue as her husband's.

Jace sighed, it wasn't the first time it had happened. He knew if he tried to comfort her she would scream and push him off. But he had to try, because he couldn't stand her being there by herself, thinking she was alone.

"Clary," he said again, coming close to her and sitting next to her, both their back pressed against the counter. She again, didn't say anything. He hesitantly put his arm around her, trying to coax her into his side.

She grunted but didn't say anything, actually surprising him. He had expected her to push him away, like every other time he had tried to comfort her. She leaned into him, burying her tear stained face in his chest. He held her tight, until her tears slowed, and the little gasps subsided, until both of them were holding on to each other, the silence surrounding them.

"Clary?" he asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

Shakily, she nodded, pushing herself away from him, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, and scooted away. "I didn't mean . . ."

"Clare," he said, and reached out for her, holding her face. "Don't—"

"Jace," she mumbled, her lips speaking his name for the first time in a long while. "Don't . . . don't leave me."

"Of course not," he mumbled, pulling her back into his arms. "I would never leave you Clary."

"Yes you would," she replied. "I wouldn't blame you," she said. "If you did, it's understandable"

"Don't say that."

"I do. I mean, who could love a mess like me?" she said. "I'm a crazy bitch."

He almost wanted to laugh. He hadn't heard her use such sarcasm and bitterness in so long that it was a relief to him to hear any emotion.

"You are not."

"I am. I am completely crazy Jace. I understand why you don't love me anymore. But please don't leave me, I don't think I could take it."

"Clary, I do love you."

"You don't have to say that," she muttered and got to her feet. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. "I'll be okay."

He felt guilty for not trying here for the past couple of weeks. He should have never given up on her.

"Clary," he said, his voices a caress, making her, for one second, feel as though everything was okay. "I love you."

"Jace—"

"I love you, even if you are crazy, even though you aren't," he said, and wrapped her back in his arms, holding her tight so she couldn't even thing about trying to get out.

"I am," she muttered again. "I'm awful."

"You've had a tough time. But you've got me. I swear on the Angel I'm not going to ever leave you."

She found so much comfort in his words. "You're everything to me," she said to him.

He smiled as she slipped her arms around his waist, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

"You're everything to me too," he said. "We're going to get through this."

She nodded against his chest; the relief in her heart was enormous. It was the first time she had considered not dealing with pain by herself. Jace would help her, she would be okay again.

"Jace." she started.

He looked down as he green eyes that had been lifeless for so long but were now glinting with a spark of hope.

"Yes."

She inhaled slowly. "I want to try again."

At first he was confused, unsure of what exactly she meant.

But then it hit him like a ton of bricks. "For another baby."

The word baby was hard to hear but she swallowed and nodded. "Please."

"Are you sure—"

She nodded quickly, cutting him off. "Yes. I need to. . . I need to get past this. I can't keep holding on to this pain."

He nodded understandingly. "We'll try again," he confirmed, and leaned down, kissing her softly.

"I missed you," he muttered, his mouth against her skin.

She felt her eyes water and the sincerity behind his words. "I missed me too," she said. "And you."

He smiled. "We're going to be okay."

She nodded, her face brave. "Yes we will."

And they would be.

….

One Year Later

"Clary, where did—?"

"Shh!" she said from the nursery, a baby tucked away in her arms.

"Oh," he said as he entered the room. The child was small, his blonde hair in tiny tuffs on his tiny head. "How long have you been up?" he whispered.

She shook her head, "not long. Ten minutes lately."

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "It scares me when I wake up and you aren't there."

She laughed quietly. "Where did you think I'd go?"

She felt him shake his head. "Several things. That you left me—"

"—wouldn't happen."

"— or that someone took you from me."

"Jace," she said. "No one is going to take me from you."

He chuckled quietly. "Promise?"

She nodded. "Of course."

The little baby boy in her arms stirred, his head lolling over to the other side.

"Was he crying?"

"No," she said. "I just wanted to check on him."

"Figures," he muttered.

"You think someone is going to take me, I'm worried someone is going to take our baby."

"Babe," he said. "This room is completely kidnapper proofed."

She smiled. "I know."

"You know I knew he wouldn't have been crying, I'm always first to wake up if he does."

She elbowed him in the stomach. "Not true."

He nodded. "It is. You sleep like a log."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever Jace."

"Come on Mommy," he said to her. "But baby Jace back to bed."

"Why do you call him that?"

"Cause he's a miniature copy of me."

"His name is not baby Jace, or Jace junior."

"He wishes it was, but his mom was being really stubborn about naming him."

"His name is Lucas, and it is going to stay that way," she said. "My son is not going to have the same ego as you Jace Lightwood."

"Whatever, as long as he isn't a ginger."

She rolled her eyes again and set her little boy back in his crib. "Shut up."

He smirked at her as he turned around.

"I love you."

She smiled at him, at briefly touched her lips to his. "Love you too."

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BUT PLOT.

AN: OK, so my second MI fic. I know it was a little heavy but I was inspired after I ready a OTH story. I hope everyone liked it :)
Lemme know whatcha think :)

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