A/N: This is kind of just an idea I kind of wanted to try. I don't know if people will read it, but I'm curious. Let me know what you think.

a/n2: I'm editing each chapter for grammar so bear with me.

Nowhere to Run

Chapter 1

She was going to die.

Clary had had that thought countless times before in her life and she'd faced each time with the grim certainty that came from having nothing really to live for, but this time the thought only filled with her with fear.

She didn't want to die.

That one was a first.

She brought her knees closer to her chest in the hope that perhaps some of her remaining body heat would stave off the chill that would prove to be her unmaker, but she knew it was a weak attempt. The midnight bus wasn't coming, as the man who'd sold her the ticket warned her it might not, and she had no money with which to rent a room at the local inn. She could have maybe thrown herself at the feet of the owner, but the world had taught her that to make oneself powerless to another was to drive the nail into one's own coffin.

Despite all of her father's tendencies which she'd steadfastly avoided, his aversion to weakness had stuck.

And because of that fact, this freezing wooden bench would be her grave.

Her cat Simon mewed impatiently from her bag and she considered opening it so that he could go on as a stray after her death, but she'd learned from several attempts to allow the cat its freedom from her circumstances that he was unfailingly loyal. So she kept the bag zipped and only hoped that whoever discovered her body checked for him and cared for him in a way that she'd never been able.

It was ironic actually, how anticlimactic her death would be. She'd spent much of her life bleeding out and begging for death in spectacular ways, so the idea of quietly freezing to death, nameless in a town in which she was no one, was depressing.

Her mind rebelled against a death so unremarkable, but she could see that her fingers had turned blue and had lost feeling in her legs long ago. Try as she might, she knew that, eventually, she would succumb to the fatigue that hovered at the edge of her consciousness, slowly eating away at her willpower.

She would've cried if she hadn't been so against it. She would've screamed if she'd thought it'd have made a difference. She would've done anything if she hadn't been so sure she'd die. So instead she'd settle for a quiet, noble death despite how her body raged against her denial of her most basic instinct of survival.

Clary shut her eyes for a moment and rubbed her numb hands against her numb legs in the distant hope that the concept of friction would be enough to save her life before opening her eyes to the dark again. The brief reprieve would be all that she'd allow before her body stepped in and made the decision for her. Her thin, ratty jeans coupled with a holey t-shirt covered only by an ineffective black sweatshirt was ill-equipped to protect her from the effect of her decisions, but she didn't regret those decisions. Not even the one to linger in a place that held nothing for her until the last possible, unreliable moment. Even if she hadn't lingered, she would've met a similar end. She had no more money and she was too scared to stop in any one place long enough to get a job and make more money. This was inevitable and she wouldn't begrudge herself the small joy she'd taken at her own expense.

She'd decided to linger and, to an extent, to die because she'd seen a cute guy.

Clary had been wandering around the town and trying to figure out where the nearest bus stop was when she'd spotted two of the most stunning gold eyes she'd ever seen. The eyes were attached to a gorgeous face and a beautiful body that resulted in an absolutely breathtaking figure of a man.

She'd spotted him when she was passing by the front window of an establishment called "Lightwood Café" while he was picking up an order and talking to the older woman who worked at the retro bar separating the dining room from the kitchen. Clary had been walking by, looking into the diner disinterestedly when she'd seen his handsome profile. She'd slowed her pace slightly, taking in the tanned skin, golden wavy hair, and angular jaw with mild appreciation and fully intended to move on. The woman at the bar laughed, causing the man to smirk pleasantly and turn his head so that he was looking in her direction distractedly.

Then they locked eyes and she literally stopped walking to stare at him. To her credit, he at least seemed similarly transfixed and the amusement that had dominated his face was replaced with obvious confusion. He tilted his head slightly to the side and furrowed his brow as he studied her. Meanwhile, she just stood there, by the window, gawking at this man like an idiot. She knew she should keep moving, but, for once in her life, she didn't want to go anywhere. She was trapped by his heavy stare and didn't give a damn about trying to get out of it.

He moved to stand and Clary felt her body tense, certain that he was coming to talk to her. Should she go inside? Ask for his name? Could she walk in there and introduce herself coyly? Could she laugh at his jokes and place her hand on his arm like any normal girl could? Could she walk in there and pretend that she was just a normal girl?

She'd never been able to have moments like that. If she saw a handsome man in a diner, she didn't think twice before bowing her head and making herself invisible. She didn't think she was capable of anything more, but in that moment she knew she could try. It was the first time the reason she'd run seemed incredibly obvious and fulfilling.

It was the first time genuine hope bloomed in her chest.

The woman behind the bar said something, causing the man to turn his head, freeing her from his eyes. She immediately snapped out of her stupor and stepped out of sight to avoid confrontation, with the knowledge that any conversation with him would be a waste and that she certainly didn't need something pulling her here.

Clary wasn't far away enough yet.

But the hope didn't fade. Though she avoided being seen by him, she kept an eye out for a streak of gold as she walked around town, relishing in the jolt of electricity that rocketed through her whenever she saw him as well as the reminder that she could one day have the freedom to have him, even if she left him behind while she pursued it.

So she'd missed all of the other buses and the hope she'd discovered had come too late.

She felt her eyes drifting shut and tried to push herself to her feet to prolong the inevitable. Pushing off of the bench, she attempted to put weight on her numb legs, only to fall over from the effort, her physical weight betraying none of the strength her spirit possessed.

That was when she heard it.

A sneeze.

Her body tensed as she realized that she wasn't alone and all of her senses were on alert. Simon mewed anxiously from her bag and she could hear him scratching at the zipper of the bag in an effort to get out and defend her.

She pushed herself into the seated position with her lifeless arms and struggled to her feet, perhaps in the hope that her frozen 5'2 form would intimidate whoever had made the sound, only to collapse in an undignified heap on the ground for the second time that day.

She scanned the dark area, illuminated by a gas lamp directly behind her that only showed the area directly in front of her, but couldn't find the source of the sound. She let out a sigh and felt her fear evaporate. She was far more comfortable in situations like this. People. Those she could deal with and anticipate. The cruelty of people was something with which she was far too familiar.

Fearlessly, and probably foolishly, she called out, "I heard you. If you're out there, show yourself so that we can get this over with."

She heard a sort of shuffling and the sound of someone clearing their throat awkwardly before she finally heard footsteps and came face to face with a pair of familiar golden eyes.