Hello everybody! This is my attempt at any actual continueing story that is all my own unlike the joint one I am doing with my friend, so please don't hate. I'm not sure if this is going to work, though if you guys like it then I'll try best. :) I wrote this in the two hour car ride to Orlando from where we were staying in Florida, I'm back in cold and miserable Canada now. 8) So, I hope you enjoy? The inspiration was the song Return to me.

Oh yes... lost my thought... Shall I go to the disclaimer and see if I regain it? I REMEMBER! This is set after COG under new circumstance though. You'll see, I don't want to explain it here. Read and enjoy. :)

DISCLAIMER: So yeah, I don't own anything. :(

The sky stretched impossibly before me, blue acres spreading miles and miles. I took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air, closing my dusty eyelids to shield them from the sun. The sand twisted beneath my feet, morphing into new piles with every shift of my weight.

"Clare?"

I sighed, letting the ghostly smile that had been placed on my face fall. A familiar arm wound around my waist. It felt wrong there, as though my entire body was telling me to push it away. I didn't. Instead, I leaned back towards my boy friend of a year, not understanding the disappointment I felt at the alien arm.

"Clare-bear, why'd you come down here?" Will asked, running his hand up and down my cold arm.

"Um, I..." but the words would not come. I had been walking towards his house when I had felt a strong pull to the beach below it. Before I knew it I was scaling the rocks and scraping up my knees to just stand here on the sand.

"Whatever," He dismissed, a grin playing on his lips, "Do you want to take a walk or something?"

I nodded my head, swallowing back the feeling of familiarity that this place held. It looked like any other beach except for the fact it was smaller. There was just something about the water, the smooth mirror of water that drew me forward. In the rapidly setting sun, I felt the familiar tendrils of something in the pit of my stomach that I could not identify.

Ever since my mom and I had moved to the out skirts of California, I'd been plagued with these moments of tingling at the back of my mind. Just a few minutes where I could feel something screaming at me to remember it, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't. I never could.

I had tried to talk to my mom about it, but any time I mentioned the word 'remember' she got all white. I understood why she wanted to leave New York with Uncle Luke and everything that had happened between them. Then there was the fire at our apartment... I had guessed that was what she was talking about but it was just so weird.

Even weirder was the fact that she had suddenly loosened up with me going out all the time. Back in New York she'd barley let me go a block away but here? I could come in and out as I pleased. I gave up trying to talk about it though, she was happier here so I'd try.

Then I'd met Will, Zoe and her brother Christopher. Whenever I was near them I felt this trilling in my heart. They were nice and accepted me fondly, especially when Will and I started dating. It was natural. Yet, lately whenever Will would touch me I'd feel something that wasn't right. As if... he was doing it all wrong.

Then there were the dreams, but I didn't tell anyone about those.

"You excited to get back to school?" Will interrupted my thoughts, kicking at the loose pebbles on the beach aimlessly.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied robotically.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice waning on concern.

"Err, yeah! I'm just tired," I told him, guilt making me blush. I don't know what was with me lately. I felt bad about making him worry and no doubt that Zoe and Chris had also seen.

"We should probably get back, Zoe will kill us if we're late for the previews, I don't get her fascination with those," he smiled, shaking out his dark curls.

"What movie are we seeing again?" I inquired, as we veered towards the stairs up the cliff that I had some how missed.

"Some chick flick or other," he shrugged, chuckling at the push I gave him.

"You never did tell me, did you date anyone back in the big apple?" he asked, surprising me. I couldn't help but smile at the way he popped the p's.

I opened my mouth to answer and found nothing coming to mind except this odd feeling of excitement. I didn't know why, but my heart beat sped up at this feeling and I saw a brief flash of something unplaceable in my eyes. Gold.

"Clare?" he prodded, nudging me gently as we continued to climb. I felt a nice sort of burn in my calves that distracted me from the odd feeling.

"A few here and there, nothing serious," I answered slowly, trying not to think to much of my answer. It sounded completely fake, but Will was never payed enough attention to my words to know when I was lying. He had no reason to suspect I would so why should he be suspicious anyway? At least, that's what I told myself.

"Good," he smiled possessively, putting a hand around my waist and pulling me towards him.

I held back a grimace, plastering a smile on my face instead.

"And why is that good?" I challenged, feeling the familiar burning feeling in my heart that told me that this rebellion was right, good.

"Cause it means you're all mine, forever and always," he told me, kissing my temple roughly. I shivered, why did it feel so wrong?

"And you're mine right?" I asked weakly.

"For as long as I want to be," he said, making me grit my teeth.

Seeing my anger, he sighed before smacking his lips into mine.

That's when it hit me, that urge to pull away, that feeling that told me it was not right, not proper what we were doing. That moment where I saw the flash of gold in front of me and a sort of humming in my ears. I was suddenly very cold, though his arms surrounded me gently. I resisted these urges, not wanting to hurt the boy that held me.

I felt him pull back with an embarrassing smacking sound, before grinning triumphantly and shaking me a little with the hand that surrounded me. I bore with it, though inside my body was screaming. Some thing was seriously wrong with me.

* * *

"Hey Clare," Chris smiled, leaning over Zoe to smile kindly at me. I grinned back, popping a piece of pop corn into my mouth and holding back a grin at Zoe's annoyed glare. She held the pop corn away from my me, chastising both her brother and I for our decorum.

"You two are impossible," she breathed, giving up by bringing the pot of buttery goodness back onto her lap. I smiled as I took another mouth full.

"Where were you this evening anyway, Clare? I was calling you for advice on whether to wear my dark jeans or light," Zoe whispered, eyes accusing.

"Those look fine," I said in way of answer, nodding towards the ones she was wearing.

"Ugh, I thought coming from New York you'd have more of a fashion sense," she groaned, kicking up her heeled boots to rest on the chair in front of us.

The person that sat in that chair turned around angrily, but upon seeing her stern expression he backed down, sinking lower in his seat. Zoe muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously nasty before popping a single kernel in her mouth.

"Sorry Zo," I chuckled, sitting back in my seat.

"Do you like my new heels?" she asked, motioning towards her elevated feet.

"They look just like your other hundred of pairs Zoe," I rolled my eyes, searching the crowds for Will. He had gone out to get some licorice and hadn't returned.

Zoe mocked a gasp, huffing out, "These, my friend, are Prada,"

"Whatever Iz," I said, kicking her feet off of the poor boys feet so they landed with a thud on the ground.

"Iz?" she questioned, confusion evident in her voice.

I froze, just as the lights dimmed for the previews. Had I said Iz? I couldn't think of a reason for me doing so. I had no friends called Iz. Yet, it had slipped out.

"Never mind," I derailed, blushing a distinct shade of magenta. Zoe gave me an odd look before settling back.

I didn't even realize when Will took his seat beside me, sitting like a stature on the plush red chairs. The movie flew by, with my mind whirling. I was distracted only by the slight pressure on my hand. I glanced over and noted in surprise that Will had taken my hand in his.

Sensing my stares, he glanced towards me, holding out a piece of licorice as a silent offering. I shook my head, studying his face for something, anything that could explain my troubles. All I got by this was a feeling of deep unsettlement that I couldn't shake.

I barely noticed when the lights came back on and everyone stood up. The credits rolled and Zoe stood on her 'Prada' heels, stretching out her calves gradually.

"That was fun," she trilled and something made her voice sound strangely juvenile, "Clare-bear, you coming to hang out at our house?"

I shook my head, blaming it on not feeling well and saying I'd walk home when Will offered to drive. I couldn't do this, I felt like I'd be sick.

I pushed my way out of the theater and into the air, feeling the hum in my ears getting louder and louder until I was overtaken when it turned to voices.

"You have no fashion sense at all Clary, these are Jimmy Choo's," "Jimmy who's?" There was a round of laughter at this comment. I froze though, not feeling the same enjoyment as the people in my memory had. Wait, my memory. Had this really happened? I didn't remember the voices at all. The soft feminine one that had chastised me and the shy male one with the similar tone. And Clary? I hadn't been called that for years. In fact, I hated that name and had some how burst into tears the last time my mom had used it when we moved to California.

I was probably just imagining things, maybe I was coming down with something.

* * *

Our new house was gorgeous. It was the perfect side to be big enough to house us but small enough to be cozy. I had begged my mother to put us beach side when she had said we were moving, so the lapping sounds of waves often lulled me to sleep.

I hopped up the three steps of the porch, pushing open the screen door. I didn't have to unlock the doors, whenever one of us was home we just left the door open and shut the screen one. We both enjoyed the sea air enough for it to be a common agreement.

"Clarissa, is that you?" my mother called.

"Who else mom?" I yelled back, my voice tired.

My mom popped her head out of the kitchen doorway, her scarlet locks piled on top of each other messily and new frown lines on the corners of her mouth. She had plastered a smile on her face now though, it obviously fake to my eyes.

"How was your day, honey?" she asked, motioning me into the kitchen.

"It was fine," I muttered absently, plopping down to sit on one of the chairs.

"How is Will and the group?" she inquired, busying herself with the dishes. The kitchen hadn't come with a dishwasher and my mom, wanting to preserve the character of the place hadn't installed one. I just though we didn't have the money but she'd never admit that.

"They're fine," I said, playing with the hem of my tank top.

My mom huffed, annoyed at the lack of information she was getting out of me. I sighed, letting my busy hands fall still in my lap.

"Did you paint anything new?" I asked finally, glad that she smiled at my question.

"Yes actually, would you like to see it?"

I nodded, watching as she turned to fetch her canvas out of the studio she had set up outside. I already new she had painted something new by the splatters of orange on her cheeks and hands. Or the look of calmness on her face. It was nice that she would show this one to me though, lately whenever I asked she would get weird about it and tell me that it was private. Then why was she selling it, huh?

There was a brief moment before my mom came back in that I felt everything go back to normal. I breathed out, letting a small smile play at my lips. Nothing in this room reminded me of this past life or those two voices. The square table fit perfectly into the nook in the wall and the heavily cushioned seats were as comfortable as anything. There was the faint cent of the ocean in the air as well as the fluttering of curtains as the breeze flew through the window. The cupboards were all old and squeaked when you opened them as well as smelling suspiciously like cigarettes and the floor was tiled in cheesy bright colors. I grinned at the normality just as my mother walked in, her art facing towards me.

"A sunset?" I asked warily, regarding the painting. It was beautiful, as was all my mom's work, but it wasn't anything special. Her face fell a little bit, though it wasn't that bad. It was just such an easy thing to paint and unlike her work at home, it didn't hold that part of her inside of it. There was just something missing!

"What's wrong with a sunset?" she coaxed, her voice annoyed.

"Well..." I began, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, "It's beautiful, really... it's just you always would smirk when you saw painting of sunsets cause you say it was so easy and used. You used to hate them, mom, so I just assumed you would never paint one that's so... california. Plus, what about all those landscapes at home? They were original and beautiful mom, from your old home?"

She didn't look hurt by my comments only stiff. She glanced down at her work, regarding the beach sand that was just visible at the bottom.

"Opinions change, Clary," she murmured, her voice hard.

"Don't call me that," I warned.

She sighed, setting the painting to lean against one of the cupboards. She had a wary set to her shoulders and an almost stiff sort of jolt when she walked to sit across from me at the table.

"I don't suppose you want any dinner?" She finally breathed, her eyes still troubled by my reaction.

"No," I replied, my voice strangely distant, I saw her look up at me with a pale face.

"Hon," she whispered, pulling one of my hands in both of hers. I watch as pieces of her hair fell from it's clutch, making her look oddly younger as they blocked her face. I sighed and met her eyes, noticing once again how similar they were.

"I'm tired mom," I told her defeatedly.

I watched as my mom just nodded, her face resigned. She stood up, not offering the picture in the corner of the room a second glance, and walked out. Her bare feet left small prints on the linoleum.

I could almost hear the breeze through the window as the silence weighed in. I massaged my temples warily, pulling at strands of hair with desperation. What was I missing?

I was past desperate this time, I felt almost need at the core of my stomach which bothered me even more. There was something there, just past my reach. Groaning, I set my head in my hands, angry at myself for being daft enough to not remember some thing so important.

If only I concentrated hard enough, if only I was smarter then I was. If only, if only. Why were there so many if only's? Feeling angry, I flung my arms out savagely and scattered the basket of fruit on the table across the floor.

There was a series of thumps until all was quiet again, only my hitched breathing being heard. Why was I breathing so rapidly? A single green apple had rolled towards me. Unconsciously, I gripped one of my pale hands around it, my fingers almost meeting at it's slimness.

I brought it up and took a measuring bite, feeling the juice run down my tongue and touch my lips. Then the scent took me. And once again, the humming turned into voices.

"Happy birthday Clarissa Fray,"

My eyes snapped open though I hadn't realized they were closed. Deep shudders ran down my spine and I felt tears lick at my cheeks almost hungrily. I could only stare at the single bite in the apple as it rolled off the table, having fell out of my limp hands.

I had no idea why I was reacting like this, maybe I was going crazy but that voice... another voice threatened to pull at my memories, something dark and foreboding. Scared, I almost tripped on my seat to stand up, as if the memory was in front of me and I had to get away.

"My daughter,"

I hadn't realized I had screamed until I found my mother running to stand before me.

"What Clary? What's wrong?" she demanded, her voice determined.

"The voices," I managed to shock out, realizing I sounded just as crazy as I felt. Yet, my mother didn't accuse me of making it up or of going insane, instead her face turned white and her eyes wide.

"You're just imagining it," she whispered, pushing me towards the open door of my room, "go to bed,"

I stared as my mother turned into the kitchen and sat down, setting her head in her hands. What was happening to me?

I remembered some thing else to tell you wonderful readers. I have the next couple chapter written but if you have any suggestions feel free to either message me or put it in the review. :)

It would be really awesome if you reviewed, it makes my day every time some one does and since I've prayed to always review on a fanfic I read, it would be fair. 8) So read and review please! Even if you don't like it, I want to know what's wrong!

Ciao, Charlotte