White Scars, White Lies and Valentine

By: Shannon Catori

This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I just love TMI and TID so much that I had to write a little something. Cassandra Clare has a brilliant mind and a magnificent way with words. All the characters mentioned in my story belong to her. This scene is from CoB from the chapter "Shadowhunter" written from Jocelyn's POV when Valentine storms into her apartment and Jocelyn drinks the potion. Enjoy! Feedback is humbly appreciated.

Jocelyn paced the floor several times over, anxiously chewing on her thumbnail. Luke had stormed off and so had Clary. All Jocelyn wanted to do was protect them from what she knew wasn't too far away. It wasn't paranoia, it was the truth and as much as Luke wanted to pretend that there was no threat to any of them, she knew in her heart that he was consciously deluding himself. Shaking off her thoughts, Jocelyn picked up the phone that sat on the table by the front door. She had already called Clary once but there was no answer. She was about to call again and crossed her fingers that this time would be different. The phone rang again and again and finally went to voicemail. Jocelyn sighed; feeling defeated and left a message. She hung up the phone and continued to pace back and forth. What else was there to do? Pack, maybe?

The windows flew open accompanied by a loud banging sound. The cold night air came rushing into the living room, carrying the sickening scent of garbage and rotting flesh. Jocelyn gasped, a panic stricken sound "He's found me," she whispered to herself, frozen with fear as the cold air surrounded her. It was much too cold—unnaturally cold—for a summer night it reeked of dark magic. She knew he'd never stop searching for her. When you think you own something, you whole-heartedly believe that you are entitled to hunt it down and when you find it, it's like euphoria.

"Valentine is coming!" she'd heard many Downworlders say. She tried desperately to stay away from that world, from the life she lived as Jocelyn Fairchild, but remained close enough to hear any news that may possibly involve the man she despised. She had loved him once, but that love was gone, replaced with anger, loss and pain. "Jonathan," she clutched at her overalls over her heart. "Clary!" Jocelyn's heart tightened, her breath ragged as she quickly grabbed for the phone, fighting against the forceful wind that was tearing apart the inside of her home. "Valentine is coming!" The whispered warnings of Downworlders seemed to echo throughout the apartment, bouncing from wall to wall. Such theatrics, she thought with the taste of disgust stinging her mouth. With the phone in her hand, Jocelyn stretched the long cord as far as it could go and scrambled to find the small bottle filled with the lavender colour liquid that would save both hers and Clary's lives, Luke's too, she hoped. She hastily dialed Clary's number again and impatiently waited for the call to connect.

Jocelyn knew that Clary was still upset about the pending summer plans. If only somehow she could have made Clary understand. But how? It didn't matter anyway, it was too late for explanations, Valentine was already coming. The strong smell of demons and the Forsaken grew stronger as the call went to voicemail again. Jocelyn quickly hung up and pressed redial. The call connected and Clary's voice was on the other line. "Mom?" Jocelyn knew her time was drawing near, everything was happening so fast, but she was not afraid anymore. She would not allow Valentine to frighten her, not after everything he had put her through. She had escaped from his clutches before and now she would do it again.

She opened the small bottle, closed her eyes and swallowed the lavender coloured liquid in one single gulp. The taste of dreams, sleep and spaces in between filled her mouth. She did not know it would take effect so quickly. Jocelyn hurried to speak to Clary, her final parting words to her daughter were not what she had intended. She wanted to tell Clary to be strong because there were so many hidden powers and talents that she possessed. She wanted to tell Clary not to worry and that they would be together again soon, one day, when the storm that was brewing was all over. She wanted to tell Clary not to be stubborn and come back to the house anyway, even though she had just been given strict instructions not to. But most of all, she wanted to tell Clary that she held all the answers, but at the same time, Jocelyn wanted to beg her daughter not to get involved, a contradiction she realized, a major flaw in her plan. She had always thought it was a good one, a perfect last resort if they couldn't get away in time, but in that moment of being in a half dreaming state, she realized that by doing what she had just done, by swallowing the potion, she had thrown her daughter into the middle of a world she tried so hard to keep her apart from.

Her legs grew heavy, the sleep crawled up her spine and spread down her arms. She collapsed to the floor as the phone freeing from her grip, hung idly off the table. Jocelyn lay frozen on the floor in the hallway, watching the phone swing slowly, just like a pendulum, as she waited for the potion to consume her entirely. The front door flew open with enough potency to splinter the wood. Weighted footsteps crossed the floor to where she laid limp and vulnerable. "Luke," she whispered to herself—she knew it wasn't him, but she desperately wanted Luke to be her final waking memory—as heavy black boots emerged in front of her. The thick muscular legs, covered by the familiar dense, black material of the Shadowhunter gear, bent and Jocelyn closed her eyes. She refused to look at his face, she refused to say his name or acknowledge his presence, as he crouched down in front of her. She thought of only Clary and Luke. As she saw them at Luke's house in the tranquil country, Jocelyn knew that she was asleep. Yet, she could still feel the world around her, both wrapped in a dream and pulled to the surface of reality. The loose strands of hair that fell freely from her penciled pin-up were pushed away from her face. His large fingers brushed her forehead sending icy chills throughout her body and inside of herself she recoiled from his touch.

"Jocelyn, my dear, how lovely to see you," he said. She could hear the sinister smile in his voice. "I didn't expect to meet you like this…" he trailed off. "I know you have it and I will find it, with or without your help," he exhaled loudly as his heavy footsteps circled around her. All around, she could hear her apartment being torn apart. There were dishes crashing to the ground in the kitchen, shattering into hundreds of pieces, drawers flying open, knives and forks and spoons clattering together under the force. From a distance, she could hear the couch being dragged across the floor, the sound of fabric shredding, the stench of sulphur filling the air and the most unsettling sound, a deep guttural laughter close by. A Ravener demon, she had no doubt about it. She dealt with enough of them in her lifetime. Its thick scaly body slithered across the floor and it hovered its sickening breath on Jocelyn's face. It chuckled from deep within its throat, "To tear apart, like cushions of couch, to eat, oh, to eat the flesh and lick, to lick the bones and crunch…"

The sun is shining brightly in the sky, silhouetting the farmhouse up on the small hill. Jocelyn sits behind an easel in the shade, created by the house. Clary and Luke lie on their backs side by side, a short distance away with their heads touching as they look up at the sky. Luke's arm extends skyward, he points and Clary turns her head from side to side, trying to see what he sees. She laughs and the soft breeze carries the sound toward Jocelyn. Jocelyn smiles as she watches the two people that she loves most in the world. She paints them on her canvas. She watches Luke in awe, she's never seen him this way. He looks exactly the same in his old grey T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his glasses pushed up on his head holding back his hair. He looks identical and yet completely different. He's been such a good father to Clary, so good that Clary's never really had to question Jocelyn about the death of her father. Luke filled in all those gaps and Clary's life had been enriched because of him.

"Enough!" His voice filled the windy room with anger and frustration. The Ravener slithered away, buzzing to itself in disappointment. "Jocelyn! Where is it?" he yelled as he overturned the bookshelves in the living room. The books tumbled to the floor making loud galloping sounds, like a stampede of wild horses. A cacophony of confusion ricocheted throughout the apartment of tearing, tossing and destruction.

Jocelyn sets her painting aside and goes into the house. She washes her hands clean of the paint and places three tall glasses filled with ice on a tray and pours the freshly squeezed lemonade that she and Clary had prepared earlier, into each glass. She grabs some bread, cheese and sandwich meat from the fridge and quickly preps the area. She's not a great cook, but she could definitely make a ham and cheese sandwich. When she's done and has placed the sandwiches on the tray with the glasses of lemonade, she carries it all outside and calls Luke and Clary over. Clary springs to her feet and extends her arm to Luke who gladly accepts and she heaves him off of the tall grass that surrounds them where they had been laying down. Clary reaches Jocelyn first, "Thanks mom," she says as she grabs a sandwich from the plate. Luke arrives just moments later, "Thanks," he says, picking up a glass of lemonade and placing his free hand on the small of Jocelyn's back. Her eyes open wide in her dream state as she sees something that wasn't there before, something different in this dream world.

"Oh Jocelyn, how could you? I always knew that there was something going on between you and Lucian. Never had I imagined that you would bear him a child! Here I was thinking that even after all these years something could have been had between us, but you've engaged in affairs with Downworlders in the worst possible way. It is such a pity." His voice was close, his warm breath brushed lightly across her face. He must have been kneeling in front of her again. "Now what am I going to do with you? I cannot find what I came looking for and you have gone and done this to yourself. I suppose I'll have to take you with me, we'll fix this little problem yet." Jocelyn felt her heart pounding in her chest. She knew how Valentine felt about Luke, she feared what he would do if he ever found him, or Clary. What would he do to her if he thought she was Luke's? Without any realization, she was floating again.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this please let me know. I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm going to start working on another soon. I'm thinking of writing when Jace first sees/meets Clary from Jace POV. If there are any suggestions on what to write about, I'd love to hear some. Thx.