#finally ik

Thanks so much for your kind words @thefuriousmoles they mean a lot! I’m sorry this took so long, but hopefully I’ve made up for that with the pain I bring you. Enjoy! (Also @bridgestocksariadne and @nolu I think I win the angst war)

Ship: Blackdale

Prompt: “I want to touch you so bad, but I can't”

“Close your eyes, Lulu,”

The voice was soft, quiet, and in the darkness she could hardly make out the silhouette of him. But she would recognize his voice anywhere.

Lucie took in a shaky breath, “I’m not afraid of them, Jesse,” she said, with as much courage as she could muster. 

Lucie had read hundreds of stories where the heroine would face her enemies and, despite any fears she may be hiding, would bravely fight for her beliefs. But Lucie did not feel like much of a heroine, then.

A soft chuckle came from the darkness- her right? Perhaps it was her left side, she could hardly see the bars surrounding her, let alone the ghost that had accompanied her.

“Of that, Lucie, I have no doubt,” said Jesse. He did not sound bitter. He did not sound resentful, or angry, though the Angel knew he should. Lucie felt tears prick her eyes, and wished she could let them fall here, in the dark, before anyone else could see.

“I failed you,” she whispered, turning to where she assumed the voice had come from. Sure enough, the barest glimmer of green eyes, the color of their forest, met her’s.

“Lucie,” Jesse said firmly, “you did not fail me. If anything, I have failed you by bringing you here. By making you face them. But on my word, Lulu, you will not face them alone.”

“And what will you do, Jesse?” she asked, and it was her own voice that filled with resentment, despite her promises to be brave, she was already failing. Lucie let a hand wrap around one of the metal bars surrounding her, pressing her forehead to the cool metal. “What can you do, now that I’ve failed to bring you back?”

Memories, sharp as needles came at Lucie suddenly- a dark room, an abandoned space, candles burning low, the smell of demonic energy, revertetur eum, revertetur eum, revertetur eum- 

She grit her teeth, trying her best to forget. The way the shadows had shifted around Jesse, the way her chants had made the candlelight freeze in place, and like an oil painting, her knight in shining armor had been there. And then he’d been gone. 

“Lulu, I lo-” his smiling face turning to pain, combusting into ribbons of shadows with a gasp. And then Lucie was alone, her, Jaimie, and every Clave member in London.

She let her head press into the metal until it burned, tears streaming down her face- when had those started?- her hands gripping the bars until they went numb.

The barest shift in the air beside her ear made Lucie stop, her breath hitching. She knew that feeling, and when she turned her head, sure enough, Jesse was there, hardly an inch away, somehow so close and yet so many worlds away. She could see his face more clearly now. His dark hair practically blended with the darkness, face inhumanely pale, and bright eyes watchful.

But now, too, Lucie noticed the differences. In that instant, he had seemed more opaque, like a drawing come to life, his form sharpening suddenly, shadows appearing as light reclaimed him into their world. 

“Oh, Lucie,” James had whispered, his eyes soft and remorseful. She wondered now, if she had told Jaimie and Cordelia, if she had shared this with them, might it have gone differently? Might her parents not have been worried? Might James have not joined the Clave members to track the unusual demonic activity?

Might Jesse be with her now?

But that was all Lucie had been left with, a series of questions, unanswered worries, thoughts to drive her mad until they settled on her punishment.

Jesse’s eyes flicked over her face, and he lifted a hand, fingers curled as he made the motion of stroking her cheek. She tried to pretend they were someplace else, that she was a heroine in a novel, that he had been her prince, that she had not failed. That she could feel his touch.

But stories were no place for her reality.

Lights flooded the hall, and Lucie’s eyes snapped open again, meeting Jesse’s.

“Miss Lucie Herondale,” a deep, masculine voice spoke. Lucie did not look at him, her eyes still on her boy, the boy that was growing more transparent with each strike from the torch's light.

“You have been found guilty of attempting illegal necromantic practices-”

Lucie let her hand uncurl from around the bar, pulling back. She would not let herself be taken as a little girl. She was a Shadowhunter. She was a writer. She could command the dead.

“-if these allegations are found to be true, you can and will face the consequences laid out by our Inquisitor-”

Lucie lifted her chin. Jesse was watching her, face unreadable, and she could not picture him seeing the trial, and if the punishment was carried out, then her own execution.

She reached a hand out to him, just as he had all those years ago, when he’d saved her fro the pit, and entwined their lives forever. His dark brows drew together, but he reached a hand out just the same, letting it hover above Lucie’s, the barest shift in the air to let her know he was there at all.

“-will face a fair trial by the mortal sword, may the Angel be with you. Is that understood.”

Lucie gave her boy one last smile, then whispered one word. 

“Go.” only she was not an ordinary girl, as he had told her so long ago. Jesse’s eyes widened, but before he could protest, the command had been issued, and he was pulled back into the darkness.

“Miss Herondale,” the man repeated, and Lucie let her eyes slide back to him. In the flickering torch light, his red hair was slicked back, suit sharp, as though he was trying to convince the whole room that he was powerful. The overall affect was ridiculous. “Is that understood?”

Lucie had one moment to dwell on all that had happened. Jesse was gone, Jaimie could not help her now, nor Cordelia or even her parents. Aunt Charlotte would have to carry out what she saw fit for a criminal, not a girl she’d known longer than Lucie had memory to recall.

Lucie raised her chin, letting her steady gaze meet the man’s.

“Understood.”