Notes: Written for the Fandom Writing Challenge on tumblr with the prompt cigarette. First time writing this ship and first time in a while when it comes to writing Clary as a POV character, so I'm still finding my footing here; hopefully this is enjoyable.

In the last few months, in the most unexpected way possible, Clary's training had become something of a therapy for her. That, and a place where she would have an excuse to avoid having a conversation - she'd found out that most Shadowhunters prefered to go through their personal routine without having someone bother them and they usually extended her the same courtesy.

Still, sometimes she could feel their eyes on her and could tell that even now, even after she'd proved her loyalty to them instead of Valentine - and Clary tended to be realistic when it came to that; she was well aware of the fact that almost everyone had considered her a spy at first – they still didn't feel too comfortable with her presence and she was pleasantly surprised to discover that it didn't affect her the way it would have when she'd lived in the mundane world. Something had changed; something almost imperceptible but present that made her much less conscious of what the people in this society (her society, she reminder herself, whether she liked that or not) thought of her. Even when she did focus on it, it was easier to wave it away now and she had an inkling of what exactly had caused that.

It wasn't the environment. It wasn't her mother's death, although that had definitely been a factor; the last straw that had made her fully realise just how alone she was in this world. It wasn't even Jace's current confession that he wasn't her brother after all, and it wasn't his complete inability to understand why it would be better for him to face everything that he'd been keeping under his careful control for months now.

No, it was all of it. All at once, too, or so Clary suspected. Because in the end, it didn't matter whether she'd keep ignoring what she'd heard or not, she knew that Sebastian had been right. If not about everything, then about most of it, and that was more than enough to upset her even more.

She wasn't sure when the new guy had arrived at all. She could recall their conversation in the greenhouse and that he'd taken interest in her ability to create new runes and her sudden inability to do so, but that had been all. And still, he'd managed to decode every little emotion going through her head and had fired them back at her in the bluntest way possible and while it had worked out fine in the end - it was what had helped her beak through the wards in Magnus's place, after all - it was still more than troubling to realise that anyone who tried hard enough could read her like an open book.

Most Shadowhunters didn't have the same problem. They only showed how upset their were when the situation was truly unbearable and even then, they didn't lose control. They handled it as quietly as they could and moved on with their lives, hiding their grief and sorrow away as if they were too shameful for everyone to see.

It was the result of lifelong training. In theory, she could understand that. If Clary had been raised among other Shadowhunters, she knew that she would have turned out the same way. But here, now, after she'd lived the majority of her life as a mundane, none of it made sense.

And so she'd got away. Training hadn't cut it, not this time, and instead she'd found herself running all the way to the docks and the warehouse where Simon had built himself a new home.

It wasn't like he was human either, she reminded herself, so she wasn't doing anything wrong. There had been several different Shadowhunters who'd already told her to leave any remnants of her old life behind, but it wasn't exactly easy to do when so many things in he life had turned out to be connected to the Shadow world in one way or another. Her mother and Luke had been the first example and, even if Simon had been dragged into it because he'd refused to abandon her despite everything, he'd handled everything rather well after the initial stress.

On one hand, Clary was sure that she would never forgive herself for letting him follow her to the point where he'd been turned into a vampire because in the long run, it would be much more painful for him than it would ever be for her.

On the other, a part of her - one that she was hell bent on ignoring - was grateful for it. There were so many things from her past life that she couldn't afford to think about and couldn't afford to revisit and she knew that she would have never managed to get as far as he had if Simon hadn't been next to her every step of the way.

Of course, there was also the newer development of their relationship to be considered.

Clary found herself smiling despite her anxiety as she knocked on the metal door that led to Simon's new living quarters. When he'd kissed her that night almost a month ago, the biggest surprise of it was the fact that she hadn't been that surprised at all. It had felt right in a way she'd never recognised before and even if it had felt impulsive to jump so quickly into a relationship she hadn't truly considered, it had turned out to be worth it in the end and now it felt as if things had always been this way; as if this was just one more extension of everything they'd felt for each other since the day they'd met.

Whatever the case, her confidence in Simon was precisely what had driven her here at almost three in the morning with the genuine hope that he wouldn't be asleep yet despite his newly reformed sleeping schedule.

Sure enough, he was there a second later, pushing the door open and moving out of the way to let her in before she'd even said a word.

"What is it?" Simon's voice was anxious and Clary couldn't help but wonder whether she really looked how she felt or if he was just that good at reading her. "Clary, is something wrong? You could have called. Downworlders are allowed in the Institute now, aren't they?"

Clary nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. "I didn't want to stay there."

It wasn't easy to admit- or at least, it wouldn't have been if she had been talking to just about anyone else. The Institute was supposed to be her home. From the looks of it, it was the closest she would ever get to one at this point and even that wasn't enough; even that felt too much at times and wasn't that just telling? She could never quite belong anywhere no matter how hard she tried.

"You can stay here, then," Simon suggested. He was leading her further into his room and she could see that he'd finally found himself a bed and that, as unlikely as it was, the entire place somehow felt much more habitable than her own room back at the Institute. "They can call you if they need you, right?" Clary nodded. "Then you don't have to stay there." Another nod as Clary sat down on the edge of his bed and Simon hovered around her for a moment, concerned but unsure how to proceed. "Do you need anything? A cigarette, maybe?"

"Shadowhunters don't smoke," Clary said absently. It was yet another lesson she'd received recently; the children of the Nephilim were supposed to keep themselves in peak condition at all times. Then realisation hit. "You don't smoke either, Simon."

"Yeah, but it's the thought that counts, right? And, I could still get you some if you want them. You know, it's surprisingly easy for vampires to- Clary, are you okay?"

She hadn't been able to hold back anymore. It was stupid, and childish, and everything that a Shadowhunter was not supposed to be, but hearing Simon ramble away in a clear attempt to distract her had somehow been the last straw and before she'd even realised what she was doing, Clary had thrown her arms around Simon's neck, the tears that had been burning in her eyes for the better part of a day finally founding an outlet.

"No," she admitted, but didn't pull away. "No, but I will be." She bit her lip, trying - and failing - to control the trembling in her voice. "Thank you for letting me stay."

Simon's arms wrapped around her tentatively and Clary leant even further into the embrace, closing her eyes and basking in the sensations that surrounded her.

She'd been wrong, she realised. Maybe she couldn't say it yet - maybe she'd never find the strength to - but she knew where she belonged.

Perhaps she always had.