**I don't own the characters of The Mortal Instruments or plot line at all. I'm borrowing the characters and will return them safely. The story line of this fanfiction belongs to Padamoose, and please do not recopy or take idea without asking.**

Author's Note: Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not a fabulous writer. First off, haha. But I want to let you know that I've tried really hard to make this the best piece of writing I could muster. So if you read all the way to the bottom, if you would leave a review I would love you forever and ever c:

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments in any form or shape or anything like that.

Summary: Top doctor Clary Fray is devoted to her work, careful and barely having any time for herself. Jace Herondale is reckless and self absorbed, doing whatever he wants. When Clary saves the life of Jace, she finds love where she least expects it... *summary in progress, cover in progress, please R & R c: *

XOXOXOXO

The monotonous sound of the machines continued through each floor, no matter how high the elevator took you. The smell of chemicals and disinfectants swarmed the air like a hive of bees, although the doctors and patients alike had gotten used to the reek, no longer caring that they came home smelling like a recently cleaned bathroom. They and their families had gotten used to the late shifts and the expectancies that they'd be working overtime, tending to another patient or what not; it was expected when you had a high demanding job such as a doctor or nurse.

Indistinct whispering came from the desks where the nurses tolerantly directed visitors or talked on the phone for what seemed like hours on end, their patient tones never wearing. Doctors and nurses walked by again and again, clipboards tucked neatly under one arm and carried a bottle of water in their other. Every one of them wore the same expression on their face with their foreheads in a crinkle, eyebrows brought together and mouths curled into a slight scowl of permanent concentration.

Most of the workers in the hospital were on the job for over twelve hours, especially those who worked in the ER or ICU. They might have been mentally drained and physically drained, due to the amount of caffeine they drank on their breaks. But their eyes were never tired. Filled with light and energy, they pushed forward, always remembering their soul purpose, why they wanted the job as a doctor in the first place: to help people. And with that in mind, they pushed through the barrier of being exhausted and continued on, acting like they were okay and they were fine.

It was rather late in the day, maybe ten o clock at night, but the hospital was still alive. A young woman made her way down one of the long, winding hallways, her mocha in one hand and a clipboard tucked safely in the other arm. Her white tennis shoes made no sound as she continued walking, the hallway seeming to grow longer and longer and she continued to walk, longing to just sit down and rest her eyes. Her mass of red, fiery curls threaten to undo from her ponytail which she had messily put in, in an attempt to get her hair out of her eyes. of course, nothing seemed to tame her hair, so she gave up, taking another sip of her drink, the only thing that seemed to be keeping her on her feet at the moment. Her clipped fingernails dug into her Styrofoam cup, and her other arm squeezed the clipboard in an attempt to keep everything that was forced on it to stay intact without spiraling to the ground in a papery mess that Clary knew she would have to clean. Frankly, she didn't have the energy to.

Sighing, Clary continued her trek to her office. She had more paperwork to verify and needed to get caught up on paying her rent, which had been carelessly shoved aside due to her busy, busy week. People living in New York were always getting injured or shoved to the hospital in an ambulance, so Clary was always on her feet, almost never having the time to sit down and think for herself. Frankly, she couldn't think of the last time she went to the theaters or went back to her apartment to spend time with her roommate and best friend, Simon.

Thinking of Simon made her heart ache. She closed her eyes for a moment, drinking in the reminder of her roommate. The way his unruly, brown curls were never brushed or how he always pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose more than necessary. Thinking about it, he was probably home now, playing Halo or probably asleep on the couch. Clary briefly wondered if Simon dreamt about his games; it was more than likely, since he refused to talk about anything other than his wonderful games. Shaking her head with a wistful sigh, Clary took a deep breath when her pager went off again, and the trill of her cell phone shattered the silence. She fumbled for her phone, balancing her clipboard on her hip while trying not to spill her caffeine. Pulling out her phone, Clary put it up to her ear, praying that her coat wouldn't be devoured by hot, brown liquid, the only thing that was keeping her from falling to pieces at the moment.

"Dr. Fray," Clary said, gently setting her mocha and clipboard down once she reached her office. It was small, with nothing in it except for a desk and a dusty bookshelf and a plaque on the desk that read: DR CLARY FRAY. A picture of her and Simon sat next to her laptop, which hummed to life once Clary opened it. The bright screen made her green eyes burn due to the lack of light in her office, and she turned away from her computer, picking at the hem of her coat instead. She silently hoped they said she could take a day off now, but it was unlikely at the moment.

"Sorry to bother you Doc, but we just received another call. Meet me down at the ER immediately." Clary sipped the rest of her mocha, twirling the green straw rapidly before nodding carefully, setting it down on her desk. Her heart sank; as much as she loved her job, things were getting out of hand with the schedule. They had been short on doctors, and of course, Clary had volunteered to work longer hours in order to make up for the loss. Simon constantly told her she didn't have to play hero all the time.

"Mmkay, thanks Seb. I'll see you in a few." She began to dash outside back down to the first floor where the ER was located after reluctantly throwing her mocha away. She probably wouldn't be drinking it anytime soon…

XOXOXOXO

Half an hour ago…

The roar of New York City traffic was astounding for the hour. It was nearing ten o clock, and the city was lit up with cars and taxis, jammed up in traffic. The cold air nipped at Jace's fingers, but he ignored it, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he weaved in and out of traffic on his motorcycle. The wind whipped through his gold hair, and he let out a whoop, cutting off the other cars, and as they screamed profanities at him, Jace just continued to ride up and down the streets of New York, not caring. He heard his phone buzz, and he blindly reached into his pocket before pulling out his phone and pressing it to his ear.

"Jace!" he said loudly, ignoring some truck driver's colorful language spewing from behind him. His breath swirled in front of him, but he didn't shiver. Jace felt more alive than ever, his adrenaline rush keeping him warm.

"Hey, where the hell are you?" Alec's panicked voice came from the other line. Jace chuckled, rolling his eyes at his friend. Alec, Jace's best friend, had absolutely no sense of humor and was probably at home, worrying about nothing that would even matter later on.

"Don't you know the definition of 'fun', Alec? Listen to this!" Jace held up his phone and whooped again, the beauty of New York rushing into the telephone so Alec heard all of it. When Jace put the phone back to his ear, he was grinning.

"Cool, huh?" he chuckled. Alec was not amused.

"No, not cool," he said. Jace could picture his friend with a scowl on his face as he anxiously peered out the window, expecting to see Jace on his motorcycle.

"Well, bye then." Jace hung up the phone, despite Alec's protests, and shoved it into his pocket, swerving wildly across the road as he tried to do so. His heart thumping in his chest, Jace chuckled as more drivers honked at him, cursing him. He looked up, staring at the blanket of stars that hovered over him. Jace basked in it for a while, sighing before thinking to himself. My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations. He had read it in a book once, and it was quote that Jace always kept to his heart.

Wild honks interrupted Jace's thoughts, and his eyes widened realizing what had just occurred. A car was coming right at him, and Jace's eyes widened in fear, despite the bright headlights that came at him, head on. He had no choice. Die or don't die. The choice was simple. Cursing to himself, Jace clumsily swerved to the right to avoid a crash but instead, he rammed into a parked car, his bike spiraling out of control.

"Shit," he swore to himself as the alarm went off. He felt himself fly off the bike and into air, suspending in midair for a brief moment before he hit the cement with an oof, wincing at the pain that spiked everywhere in his body. Jace squeezed his eyes shut and suppressed a groan, a hand holding his side where it hurt the most. His other hand went to his nose, and when he pulled away, his skin was stained crimson. The only thing that ran through his mind was the rhythmic beeping of the car alarm as he faded into darkness.

XOXOXOXO

"Yeah Seb, what's our situation?" Clary asked, maneuvering her way towards her intern. Unlike the rest of the quit floors, the ER was bustling with energy and life as people were wheeled in and out of the OR or into ICU. The taller man fumbled with his clipboard, making Clary roll her eyes. she was in no moods for fooling around or not getting any work done. The last thing she needed was her clumsy intern to already mess up with the situation. "Hurry Seb," she snapped at him, causing her partner to jump in surprise.

"S-Sorry, Doctor," he said, not meeting her eyes. Clary sighed, taking a deep breath. The smell of chemicals and sick people flooded her senses, and she desperately tried to clear her mind. All she wanted to do was go home and have a little time to herself.

Guilt flooded through her when she realized it was her fault for making Sebastian jumpy; he didn't exactly do anything that would make her mad. "I'm sorry Sebastian," she said plainly, green eyes jumping up to meet his. "It's been a rough week, and I'm so tired." Clary massaged her temples with one hand, trying to clear her head. A patient needed her, and a whole bunch of people depended on her at the moment. Clary could not afford to fail them at the moment. She wouldn't let her weakness get in the way of her work.

"It's alright," he said simply, looking down at her. Smiling gratefully at him, Clary nearly jumped when she heard Sebastian whisper in her ear, "After this, I'll ask them to send you home." She smiled, eyes shining.

"Thanks Seb."

"Doctor, we have a patient here." All evidence of previous affection was wiped clear off Clary's face as she resumed her role of doctor rather than friend. Bursting into the operating room as nurses put gloves on her hands and scrubbed her down, Clary eyed the patient, a young man around twenty with beautiful blonde hair. At first, she mistook him for an angel. Stifling a gasp, Clary shook her head. No distractions…

"Update me."

"John Doe. Early twenties. Motorcycle accident. Found him up on 115th Street."

"Gotcha." Clary leaned in closer to him, inspecting every inch of him. Lifting up the hem of his shirt, she noticed a dark, purplish bruise forming on his stomach which she also happened to notice was very ripped. Must keep in shape… She peered closely at his head which had a head full of dark, gold locks. Clary tried to ignore the sudden urge to run her fingers through his silky hair. Her hand twitched.

"Probably a concussion," she said, her hands lingering near his hair which she couldn't help but run her hands 'accidentally' through while she finished her inspection. She couldn't help it. Looking up at the others that studied her, she gestured with her hands. "Bandage him up then take him to a room, he'll be alright." Her tone was reassuring as she spoke, and the others nodded, not questioning Clary's authority. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes. A whisper filled her mind as Seb passed by.

"Take it off, you deserve it." And right she did.