Hey guys, so this is my first EVER fan fiction! It's a story based off The Mortal Instruments book written by Cassandra Clare. In this story, Simon DOES NOT become a vampire, but gets to live a human life, and moves on from Clary, in the streets of London.

Cassandra Clare is the author of The Mortal Instruments, I do not take credit for her work in any way.

"You are mine. You are mine. Even if both of us don't know it yet. I wonder who you are, where you're from, what you're doing this very second. But we are yet to meet. Yet to cross one another's eyes and stop the space of time surrounding us. Yet to feel the pull that binds us to one another forever. But, you are mine."

Chapter 1

The strangest part of my life was behind me, in the tracks of the dust that flickered up from the ground as I drove along a new path, to a new world. Clary and her new life stood behind me. And I was okay with it. So was she. It was the beginning of a new life for both of us. A new life where we could make our own decisions, take our own path. My path took me to a place I never thought I would go. The moment Clary and I graduated we promised to keep in touch. Both knowing our lives had changed beyond the bounds of friendship. Even the closest of friendships. So she decided to take the future of a shadowhunter. And I was yet to decide what my future will hold.

Travelling became the best option. Trying to find myself, hoping it was in another part of the world. And so it was... Because I met her.

The hot air stuck to me like dry snow sticks to your hair. But I didn't mind it. Just the atmosphere of a small Tuscan town was enough to please all the senses a human can possess. Because that was the joy of the whole New York, shadowhunting ordeal; I remained human. Not that much could be said for Clary. And although I don't like the idea of her choosing the dangerous life of a shadowhunter, she took the path of a war against a strange evil.

The streets of Cortona bustled with locals, talking quickly in their native tongue. I couldn't understand a word of it. But it was a beautiful language. I bought a bunch of grapes from a market stall, spluttering out poor Italian to the merchant. I'm pretty sure he overcharged me for 12 red grapes, but then, up ahead, as a grape broke apart in my mouth, something hid the sun from blurring my vision. Just up the road, at the top of the hill, not too far away a group of men stood, talking quickly and secretly, the sun blaring behind them. Then someone sitting down nearby, stood up. All I could see was a veil of light brown hair. She joined the group of men. Then they started to move, and I saw a true glimpse of her face. They came down the hill, she followed closely behind. Her eyes on the ground ahead of where she walked, her face composed. She walked with her hands trailing by her side. Her long light brown hair moving with each step she took. I watched her intensely, and almost took a step back as she fluidly lifted her gaze for a quick moment flashing her light blue eyes and then continued walking.

I don't know why she stuck out in my mind. Apart from the fact that she was in an innocent kind of way, completely stunning. I only saw her for a small second, but it was enough. But, I continued with my travels until reaching London. I don't know what it was about the city. It's architecture or atmosphere. I loved every inch of it. So I made an impulsive decision. I remember shaking hands with my landlord, feeling the walls of my new one bedroom flat beginning to crash down on me as I realized the weight of the decision I had just made. What was I doing here? Why had I chosen this place to settle in? Not going back to New York was the best decision I have made since I left, but deciding to settle in the bustling city of London was becoming a scary thought that I needed to desperately come to terms with.

My flat was reasonable for the price. It's cream walls made the shape of a rectangular room, housing a small modern kitchen with white framed, frosted glassed cabinets at one end, and a small plush taupe coloured lounge and TV at the other end. The bathroom needed work; the towel rack drooping to one side where a screw had fallen out. The pale blue tiles faded, and the grout almost completely gone from between the tiles of the shower. My bedroom was no bigger than the bathroom. A small double bed with a deep red bedspread stretched out across it, only small amounts of leg room surrounding the edges of the bed. There was a built in wardrobe on one side but no hangers. I collapsed onto the bed and breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down. What was I thinking? Buying a flat in London! Changing my entire life, even changing continents. At least mom was supportive about the whole idea, sending me the security deposit for the rent. But something was missing. And I didn't know what it was.

Everything began to change on a cold bristly night. The tiny microscopic icicles piercing my face as the wind carried them onwards. I wrapped my black coat around my waist to keep myself warm. I was determined to get home and turn my cheap electric heater on until I became remotely warm, but then I heard an all too familiar noise. It sounded like something was retching death out of its lungs. And I remembered that I had lost the glamour from my life. Exposing me to the real world of demons, vampires and shadowhunters. It came out of nowhere and just appeared in front of me. Screaming at the top of its lungs, its tentacles waving around splicing the cold air. I could smell the stench of week-old uneaten food waft from its mouth, its razor sharp teeth bared, ready to strike. I was forced down to the ground, and began to edge my way backwards, away from the demon. And then she came out of the shadows. The light brown hair pulled into a tight pony, her light blue eyes staring fiercely at the demon ahead of her. She walked with a strong pace, a determined force in her step. She pulled a crescent moon shaped blade from her back, the silver of the sword reflecting the streetlight nearby. She stopped a few metres away from me, and sliced the demon's throat. Thick, black blood covering my boots. I edged back, pulling myself behind a car. I remember thinking that I could have ran. I could have snuck away and gone home. But I couldn't bring myself to find the power in my legs. She was captivating. A big change from her complexion in Cortona. She had a harsh look in her eye, confidence exuding from the blade she held in her hand as she turned on her heel and sliced at another demon of the same kind that had appeared behind her. This one did not disappear so quickly, instead fighting back, a tentacle throwing her back, she flew through the air. I couldn't help but notice her graceful body as she flew through the air. She was small, petite. Skinny legs, but a robust bottom. She landed in the bonnet of a car nearby. It's alarm sounding at the crash. She stood up, showing no pain in her step as she walked forwards and swung her sword at the demon, cutting into its black, scarred flesh.

She began to move fluidly. Ducking as a tentacle came at her, pivoting, twirling before thrusting a strong kick in the demon's centre. She moved quickly, hitting, punching and slicing through the demon's flesh. She screamed aloud as a tentacle came at her from behind, its sharp prongs digging into the back of her stomach. The demon took it's chance, the blade-like bone at the end of another tentacle slicing through her delicate, pale skin in multiple areas. She fell. Her knees pounding to the ground. I knew she would die as another tentacle raised itself, ready to aim for her heart. Without any hesitation, something took over my body and willed me onwards, towards her. The crescent moon shaped blade lying next to her. I grabbed it and thrust it into the demon's torso. And with a screeching yelp, it broke into a million pieces and disappeared. I turned my attention to the young shadowhunter that lay next to me, unconscious and bleeding. I felt her soft skin, just under her jaw. Her pulse was fading.

"Evie!" The voice came from behind me. Turning, I saw it was another shadowhunter. This woman was much older, bigger in build. She carried a similar sword in one of her hands. The woman looked at me harshly. "Is she dead?" Her voice was cold and unfriendly.

"N-no. I mean, she has a pulse. But it's weak."

"You are not a shadowhunter."

"No."

"But you can see me. See her."

"It's a long story."

"One you will tell to the clave once you help carry her to the institute."

I knew things would not get better for me if I did what this woman asked of me. The clave wouldn't be happy to hear a mundane could see the world of shadowhunters. But as I looked down at the unconscious girl lying next to me, her unblemished pale skin and taught body looking as innocent as ever, I knew I could not forget her. Or let her die. So I carefully lifted her up into my arms and began following the strange shadowhunter woman. I knew where this path would lead. But at least now I knew why I was in London.