DISCLAIMER: The Mortal Instruments belongs to Cassandra Clare

They sat at the table silently, no one willing to break the silence. No one wanted to be the one that spoke the glaring truth. Clary simply was not making much progress as a Shadowhunter. She was training with each of the Lightwoods and Jace, looking for her nitch, her weapon. Tonight's battle was a real time reminder that they were not playing games. Jace had been seriously hurt trying to hold his own, and protect Clary. Alec looked at her. Though the old animosity was gone and replaced with affection, she was still a liability. Isabelle furiously studied a tear in her new skirt, and lamented loudly that she'd just have to go shopping tomorrow. Again.

Jace watched Clary from beneath his lashes. His arm still ached were it had been wrenched and slashed, despite the healing iratze He didn't mind the pain from his injury, he was accustomed to it. What wounded him to his core was the defeated look in Clary's eyes. Her gaze never left the stele she twirled in her fingers, regardless of Izzy's attempts to lure her into a shopping trip. When she spoke, she kept her eyes locked on the small weapon.

"I'm going to head to bed. I need a shower, there's demon blood soaking into my clothes while we sit here."

No one responded, and everyone avoided Jace's eyes as well, as he watched her leave the room.

Sighing, Alec started "Jace..."

"Not now, Alec." his chair scraped the linoleum floor as he pushed back angrily and strode from the room.

Isabelle met Alec's concerned gaze and shrugged.

"It could've gone worse."

Hot water ran down her bruised back, doing nothing to ease the tension that had her muscles knotted painfully. She thought back to the fight. Nothing serious, really. A couple of Ravenors, and a few other lesser demons. Nothing she shouldn't have been able to handle, with them. And yet, she'd felt as if her entire being was weighted down. Every move was sloppy, and the demon was able to anticipate and counter her at every turn. Had Jace not acted when he did, she might've been killed, it had gotten that close. And he'd been hurt. He hid his pain well, but the cords standing out in his neck as he battled the demon over her, and then as they'd healed him told her all she needed to know. She was not cut out for his world, it was too late for her. The years spent repressing her memories had robbed her of her true identity. Tears overflowed, and coursed down her cheeks. Smacking the tiles limply, her body shook with her sobs. How did you share a life with a warrior, if you couldn't live up to him? And every moment she continued to carve a place for herself at his side, she put him in danger. All of them, really, were in more danger. She knew Alec and Izzy would have done the same, had they been close enough to act. Would she feel any less pain, any less responsible, if something were to happen to one of them?

She turned the shower off and dried. As she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, visions of Jace battered and bloody as he loomed over her protectively followed her down to sleep.

The bright morning sun that shone through her window did nothing to ease her mind, or improve her spirit. She dressed hurriedly, and left as quickly as possible to avoid any of the others. She headed straight to Times Square. The heavy tourist traffic would ensure her anonymity, and give her time alone with her thoughts. The brisk air burnt her lungs as she first stepped out of the warmth of the Institute, but that wore off within a few blocks. She kept her head down, avoiding the gaze of lost tourists who needed directions. Her mind fed her visions from the night before of Jace bleeding, his face twisted in pain. Clenching her teeth she doubled her pace, silently berating herself.

"Clarissa Fray." the sound of her name broke her reverie, and she turned. Surprised to hear her name in an area she had expected no one to know her, she sought the speaker. The only person looking back was a street vendor she'd never seen before.

"What did you say? Do I know you?" she asked, eying the woman suspiciously.

She was just some corner magician. Trinkets littered the table, fake crystal balls and tarot decks. Gaudy technicolor signs gave promises of anything, for a price. The woman returned the stare calmly.

"No. It is I who know you, Clarissa. All the Downworlders have been waiting for you to appear alone."

"And why would Downworlders want to see me alone?" she asked, her suspicion growing.

"We have been charged to bring you a message. One that is not to be shared with your love."

"What could you possibly have to say to me that you couldn't say to Jace?"

The woman's cool gaze never faltered as she replied, "I bring word from your brother."

The words punched into Clary's gut and left her speechless. Her mouth worked and no sound came out. Sebastian.. no, Jonathon.. was dead. This woman must be mistaken. Speaking of which, how did this woman know anything of her, or her brother?

"Who are you?" Clary demanded, her tone sharp.

"I am a witch, I call myself Pandora. I have been charged to tell you that your brother lives and repents his actions. He begs your forgiveness and wishes to know you. He wants to reclaim that which was stolen from him by your father."

"That's impossible, my brother is dead."
A small smile broke from the witch before she could contain it. "Your love almost killed your brother, yes. But he survived his wounds. He is healing now, and his time away from your father has given him a chance to see the folly of his hatred."

"Who healed him, how? Why would someone heal him?" Clary's mind was in turmoil. If Jonathon lived, they were all in danger... most especially Jace.

"Hear me, Shadowhunter." Pandora's voice broke her thoughts. "I healed him. Others now guard him, protect him from demon and Clave enemies, both"

"Why would Downworlders protect Valentine's son and right hand?"

The question did not take Pandora off guard, she noticed. She knew Jonathon's history. "Your brother never knew his mother's love. He was denied that from his birth. He was never loved, protected or cherished as you were by Jocelyn. He was never loved or taught by Valentine. To your father he was a mistake that could be honed into a weapon. But he was still despised by both of his parents, something you could never understand. And even you, whom he longed to know the whole of his life, even you turned away from him. Even you spurned him for Jace Wayland when the opportunity arose."

"Its Lightwood. Jace Lightwood, now."

"The name of your orphaned boyfriend is of no import to me, Clarissa. He is simply the lash that was used against your brother the whole of his life."

Clary's mouth gaped at this outrageous woman. "Who.. who are you to say such things to me??" Clary raged at her.
"Why would a Downworld witch save the right hand of Valentine when he was sworn to destroy all Downworlders? How can you possibly think you can trust my brother? What has he promised you, because he will not live to make good on it." she seethed, her breath coming in short bursts. Her mind reeled with the next words.

"I saved your brothers life because I love him. He came to me crawling on his knees, begging my help. He was prostrate with grief over his actions and begged me to end his life, for he could not stomach the things he had done. It was only with great force that I did not do just that. But his pain.. both his physical and his mental.. were palpable. He was truly sorry. He meant it when he said he would just as soon die, in turn for what he'd done. In the face of such remorse, I could not strike. So I healed him, in so much as I was able." her words trailed off and Clary could think of no response.
The silence spun out between them, as they eyed each other. Pandora seemed to reach some internal decision and reached into her bag. Clary braced herself as she withdrew her hand, but she only held up an emerald pendant. The silver chain was delicately worked, the strength rune it suspended was set with brilliant emeralds. It was a breathtaking piece. Pandora eyed her once more and then spoke.

"It is a gift, for you.... from your brother. It was your mother's. Your father saved it from the fire, and had kept it all these years. Jonathon thought you should have it." she paused, and her face softened just the slightest bit. "He said it would bring out your eyes, Clary."

"Clary!" the familiar voice rang out from a few stores away. Pandora shot Jace a venomous look and shoved the pendant into her hand.

"Do not tell him of your brother until you've decided. Jonathon is yet too weak to defend himself."

Pandora shoved the pendant into her hand and curled her fingers over it. Even from the distance, she could see Jace's questioning look. He was moving towards them too quickly to hide the necklace, though.

"Shopping? Izzy will be so jealous." his flippant tone did not fit with the concern in his eyes. "Who's your new friend?"

Pandora was transformed by Jace's arrival. Her face brightened, and she beamed at him conversationally.

"I just had a piece of jewelry a Shadowhunter might like. It's not everday you see a lone Shadowhunter wandering this area." she said, gesturing to Clary's clenched hand. He sharpened his attention on Clary, questioning her with his eyes.

"It's nothing Jace, just a necklace with a rune on it. Nothing to get all worked up about." He dismissed Pandora from the conversation and focused on Clary.

"I went to your room to meet you before training."

"I decided I didn't want to go to training, today. Its not as if it were doing me any good."

"I think you're making too much of what happened last night."

Clary watched the witch out of the corner of her eye. The conversation of her shortcomings was not one she wanted to have in front of someone who could relay it to Jonathon. Deliberately, she changed the subject.

"I'm hungry, let's get something from Taki's?"

Pandora's words drifted to her as they walked away.

"Don't forget, Shadowhunter. I can find things that are lost, and return them to you."

Jace's face was twisted with confusion. Clary shook her head and shrugged, ignoring her.

"Witches."