Yo! I resently erased everything on my file from a long time ago and started fresh. My writing is hopefully better then it was last year. *Cringe

So anyway this is a story I made up in like fifteen minute so hopefully it's good. If you think the story line has potential then please tell me if I should continue, and thoughts on what you would like to happen next would be great! :)

Set after COG.

Summary: Clary is slowly dying. No one knows the cause. She's reluctant to tell Jace. What's gonna happen? *Keep in mind I freaking hate summarys so it may be slightly if not majorly better then it sounds.

DISCLAIMER: No. I do not own these characters, and if I did, I sure wouldn't be sharing them with you.

Life is a fragile thing, Clary thought, like glass. Elegant, beautiful, and smooth to the touch. But if you look closer, there may be cracks, dents, or faults. It can be melted or mended, but the glass will always be the same . . . glass. Many try, in fruitless vain, to mask or enhance its beauty, and many will succeed. But not without a few scars.

"Clary," Jace called.

She slowly lifted her gaze up from the worn out sketch pad that sat balanced in her lap. Clary was working on her latest rune, every other day it was something different. And every other day as she sat on her bed working skillfully, Jace would be there. Always right beside her, moving hair out of her face, or softly whispering words of encouragement.

"Hmm," she mumbled in response.

"Have you not heard anything I said in the last two minutes?" he asked.

"Uh . . . no sorry," Clary admitted, "I was thinking."

"Well stop, I'm afraid you might hurt yourself," Jace smirked. And though it was intended as a joke, Clary could see the worry in his eyes.

"Ha – ha, that's so funny," she glared.

"I said Magnus just texted me about a party. I told him I would ask you but . . ." he trailed off.

"But what?" Clary impatiently asked.

"Well, I just thought since you haven't really trained all week, that maybe, you know . . ."

"No, I don't know. Please enlighten me, Jace" she snapped. Clary didn't know why she was being mean. She knew she needed to practice.

"Clary. Calm down, I was just saying that you needed a little more training, we're more behind then I planned on being right now, so –"

"I'm sorry not all of us have had years of practice, your highness! I'm sorry that not some people have a life outside of killing demons!" Clary yelled.

Jace stared, mouth agape, but quickly composed himself, "It's not like you're all perfect either! 'Cause as long as I've known you all you've ever done is complain until you get what you want!"

Clary knew what she was about to say and knew that she shouldn't do it.

What's wrong with me? Clary wondered.

And despite her struggles, the words came spilling out of her mouth.

"But at least I look out for my family and not let them get killed, like you did Max," She said through clenched teeth. And though she didn't say the words with a certain remark or sting, it was the meaning behind them that count. At first Jace just stared at her with sad, unforgiving eyes. Then he sat up and pulled is jacket across his shoulder without uttering a word. He walked to the door only stopping to say two words.

"Screw you," Jace mumbled with such meaning that Clary couldn't help but feel small and helpless.

What has she done? Why couldn't she just tell him what's really wrong?

"Jace - ," she started to say, but he was already leaving. His retreating figure hurt Clary's eyes more than any pain she's ever felt before.

"I'm dying," Clary finished after the door shut close behind him.

Sorry it's so short. It's really more of a foretaste of my idea.

Comments encouraged. Flames welcomed with open arms. :)