I don't know if this will bother anybody but going off of the spoiler art Cassandra Clare released for City of Heavenly Fire and what was explained in the movie, I'm going to assume that downworlders can enter the Institute once invited. I hope that doesn't bother anybody, it's really only a minor part of this story to explain how Simon was in the institute.
Nothing belongs to me, I'm broke and I have $4.97 left in my bank account.
"I want to see her. This is ridiculous." Jace dictated
It is not safe yet, Jonathan. Your training is progressing. Soon. Brother Zachariah tilted his head away in finality.
"No." Jace fumed. "We are not done here. It has been. Eight. Days. I. Want. To. See. Her."
Jonathan Herondale-
"Don't call me that."
Jonathan is an honorable name. And you are a Herondale. In more ways than one.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You need what you want with total disregard for what you need.
"Stop speaking in riddles, why can't I see Clary?" He demanded. "I've had weeks of this peaceful training crap, and if I don't get to see Clary, I'm going to heavenly fire my way out of this-"
Clary is your weakness. For the moment, seeing her will put you at risk, as soon as you have control over your-
"I am in control." Jace hissed.
Assess yourself, Herondale.
Jace glanced down at himself out of reflex. He had heard those words nearly two-hundred times in the past week. His fists were clenched at his sides, his arms had begun to glow, singeing the insides of his white button-up shirt. He had begun to flame up at the knuckles until he released the breath he had been holding and unclenched his fists.
Perhaps one more week.
Brother Zachariah let himself out of Jace's new room to stand guard by his door once more. Jace ran a hand through his hair before kicking his bed violently, letting out a small burst of flame from his left hand. The barely extinguished flame hit the wall opposite of him, joining the other black marks he had managed to make in the last few hours. He probably should have been more mindful of the room seeing as it wasn't even his but after the fifth day of "peace training" with Jordan and Alec, angsty teenager Jace had made several reappearances.
"No killing," Jordan had said. "We're trying to make you feel peaceful, so you don't go up in flames. Blood, killing, war, those are all non-peaceful things. Isn't there anything else you like? Rainforests? Chirping birds?"
"Weapons," said Jace. "I like weapons."
"I'm starting to think we have a problematic issue of personal philosophy here."
Jace leaned forward, his palms flat on the ground. "I'm a warrior," he said. "I was brought up as a warrior. I didn't have toys, I had weapons. I slept with a wooden sword until I was five. My first books were medieval demonologies with illuminated pages. The first songs I learned were chants to banish demons. I know what brings me peace, and it isn't sandy beaches or chirping birds in rainforests. I want a weapon in my hand and a strategy to win."
Jordan looked at him levelly. "So you're saying that what brings you peace… is war."
"Now you get it."
Alec, sitting on Jordan's right, tilted his head to the left as if thinking something over.
Jordan sighed. "Okay, so is there something about war that brings you peace, but... doesn't make you angry?"
"Training. Winning."
Alec fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number, turning away from them to listen. Jace heard the faint sound of a male's voice answer the phone. Alec quickly shut his phone and flushed from head to toe, a scowl settling on his face.
"Who was that?" Jordan asked casually.
Alec snapped his head up to look at Jordan as if he hadn't known anyone else was there. "Erm. Isabelle."
"You hung up on Isabelle?" Jace narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"No. She didn't answer the phone."
"Why didn't you leave a message?" Jace challenged him.
"Wasn't important." Alec shrugged nonchalantly.
"Mmhm. Hey, actually can I borrow that? I meant to ask Luke something." He reached out innocently for the phone. Alec handed it over hesitantly. Jace flipped it open, seeing the previous sent calls list.
M. Bane 0:23
M. Bane 0:08
M. Bane 0:29
Isabelle 4:36
M. Bane 0:15
M. Bane 0:21
Snapping it shut, Jace brought it down against the base of the tree next to him, smashing the face of it over and over into the nearby rocks. All this with his left hand, Jace finally brought the phone to both hands, snapping it in two and then bringing more rocks against the cracked pieces in front of him.
Jace sat back after presenting the remainders to Alec. He looked down at the shattered pieces in disbelief. "You BROKE my PHONE."
Jace shrugged. "Guys don't let other guys keep calling other guys. Okay, that came out wrong. Friends don't let friends keep calling their exes and hanging up. Seriously. You have to stop."
Alec looked furious. "So you broke my brand new phone? Thanks a lot."
Jace smiled serenely and lay back on the grass. "You're welcome."
Clary did a double take when she turned the corner towards Jace's room. She had been coming over for the- oh which time was this now? The twelfth? Something like that. For the past eleven or so times, she had not been quite as lucky as the first. The compassion Brother Zachariah had shown, what had felt like months ago yet had only been over a week, was severely lacking as he became more adamant about protecting Jace. All she had gotten for the past eight days were a mixture of philosophical statements and surprisingly fierce rejections, especially coming from a Silent Brother.
Clary stopped in her tracks and looked around the hallway. The door was closed, but there wasn't a single body in sight. Even when Brother Zachariah was inside, there was another Brother guarding the door like some sort of heavenly bouncer. Clary took a few tentative steps towards Jace's door before turning the doorknob quietly. She lightly nudged the door, surprised when it gave way and swung open to reveal a barren room. She dropped her raised hand to her side in shock.
The walls were charred black with the exception of a few blank spots that still reflected the same white as before, if not a little more ashen colored than usual. The bed had been stripped down to its bare mattress which seemed to be significantly worse for wear since the last time Clary had sat on it, and the fan above had several burnt-through holes in it. Upon close inspection, she noticed that nearly everything plastic in the room was slightly limper than usual. The half-melted plastic chair next to the bed was no exception.
"Jace isn't here." Clary whipped around at the sound of Isabelle's voice.
"I see that. Nothing is here. What happened?" And then with more worry, "Is Jace okay?"
"He's fine. This was all him. The Brothers were experimenting with his memories and dreams. Most of his memories of fighting Sebastian's influence raised his temperature significantly but this..." Isabelle motioned towards the leftovers of Jace's room. "This happened when they triggered a memory of you. Alec and I have been dying to know. Something about Paris? The Brothers won't say anything. Just that he definitely can't see you anytime soon."
Clary blushed fiercely. Paris. Well that would explain the wreckage. "Is it that bad?"
Isabelle pondered. "Well it depends. What happened in Paris?"
"Um, that was when Jace was himself again. He was probably just remembering me not letting him give himself over to the Clave. We argued about that." Clary nodded as if convincing herself.
"Is that all you can remember?"
"...I mean, that wasn't all that happened, but it makes sense, right?" Clary bit her lip and glanced away.
Isabelle narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes widened after a moment and she let out a laugh. "By the Angel, Clary that's what this was?" Isabelle gestured at the bed.
"No, we didn't do anything!" Clary almost shushed her despite their privacy. "We just... we almost. Can we talk about something else?" She thought for a moment. "And don't tell Alec, either. You knowing is one thing, but Alec... that's just weird, okay?"
"You really need to brush up on your girl talk skills, Fray." Isabelle turned to walk out, Clary trailing behind her.
"Well, I'm sorry. I've only ever had Simon to talk to about this stuff. I've never even had 'stuff' to talk about."
Isabelle just laughed as they walked back down the hallway.
"How long do you think it'll be before I can see him again?" Clary threw herself back in her chair as Isabelle and Simon leafed through more books.
"Talk about a match made in Heaven." Simon grumbled. Jace must have asked the same question a thousand times in the past week.
"Eight days!" Clary swore and tossed the book in her lap back onto the table in between them.
The three of them sat in the Institute's impressively large library, searching through yet another aisle of books for any mention of Heavenly fire. The pile of useless books had grown exponentially as compared to the pile of books that had new information in them (approximately fourteen books turned out to be slightly helpful).
"Okay you know what, going through the same books isn't going to do us any good. We need to split up." Simon stood with a pile of books in his hand. "I'm gonna look through the aisles on the other side over there, check for any titles that stand out, stuff like that." Simon gracefully stepped over several piles of books.
Isabelle watched him go for a few moments too long. When she looked back at Clary, she was greeted with a knowing smile. "Oh, shut up." Gathering more books in her hands, Isabelle stood too.
"You can go help him, if you like." Clary smiled at Isabelle while nodding towards Simon's direction.
"Why?"
"You know why. Have you told him yet?"
"No. It's never been the right time. And maybe... maybe I don't even mean it. How am I even supposed to know if I mean it?" Isabelle shoved the books back onto the shelves a bit too aggressively.
"You'll just know." Clary stopped and put her hand on Isabelle's shoulder. "Go talk to him."
Isabelle crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against them. She gave Clary a reluctant look before hesitantly turning around and taking slow steps to the other side of the library.
The not so scrawny, not so mundane, bastard was awkwardly balancing several books in his arms as he alphabetized the piles in front of him.
"Here." Isabelle took half of the books and began expertly sorting them.
"I totally had those. I'm super strong now, you know." Simon assured her.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm aware." Isabelle slowly let her eyes drift over his body, casually flirting. Some, including Simon, resorted to humor in uncomfortable situations. She resorted to flirting. Among other things.
Unlike the numerous other times Simon had awkwardly glanced away, he managed to hold his own for a few seconds, eyeing her up and down before looking down again.
Isabelle finished the rest of the sorting as Simon browsed down the aisle. "This would be so much easier with a Dewey Decimal system." He commented.
"With a what?"
"Ahh... nothing. It's a mundane thing. You put these little cards in a drawer and each book has a number so if it's a book about geography or something, it would be a 900 number and you would find the-"
"I love you." Isabelle put the last book away, her hand lingering on it. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, in fact she couldn't really bring herself to move at all.
"...book." He finished. Turning to Isabelle, he asked shakily, "You do?"
"I might." She internally scolded herself for chickening out.
"You might?"
"No... I do. I do." She nodded, still only looking at the books.
"Look at me, Isabelle."
"Why?"
Simon put his hand on her shoulder. He was closer than she had thought. "Because I love you too."
Isabelle had heard people say that they felt like they were hit by a bus, but she wasn't sure how many people really knew how that felt, considering she didn't think most people survived getting hit by a bus. That being said, at the moment, Isabelle felt like she had been hit by a bus.
She turned slowly and cupped his cheek. He was slightly cold to the touch as she had learned to expect. Simon smiled with half of his mouth, the way she had begun to find so endearing. He looked nervous which was ridiculously mundane, it wasn't like she was about to reject him, but Simon was always ridiculously mundane. He reached out to touch her dark hair, absent-mindedly running his fingers through it. They had begun to inch closer to each other now, and Isabelle was not having any of this not kissing thing they had going on. She pulled him in towards her, capturing his lips greedily. Simon's hands immediately relocated to her sides, pulling her body flush against his. He tried, he really did, to make the kiss a loving one. Isabelle could tell. But it had been too long since the last time they had kissed, and too much had happened. She wound her fingers through his curly hair, deepening the kiss. They ended up against a bookcase, Simon's back pressed into a row of encyclopedias. She felt his hands bravely wandering places they had never gone before and smirked into the kiss.
Isabelle pulled away and whispered in Simon's ear. "Come on." She laced her fingers through his and pulled him behind her as she led him away from the library, Clary forgotten.
Jace poked his head outside of his prison of a room. Brother Zachariah glared at him with the look of an overprotective father.
"I'm going for a walk. I can do that, can't I?" Jace asked sarcastically.
Brother Zachariah stepped aside. Know your limitations, Herondale.
"Now that's a new one. If only you'd said that before." He knew he was in dangerous territory disrespecting a Brother, but at this point Jace was willing to poke at the Faerie Queen for some entertainment.
Brother Zachariah didn't seem bothered by the retort and stayed deadly silent as always.
Jace walked through the silent Institute until he found himself alone in the music room. This was the only peaceful thing he could actually do these days, not that he would share it with Jordan or Alec. In fact, he had really only ever shared it with one person. He played the piano now, with her face in mind as he tuned out a random melody. Jace let his eyes slide closed as he played. The music calmed and quickened his emotions simultaneously. He let go of the bad memories and relaxed, no more thoughts of Sebastian or the upcoming war or people he had lost along the way. Alongside the music came the good memories. He filled himself with thoughts of Clary and his father's letters and his family's safety.
God, that's annoying. What the hell is that, anyway? Clary thought in a half-dream state. She reached around, fumbling for the source of the noise. Opening her eyes, she furrowed her eyebrows. She was in the library. In the Institute. Alone. Sitting up quickly, several books fell off her lap. The ringing persisted and Clary finally located it. Her cell phone. She flipped it open one second too late. Missed call. No. She looked again. Seven missed calls.
Clary swore and sat up, wide awake. Five calls from her mom, two calls from Luke. She pressed redial with one hand and began to clean up the mess around her with the other.
"Clary? Where are you?" Luke's worried tone came through.
"Luke, I'm sorry, I'm at the Institute. Tell Mom not to worry, I'm not with Jace." She had already had several long talks on that subject with her Mom. "Simon and Isabelle and I were looking for information in the library, I must have fallen asleep."
"That's alright. We were just worried. Hard not to, these days."
"I know, it was stupid of me. I'll see you tomorrow morning. I think I'll sleep here tonight. There's enough guest rooms, anyway." Clary closed her eyes, mentally willing Luke not to tell her to come home instead. Whether it was pure luck or a new power Clary had only just discovered, she didn't know, but Luke agreed and wished her a good night.
Clary shut the phone and let out a deep breath. There were books all around her. Some opened, some closed, some read, some completely ignored. She must have fallen asleep hours ago as it had gotten significantly darker outside. Isabelle and Simon were nowhere to be found, so she could only guess where they had gone off to. Clary stood and grabbed her bag, quietly tiptoeing down the silent hallways towards the guest room she had once slept in.
She heard it again. The sound she had heard only once before in this same hallway. The sound of a piano, being played with desultory but undeniable skill. Clary couldn't help smiling at the memory of it. It took her a few minutes for it to really sink in where the sound was coming from.
"Jace." She whispered to herself.
Padding silently across the hallway, she rushed to open the large double doors to the music room. Clary could see him, his entire body moving with the music as he played. She set her bag down gently and crossed the space between them. When she reached the steps before the raised platform to the piano, he must have heard her. He stopped playing suddenly and whipped around.
"Clary." Hearing his voice for the first time in far too long sent shivers through her and she couldn't help smiling. Jace stood from his seat quickly, walking down to meet her. They stopped about a foot from each other, hesitant.
"Can I...?" Clary motioned between them. "Can you...?"
"Probably not." Jace reached out and took her hands in his, stepping just a bit closer. He stroked her hands with his thumbs, not breaking eye contact.
"They won't let me see you." Clary said, sounding only slightly childish.
"They won't let me see you, either."
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too." Jace ran his hands up Clary's arms and then back down again, inching closer to her. "Come here." He slowly wrapped his arms around her in a close embrace. Clary felt herself relax around him.
"I like what you did with your room." Clary let out a small laugh.
"My-? Oh. You saw that?" She could feel Jace smile into her hair.
"It was hard to miss. Isabelle said you had a bad dream?" She challenged him, half expecting him to correct her, half-expecting him to ignore it.
"Not a bad dream." Jace assured her. "Paris."
"I guess not seeing the Eiffel Tower really got to you, huh?" Clary almost giggled.
"You have no idea." Jace laughed into her hair while absent-mindedly caressing her back. "Does this hurt?" Jace worried out loud.
"No. It's kind of like... hugging an Easy Bake Oven."
"Hugging a what?" Jace pulled away only long enough to give her a confused look before settling back into the embrace.
"Nothing, never mind." Clary shook her head into the crook of Jace's neck. "I love you."
"By the Angel, Clary, I love you too. So much." He gripped her tighter and only let her go when he felt the familiar burning in his hands. If he could feel it, she must have been feeling ten times the heat.
"Tell me when I'm hurting you, Clary." He demanded. Jace held his hands, which were softly glowing in the darkness of the library, out in front of him. Only when the light faded out did they realize just how alone they were.
"Relax. Jace. Shhh. Just close your eyes. Calm down." She gently rubbed his arms, which was helping just about as much as the thin shirt she wore. Jace nodded and dropped his hands.
"I'm fine. It's okay. C'mere." Jace cupped her cheek, resting his forehead against hers. Clary felt the subtle burning in through the contact, as if he had an extremely high fever.
"Can I..." Clary began, "Can I kiss you?"
Jace shook his head. "Let me." He inched closer in the tiniest of steps until their lips were only centimeters apart. The tension between them was unbearable but Jace bottled it up as well as he could. He took a deep breath and slowly pressed his lips to hers. The urge to return the kiss the way she had so long ago in this very Institute nearly ate Clary alive, but she managed to stay still. Jace pulled away for a moment before meeting her lips again, this time more confident than before. Clary allowed her hands to roam into the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him in closer. She felt that same shock from the kiss she had before, but this time neither pulled away. Jace leaned down against Clary harder, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazed over her teeth for a moment before he remembered Brother Zachariah's words.
Know your limitations, Herondale.
Jace pulled back quickly, swearing at himself.
"Well, if you insist." Clary flirted in response to his colorful choice of words.
"We just need to... take a break." Jace said in between breaths.
Clary nodded and untangled her hands from his hair. "Let's just sit down. Talk." She motioned towards the loveseat in the middle of the room.
Jace was the first to step away. He took her hand in his and led them over towards the seat. Clary sat down close, facing him so their knees would touch. She laid one leg up sideways on the couch, now facing him completely. Jace copied her posture.
Clary shook her head. "I don't want to talk."
"This was your idea." Jace inquired.
"Do you want to talk?"
"Not even remotely." He admitted.
"Good." Clary scooted closer. "Then let's not talk."
Jace nodded slowly. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind of every thought. Kissing Clary with passion was hard enough, kissing Clary with emotion was nearly impossible without burning up. He reached to her and pulled her lips down on his, letting his body take over. Jace kissed her in ways he had been dreaming of since that night in Paris. He kissed her with reckless abandon, channeling all his heated energy into his hands the way he had been training to for days. He could feel the leather fabric melting where his hands lay on the couch as he pushed Clary back against the cushions. She gripped his half-buttoned shirt and pulled him down against her as she laid back against the couch. Jace settled down on top of her, balancing himself with his hands, one on the armrest of the couch, and one on the back, both burning holes through the leather.
"Clary, we have to slow down." Jace insisted against his own will.
"You're right." Clary immediately contradicted herself as she began to tug at his shirt, unbuttoning it to the bottom. Her hands began to roam, tracing his runes, and this time Jace really heard Brother Zachariah's voice in his mind.
Know your limitations, Herondale.
Jace shot up, his knees trapping Clary's hips underneath his. Her hair was slightly ruffled, and her lips red from kissing. He might have been biased, but Jace was pretty sure it was the most attractive look she had ever worn.
"What? What is it?" Clary looked around in confusion.
"Brother Zachariah. In my head." Jace looked around, afraid for a moment that the Brother was in the music room with them. "I don't know how he knows we're together. But he's right." Jace retracted himself from their position. Clary sat up as well, pulling her knees in as a barrier between the two of them.
"The Silent Brothers are powerful. He probably knew before we did." Clary remarked.
"Why don't we get you to bed?" Jace suggested.
Clary only nodded, grabbing his hand as they stood and walked out silently towards the guest room she had planned on using. The door was shut, as it had been so long ago when they had stood in front of it after their first kiss.
"Well, look at that." Clary gestured towards their surroundings. "Full circle."
"Mmm." Jace nodded.
"And all is right with the world." She laughed at her own comment. "Alright. Nothing is right with the world."
"We are." Jace smiled.
Clary leaned up to give him a gentle kiss. For a few moments they stood kissing without worry, until they felt the familiar heat coming from his lips. Clary pulled away before it burned her.
"Almost." She smiled still.
Jace shoved his hands into his pockets as he rounded the corner to his bedroom, almost an hour after having left it. Brother Zachariah stood in the exact same spot as if he had not budged a single muscle. Jace came to a stop in front of the Brother.
"Was it your voice I heard?" Jace asked, already knowing the answer.
Whether I spoke is not the matter. Ask yourself this; did you listen?
"You know I did." Jace shrugged at him.
You know yourself better than I do, Herondale. But know this: I know you better than you believe.
"Why do you keep calling me Herondale? My last name seems to change like the weather these days, the only thing I know for sure is that I'm Jace. Just Jace."
You have always been a Herondale. You will always be a Herondale. I knew this the moment I met you.
"Oh, so you're an expert on Herondales now?" Jace challenged him. He could have sworn he saw Brother Zachariah almost smile for a moment.
You strive only for what you desire most while somehow still placing your loved ones' safety before your own. You hide your emotions. You cloak them in feigned resentment and indifference. Would you ever admit that you fit this definition?
Jace scowled silently.
Neither would my parabatai.
I actually kind of liked this story, and that's odd because I usually don't like my own work, but in this case I do, so I thought I'd post it. Any reviews would be greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think!