I'M BAAAAAAAACK. Yeah. This isn't a Deep Blue update. I know. I get it. You want Deep Blue. Well, when you guys can produce some inspiration on that front, you'll get an update.

With that said, this long-ass one shot is for my parabatai, who's birthday was this past month and this was supposed to be a gift for that but I missed it. And then it was supposed to be a Christmas gift and I missed that too. So, here it is. Late, as usual. Sorry, M! Hope this makes up for it!

I really hope you guys like this story.

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters. I also have no fucking clue how jail/prison/bail/parole and all that works. So please, no flames on that front. If you can't get through the story with just a little inaccuracy, then I never said you absolutely had to read it.

Enjoy!

Clary awoke amongst the clutter of moving boxes and stared at the ceiling. It was ugly and white. It would need to be painted very soon, she was sure.

She set her hand on the cold hardwood floor and pushed her body up on the bare mattress she had been sleeping on, with just a comforter to cover her. The whole room was white, aside from the floor; which was, in fact, a golden brown. The early morning sun shone through windows. She wanted to be sick; the day was too cheery for her mood at the moment.

She breathed in a sigh, and heard the sound of bacon being cooked. Mom must've gotten up early, she thought. Jocelyn had always had trouble sleeping. Deciding that now was as good as any time to get dressed, she went to the outfit she'd picked out for the day, quickly changed, and headed down to the kitchen.

Jocelyn was bent over the stove cooking breakfast. Large brown boxes littered the hallway and nearly every room in the big house Jocelyn decided would be a perfect place for a new start. (Really, it was the first house the real estate agent had showed them, about two weeks ago.)

Clary sat at the bar noiselessly. Jocelyn didn't notice her, going about her business of stirring the eggs and moving the bacon around the pan. When she deemed the bacon ready to be consumed, she picked up the pan, being careful to turn that particular eye on the stove off, and put the bacon on a plate. She turned to put it on the bar, and then saw Clary. With a shriek, the plate full of bacon crashed onto the floor.

Jocelyn clutched her chest and glared at her daughter, who looked back with a guilty smile. "Sorry," Clary said.

Her mother shook her head as she cleared away the ruined bacon and the now-destroyed plate. "Well, Clary, now you get no bacon with your breakfast this morning. Only eggs." She set a plate of eggs down in front of Clary, turning to retrieve a fork for her as well.

"So," Jocelyn said after a moment of silent egg eating, "are you excited for your new school?" She grabbed a rag and ran it around the stove while looking attentively at Clary, resembling a stereotypical barkeep ready to hear a drunk's troubles.

Clary gave a humorless laugh. "Excited for being the new kid coming in during the middle of the semester? Excited for being the 'art freak' like at my other school? Excited for being two whole hours away from my brother without any means of seeing him?"

Jocelyn chose to ignore that, settling for commenting on only the first sentence. "You'll make friends."

"Yeah, right."

Jocelyn pointed a fork at her. "Don't sass me, Clary. You know I'm only doing what's best for you."

"No," Clary said, pushing her uneaten food away. "You're only doing what's best for you. I want to go back."

"I couldn't be in that house anymore, Clarissa!" Jocelyn yelled. "What your brother did –"

"He was trying to protect me – "

"And he ended up just like your father!"

Clary stared at her mother. No, she thought, he didn't. And you're just too ignorant to see past the gun. She grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

Life sucks.

Jace drummed his fingers on the desk to the beat of some song he'd heard on the radio this morning on the way to school. In front of him, Isabelle painted her nails, and her stalker (a.k.a boyfriend) Simon stared like a puppy. He'd actually often been referred to as a puppy by Isabelle, claiming that his big brown eyes could melt her heart like that of a certain doe-eyed dog offspring, but to Jace he only looked like a giant, humanoid rat – an image Jace didn't want in his head, so he generally avoided looking at Simon all together.

They were all currently sitting in their first period American History class, the most boring class in all of humanity, but with the Magnificent Magnus Bane (as he likes to call himself) as a teacher, it can get… slightly less boring. History to Mr. Bane is very exciting and interesting, but even on the first day of school, he simply told them, "There is no way on Earth I can make any one of you enjoy this particular class; however, I am going to try." Alec had Mr. Bane last year for American History, and has him again this year for AP European History. He told Jace that Mr. Bane could really make history "come alive". Granted, history isn't the only thing that Mr. Bane can bring to life for Alec, but Jace was forbidden to ever speak about that.

All this thought of Mr. Bane must've summoned him – well, either that or the bell that sounded through the school signaling the start of class – because he burst through the door with a flourish, the door slamming shut behind him with the force of his entry. His oddly colored green-gold eyes scanned the room, stopping on Jace's empty desk in the front. Slowly, Mr. Bane turned to his own desk (which was round, not rectangular, because Mr. Bane likes round tables so much better than square), where Jace had been comfortably lounging since he'd gotten there that morning. He smirked at his teacher, who put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me, but I believe that particular piece of furniture belongs to me, Wayland." Mr. Bane made a shooing motion with his hands, but Jace refused to move.

"Well, I'd make more use out of it than you, Bane." The class giggled in unison.

Mr. Bane smiled. "I'm sure you would; however, I cannot allow it. If Penhallow came in here now, I'd most likely lose my job. And then you wouldn't be able to see my magnificent self every day."

Jace shook his head. "Not seeing any problems. At least, not for me." Now the class laughed out loud.

"What are you people laughing at? He's not that funny!"

"Of course I am. Everything I say is pure comic gold.:

"Go sit down in your own seat," Mr. Bane commanded, rolling his eyes. Once Jace was seated, Mr. Bane turned to his first period class, and a smile – a genuine one, like you get when you really like something – appeared on his face. "Now then, we can get on with – " He was interrupted with a short knock at the door, and the principal Mrs. Penhallow's face appeared in the doorway. The class immediately froze what they were doing, lest they get caught on their phone (Mr. Bane doesn't care what they do – it's their final exam, not his – but Penhallow will take their phone, and call their parents, and probably the National Guard as well. Yeah, she didn't like phones.).

"Mr. Bane, may I see you for a moment?"

Once her face disappeared, the class stared at Bane as he made the most God-awful face at the door Jace had ever seen. The class once again laughed. Bane waved a hand at them and went out the door to talk to Penhallow.

Immediately the class erupted into chatter. Jace stood, stretched like a cat, and went to the door to listen in. He couldn't hear anything, but suddenly the voices got very close to the door, and Jace had to nearly run to get back to his seat in time so as not to get caught, and not to get hit by the door when Bane comes bursting back in again.

Bane did just that, an even bigger smile on his face than before. "Okay, this is a treat for you guys." He turned to the door and ushered someone inside. "We have a new student. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Clary Fray."

Through the door, clutching books to her chest and looking down at the floor came the brightest red hair Jace had ever seen. It was attached to a petite girl, possibly a foot shorter than himself. Jace blinked twice for his eyes to get accustomed to the sight in front of him. Next to Bane, this girl – Clary, he'd said – looked like a tiny fairy one would find in the woods. Then again, Bane was a very tall man, and nearly every person – aside from Alec – looked like a tiny fairy next to him.

Jace had to admit: she was cute. She was the type of girl that Jace would at least take a second glance at in the hallway – that is, if he saw her the first time. Once again: she was tiny.

Bane pointed to a desk in the front row, but in the corner, and coincidentally right next to Jace. "You're in luck; there's an empty seat next to…" His face fell, and he once again rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Good luck with this one." He ushered her over and she sat down, glancing wearily at Jace.

Jace shook his head. "You wouldn't have me any other way, Bane."

He turned his head to Clary and winked, which, to his surprise, was met with a menacing glare that gave him chills –and not the good kind, either.

Jace's eyes grew wide and he quickly turned away from her. He contemplated this odd reaction he'd received from the new girl throughout first period. Why didn't she blush at first sight? Or swoon when he winked? She could've at least smiled. Jace thought a moment. This could be what Alec was talking about the other day when he said people usually wanted him dead after the first sentence. But Jace hadn't even been speaking to her!

He glanced over at her a few times during Bane's lecture. She had her notebook out, and was obviously taking notes, but she was also drawing strange symbols in the margins, along with dozens of pairs of angel wings. It gave Jace an uneasy feeling.

There was something different about this girl. And it was probably going to drive Jace mad until he figured it out.

Jace sat brooding at the lunch table. Isabelle glanced at him and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Jace, so she gave you a look. Big deal."

Jace turned his head to look at Isabelle, his eyes wild. "Yes, but if looks could kill, I'd be strung up on a tree, my eyeballs popped out of my head with buzzards picking at them! Plus, who resists this?" He gestured himself, which earned three pairs of eye rolls. "I mean, seriously. Look around this cafeteria – every girl is staring at me with some form of lust in their eyes."

He was right – every girl was staring at him, and those who weren't would sneak indirect but dreamy glances at him from afar. At Idris High, Jace was known as the "Golden Boy," and he earned the title even without participating in any sports. He suspected it had something to do with his blond hair and his "golden, honey-colored" eyes, and his skin was also somewhat bronzed from the summer he spent completely outdoors. Let's just face it – he's gorgeous.

"That her?" Alec asked, nodding his head to the door behind Jace.

Jace turned (indiscreetly, mind you) to look behind him. Clary was walking in, still clutching her books to her chest, and still looking as small as ever. Behind her came the Magnificent Magnus Bane, and Jace knew he'd lost Alec's attention for the time being. The two were talking, and it seemed Mr. Bane was showing her around the school.

Simon glanced up at them as they walked by. "She doesn't look like she has anyone to sit with. Maybe we should invite her over."

"No, Rat-Boy! She shall not sit with us!"

Isabelle looked at him. "What are you, the Seat Nazi?"

"Well, no, but – "

It was too late. Bane appeared at the head of their table, Clary beside him. Bane smiled his award-winning smile, causing Alec to practically melt in his seat. That would have been a funny sight, but Jace had other things on his mind.

"Hello, all," Bane said. They all mumbled a greeting back. Bane made a sweeping gesture at Clary. "This is Clary Fray. Make her feel welcome. I have to grade papers." With a wink at Alec that definitely didn't go unnoticed by anyone, Bane was off.

Their eyes drifted to Clary, who was now biting her lip in a positively adorable way. Wait, what? Jace also noticed that her eyes were green – a sort of glistening emerald green. Okay, stop.

Clary blew out a breath, and spoke the first words. "Listen, I don't expect you guys to let me sit with you, so I'll just go somewhere else." Jace raised his eyebrows. It was like she didn't even know he was there.

She turned to leave, but before she could Simon stood up. "No, wait. You can stay; it's absolutely fine." He gestured to the seat across from him, two down from Alec, who looked like he was still recovering from the brief encounter with Bane and wasn't listening to anything that was being said.

But Clary shook her head. "No thanks."

"O-okay," said Simon. "If you really feel that way."

They all watched her go to the other side of the cafeteria and sit at an empty corner table. Simon said something about her, but Jace wasn't listening – he was watching her movements too intently. He watched as she set her backpack down on the floor, leaned over, and took her something out of the front pocket: a cell phone. She pressed a button and put it to her ear, and then her whole face lit up. The smile did wonders for her. Now she looked even more beautiful.

Jace shook his head to clear the thought away. No, absolutely not, he refused to feel this way about anyone who refuses to acknowledge his gorgeous presence.

But what was he feeling, exactly? Okay, yes, she was cute, he'd admit it, but that's all. It cannot go any further than that. He had a reputation to uphold, and that did not include being attracted to the antisocial new girl who drew weird stuff all over her notebook during class. No, that would not do.

Simon and Izzy were once again chatting, and Jace could see Simon glancing occasionally at the new girl. Jace narrowed his eyes at him, but silently let it slide, consoling himself with the fact that if things intensified with Simon and Clary, Rat-Boy would have Isabelle Lightwood to deal with. And then Alec and Jace – that is, if Izzy left them with anything. She was quite brutal when it came to no-good boyfriends.

Jace turned back to Clary, only to be met with an empty table.

"I didn't know you could call today!" Clary said happily to her brother.

Jon laughed on the other end. "Yeah, I've been extra good this week."

Clary snorted. "Yeah, right."

She was alone at a deserted table, having successfully brushed off that particular group that Mr. Bane seems intent on having her join. It was bad enough having to sit next to the cocky blond during his class, but to sit with him and his overly gorgeous group of friends? Not likely.

She could feel their never-ending stares on her, and she glanced over. They weren't all staring at her, just the cocky blond and the one in the glasses that was previously mooning over the tall, skinny, beautiful brunette. She quickly looked away, and when she looked back, she saw her chance to escape without them all staring after her. She slipped out the backdoor of the cafeteria – which was conveniently located right next to her table – and walked into the courtyard behind the school. There were a few students out here, but not so much that her conversation would be overheard.

She set her stuff down and sat against the wall. She heard Jon's continued laughter on the other end, and her heart soared at the sound she's missed hearing everyday. "So, are you at the new school yet?"

"Yeah," Clary sighed. "Mom just couldn't wait to start."

"How far away is it?"

"Two hours," she answered grudgingly.

There was a pause on the other end, and Clary was afraid she'd said something to upset him. Well, she wouldn't be surprised, as she was upset as well. "Well," Jon finally answered, "I guess it's her choice. She doesn't want you to see me anymore."

Clary huffed. "How could she do this to you? She's your mother!"

"I know, I know." He sighed on the other end. "Listen, I've got to go. Love you, Clary."

"Yeah, love you too, Jon. Thanks for calling." She hung up right as the bell rang to go back to class.

Luckily, she had art next, something she excelled at. It didn't really help that her mother was also the new art teacher. It wasn't permanent, however. The old one had a heart attack, and had to be put on bed rest until further notice. Word around school was that it was permanent, and that was why Jocelyn was hired. When Jocelyn heard about an art teacher position, if just as a substitute, she snapped up the position, even going so far as buying a house, "Just in case they make it permanent," she'd justified. Clary just shook her head, refusing to reply because she knew what would come out of her mouth wouldn't be good.

She walked in with her head down, not really wanting to acknowledge her mother. Jocelyn sat at a rectangular desk in the far corner of the room, her head bent over some unfinished projects other students had started earlier. As other students began to pile in, Clary silently pulled out her sketchbook and began doodling. That is, until someone poked her shoulder.

"Hi," said a polite voice. Clary turned to see the one in glasses that had wanted Clary to sit with his group of friends at lunch. (Of course, it was highly possible that he just felt obligated to let her by Mr. Bane; he seemed to have that kind of effect on students.) He smiled at her and held out his hand. "I'm Simon Lewis."

Clary reluctantly shook his hand. "Clary Mor - Fray. Clary Fray." Boy, that was a close one.

His smile grew, and he pointed to the chair next to her. "Is this seat taken?" She shook her head, and he sat down. Things were quiet for a minute. She felt him glance at her work. "So, what are you drawing?"

Clary simply shrugged. He nodded in understanding. "Okay, not much of a talker. Totally get it. I don't talk much either. I mean, not really. Sometimes I do when I get nervous, or when things are awkward –"

"Like now?" Clary asked with her eyebrows raised. About that time the final bell rang to get to class, and Clary silently thanked whatever power above that she wouldn't have to talk to this guy anymore.

"Good afternoon, class," Jocelyn started, going to stand at the front of the room. "I'm Ms. Fray, and I'll be your art teacher for the time being. It's a shame about Mrs. Blackthorn, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. In the meantime, though, you have me. So, let's start with attendance."

She promptly went over the list of names, skipping over Clary's. Clary hoped no one would notice, but this Simon fellow must've been paying really close attention, because he leaned over and whispered, "Hey, she didn't call your name. Should I say –?"

"She knows I'm here," was all Clary answered.

"But how -?" It was then that Simon put it together. Somewhat. "So, are you guys related or something?"

Clary sighed. "She's my mother."

Light bulb moment for Simon. Clary just shook her head and attempted to listen to what her mother was saying.

"Okay, for your first assignment for me, I simply want to get to know you through your art, see and feel what you're passionate about. So, I want you to draw…whatever comes to mind, but tell me the story of you. Use whatever utensils you wish. Easy, right? You have until the end of class. If you need any help on anything, don't hesitate to ask. I don't bite." She threw a smile to the class and sat back down at her desk.

Half the class flocked to the back of the room where, Clary supposed, the art supplies was located. She slowly rose from her seat and took her place in the group that had gathered and patiently waited her turn. She felt rather than heard Simon's presence behind her, and she wanted to roll her eyes. This guy had a smoking hot girlfriend; why won't he leave her alone?

She calmly got her supplies and sat back down, picking up her pencil and going through a quick sketch of what she was going to draw. Once she got the sketch in motion, she set to work on her actual picture.

She worked for a good fifteen minutes before she felt Simon watching in horrid fascination, and she glanced over at him. "What?" she demanded.

Simon, for once, seemed at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth, reminding Clary of a fish out of water. She waited for his response. "Uhm… what, uh, what is that?"

"Well, she asked for my story, did she not?"

Looking down at it, Clary supposed it was a bit much to someone who didn't know her. She'd drawn it from left to right, like you read a book. It starts with a house, a rather nice one, in the top left corner. It was surrounded by light that Clary created using a variation of yellow colored pencils. There was a general sense of happiness in that one little corner.

The next picture was where it got a little dark. It was the same house, but was surrounded by an ominous red cloud of some sort, with red droplets coming from the bottom of the house and coming to rest at the bottom of the paper.

The final picture she was still in the process of creating, using only her pencil. It was clearly a jail cell. She shaded in the bars lightly, and used her eraser to make the pencil lighter on them and give them shape. Then she shaded in the background, using her finger to smear the pencil marks. This picture was in the bottom right hand corner.

In the other corners, she planned on drawing the usual sketches that she drew in her notebook: symbols she made up as she doodled. Clary liked doodling; it allowed her to think.

Simon blinked at her, and then went back to his own drawing.

Clary finished about five minutes before the bell was supposed to ring. She stood and took the picture to her mother, giving it to her and muttering, "Jon called me today." That earned her a shocked glare as she retreated back to her table to pack up her stuff.

"So," Simon said when she returned, "that was your life story?"

Clary shrugged on her bag. "A variation of it. She already knows all about it." With that, the bell rang, and Clary darted out of the room.

"As much as I hate to admit this, Jace was right." Jace smirked. He knew Simon would see the light one of these days. "That Clary girl is strange. Or at least, she has a rough past. Did you know her mom is the one subbing for Mrs. Blackthorn?"

They were all sitting in their first period class again, and this time Jace was sitting in his own seat for once. He listened to Simon's story of bleeding houses and jail cells with mild interest as he tried to imagine that small girl having such a past as that. It intrigued him. He wanted to know more about this girl.

It was then that the girl in question walked into the room. Jace watched her plop her stuff down, then plop herself down in the chair, and turn to the front. She seemed to be a very patient person; well, you have to be when dealing with Magnificent Magnus, who seemed to be her sort of "teacher mentor" or something. Jace had seen them going over her schedule after their class yesterday, and Bane had told Alec that he'd showed Clary around the school during lunch.

Jace cleared his throat, and Clary turned that icy green-eyed glare over to him. He decided not to let it perturb him. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I'm Jace Wayland." He added his signature smile, hoping that would do something to melt that look she was giving him.

It did do some, but not much, to improve her expression. "Clary Fray."

Jace nodded. "Yes, I believe we've established that. We have three classes together throughout the day together, and you've been introduced in all three of them."

This seemed to interest her. "Which ones?" she asked.

Wait, did she really not know which classes they shared? "Um, this one, Garroway for English, and Starkweather for math." Jace Wayland, the epitome of suave and grace in every way, just stuttered like…like a love-struck school boy or, well, like Alec in the presence of Bane.

Clary nodded and turned back to her sketchbook, which sat on the desk in front of her. All Jace could see was angel wings spread out all over the page. He watched her use her finger to smear the pencil on the edge of one, smoothing it out. She then moved her pencil and made a line, connecting the wing to a curved line somewhat connected to a circle in the middle of the page, which Jace presumed to be the head of the angel. At least, Jace hoped it was an angel. It could be something dark and sinister, like some sort of demon, what with the way Simon described her artwork done in class. Either way, the picture was rather beautiful, what much was finished of it.

Jace's on looking was interrupted when Bane came into the room. He was holding a phone to his ear, and was smiling. It seemed like a very intimate phone call, and Jace raised an eyebrow.

When Bane ended the phone call, a boy who was sharpening his pencil – Nick, Jace thought he was called – walked toward his seat, but not before smirking at Bane. "Who was on the phone, Mr. Bane?" he asked.

Bane stared at him. "Your mother. Go sit down." Laughing, Nick sat, and Bane began the class.

Jace didn't listen to Bane's lecture. He rarely did, anyway. Instead, he watched the girl next to him draw on her notebook. She drew the same strange symbols she'd drawn yesterday along the edges and in the corners of the page, surrounding the angel. He watched with fascination as she wandered over from the symbols back to the angel, putting finishing touches on the glorious wings. Her pencil traveled down to the bottom of the page, where she drew lines that took shape into a pair of legs, and she worked her way up from there. The way she drew – with languid, sure strokes and light touches of the pencil to the paper – mesmerized Jace. He didn't want to tear his gaze away.

Sooner or later he had to, however, because Bane said something that Jace deemed rather important. "Wait a minute, what?" Jace demanded, rather loudly.

Bane stared at him, a little taken aback by his sudden outburst. He shook his head, turning back to the rest of the class. "You are going to do a project, simply because I need to do paperwork and keep you busy at the same time. You are going to do a timeline on the Civil War battles you deem important. The rubric is in your emails. Don't worry, though; you won't be presenting these – I don't have the interest or time to sit through an entire class watching you stumble through talking in front of the class blindly. That honestly bores me to tears – much like this class," he added under his breath, but everyone heard him and laughed. He continued, "You will have the rest of the day today to plan, and all day tomorrow to work. These will be due on Thursday. Now, I won't be here on Thursday and Friday, so you'll watch…some movie on the Civil War that I will borrow from one of the other history teachers." He nodded with finality. "Any questions?"

"Where are you going?" One of the nosy kids in the back asked.

Bane looked at a loss for words, before shrugging and saying, "Apparently I have to use 'vacation days' because they don't want to pay me for them. Now get to work."

The class erupted into chatter, but kept it low because Bane doesn't like a lot of noise. Jace looked up at Bane's desk as he sat back down. He wasn't even doing paperwork – he was on his phone! Jace rolled his eyes.

He turned to Clary, who was silently looking around the class. It was then that he unexpectedly (and rather politely, in his opinion) asked, "Would you like to be partners?"

But it only earned him another glare. "Wouldn't you rather have someone else as your partner?"

Jace pretended to think. "Hm. The only person in this class whom I would even consider as my partner besides you would be Isabelle." He jerked his thumb behind him where Isabelle sat, talking with Simon. "But, Izzy and Simon are dating, and therefore are obligated to work together on anything that requires it. However, I don't envy Simon – on any matter – because Izzy isn't terribly…motivated to work, if you get what I mean."

Clary stared at him. Jace continued, feeling a little awkward but hiding it perfectly well. "And, I would never consider Simon. No thanks."

"Why me then?" She asked quietly.

"Well, you seem to have a good work ethic," was his short and incredibly unsophisticated answer. Really, he didn't have an acceptable response. What, did he want to watch her draw? Actually make the effort to get to know her? Was that what he was doing right now?

Clary scoffed. "So you just want me to do it for you."

"I have every intention of helping you," Jace replied.

"Right, okay." Jace was a little hurt that Clary was unconvinced.

The bell rang. Clary quickly gathered her stuff and flew out the door. Jace looked after her, putting his things away slowly so as to wait for Isabelle, who was still talking with Simon and not paying any attention whatsoever.

After school, Jace waited by Alec's car for Alec to hurry up. He was currently with Mr. Bane (shocker there, right?), allegedly working on the essay portion of Alec's scholarships he'll apply for next month. Jace remained unconvinced, but Alec would hear none of it.

After about thirty minutes of lounging and periodically checking his phone for the time, Jace became bored and decided that he would go off exploring (snooping) behind the school. This area was usually where all the students went to smoke cigarettes (or other stuff), or have sex, but since there was practically no one on campus after the final bell at 3:15, Jace liked his chances of snooping around without being seen.

Much to his surprise, however, there was someone sitting against the wall when he walked behind there. It was Clary.

She was curled in on herself, looking like a tiny ball against the brick wall of the school, and was bent over that sketchpad again, shading with vigor, tongue poking out of her mouth a little with concentration. Upon closer inspection, Jace found that she was wearing ear buds, and probably couldn't hear him approach. This gave Jace the advantage of observing her work once again.

She was now on the angel's torso, shading in its shirt. By now, the angel took on a man's form, but still just had an oval for a head. Jace raised his eyebrows, noting the detail and the…emotion, with which she drew. He also noted that she had pencil on her hands where she'd dragged them all over the page.

"What are you doing?"

Jace jumped back a little. He'd been absorbed in her drawing; he didn't notice her look up at him. She jerked her ear buds out and stood, outraged. Her tiny hands balled into fists at her sides, and Jace felt in real danger of being hit. "I was just walking back here to see if anyone else was here. This is a rather popular hangout."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I just got here," he lied.

This seemed to appease her for the most part. "I wasn't working on the project if that's what you're wondering."

"No, and I wasn't expecting you to be. You were working on the angel."

Her gaze traveled back up to Jace, wide-eyed that he would actually notice. "I must say," he continued, strolling over to her, "I'm pretty invested in that drawing. You'll have to show me the end result."

"That's kind of private," she answered. "My sketchbook…it's like my diary in some aspects."

Jace smirked. "So, am I in there somewhere?"

Clary shook her head. "No. Should you be?"

"Why, yes I should!" He got closer, and Clary took a step backward. "If not in a romance novel cover of some sort, then at least a page dedicated to doodles of my name, or 'Mrs. Clary Wayland.' Or both, I'm not picky.'"

"I'm confused," she said. "Are we talking about my sketchbook diary or yours?"

"Yours, as mine would have doodles of my name only. And possibly Megan Fox."

Clary rolled her eyes. "I only draw what is important to me. You haven't made the cut, and I doubt you ever will."

Jace gave a small smile. "Challenge accepted. Why are you back here all alone?"

Clary's face turned solemn, just when Jace was getting her to open up a little, and he regretted the subject change. "I'm waiting for my mother. As much as I don't want to, I have to get a ride from her."

"Oh yeah, you're mother's the new art teacher. Well, my brother and I could give you a ride if you wanted. He should get out of whatever he's doing in – " Just then, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out to see who was calling him. "Oh, right now." He pressed the button to answer. "Hello, Alec."

"I'm at the car, where are you?" He sounded like he was in a good mood.

"I'm behind the school," Jace answered nonchalantly.

"What are you doing back there? Are you with a girl?"

"Why, yes. But it's not in the way you are implying."

He could practically hear Alec's eye roll through the phone. "Yeah, whatever. If your ass isn't in this car in three minutes, it's getting left here." With that, he hung up.

"Well," Jace said as he put his phone back in his pocket, "shall we go?"

Clary regretted going with these boys. She knew it was a terrible idea to begin with, but something about those persuasive golden eyes of Jace's… No. No, no, no. Okay, yes, Jace was rather…attractive, with his golden eyes and hair, resembling to Clary a striking and imperial lion or… Or an angel, her wayward subconscious whispered.

Clary shook the thought out of her head. No. The angel is Jonathon. Not Jace Wayland – definitely not Jace Wayland.

Another thought dawned on her. "So," she said quietly from the backseat, "you said you two were brothers, but you look nothing alike."

Alec's crystal blue eyes glanced at her from the rearview mirror. Alec was attractive as well, but in a different way than Jace, Clary noted. Where Jace was light, Alec was dark, brooding, mysterious. The contrast between the two was striking, and even resonated in their personalities. Jace was outgoing, confident; whereas Alec was quiet, maybe shy. It was hard for her to imagine them being related.

Jace grinned at her. "Wow, I never thought I'd see the day you'd initiate a conversation."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He nodded. "Yeah, well, we're practically brothers. The Lightwoods and the Waylands have been intertwined from the beginning, going as far back as Victorian England –"

"I didn't ask for your whole family history," Clary interrupted. "I asked a simple question, and I expect a simple answer."

Jace raised his eyebrows at her. "Okay! Alec and I have been best friends since we were little because his parents are my godparents, and vice versa. When my parents…died, the Lightwoods took me in. So yes, Alec and I are essentially brothers."

Clary noticed the pause when talking about his parents, but didn't bring it up. She didn't want to delve too much, lest she get too attached.

"Pull in here," she directed Alec.

They pulled up in front of Clary's house. Alec and Jace leaned forward to get a better view, as it was a rather large house. It was a white and generic two-story house, but Clary supposed it did have its charm.

She gathered her stuff and got out of the car, and Jace followed. "I don't need an escort, thank you."

"Of course you do," he replied. "What kind of gentleman would I be? Believe what you want; chivalry isn't dead."

"But you didn't open the door for me when I got out of the car."

He shrugged. "You got out before I did. So this is your house?" He gestured behind him.

"Yes," Clary answered. With that, she trudged up to the door, Jace on her heels. He leaned against the doorframe as she dug through her backpack for her key. She felt self-conscious with him watching her, and almost dropped her backpack because of it. Cursing herself and Jace, she finally found her key and shoved it in the lock. She looked up at Jace, whose gold lion-like eyes were staring back. "This is the part where you leave," she said.

He blew out a breath. "If that's what you really want."

"Believe me, it is," she said. He hopped off the front porch with a little wave and got back into the car. Clary glared at them as they drove away, muttering under her breath. She went into the house, locking the door behind her and going up to her room.

She slammed her backpack down on her new bed she'd gotten the day before. She also had new furniture for her room, but it was currently accumulated in the far corner, because Clary needed to paint her room before she could arrange them. Luckily, Jocelyn was bringing home paint today.

She dumped out her backpack on her bed, sifting through the stuff until she found her history notebook and her laptop. She researched the important battles of the Civil War so at least they would have a plan for what they would do tomorrow during class.

Tomorrow. She was going to see Jace again tomorrow. Something about this thought both worried and excited her. On the one hand, Jace annoyed the hell out of her and she couldn't get away from him fast enough. On the other, Jace was a very powerful ally to have, what with him being the Golden Boy (both figuratively and literally, she'd noted) and having the school practically eat out of his hand (and literally, as she'd seen in their math class today). If he was on her side, potential bullies and the troubles of high school in general might just leave her alone the way it hadn't at her other school.

She shook her head, writing down the last of the nine battles she was supposed to have and clearing her history stuff away. Next, she got out her math homework. Which is another class with Jace.

"Ugh!" She yelled, throwing her math book down on the floor with a thump. "Why can't I get this guy out of my head?!"

Because you're into him, she thought.

"No," she said aloud, "I am most certainly not into Jace Wayland." She threw her hands up. "Great, now I'm talking to myself. That's just perfect."

Frustrated, she worked on her math problems, listening to some music to try to clear her thoughts of a certain golden-eyed boy. After about an hour, she heard the door open and close downstairs. Sighing, she took out her ear buds and went downstairs.

Her mother was lugging large cans of paint into the door. When she saw Clary she instantly relaxed. "Ah, Clary. Come help me get this paint inside. It's for your room. I was thinking we could paint it together. After you finished your homework, of course."

Clary simply stood there. "I don't know… I mean I have a lot of homework…" She didn't really. She just didn't want to paint with Jocelyn, because she knew where the conversation would go, and then they would begin fighting, and then it was possible that Clary wouldn't have a ride to school tomorrow.

"Oh. Well, do you want to wait until Saturday to paint?"

Hm. Clary guessed the fighting would start now. "Actually, Mom, I wanted to do something else on Saturday."

"What?"

"I want to go see Jon," she said quietly.

Jocelyn heard her, and she dropped the paint can she was holding. Luckily, it wasn't that far from the ground anyway, so it didn't burst and splatter all over the room. "Clary…" Jocelyn sighed.

"Please, Mom, I miss him. I'll never ask for anything again, and we can paint today if you want! You could even go see him too, I know he wants to see you!"

Jocelyn shook her head. "No, Clary, you aren't going to see him."

"Why not?"

She thought for a moment. "You aren't old enough."

"But you are, and –"

"No, Clary. I don't want you –"

"But why not?"

"Because I said so!"

It went quiet. Two sets of green eyes glared at each other from across the room. "What are you afraid of?" Clary whispered.

Jocelyn shook her head. "I will not have this conversation. Go to your room. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"No promises I'll come back down," Clary spat, and she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to her room.

She threw herself down on the bed, landing on something hard. Wincing, she sat back up, finding her sketchbook underneath her. Flipping randomly through, she came upon her faceless angel that started out as her brother, but his body now looked nothing like Jon's. Where Jon had a large build, was tall and muscular, this guy was rather skinny, lean, almost resembling…

"Oh my God," Clary said, shaking her head. "Why won't he just leave me alone?"

She didn't erase her work, however. Examining it closely, she saw that she could still make it into her brother. All she had to do was add some muscle…

When she brought her pencil up to make a mark, she paused just over the paper. It was almost as though her pencil had a mind of its own, refusing to move. Looking at it now, she saw that it was the best work she's done lately, and she guessed she just couldn't bring herself to erase it.

She sighed, closing her sketchbook and looking around at her blank walls. This bland white color was almost driving her insane. She had to get some paint on it. Maybe once she started painting she would forget about…him. She refused to even think his name now, lest it bring up actual thoughts of him.

Quietly shutting her door, Clary crept downstairs and into the living room (which was nearly as bare as her bedroom) and grabbed two cans of the paint her mother brought. Silently, she went back to her room.

Clary slowly woke up and stretched. She then turned over, wanting to stay asleep as long as she could. This was the first time she'd slept through the night without any nightmares. The sun from her window was hitting her just the right way, warming her but not to the point of giving her a heatstroke. She was quite comfortable.

But a low chuckle and a crunch took that comfort away all too quickly. Clary's eyes shot open, and were met with a pair of golden ones.

"Morning," said Jace, taking a bite of the apple he held in his hand. He saw her eyeing it, and offered it to her.

She glared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I let him in." Clary turned her head toward Jocelyn, who was standing a little ways off with her arms crossed. She didn't look happy.

Jace nodded. "It was either that or me stand outside and wait on you. At least in here it's warmer." He took another bite of his apple.

"Okay," said Clary, "but why are you here in the first place?"

"You should've led with that," Jace said. "I thought you could use someone to walk you to school. Let's face it: you need friends. Hey, why were you sleeping on the couch? You do have a room, right?"

"I painted it last night, and couldn't sleep there." Clary stood, and, realizing that her pajamas only comprised a pair of old shorts and the tank top she'd painted in last night, pulled the blanket she'd been sleeping under around herself. He stood with her, looking down at her in amusement while she glared up at him.

"We aren't friends," she said menacingly.

"Not yet," he answered. "But, you see, you challenged me yesterday. Now I will do anything and everything in my power to get you to care about me."

She stared at him. "What? Just so I will draw you in my sketchbook? Is that what really what you want?"

He nodded. "I guess so, yeah."

She turned and went upstairs, groaning as she did so.

"I'll just wait here!" he called after her.

"Okay, so her mom gave you a ride to school this morning." Isabelle raised her eyebrows. "Was that the goal?"

"Not really," Jace answered. "I wanted to talk to her some more, but I couldn't exactly do that with her mother right there." He blew out a breath. "Luckily, we didn't finish the timeline project in class today, so I'm coming over after school to finish it." He smiled proudly.

"I'm not quite getting this," Simon said.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to," Jace muttered.

Simon chose to ignore that. "Is all this really about a drawing?"

Jace closed his eyes, exasperated with his sister's extremely poor choice in boyfriends. "Well, Simon, yes and no. You have not seen this angel – it is gorgeous, and normally I don't say that about anything aside from myself, so this is a big deal." Isabelle nodded in acquiescent agreement. "I need to see the end result, because…" Because it will be an insight to Clary Fray, the enigmatic, imaginative, very small redhead that has consumed Jace's thoughts inexplicably and uncontrollably since they met. But Simon wouldn't understand that. And Izzy probably wouldn't believe it. So why bother telling them?

"Because…?" Simon prompted.

"Because…I want a copy." When Isabelle narrowed her eyes, he merely shrugged. "I told you, it's good artwork. Hey, where's Alec?"

Jace looked around the cafeteria, and about half the cafeteria's population of girls looked back at him, but he ignored them like always. After a few moments of looking around, Alec came through the cafeteria door, looking both frazzled and pleased with himself. Jace narrowed his eyes at his brother as he sat down.

A few moments passed in silence. Isabelle sat painting her nails next to Jace, Simon on her other side. Jace had food in front of him that he refused to eat because it was cafeteria food, and was passing time swirling the peas on his tray into different shapes with his fork. Before he could let his thoughts wander back to a certain green-eyed girl, he focused on Alec, who was looking down on his phone.

"So, Alec…" Jace wondered how to put this lightly. Perhaps it would be better to just blurt it out. "What's that on your neck?"

Alec's eyes grew wide as he slapped his hand to his neck. "I…fell."

"You fell," Jace deadpanned. "On your neck." Alec nodded weakly.

Isabelle put the hand that was painting the other one up to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Poor Simon just looked confused. "Okay, how?" Simon asked.

Jace face-palmed. "Simon, must we explain everything?"

Alec made a sound almost like a dying chicken that meant he really didn't want to talk about his neck. Isabelle took pity on him, saying, "Our Alec is just very clumsy." She went back to her nail painting, chuckling to herself. Alec looked like he wanted to be sick.

Jace heard the door to the cafeteria open again, and he turned to find Clary. He stood, and everyone turned to see what he was looking at. Clary paused, and her eyes found Jace's. He threw a smile her way. She didn't return it, instead opting to go to that empty table at the far end of the cafeteria. Jace sat again, sighing.

Isabelle glanced at him. "Are you going to talk to her?" she asked.

"No," said Jace. "She's still pretty mad at me for showing up at her house this morning."

"That's understandable," said Simon. "If I caught someone I didn't particularly like very much staring at me while I slept, I'd be pretty pissed too."

"She likes me. Everyone likes me."

"Not everyone." They turned to see Mr. Bane standing at the head of their table. Alec almost fell out of his seat. Bane seemed to ignore it. "I love teaching, Wayland, but you make it so hard." He produced a faded black jacket and set it in front of Alec. "You left this in my classroom."

"Th-thank you," Alec stuttered, his face taking on a crimson color.

With a wink and a flourish, Bane was gone; having went to the far end of the cafeteria. They all watched as he sat in front of Clary and succeeded in making conversation. Jace immediately felt a flare of jealousy, and tried to push it down.

Alec's hands found his jacket and started picking at the sleeve, the crimson color remaining in his cheeks.

"What were you doing in Bane's room?" Isabelle asked. A glance over at her revealed that she was smirking and trying to hide it.

"He's helping me work on my scholarship essay," Alec answered quietly.

Jace thought back to when Bane said he'd be absent from class. Something clicked in Jace's mind. He would have to talk to Alec about it.

The bell to go to class rang. Everyone in the cafeteria stood and scrambled toward the door, Simon included – after a kiss on Isabelle's cheek of course. Jace walked silently beside Alec in the hallway. He was then shoved, hard, into an open doorway. Looking around, he realized it was the boy's bathroom.

"Alec?" He asked. "What are you doing?"

"I need you to cover for me with Mom and Dad," Alec said, his eyes pleading.

Jace nodded. "How long?"

"From after school today until at least Saturday morning," Alec replied hastily. He looked a little paranoid, looking over his shoulder from time to time. He didn't want anyone to hear the conversation.

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he mentioned in class today he had to 'use vacation days,' or at least that's what he said to us. Is there like a mini-vacation thing you guys are going on?"

"Something like th – " He stopped and stared back at Jace with wide, almost fearful eyes. "How'd you know I was going with him? Assuming we are talking about the same person," he added.

"Please, Alec," said Jace. He pointed to the mark on Alec's neck. Alec blushed. "Now, unless you were in Bane's class working with him on your scholarship with someone else hanging on your neck, we're talking about the same person."

"Would you keep your voice down?" Alec whisper-yelled. "Congratulations on guessing – "

"Wasn't that hard," Jace muttered.

"But," Alec continued, "the last thing I need is for him to get fired. Now, will you cover for me or what?"

Jace nodded. "Yeah, but you owe me."

Alec looked relieved. "Thank you, Jace."

With a nod, Jace turned to leave, because Mrs. Whitelaw will have his head if he's any later to her class. He was halfway out the door when Alec grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. "Jace," he said, "please don't tell anyone about this. Please."

Jace nodded his promise, and then walked out the door.

Jace was waiting by the door for Clary to come by. He felt like he waited there for ages before he finally spotted her fiery red hair coming down the hall. When she reached him, he smiled down at her. "Ready to fight the Civil War?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I feel like I'm already fighting a civil war with you, Jace Wayland."

He fell in step beside her as she walked out the door. The passed half the walk in silence, Jace admiring the different-colored leaves on the trees as passed. It was a crisp day in October, and Jace could feel the wind's nip through his leather jacket (a gift from Maryse for Christmas). He glanced at Clary, who was shivering but trying to hide it.

"Are you cold?" he asked, shrugging off his jacket.

"I'm fine," she gritted out.

"Well, here, take it anyway." He put the jacket over her shoulders.

She glared at him sideways, but he chose to ignore it. "I don't need your jacket," she said.

"But you stopped shivering," Jace retorted.

They kept walking. It felt like a million years before they finally got to her house, and Jace wondered why he didn't just get Alec to drop them off. Oh, right, because he was with Mr. Bane, and would be with him for two more days. Jace contemplated what he was going to say about his absence to Maryse and Robert. Perhaps that he was staying with a friend…no; they'd never buy that, because Jace was practically Alec's only friend. Well, maybe Alec could catch rabies and be put in the hospital for two days…no; that would just worry them. Why couldn't they have just done this over the weekend?

"Quick question: what would you say to your parents if your brother was going to skip school and sneak off with his secret boyfriend for two days?" Clary stared at him, wide-eyed. "Hypothetically, of course."

"That's oddly specific to be hypothetical."

Jace shrugged. "I'm a very specific thinker."

She put her house key in the lock and turned. "So, do you want a legitimate answer to this hypothetical question?"

"Yes, please."

She opened the door and walked straight to the kitchen, setting her stuff down on the kitchen table. He followed suit, awaiting her answer. She shrugged off his jacket into the floor. He narrowed his eyes, picking it up and draping it over the back of a chair. "I would tell them that he's working on a tough project with this other guy in one of his classes, and that he's over at his place, and will probably be there until they finish."

Jace stared at her. "That is great. How did you come up with that?"

"I had my own brother that I had to make excuses for. Granted, he didn't sneak off with his secret boyfriend, but he did sneak off. Constantly." She smiled faintly. Jace counted that as progress.

As she got the supplies out of her backpack to make the project, Jace said, "So tell me more about your brother."

Clary paused, looking up at him. Jace saw something in her eyes like apprehension at telling him anything. But she seemed to genuinely like talking about her brother, so Jace thought it would be at least something to talk about, something to make her open up a little bit more.

"What do you want to know?" she asked quietly.

Oh, yeah, now they were getting somewhere. "What was he like?"

"He… He's the same age as Alec. He liked to play football, and he had so many friends. He was always pretty protective over me, though…" She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay." Jace pointed to the poster board she was hovering over. "Let's just do this, then."

They had just started putting information for the Battle of Antietam when Clary's mother walked through the door. "Clary!" she called. "Come help me with the groceries!"

"I'm busy!" Clary called back, going over the information she'd filled in carefully with a marker.

"Clary, what – oh." Jocelyn stood in the doorway to the kitchen, once again with her arms crossed. Jace had gotten the general sense of anger from Clary's mother since he'd met her, and it unnerved him a bit. "Clary," said Jocelyn in a clipped tone. "Can I talk to you in the living room? Privately?" she added, eyes on Jace.

Reluctantly, Clary got up and joined her mother in the living room. Jace waited there a moment, filling in his timeline box for the Battle of Gettysburg, before deciding that he had to go to the bathroom. He slipped through the door and cleared his throat.

The arguing mother and daughter both turned to him. "I was just wondering where the bathroom was," he said.

Clary pointed vaguely at the stairs. "It's up there."

Jace nodded, going up the steps as they continued with their conversation. He heard a bit of it as he was going up.

"…told you not to let this boy back in this house." That was Jocelyn.

"What's the problem, Mom?" said Clary. "Didn't you want me to make friends?"

"Don't sass me, Clarissa. You know perfectly well –"

"It's not like I'm going to tell him anyways, and it's not like he knows what happened…"

What happened? Jace wondered as he came upon a hallway at the top of the staircase. He saw four doors, two on each side, and figured he had a twenty-five percent chance of figuring out which one he needed. Well, more than that, because one of the doors had a handmade sign with "CLARY" on it in big colorful letters, along with the strange symbols she'd drawn all over her angel. Upon seeing the sign, Jace's nosy side started to eat its way out of him, and he was overcome with the urge to go into Clary's room.

Well, the bathroom could wait a moment.

He turned the knob and opened the door slowly, so he wouldn't make any noise and alert the two quarreling downstairs, and looked around.

The walls were painted in a dark shade of red, but with splashes of brighter colors like green and blue and purple and yellow. He could see more of the symbols painted in black, almost hidden among the splashes of paint. Briefly, Jace became worried that Clary was in a cult of some sort, but then realized if she were, she'd probably be more Goth or something.

All of Clary's furniture was in the middle of the room. She probably needed to move it so she could paint last night. He wondered how long this took her to complete.

He took a look at the furniture. There was her bed, with a pastel green duvet; there was a wooden vanity table that looked like it was assembled at IKEA, and someone forgot to paint it. There was also a bookshelf and a dresser. Jace ran his hands over the wood, trying to get a sense of Clary somewhere, but found none. He didn't think Clary would pick out this furniture.

There were still boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and they were in various corners of the room. Jace walked over and kicked a box marked "CLARY'S STUFF." The box fell over. Oops.

Picture frames fell out of the box. Jace bent over and picked one up. It looked like it was taken a couple years ago. A younger Clary was in the photo, and was actually laughing, which is way more than Jace has seen in the…three days he's known her. She looked happy, carefree, her green eyes glinting as the camera caught the light in them. Next to her was a taller boy, muscular, with a large arm around her shoulders. He had almost white-blond hair, but they shared the same color of eyes. He too was smiling.

Jace picked up the box he'd "accidently" kicked over, and then more stuff fell out, including a bunch of clippings from what looked like a newspaper. He scooped them up and took a look. In big, bold letters he read the words "MORGENSTERN MURDERED."

"What are you doing in here?" came an angry voice from the doorway.

Jace turned sharply to find Clary, who did not look very happy at the moment, but Jace couldn't care at this point. He pointed at the newspaper. "Is this referring to Valentine Morgenstern?"

Clary stomped over and ripped the papers out of his hands, pushing him back so she could clean up what he'd knocked over. When she finished she stood, and they stared each other down. Well, Clary had to look up, but the tension was still there.

"You have some explaining to do," Jace said.

"I have explaining?" retorted Clary. "How about you? You are in my bedroom without my permission. This is my space. It's like – it's like looking at my sketchbook!"

"What do you have to do with Valentine Morgenstern?" asked Jace, completely ignoring her (rightly made) arguments.

Clary shook her head. "You don't get to change the subject."

"I'm not. You are. I seem to recall asking you first." Jace regretted the cold tone his words took on, but it wasn't like he could take them back.

Clary groaned, frustrated. She looked almost ready to cry. "I – I don't have a connection."

"Really? Because the guy with his arm around you in the picture looks a lot like him, according to this newspaper picture."

"Well, it's not him." She broke eye contact, choosing to look at the floor instead. "Fine," she said quietly, so quietly that Jace almost missed it. "What do you know about him?"

"Valentine?" Clary nodded. "I mean I didn't know him directly like you definitely seemed to. But who didn't know who Valentine Morgenstern was? He owned Morgenstern Realty, and could sell any house to anyone. Everyone in this state knew who he was." Clary gave a humorless laugh. "He was killed, like, three months ago, wasn't he? When his son went crazy and shot him?"

"Is that what they told everyone?" Clary asked incredulously.

"Well, that's just what I heard." Jace shrugged.

"Jon isn't crazy," Clary argued. "He wasn't crazy when he shot him, he was just trying to protect me."

She went and sat on her bed, covering her face with her hands. Jace swallowed. Clearly, Clary knew way more than she was telling, and Jace really wanted to know more. He glanced over at the open door, and wondered if he should leave her alone instead. He could go back home, tell her he'll finish the project at home tonight and she won't have to worry about it.

Jace shook the thought away. No, he was going to stay and help this girl, because somehow, he realized, he'd begun to care for her.

He sat down next to Clary and tentatively put a hand on her back, running it in slow circles to try to calm her down. She glanced up at him between her fingers. "Why are you still here?" she asked.

"I want to know more."

She sighed deeply and removed her hands from her face. "Valentine Morgenstern was my father."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

She looked down. "We were happy, you know. Mom, Dad, Jon, and me. Jon and I had a normal childhood. Everyone really liked Jon because he was captain of the football team, and it definitely helped that Dad was who he was. But I didn't share in my brother's fame. No one really wanted to hang out with me." She shrugged. "Not that I really minded. I had Jon, and the protection of the football team from bullies." She gave a laugh, but Jace didn't really see what was funny. He chose to stay quiet. "Jon was really protective of me," she said again. "One day, I had to go take something to Dad at one of his showings – I can't remember what it was. I…remember going inside and calling for him, and he said he was in the back room…" She shuddered, remembering, and Jace instinctively pulled her closer.

"When I went back there, he seemed normal, was smiling, and I didn't think anything was wrong at all. He opened his arms to me, and I noticed there was something on his hands. At first I thought he was bleeding from somewhere, and when I asked, I felt something hit my head and I blacked out.

I woke up in my room with a killer headache. I went downstairs to get some aspirin, and Mom was cooking dinner. My dad was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table like nothing was wrong. When he saw me he asked how my head was, and when I asked what he meant he said that when I went to see him at his open house today I tripped on something and hit my head. But when he said that I remembered what happened, and I most certainly did not trip.

Jon came down for dinner, and we all sat down, and it was practically silent aside from the sound of forks against plates. Something was wrong with Jon, though; I could see it in his eyes. He kept glancing from Dad to me, obviously worried about something.

When dinner was over, Dad pulled me into the backyard, saying that I looked a little pale and probably needed some fresh air. I was a little wary of him, so I kept my distance. He shut the door behind us, and turned his back to me. When he faced me again… he had a gun pointed at me."

Jace fought to contain his gasp. He couldn't really imagine Valentine doing that, to his own daughter no less. But, Valentine Morgenstern was practically worshipped everywhere he went. Jace supposed that kind of power could go to your head. "What happened then?" Jace asked quietly.

"I – He was saying something about the clients pissing him off. He didn't really have the longest temper in the world," she explained. "I had walked in right as he'd finished…killing them, and they were hidden in that room, and I could've seen them…" She let out a sob.

"And then Dad fell down. Jon had tackled him to the ground, seized the gun from him. Then Jon was standing in front of me, pointing the gun at our father. I could see his hands shaking; he'd never even been near a gun before, what made him think he could shoot one? But he did. He shot the gun. He killed our father."

Clary looked up at Jace, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. "Jon said it wasn't the first time Dad had done it. He'd walked in on Dad in the act, and Dad threatened that he'd kill him too if he told. He didn't kill Jon right then, because Jon was going to take over his real estate agency when he got old enough. But he was going to kill me when I'd walked in on him, because I wasn't important enough not to kill." She shrugged. "Jon was sent to prison, because the lawyer he had couldn't prove that it was self-defense." She growled. "He was going into his third year of college, too. All that, down the drain."

"But…" Jace said. "He was going to kill you. How could they send Jon to –?"

"I was the only other witness," said Clary. "And since I am underage, my mother didn't let me testify. No proof."

Jace shook his head. "America's justice system, ladies and gentleman."

Despite herself, Clary let out a giggle. "You know," she said after a brief pause. "You're the first person I've ever told that to. Ever. Well, it only happened three months ago, but still. My mother tried to get me to go to a therapist, but I wouldn't go."

"So…where does your mom fit in all this?" Jace asked.

Clary gave a sigh. "She refuses to believe anything I've told her. Why would Dad try to kill me? Or anyone? No, like everyone else she only sees the gun, she doesn't see the story."

"That's why you're so cold around her," Jace said, nodding.

Clary nodded in agreement. "When we moved, Mom changed our last name so reporters wouldn't find us and harass us. We never saw a break after his trial… Whatever." Clary stood and looked at Jace. She gestured to the door. "You can leave now."

"What?" He stood as well, outraged that she would tell him to leave after everything she'd just told him.

"You've been very sweet to listen, I'll give you that. But I know your kind, Jace Wayland."

"My kind?"

"Yes, your kind. You're the type of boy that will pretend you care, and then go and tell everyone at school what happened, and what a freak I am. That's what happened at my other school, but the difference is, I didn't actually tell anybody. They just sort of…found out, and then the whole school knew." She gestured to the door again. "Goodbye, Jace."

She turned, muttering something about having to move again, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. "I'm not going anywhere, Clary."

"Oh, don't act like you care," she sneered.

"I do care. Clary, I just want to help you."

"All for an angel? That stupid angel I've been drawing?"

"It's not just about the angel anymore, Clary! Please, just let me help." Jace's heart was practically beating out of his chest. He didn't know how else to prove this to her.

Her jaw set as she continued to glare up at him. "You really want to help?" she said at last, her gaze softening, but not enough to completely fill Jace with hope.

"Yes," he urged.

"Who do you know that's eighteen or over with a car?"

"I still don't think this is a good idea," said Alec.

"Nonsense, Alexander. This is a flawless idea," Bane proclaimed. Alec stared at him, unconvinced. Bane shrugged. "Alright, maybe not flawless…"

They were currently in Alec's car, with Bane driving. They'd wanted to take Mr. Bane's 1977 cherry red Corvette that he'd bought at a police auction a few years ago, but there was no backseat in it, and Jace didn't really want to find cocaine in the trunk like he knew there would be. Alec had hit him on the shoulder when he'd said that, but Bane assured both of them that the police checked and he'd checked once he got it home – there was no cocaine anywhere. But he did admit later that he found a bag of marijuana under the passenger's seat. Jace innocently wondered what Bane did with it afterword's, which earned him another punch in the shoulder.

Jace and Clary sat in the backseat. They were about an hour and a half into their journey, with nearly thirty more minutes to go, and Jace wondered how long this could really go on. He was tired of hearing Bane and Alec's conversations, and it was weird to hear Alec call him "Magnus." He didn't even add "Magnificent" in front of it, and he often said it in an endearing tone of voice. Jace wanted to hurl.

"So," Jace said, "how was the little vacation you two went on?" Clary's attention snapped to him, wide-eyed.

"Jace," Alec began warningly.

Magnus smirked at him in the rearview mirror. "Do you really want to know?"

Jace swallowed. "No, you're right, I don't. Please don't tell me. I got bored; it was the first thing that came to my head." He shuttered dramatically.

Clary stared at him, her mouth open. She pointed at his phone, and she got out hers, typing something rapidly. A moment later, Jace's phone vibrated. Mr. Bane is the secret boyfriend?! She texted.

Yeah, Jace texted back. It's better if we just don't think about it. I told them they could trust you, so please don't tell anyone.

Looks like I'm not the only one keeping secrets.

They were quiet after that, and Jace began to think about the conversation they'd had Wednesday night. After they'd finished, he made her go to bed early, and he took the project home and finished it there. She didn't speak to him for the next to days, but he didn't blame her. She needed some time to herself, to think.

He glanced over at Clary, who was looking out the window. He got out his phone again, and began typing a message. Alec's parents adopted me when I was twelve years old. Before then I had a relatively pleasant life, like you. But my parents… got into some really bad stuff, and they were killed. I was hiding in the closet.

When Clary received the message, she looked at Jace, her green eyes once again popping out of her head. Jace only nodded and looked the other way, out his window.

Finally they arrived Alicante Correctional Facility, a large, looming building in the middle of nowhere. They got out of the car and paused, all looking at Clary to make the next move. She looked back at them, then set off for the door, Jace on her heels. "Why would you tell me that?" she whispered to him as they opened the door and went inside.

"I wanted you to know," he said. "We're not that different. The only real difference is that I had my brother to help me talk about it." He cast a small smile down at her, and she reciprocated it. This was most definitely progress.

There was a security guard behind the desk, scowling down at some papers. When he looked up, he scowled even more. His nametag read Fell.

"How can I –" he started.

"Ragnor?" Bane said from behind them, a huge smile on his face. He pushed past Clary and Jace and leaned against the guard's desk. "I didn't know you worked here!"

"For a good reason," Ragnor muttered. "What do you want?"

"We want to see Jonathon Morgenstern," Magnus announced.

Ragnor gave him a blank look. "Why?"

"Because that," he said, pointing to Clary, "is Clarissa Morgenstern, his little sister."

Ragnor looked at Clary and blew out an annoyed breath. "If I do this, will you leave and never talk to me again?"

Bane seemed to think for a moment. "No long-term promises, we may be seeing each other again soon, but I can promise you at least five months."

For a moment, Ragnor's face took on a green hue, but seemed to accept Bane's lack of promise, and pressed a button on the wall next to his desk. A loud buzz sounded through the room, and a door opened to reveal a white hallway. Ragnor went away, and came out into the hallway through the first door. He waved an impatient hand at them, and started down the hallway. While they followed, Jace could hear Alec questioning Bane quite extensively about how he knew this Ragnor Fell person.

Fell pointed to a door marked Visiting Room 1. "Wait in here. I'll get the prisoner." Clary cringed at the word and his tone, but it went ignored.

They went into the room, which was void of everything except a chrome-looking table and two chairs on either side. The wall next to the door was a one-way mirror used for observing the prisoners with their visitors. A different officer followed them in and gave them instructions for when Jon came in, like staying the table-length away from him, and not being allowed to touch him. He also said the visit can only last up to an hour.

The guard went out again, and after a moment a man in an orange jumpsuit came in, a guard on each side. His hands were cuffed in front of him. His white-blond hair looked like it hadn't been combed in ten years, and he was sporting somewhat of a beard. When his green eyes landed on Clary, they lit up. His smile was huge.

They sat down across form each other, and the guards left, but Jace knew that just because he couldn't see them didn't mean they weren't watching. He stood away from them, against the wall next to Bane and Alec. He couldn't really hear their conversation, but this was the happiest he'd seen Clary. She genuinely loved her brother.

"There's got to be a way to get him out," Jace whispered.

Alec looked at him. "Why?"

"Look at them, Alec." He pointed at Clary. "Her happiness depends on this, and therefore mine does too." He raised his voice so the two at the table could hear them. "I'm just thinking out loud here," he said, "but do you think there is a chance that, with good behavior, you could be released?"

Jon glanced at him warily, and then to Clary. "Who's he?"

"That's Jace," said Clary. "He…helped me to see you today."

He nodded, and turned back to Jace. "Good behavior? No. Not soon, anyway. I have a life sentence, so even with good behavior I have about seventeen more years here." He looked down at his hands in thought. "Maybe…if there was a way to get my case back on trial."

"You'd need someone with new evidence, and even then a strong case," muttered Bane. They all turned to him. "What?"

"If we had new evidence," said Clary, "say, a new witness, do you think they'd reopen the case?"

Jace remembered something then, a sure way to get the case reopened. "If you can produce that, then I can go to Robert. He can get it reopened, I'm sure."

"How will you get him to do it?" Alec asked.

"Don't doubt me, brother. I have my ways."

"Who's the new witness?" Jon asked Clary.

"Me," she said quietly.

Jon swore. "Clary, Mom is never going to let you do that. And you can't go without telling her; she'll totally find out."

"Watch me," said Clary defiantly.

Jon started to say something back when Bane interrupted. "I wouldn't pick a fight with a redhead, Jonathon. I don't think you'll win."

He glanced up at Bane. "Oh, hey Mr. Bane. I didn't know you were here."

"Oh, that's sad, Jonathon," said Bane, smiling. "But, understandable. I am dressing a bit down today."

"Do you know everyone?" Alec demanded of Bane.

"Sadly, no, Alexander. I don't know the Pope." He smiled at Alec's dismay. "I was Jonathon's teacher for freshman world history. It was before I moved to Idris High."

Alec didn't look exactly appeased to have this answer, but took it anyway. They continued to talk throughout the hour, Jace silently contemplating on what he would say to Robert when he got home that day.

Clary felt immensely relieved when she got home from visiting Jon that day. Even though they'd talked earlier in the week, she hadn't seen him in person since a few days after his trial. It felt so good just to be in the same room with him again.

She didn't want to feel gratitude towards Jace – that was the last thing she wanted at the moment. But, that's what she felt, even if she didn't voice it to him in the car. She did, however, thank Mr. Bane for driving and getting them inside, and Alec for letting them use his car.

When she walked into the house, she could smell pasta cooking in the kitchen. When she went in there, Jocelyn was standing at the stove, stirring a pot. She sat down at the kitchen table.

Jocelyn turned. "Where have you been? You haven't been answering my phone calls at all. I was starting to get worried."

"Looks like it," Clary murmured. Aloud she said, "I…was with Jace… and his family."

Jocelyn cast a dubious glance at her. "With Jace? Were you two working on another project?"

"No," Clary answered, not making eye contact. "We were just hanging out."

"I didn't think you two were friends." She went back to her stirring, but Clary knew her curiosity wasn't going to subside until she got the whole story.

"We aren't," Clary snapped. "It was just something to do. He's the only one here that will bother to talk to me."

Jocelyn sighed and turned off the stove. She put the pot in the sink and strained the pasta, before putting it in a bowl and setting it on the table in front of Clary. She looked down at it, and looked back up, confused. "There's only enough for one person here."

"That's because I'm going out later with some of the teachers." Jocelyn smiled. "Cheer up. I won't be here to bug you all night. So, I was thinking tomorrow that maybe we could – "

"I visited Jon today," Clary blurted, and then hated herself for it.

Jocelyn tensed, her smile rapidly disappearing. She glared daggers at Clary. "What did you just say?" she gritted out.

I'm in for it now, she thought. "I saw Jon. In prison."

"How?"

"…I know some people." Clary refused to make eye contact. "I just missed him, Mom."

"He killed your father, Clary." Jocelyn sat down across from her daughter. "How could you see him without my permission?"

"I told you: I know people. And anyway, it's not like you would ever take me. I needed to see him. I'm having a rough time at school, and he used to always be there to make it better. It's not like you've been helping."

"So you had to sneak off and go see him in prison." Jocelyn still had a hard tone, but her gaze was softening a little. Clary risked a glance up at her.

"I know you don't believe me," Clary said softly. "But he really was trying to protect me. That's all he's ever done; you know that. I just wanted to see him."

Jocelyn pursed her lips and stood, holding out her hand to Clary. "Come with me."

Cautiously, Clary stood and took her mother's hand. Together they went upstairs, to the last door in the hallway. From her pocket Jocelyn produced a key. She stuck it in the lock and opened the door, gesturing for Clary to step inside.

It was her brother's room. It looked almost exactly the same as it did in their other house, from the paint to the bed sheets to the furniture. It was as though Jocelyn brought all of his stuff from their old house here, when Clary thought she'd left it all for the next owners.

"I did this while you were away today," Jocelyn said softly. "It's not that I don't believe you, Clary. It's that I just don't want to. You have to understand, it's hard for me to believe your father would do something like that. To anyone." She breathed in a sigh. "But I guess we've all been fooled." She looked down at Clary. "I'm so sorry, Clary. For everything: the move, keeping you from your brother, everything. I'm just scared."

"I know, Mom. And I haven't exactly made it any easier for you. I'm sorry too." She wrapped her arms around her mother, who hugged her back just as fervently.

After a few moments of this, Jocelyn said, "Next Saturday. We'll both go see him, together."

For the first time in two months, Clary smiled wide at her mother.

Jace was running. He didn't really know how fast, but since it was during school, he guessed he was going to get written up. But that really didn't matter. He had to find Clary, fast.

He was late for school this morning and Alec and Izzy decided to leave without him, so he didn't get to see Clary this morning. He had to wait until lunch, but when Clary didn't show, and with ten minutes until the bell rang, he was running to find her.

He burst into Bane's room, and he saw nearly made him throw up.

Bane had Alec up on his desk, his legs wrapped around Bane's waist, and they were kissing very passionately. Bane's head slowly turned when he heard the door open, and he smirked at Jace. Alec turned as well, and his face turned crimson. Jace pointed a finger at them. "It's illegal to do those things to my brother during school hours, Bane. But I must commend you for finally making some use of your desk."

Bane turned so his body blocked Alec's from view. "What do you need, Wayland? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh, I can see that, and I would like to unsee it. Do you guys know where Clary is? It's important."

"I believe she's in the art room with her mother," Bane said after a moment.

Jace didn't wait around after that; he sprinted down the hall towards the art room. He almost passed it when he got there, and had to backtrack a few steps.

Clary was sitting at the back table, her head bent over something. Probably the angel. Jocelyn was sitting at her desk, grading.

"Clary!" Jace called. "I have something to tell you."

"What?" She put down her pencil and stood as Jace walked over.

"So, I talked to my father – well, when I say 'my' father, I mean Alec's father. And when I say 'talked', I mean blackmailed." He shook his head. "Anyway, your brother's case is going to be reopened. He has a court date sometime next month, I forget when Robert said." He smiled at her. "You could get him back."

Clary let out a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and through her arms around Jace's neck. His smile grew as he picked her up and spun her around. She kept repeating the words "thank you" in his ear, and those were the sweetest words he'd ever heard. Even if she's only been here a week, this was the best progress she's given him.

She let go all too soon, and Jace was forced to let her down. "I have to show you something," she said. She turned and retrieved her sketchbook, flipping over a couple of pages. Hesitantly, she handed it to him.

It was the angel in all his glory, but with a powerfully notable difference.

"This…this is me," he whispered.

Clary nodded. "It started out as Jon, but with everything that's happened this week, and meeting you… It just felt right, you know? You're my angel."

Before Jace really knew what he was doing, he put the sketchbook down and scooped Clary up in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. For a moment, she was tensed, but then she relaxed and kissed him back. She tasted like vanilla and Clary and everything Jace knew she would, and he realized that he'd wanted to do this since the moment he'd learned her name.

Breathless, they parted, and Jace pressed his forehead to hers. "Jace," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean 'blackmailed'?"

Jace paused. "Well… Long story short: I'm basically the only one that knows about the affair."

Clary shook her head. "I don't even want to know."

"No, probably not." He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again.

Clary squeezed Jace's hand, the nerves making her stomach churn. He smiled down at her, and she blew out a breath, trying to relax herself.

They were waiting outside the prison for Jon to come out. Today was the day he was coming home, and she was nervous about how Jocelyn would react. They hadn't exactly told her about the trial last week, because they weren't sure how she would react then either. They couldn't exactly hide his homecoming from her though.

In fact, Jon's release was completely off the books, thanks to Robert Lightwood, so reporters wouldn't find out and come after the family again.

When she finally did catch sight of him, her heart leaped and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing. This time he was wearing normal clothes instead of the orange jumpsuit, and he carried a duffle bag, which he dropped when Clary jumped into his arms. "Easy, Clary," he said. "I can't breathe!"

"Oh, sorry," she apologized, and let go.

He sighed, relieved. "It feels good to be out, finally. Does Mom know I'm coming?" Clary looked down. "Hm. I'll take that as a no." He glanced up at Jace and nodded once. Clary thought that might've been the "badass nod" Simon was talking about a few days ago.

They'd all become pretty close in the weeks leading up to Jon's trial. Now, Clary couldn't imagine her life without Jace to talk to, or Isabelle to go shopping with, or Simon to nerd out with. Hard to believe it's only been about a month since she'd moved there.

"So, you're the boyfriend now, huh?" Jon said to Jace, his face impassive.

"That's right," said Jace, obviously trying to keep his cool. Clary smiled softly at him. They'd just made it official last week, a day after the trial.

"Well, just remember: I'm not afraid to go back to prison." He didn't look like he was joking, but Clary knew he was. He had to be…right?

Clary rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, Jon. We've got a long drive ahead of us."

He picked his bag back up and nodded. "Let's go then."

"Mom! Come out here; I've got a surprise for you!"

Jocelyn stepped through the door and stopped when she saw her son. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth. Clary felt Jace glance at her

"Hi, Mom," said Jon timidly. He looked down at his feet, which were making little trails in the dirt driveway.

Jocelyn took a few steps forward, off the porch and stood in front of him. "Why didn't anyone tell me you were getting out?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "Surprise?"

She let out a sob and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back eagerly, happy to finally be accepted and hugged by his mother again.

After Clary found out about Jon's room and she and Jocelyn made up, they'd gone to see Jon almost every Saturday. Clary was happy Jocelyn was finally accepting what really happened and moving on. They all were moving on now.

Jace smiled at Clary, putting his arm around her waist. "Is this what you hoped for?" he asked.

Clary gazed back up at him. From this angle, he looked a little like her angel she'd drawn. She nodded. "This is everything I've ever wanted. And I don't think it would've been possible without you, so thank you."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. She looked back to her mom and her brother, who were now on their way inside, their arms around each other. Clary finally had her family back, something she'd craved since that night four months ago. Add that to having actual friends, and a boyfriend, and she couldn't be happier.

Turns out, life actually doesn't suck. Who knew?

Okay guys, so I hoped you really liked this little digression from my other stuff. Well, I say little, but it's so freaking long and I really didn't mean for it to be. But...I had fun doing it XD

Don't forget to review! If you have any questions/comments, let me know, and I'll get back to you! If you guys want anything else to go with this, like say a Malec central fic based on this or a different one shot involving something in this one, LET ME KNOW BECAUSE I REALLY WANT TO DO ONE BUT I WANT A REASON.

Okay, now that you've had to endure all that, I'll let you get back to your day.

See you guys later!