A/N: So this is my first time writing for any of Cassandra Clare's books and I really hope you guys like it.
"Charlotte," Jem's soft voice came from behind her, "nothing is certain. We can always hope; that is one thing that cannot be taken from us."
She stayed silent, staring steadily into the fire until Jem left her. Five days. It had been five days since anyone had heard from Henry, and her heart was breaking. It was so unfair that anything should happen to her Henry. It was true he was a bit bumbling and quite frequently tactless, but if anyone deserved to live a long and happy life it was Henry. She thought there was nowhere safer than the Institute, but she was wrong. She was always so extraordinarily wrong.
She stuffed her fist into her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her scream of pain and frustration. No, she thought, dropping to her knees, please not Henry. Please, never Henry. All of the emotions she had kept hidden from the others the past five days spilled out into the open, and she could not control her sobs. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel self-pity. The brave face she kept on for Tessa and Sophie feel apart and the sensible mind she struggled to put together for Jem and Will throughout the search for Henry shattered.
Charlotte rocked back on forth on the carpet, her arms wrapped protectively over her stomach. The baby. Their child. Charlotte buried her face in her hands and lost track of the noises of grief she made. It was too much. She knew that a Shawdowhunter life was a hard one, but for some reason she thought that she could escape unscathed. Henry's life was her life and without the comfort of the steady beat of his heart it was as if she was not alive. She always thought herself a strong woman, someone who could handle any pain and come back from it, but she had not known that this brand of pain existed. This all-encompassing pain that settled in her bones and her heart and invaded her mind, driving into her like a hot needle.
She promised herself she would be strong for everyone else. Will, Jem, Tessa, and even Sophie, had all felt such pain in their lives. She never wanted to see them feel it again. But how could she protect them when she was incapable of protecting herself? When her armor had been ripped to shreds and her heart left in the open, how could she ever find words of comfort to offer the others? She didn't think she could. Perhaps she would stay holed up here by the fire until all her feelings were gone. Or she died. At this point she felt that death would come quicker, and she wanted it because she couldn't stand the pain.
Everyone knew that though missing didn't necessarily mean dead, it was foolish to hope for too long. Charlotte would never stop hoping. For as long as she lived she would hope for Henry because for as long as she lived he would be all she ever wanted.
At that moment the door burst open and, from her crouched position on the rug, Charlotte felt her heart plummet. She could not put on a brave face right now. She could not. "I wish to be left alone," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Oh, Charlotte," came a deep voice from the doorway, "Oh, love." Warm arms encircled her and a familiar scent greeted her nose. "I'm here, please don't cry. Was it me you were crying for, Lottie?"
Lottie. "Henry!" Her voice shot up several octaves and broke, but she was too relieved to be embarrassed. "Henry, I thought . . . I thought that you - " She could not finish her sentence, and simply settled for throwing her arms around Henry's neck and pulling him close. It was then that she saw the blood that covered his face and the deep cuts that decorated his arms.
"Me? Never. Charlotte, nothing could keep me from you forever. Mortmain's machines are something entirely other worldly, but not enough." She held him tightly and he whispered into her ear once more, "Nothing is enough to keep me from you."