A/N: So this is my first story for TMI and my first fanfiction that I've written in a while, so I'm really excited to get back into it. The title comes from the 5SOS song Ghost of You, which is basically the perfect song for any pairing going through a breakup, amnesia, death, etc. Anyway, I wrote this at four in the morning when I was thinking about in Tales From the Shadowhunter Academy when Alec was talking to Simon about how Isabelle was a mess when Simon first lost his memories. Lmk what you all think and enjoy!
Isabelle stepped through the doors of Pandemonium, giving the bouncer a sultry smile as she turned to take in her surroundings. It looked just how she'd remembered it: a dark room lit up with flashing lights, thumping music with a bass that shook the floor, and dozens of hot, sweaty mundanes swaying to the beat. She shivered as she felt a wave of nostalgia pass through her; though she had been coming to and dancing in clubs around New York for weeks now, she hadn't been to Pandemonium since the night she, Alec, and Jace had met Clary.
Everything had been more simple then, she thought with slight bitterness as she made her way to the bar for a drink. It was before the War, before Valentine, before losing Max. Her parents had been in Idris all the time and she was basically on her own with little supervision from the Clave or any other adults other than Hodge. It was when Hodge was just her tutor and Jace was a Wayland and she stomped over the hearts of every Downworlder her parents would have hated in her high heeled boots. When her biggest problem every day was not having a good training session or fighting for her parents' attention.
She downed four shots in quick succession, enjoying the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. She didn't have an ID, of course, being a Shadowhunter, but she found that the male bartenders never thought to ask to see hers. She knew she looked a lot older than she was, especially in the low cut black dress and heels that she had on tonight and with her Marks, and she definitely was willing to use that to her advantage when she needed to.
Just because things were more simple then didn't mean they were better, she returned to her old train of thought as she began to make her way to the dance floor, the alcohol already beginning to cloud her vision. Jace hadn't believed in love then, hadn't been changed by Clary into someone that was capable of believing that love could cause anything more than pain. He hadn't known who he truly was, either, hadn't known he was part of a Shadowhunter legacy in the Herondale's. Alec hadn't been comfortable enough to be who he truly was; Magnus brought that out in him, and even with all of their losses Isabelle noticed that a weight had finally been lifted off of her brother's chest.
Clary had been living a lie in the mundane world with no inkling as to who she truly was or what she was capable of, while Simon…
Isabelle stumbled back to the bar, quickly ordering another shot. She may have only been seventeen, but Shadowhunters had a slightly higher tolerance for alcohol than the average mundane, and the last thing she needed was to be drunk and thinking about Simon Lewis. Maybe it was her mistake to come to Pandemonium out of all the clubs in New York City, knowing that even if they hadn't met here he had been here with Clary when everything began, but maybe she hated herself a little bit too. Maybe there was a part of her that needed to be a little self-destructive, just like how she used to be when she didn't let boys in enough to hurt her.
Her vision was definitely hazy now, but her head was swimming in a way that made it hard to concentrate on one thing for too long. Smiling to herself, she began to move her body on the dance floor to the beat of the music, soaking in the interested eyes of the boys around her. She was in her element here, back to her old self, an Isabelle that left a trail of broken hearts wherever she went and had fun doing it. Despite what Alec, Jace, and Clary said, this is what she needed, to be able to forget everything for a little while until the day when none of this hurt anymore. Until the day she forgot about Simon, just like he forgot about her.
In her haze, Isabelle registered a mundane boy, not much older than she was, come up behind her and grab her by the waist. In the flashing lights, she saw his wavy blond hair and thick muscles - the opposite of Simon's curly brown hair and skinny frame. She smirked, allowing him to guide her hips back and forth to the music. It was easy to lose herself in the lights and the buzz of the alcohol, and with the mundane boy dancing behind her she found that she wasn't thinking of anything else at all. She had been doing this since two weeks had passed after they'd returned from Edom, coming to countless mundane clubs, drinking herself into drunkenness, and finding some mundane boy who was so ordinary she wouldn't have any chance of remembering his face the next day to lose herself in.
"Hey," the boy leaned in after a while to shout over the music, his lips kissing the skin just below her ear. "Wanna find someplace quiet or something?"
She was numb as she turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. "I thought you'd never ask."
He leaned in and kissed her suddenly, his lips soft and warm against her own. She kissed him back, trying to lose herself in the feeling as she tasted the alcohol on his tongue. He was so painfully ordinary, a mundane that wouldn't know a thing about what the Marks on her arm meant and who wouldn't believe in vampires even if one latched itself onto his neck and drained him dry. This is what she needed, she said to herself as she felt his hands begin to roam. Someone that couldn't possibly begin to understand her world or who she really was.
The boy pulled away from her, smirking as he grabbed her hand and began to lead her away from the dance floor. She followed him blindly, glancing around the rest of the club as she let every single Shadowhunter instinct that had been ingrained in her since birth flow from her body. At these clubs and on these kinds of nights, she could almost convince herself that she was a mundane, that she was one of these stupid ordinary people who didn't know what was really out there in the world and had no idea what it was like to lose someone they loved to battle. A girl who lived in a world she had always looked down upon, but who she envied now because they got to live in their small little bubble where nothing and no one could hurt them, where all of the stories were just stories and not something that someone they loved could lose their life over. They had no idea how lucky -
Isabelle froze in her tracks, her entire body rigid as her gaze bore into the figure standing at the bar. His back was to her and her Farsightedness rune struggled to combat the effects of the alcohol in her system, but she would recognize any part of him anywhere.
Simon. Standing at the bar, his hands gesturing wildly as he talked to people she couldn't make out, sticking out like a sore thumb wearing jeans, his worn Converse, and what was likely one of his classic t-shirts with the dumb sayings on the front. She faintly felt the boy she was following come to a stop, felt him pull at her hand and his irritation as he came close to her to ask what was wrong. She didn't respond, barely heard him over the ringing in her ears and the pounding in her heart.
Isabelle shook herself free of the boy's grasp, her entire body numb as she stepped closer and closer to the bar. Her entire body was on fire; she had never considered the possibility that she might actually run into him. She tried to stop, tried to turn away and go back to the mundane, lose herself even more than before so she wouldn't have to risk looking into his eyes and seeing no recognition, but her feet willed her forward. She was a few feet away from him and his friends when she stumbled, her body propelling itself the rest of the way into the bar itself.
She grabbed onto the edge of the bar and took a deep breath, collecting herself. She would be fine, she tried to convince herself. Just turn around and go right back to that boy, and maybe you can forget this, forget you saw him.
Isabelle felt a tap on her shoulder, and feeling flooded back into her body for the first time since she had stepped into the club. Feeling the alcohol slosh in her stomach uncomfortably, she turned, only to see Simon staring back at her. She felt hot all over, like she was going to throw up, and she bit her lip as her back straightened. She was Isabelle Lightwood, and Simon was just another boy she had been involved with, and it didn't have to matter. It didn't have to hurt, if she didn't let it.
"What?" She said, staring at a spot slightly above his eyes as she slid a mask of indifference over her features. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, couldn't force herself to be confronted with the confirmation of the knowledge that the boy who had loved her was gone, that the first boy who had made her let her guard down would have no idea who she was.
Simon grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck as a faint blush colored his cheeks. "Are you -"
It was too much.
Isabelle turned on her heel and fled, ignoring complaints and shouts of indignation as she pushed through the crowd. A white hot lump had formed in her throat as tears threatened to spill down her face, but she forced them back until she reached the storage room where she had first seen Clary so long ago. She yanked the door open and slipped inside, slamming and locking it behind her before she let herself slide to the floor. For the first time in weeks, Isabelle allowed the dams to break, choking as chest-heaving sobs shook her body.
Simon had been nervous, like she was some random attractive girl he had plucked up the courage to talk to. He had been nervous in the way that he had been when they had first met in the kitchen in the Institute, where he'd been stumbling over his words and sarcastic comments and had pretended to like the horrific soup she had made. He had been nervous in the way that he hadn't been when he loved her, when even when he didn't know what to do and had seemed lost he had found the perfect words to say. He had been nervous in the way that he should never have been, not with her, and Isabelle didn't even have to look him in the eyes to know that the boy she was starting to love was gone.
With shaking hands, she pulled her cell phone out of the top of her dress, flipping it open as she began to dial. Hot tears soaked her face, no doubt smearing her makeup as they splattered onto the concrete floor in front of her. Gasping for air, she held the phone to her ear as she fought to get her breathing under control.
"Hello?" Clary's voice was laced with sleep. "Iz? Is everything alright?"
Isabelle opened her mouth, but no words came out. She felt pathetic, hiding in some storage closet at a club drunk and sobbing over a boy who had no idea who she was.
"I, I thought," she stuttered, swallowing heavily. "I thought you said he hated clubs."
She heard rustling on the other end of the line, as though Clary was getting out of bed. Isabelle let her head fall back against the wall behind her, her free hand grabbing at her dress.
"Isabelle, tell me where you are," Clary said sharply, sounding much more awake. "I'm coming to get you."
She laughed through her tears, but it was bitter. "Pandemonium. That storage room."
"Okay," Clary said, her voice tight. "I'm - I'm making a Portal now. I'm coming, so just sit there, okay?"
Isabelle didn't answer, bringing the phone from her ear and flipping it shut to end the call. Her hands were clenched into fists, hard enough to draw blood, but she didn't feel anything. Her body had gone back to being numb as it was before she saw him, but now she felt drained too. She felt the blood from her palms drip onto her dress, seeping into the material, but she did nothing to stop it.
Suddenly, a Portal appeared in front of her as Clary stepped into the dim room. She had clearly just rolled out of bed; she was wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and one of Jace's sweatshirts, and her bright red hair was in a messy ponytail. She looked around wildly before her gaze fell on Isabelle, where it softened. Under normal circumstances Isabelle would have hated to see Clary look like she was pitying her, but in her current state she could barely bring herself to notice.
"What happened?" She asked quietly, sliding down next to her on the wall. Isabelle stared at her mangled hands, her chin trembling as she fought to regain control.
"Simon's here," she finally choked out. Clary reached over and grabbed her hand, careful to avoid touching the cuts her nails had created.
"Oh, Izzy," she sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. "I'm so sorry."
Isabelle laughed, angry. "The worst part is, is he was going to hit on me."
Clary looked at her, staying silent.
"He was going to hit on me, like…" she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "Like he didn't…"
"I know," Clary finished, squeezing her hand. "I can't imagine. The phone call was hard, but to see it...I can't imagine."
"I never told him that I l- I never said the words," her eyes were still shut as more tears made their way down her cheeks.
"He knew, Iz," Clary reassured her. "You have to know that. You didn't have to say it for him to know."
Isabelle shook her head. "That's - that's the thing. I never wanted to feel that way, about anyone. Ever. I never - I never wanted to give someone the power to...to hurt me like that. And I didn't think -"
She sighed, bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness from her face. "I didn't mean to feel...that way...for Simon. It made no sense because he's not my...type, I guess? But he did, and then I thought that he wouldn't hurt me, because he's Simon…"
Clary laughed quietly. "I know what you mean."
Isabelle looked at her, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "And I just thought, even when we were in Edom, I thought that we could have - could have a future. If we just...just got out alive."
"And now it's almost worse."
They looked at each other, not saying anything, wearing sad smiles. Isabelle was no longer crying, but her eyes were swollen and she knew that her makeup was smeared all over her cheeks and that blood had dried all over her hands. The alcohol had started to mostly wear off thanks to her heightened Shadowhunter abilities and she was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache. She couldn't bring herself to care.
"I see him everywhere, Clary," she said softly, pulled her hands into her lap. "He's - he's stuck inside my head. This boy, this one guy who was so...different from all the other guys I've been with. And now, now I'm sitting here and I'm supposed to just, just go through my life knowing something mundane like Star Wars exists. I'm used to being so confident and sure of everything, and now...I have no idea."
Clary was silent for a few moments before she responded. "I feel like half of me was ripped away. One of the only things tying me to my life before all of this, and he has no idea who I am. It feels like I'm dying every single time I remember, knowing he can't. I can't pretend to have an answer, because I'm just as lost as you are."
Isabelle sighed. "I keep trying to move on, and I can't. I've never had that happen before with a boy."
"Well, it's Simon," Clary smiled ruefully. "He's not someone you can just move on from. But Iz?"
"Yes?"
"What you're doing...it isn't healthy," Isabelle rolled her eyes, but Clary cut her off. "Let me finish. This isn't healthy, and you know he'd be worried if he knew, especially if he knew it was because of him."
"It's not like he'll ever know, Clary," she bit back. "He's never going to know anything anyway."
Clary sighed. "One day he might though. You can't give up on him, Isabelle. Not yet. We're going to find a way to bring him back."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I believe it. With Magnus's help, we're going to figure it out soon, and then he can come home. I know it," She said, standing up and offering her hand to Isabelle. "Come on. Let's go back to the Institute."
Isabell grabbed her hand, picking herself up from the floor. "I can't get my hopes up like that, Clary."
Clary took her stele out of the waistband of her pants and began to create a Portal. "It's not about hope. Simon was a Daylighter, and then he had the Mark of Cain, and then he saw Raziel himself, and then he made a deal with a Prince of Hell that saved us all . If anyone's going to defy the odds, it's him. We just have to give him a push in the right direction."
She stepped through the Portal, vanishing as she returned to the Institute. Isabelle paused, her head spinning as she glanced around the storage room. Simon was in the same building as her, somewhere, and it was the closest they had been since everything had gone wrong in Edom. She could feel his presence in her body, twisting her stomach into knots and causing her hands to shake.
Simon didn't know who she was, didn't remember when they had fell in love or when he had become a hero. He didn't know who he was either, not really. And something Clary had said had struck a chord within Isabelle, about Simon defying the odds. Maybe he would. Maybe one day everything would be the way it was supposed to have been, and for a split second Isabelle felt a shred of hope begin to spark in her soul.
Maybe Simon was still in there, trapped and waiting to be freed. Maybe he just needed someone to save him.
Isabelle stepped into the Portal, watching as Pandemonium disappeared. Maybe she wouldn't give up on Simon Lewis just yet.