"I'll just be your brother from now on," he said, and the effort it took to keep himself composed and sane nearly tore him apart from the inside, beginning with his heart. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" He forced himself to sound hopeful, as if this was what he really wanted.

He did want her to be happy, to stop ignoring him, and if he gave her what she wanted, she would consent to have him near her, wouldn't she?

Say no, say no, by the Angel, say no…

"Yes," she murmured, her voice hollow as she blankly stared back at him, and the paralyzing fear that took over him now made him wonder if he had actually murdered Agramon. "That's what I wanted."

His throat closed up – he couldn't speak, could barely think. He fought with all his might to keep control over his expression, forcing a false smile onto his lips. He hoped it was good enough to distract her.

"I'm glad I could fulfill your desires," he said through his teeth, and his mind flooded with desires he would rather fulfill, desires involving pressing her small figure to him and kissing her passionately…

"I'm glad you're glad," she muttered, looking down and picking a chocolate-covered cricket apart in her hands. A flicker of amusement lit his eyes like a burgeoning flame.

"I'm glad you're glad I'm glad," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Smartass," she said under her breath, staring intently at the remains of the cricket in her hand. He was struck by the half-heartedness with which she insulted him, and it worried him; she was never this quiet, this subdued.

His eyes burned with newfound intensity as he leaned across the table and – unable to help himself – took her hand in his. She looked up at the sudden contact and met his gaze, her eyes still curiously blank.

"Clary," he whispered, and the concern lacing her name as he spoke it was not brotherly. "Are you all right?"

She looked back at him for a suspended moment and then turned away. The unanswered question hung in the air, making it hard for him to breathe. He couldn't at all fathom why she was acting this way; it bemused him, and he was not one who could stand not knowing the answer to something – it would intrigue and irritate him until he discovered the truth.

Worse still – he could not comfort her the way he wanted to, could not hold her close to him and kiss her softly, because he was her brother, and she did not want him to touch her.

"It's okay," he whispered – a universal comfort. But it would never be okay again.

"Hey," he said suddenly, a thought suddenly striking him; anything to get her distracted, to hear her voice again. "Didn't you have something to tell me earlier?"

She looked up in distressing panic, her green eyes wide – the fear reflected in them was the most life he'd seen out of her since he'd promised to only be her brother. She abruptly pulled her hand out of his, and he immediately missed the warmth – and it jolted him then, because he could never merely be her brother – brothers were never supposed to need their sisters in this way, sickening to her.

"It wasn't important," she said, attempting at a graceful, airy wave and instead managing a shaky twist of her hand that sent bits of chocolate cricket all over the table. "It doesn't…apply anymore." Her voice, though still somewhat rushed, was saddened now – he could identify each one of her moods, because he loved her. He loved her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, now intrigued and somewhat concerned by the mystery she presented. "I might understand more than you give me credit for."

"I doubt that," she murmured, and pointedly avoided his gaze. He sighed in frustration; his attempt to get her to speak to him had failed.

She, however, interpreted his sigh another way. "You have to go now, don't you?" she inquired, pushing her hair out of her eyes roughly. He admired the simple, contradictory grace of her hand as she did so. "Back to the Institute?"

"I – not necessarily," he replied, hoping desperately to stay longer with her.

"But Alec…and Isabelle," she reminded him quietly, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"They can feed themselves," he threw at her, eyes still shut.

"Jace," she said warningly, but her voice broke through his name. His eyes flew open in concern and focused on her, but he had lost her to her thoughts once more – she was looking away, her hair hiding her eyes.

"Do you want to come back with me?" he tried, and he could not remember another time that he sounded as desperate, as lost. This was not the Jace he knew – but he could not say that anymore, because he did not know himself.

"I can't," she answered, still not facing him. "I'm going to see my – our mother." The inclusive possessive pierced him like a dagger through his heart.

"Oh," he muttered, and the syllable sounded dead, even to his own ears. He stood, and like a delayed echo, she mimicked him.

"I guess this is goodbye," she said, barely audible, and he turned to her, only to meet her beautiful eyes, like windows to her soul.

"It is," he agreed, and took a step closer to her. The between them scorched him. He couldn't free himself from her gaze, even if he wanted to.

"Goodbye, Jace," she said quietly, and he took another step closer to her. They were hardly an inch apart now.

"Goodbye, Clary," he breathed, and suddenly, he felt her.

She hugged him tightly, and he felt her small body pressed against him – he hadn't expected it. Euphoria unlike anything he'd ever experienced before took him over, and he stood still revelling in it for a moment, before slowly wrapping his arms around her. He was hesitant at first – he wasn't sure how she wanted him to react. But as the moment stretched longer, he forgot himself, and pulled her closer. Before she could leave his embrace, he kissed her head, so light she was probably unaware that he had done so at all. He instinctively knew she was going to pull away soon.

Surely, a moment later, she let him go, and he saw the light leave her eyes just as he felt it deep in his heart. She turned away silently and walked out the door, and he watched her go with a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if he was watching her walk out of his life forever.