Ok ... .. first of all I want to thank my wonderful, adorable, incredible Beta reader MaxWaylandGrey. If it weren't for her this story would not be being published. This fanfic was written originally in Spanish, obviously for me, but I decided to translate it for people who read in English, and there's a lot, and could have the opportunity to read my fanfic. Max .. really thanks, this is not possible without your help! OK ... on other topic this is my sixth fanfic. Includes an overprotective Jace ... an adorable baby ... who Jace calls his reason to exist. This is a shadow hunter fanfic, not 's very familiar enough in the beginning ... until chapter three in which changes to suspense ... ok, ok .. I let you read in peace! Enjoy!

Jace POV

I had to bring Clary to the closest hospital for emergency. She had eight months of being pregnant. Clary had been on the living room watching television while I was in weapons room and everything was okay . . . Until Clary began screaming. When I got to her, I saw that she was bleeding. That was not normal. When I arrived at the hospital, they didn't let me in with her. They told me they would have to commit her to an emergency C-section.

Great.

Luke and Jocelyn came in minutes later, next to Isabelle, who looked about to have a panic attack, and Alec.

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked me.

"She started bleeding. They had to commit her to an emergency C-section. They said that even at eight months the baby could be premature. She had just reached eight months," I said. Sincerely, I knew I was just trying to control myself but what I really wanted to do was knock out the nurse for not letting me pass and be with Clary.

"Everything's going to be okay," Alec told me while putting his hand in my shoulder. I knew I had an angry expression on my face, but what I really had was nerves and impotence. Clary had begun screaming again when they were entering emergencies, leaving me worried in the damned waiting room. It was horrible to see her suffer without being able to do anything about it. Isabelle had begun crying silently while trying to comfort Jocelyn, who had to sit down. I separated myself from the group, running a hand through my hair, breathing in deeply and trying to control myself from screaming to someone. I couldn't believe what I was going to do, but I took my phone out and dialed Simon. It was possible that Isabelle had not called his "wonderful" boyfriend to tell him what had happened to his best friend.

"What's up?" asked Simon through the phone with a bored tone.

"We are at the hospital," I told him.

"What! What happened? Where is Isabelle?"

"Clary began bleeding and they had to take her in emergencies for a C-section."

"Why didn't Isabelle call me?"

"Well, if you want to cause Isabelle to yell through the phone and lose all your auditory sense, be my guest."

"What hospital?"

"Lenox Hill."

"I'm on my way," he said, and before I could respond, Simon hung up. I ended the call and walked back to the group. I sat down two sits from Isabelle and put my head in my hands.

We were there a few minutes, listening to the quiet sniffling of Jocelyn and the comforting words from Isabelle to calm her down while Luke rubbed her shoulders. I felt like going crazy . .

Until the nurse came out.

I jumped from my seat, and in less than a second, I was in front of her.

"What happened?" I asked with an extremely worried tone.

"Well, the baby was set in an incubator and will be there for a week or two. Six pounds and five ounces. The mom is really good. They are taking her to her bedroom at this moment," said the nurse to the rest of the group.

"Can I go in to see her?" I told her rapidly.

"Only a person at a time," she said. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. Luke.

"You go," he said.

"Thanks," I said and followed the nurse. When we entered Clary had her eyes closed. She was underneath a bunch of blankets with an IV on her left hand. The nurse led me in and then disappeared.

I walked towards the bed and got close to Clary to the point where my lips where brushing hers. Clary responded with her eyes closed and kissed me harder. When we pulled apart, I looked into her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

"It's fair to say 'good'?" she told me with an exhausted smile.

"I guess," I whispered to her.

"I want to see her," she said.

"Clary . . . It's dangerous that you go out in this state. Wait until tomorrow. Also, you can't walk . . . And I don't think you want me to carry you all the way over there, right?" I told her running my fingers through her hair.

"Wheelchair, Jace" She whispered.

"Oh . . . Right," I say a bit embarrassed. What the hell is up with me? For some reason I didn't really want to see the baby. I hated saying this, but she was the reason Clary could have been in danger. Clary stayed in silence for a long time, and when I looked down at her, I saw that she had fallen asleep. I climbed on the bed, cautiously throwing an arm over her stomach, and drawing her body to mine, placing her head on my chest. I wouldn't let anything hurt her in that way.

69696969

"I think it's a great idea," said Dr. Smith, who had been attending Clary.

Clary gave me a smile that I responded with a forced smile.

"I will go send to look for a wheelchair," she said. Clary was already sitting up in her bed and threw her arms around me in a hug. I hugged her and kissed her.

"Are you sure you feel better?" I asked Clary. She assured me she did and in that moment a nurse came in with a wheelchair. Clary gave me another smile. I sent one back before lifting her slowly and setting her on the wheelchair. I pushed it behind the nurse who was taking us to a room that contained incubators. There were nurses supported bottles, other listening to heartbeats through a stethoscope and others just pressing various buttons on the machines of each baby. It was, sincerely, terrifying. The room was the color of a light yellow. It had baby ornaments hanging from the walls and pictures of babies who had been subjected to photo sessions. There were babies so small that could have easily fit on an adult's hand. Some had so many chords around them that it was painful to see them; you could see how much they suffered with each inhale of oxygen they took. I repeat: It was extremely terrifying. I hated being there, hated seeing the tears coming from Clary's eyes . . . I hated my life. I hated everything.

The nurse stopped on an incubator at the end of the room. The incubator's spaces were separated by curtains. Ours was between a wall and a curtain. There was plenty of space, like a room for a patient. There were two small couches on either side of the incubator, next to a machine connecting a few cables connected to the baby. I noted that Clary was crying silently. I pushed the wheelchair as close as I could and let Clary do the first move. When I looked directly into the incubator . . . I saw my daughter. She was lying face up, had light hair, was so small, was so small like the before mentioned example, but that small. Her eyes were closed. She was sleeping . . . she was . . . she was perfect. She looked like an angel. She is an angel. Suddenly, all the nuisance and anger . . . disappeared. For some reason, I felt that the first one that hurt this little girl would die at my hands. I would make him suffer like never before. I felt the impulse to protect her—just like, or even more than, the impulse to protect Clary. I felt a small smile forming itself in my lips. Clary had put in both hands inside the holes on the incubator; one caressing the baby's hand, the other caressing the baby's head. It was an image I never thought I would see in my whole life. Clary had a smile on her lips while tears drifted down from her eyes, admiring at her small baby. Clary's face lifted to mine as she gave me a smile. I smiled back and started walking towards her. She took one hand out of the incubator and looked at me. I put my hand in and slowly put it on top of my daughter's delicate hand. I caressed her hand slowly which was open, letting a slowly smile creep into my lips. The inside of the incubator was warm, to give her warmth, seeing that my small girl was barely in diapers. Suddenly, her hand moved underneath mine and the small girl closed her hand around my index finger, squeezing slightly. I smiled and admired my small daughter. Everything had been worth it.

"Noheli," I whispered.

"Huh?" Clary whispered back slowly.

"Her name is Noheli Wayland," I whispered and looked down at Clary. A small smile was spreading over her lips, and then she got closer to me, kissing softly.

"I love you," she whispered against my lips.

"I love you more," I told her, pressing my lips against hers again.

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