This is set somewhere between the last chapter and the epilogue of CoHF where the events of the Dark War are still haunting Clary. It takes place at the Institute and let's just assume that Jocelyn is okay with Clary spending the night over there, okay? I'll let you decide what exactly her reasoning is for yourself.

Disclaimer: If I owned The Mortal Instruments I probably would've killed everybody just to make fans mad b/c I am that kind of person so...

She was falling.

She had no idea how long she'd been falling, how long she'd continue to fall, if there was even an end to this dark, fathomless pit- just that she was falling. That was all she knew, all that she could focus on. She was falling. And when, or if, she hit the bottom she would die.

It was an inescapable fact. At the speed she was falling at, and assuming that she'd been falling for quite some time, there was no chance of her surviving. As soon as her body made impact with whatever surface was waiting for her, she would shatter. She might as well be a life-sized glass figurine. She almost hear the crunch of every bone in her being as they broke into thousands of tiny pieces inside her. Visions of her crumpled, mangled body flitted before her eyes.

Some voice half-heartedly told her to be more positive, but she paid it no heed. She was about to die, what was there to be positive about? And this wasn't one of those 50/50 chances of dying. She wasn't waltzing around with demons grasping a seraph blade in her hand. There was no fighting her way out of this. Death was coming for her with a 100% guarantee.

She could tell her mouth was open in a terrified scream, though it was a muted by the loud rushing of air surrounding her, engulfing her figure. Her hair fanned out around her face, the copper strands dancing around her peripheral vision, some blowing across her face. Something knotted in her stomach as she realized that this would the last thing she'd see before she died- shadows and strands of hair. And when she hit the earth, or whatever was waiting for her impact, blood would seep out of whatever cuts and scrapes her corpse sustained and dye bits of her red hair a darker, more violent crimson. It certainly would not be a pretty sight, if anyone ever found her body she felt sorry for whoever that person was. Especially if it was Alec, or Isabelle, or Magnus. Angel forbid that her mother, or Luke, or Jace be the ones to find her.

She mentally shuddered at the effect her untimely death would have on them. Would Jocelyn and Luke postpone their wedding, again? Jocelyn, no doubt would be overcome with grief for her lost daughter, and Luke… He'd always been the closest thing to a father she had. And now she wouldn't live long enough to see him become her stepfather.

Jace. Oh God, Jace. The girl knew exactly what he was about to go through. She remembered all too clearly the overwhelming sensation of loss and despair when she'd gone back up to roof that night and he was gone. Just gone. Not even tracking runes or spells had been able to locate him.

The difference was that he hadn't died. He'd simply been brainwashed and dragged off to a different dimension. She had seen him again. He would never see her again. Not alive at least. What had she last said to him? She couldn't remember, but it had a feeling it wasn't the "I love you" she wanted it to be. Probably something more like "Stop messing with my hair" or "Surely you have better things to do than watch me draw". Had they had a serious argument? Had she scowled at him- not one of her mock, playful scowls, but an actually I'm-kinda-angry-at-you scowl? Maybe she'd been more than a kinda-angry. They almost never had that level argument, but who knew? She didn't think she'd be able to live with herself in whatever afterlife she went to if the last expression he ever on her face was a genuine scowl.

Was there even an afterlife? She'd fought demons, and even been trapped in their home dimension that was certainly qualifiable as "Hell", but there hadn't been any screaming, wretched souls of the wicked. She'd even seen an angel once or twice, but that didn't give any solid proof of there being a heaven. And if the afterlife was real, where would she end up? She'd done some pretty horrible things, but did being part angel and fighting on the "good guy" side of two wars redeem her? She'd killed a good amount of demons in her time too, did that count for anything?

"Don't you remember what I said?" A cold, yet silky, all too familiar voice called out and echoed against walls the girl couldn't see. At the sound of it overwhelming panic took over her. He was dead. She had killed him. Driven her sword right through his ribcage. Seen him crumple to ground. She had watched the light fade out of his dark, onyx eyes. He couldn't be alive. "You act surprised, Clarissa. This isn't the first time I've evaded death." Amused. Her terror at hearing his voice was amusing to him. Still, despite her fright, she felt the urge to cheekily remind him that he hadn't "evaded death". Lilith had resurrected him. He hadn't done anything.

If only she could manage to get a bit of air in her lungs to spit that out.

"You have a dark heart in you, Valentine's daughter. Do you remember that day? What about when I told you your bones were made of ruthlessness and your heart of ice? I'd like to see try and contradict me. Not that you can, of course. Not when you have nothing against killing your own flesh and blood to achieve your worthless goals." She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "And they call me the demon, sister."

Sister. The reverberations of what had to be her least favorite word, right after brother, seemed to last much longer than that of any other of his words. She could tell he was waiting for one of her trademark cheeky or sarcastic responses. Somehow, she managed to get a bit of air in her lungs and opened her mouth to give him one, or, hell, at least play the "at-least-I-don't-murder-innocent-children" card. However, before a single syllable could slip off her tongue, she was plunged into icy darkness.

Instead of words waltzing out of her mouth, a liquid substance, water, filled her lungs. She felt strangely disconnected from her flailing body, as if her spirit decided to go marching on down to Hell before she was even dead. The voice's amused laughter filling the cavern- pit- whatever she'd fallen in, though it was slightly distorted.

She weakly tried to kick herself upwards, or at least what she thought was upwards. She was stuck in some strange limbo without direction or time. She could've been submerged for seconds or decades and she wouldn't have known the difference. After what felt like forever, and at the same felt no longer than a few seconds, her head broke the surface of the water and she started coughing up water.

"I would offer to help-" The girl looked up to see a person she'd desperately hoped was dead standing on a precipice overlooking the body of the water she was floundering in. "- though quite truthfully you're getting what you deserve." Her pretentious, demon-blooded brother smirked at her, black eyes glinting dangerously. "It's probably more than you deserve, considering all the people you've killed."

She opened her mouth, she wasn't sure what for -to scream at him, tell him that he'd killed far more people she ever would, to try and persuade him to help, or something else entirely- and ended up coughing up more water. By the Angel, she must have a better lung capacity than she thought. The redheaded girl hadn't finished choking up the brackish liquid before some strange, magnetic force started tugging back underneath. No! She protested in her mind, but as hard as she fought to keep her head above the water, it was a pointless waste of energy. Almost everything was at this point, she realized helplessly as she sank beneath the surface. She should stop fighting. Just let the water consume her.

Only now, it wasn't water. It was warmer, thicker, heavier than water. Darker and more opaque than water. As it filled her open, gagging mouth with a distinctive metallic and salty taste she realized what it was…

Blood. She was drowning in an ocean of blood.

Somehow she managed to kick herself upward again, as the next thing she was aware was breaking the surface again, only this time she bumped into something. As her dusky emerald eyes scanned the ocean of blood around her, she came to the realization it wasn't something so much as someone. In fact - multiple someones floating about. She screamed. It was a choked, spluttering scream and as it ripped out of her throat, the details of the bodies swam into focus.

There was a dark-haired girl with light skin and a ribbon-slim build, floating face down a few yards to the left. The girl didn't need to see the silvery gold whip coiled in her hand and snaking out across the surface of the blood to know it was Isabelle. The knowledge that it was her fault the once beauteous, confident Shadowhunter was dead was instant.

Not too far from Isabelle was another raven-black haired figure with a light complexion, Alec. He too was floating face down and she was glad she couldn't see his electric blue eyes staring at her, scorning her, blaming her for his death.

She saw a pair of glasses floating a few yards from the Lightwood siblings and as much as she wanted not to, her gaze followed their direction. Her best friend of ten years, Simon Lewis, floated on his side, half submerged, and arm outstretched as if the last thing he tried to do was reach for his glasses.

She could see other bodies too, a dark red haired, middle-aged woman with a similar build to her own, a middle-aged man with brown hair that was gray around the roots, a lanky, brown-skinned man who looked no older than twenty, though she knew for fact was at least few centuries old, a blonde girl of about twelve, and other familiar forms. She'd killed them all. She could hear her brother laughing in the background.

Something brushed up against her arm, and as her gaze traveled down to see what it was another scream rose up in her throat. No! No, no, no! Golden eyes stared blankly up at her, void of their usual vindictive spark. Blond hair was pushed back out of his face and the ends of it sank beneath the crimson surface. She could hear the laughing intensify, and though her head was still above the surface it sounded strangely distorted and distant- like she wasn't really there.

Tentatively she reached out and touched his arm. As soon as her fingertips made contact with his skin she jerked her arm back. His skin was cold. Ice cold.

She had killed him.

She had killed Jace.

She had killed the one guy she had ever felt any strong romantic attraction to. Killed the only person she'd completely opened up to. He'd meant the world to her. Nothing was worth losing Jace.

And she killed him.

She might not have driven a blade through his heart or flung a dagger at his head, but she knew somehow she was responsible for his death. It was her fault this happened to him.

That was it. As soon as the full realization hit her, the girl, whose mind was already battered and bruised and horrifically scarred, lost it. "No!" This was the most high-pitched and shrill of her screams- the most desperate. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Jace, no! I didn't mean to, I swear! No! No! Jace!"

All sudden, something coiled around her wrists and starting jerking at her trying to pull her under. Clary. Clary. Clary. Her name became a non-rhythmic chant in the cavern. Clary. Clary. "NO!" She tried yanking away from whatever was trying to drown her. It was futile- the grasp on her wrists only tightened. The copper-haired girl flailed desperately- she wasn't sure why she was fighting it. Why did she want live? She'd killed Isabelle, Alec, Simon, her mother, Jace, and several others she cared about. There was absolutely nothing for her to live for. Clary. Clary! The chanting became more urgent. She helplessly continued to struggle without success. "NO! NO!"

The last thing she was aware of before she was completely immersed again was laughter ringing out through the cavern, mocking her.

Clary gasped for air as her eyes flew open. Instead of darkness concealing whatever loomed above her she could make out her ceiling and a face leaning over her, golden eyes glinting with concern. She could feel her arms being held away from her body and realized that the face's owner was holding onto her wrists. She'd probably tried lashing out at him in her sleep. It wouldn't be the first time. "J-Jace?" Her voice quivered slightly as her nightmare came rushing back.

In a second he had dropped her wrists and sat down on the bedside her. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured reassuringly as he pulled her into his arms. "You're okay, you're okay." Clary twisted a bit in his embrace before resting her head on his chest and winding her fingers into his t-shirt, desperately clinging onto him and breathing in his comforting scent. "It was just a nightmare, you're okay."

She didn't say anything. Tears ran down her face in a consistent stream as scenes from the nightmare played again and again before her eyes. No, she wasn't okay. People who were okay did not have nightmares about their demonic, sociopath of a brother, and drowning in the blood of people they'd killed- people they cared about and killed. People who were okay did not wake up screaming every time they so much as took a nap. People who were okay did not have to push back horribly acute memories of stifling fear that felt like it would suffocate them whenever a certain name was mentioned. Especially if the person the name belonged to was dead.

Really, the list could go on.

And the worst part? How damn weak she felt. While the war was ongoing it was like she had formed a sort detachment to almost anything that could've happened to her. Now that she didn't have to worry that every heartbeat could be her last, all the terror and the horrible brokenness of the last few months had freed itself from its iron cage and began beating her down. She felt utterly helpless under the crippling weight of it all.

Several minutes passed and Clary's harsh sobs began to soften into silent tears with the occasional sniffle. She felt Jace loosen his embrace and pull away from her a bit. Panic cut into her like knife. Jace- no, no, no. You can't go. I need you. I know I sound like a pathetic, needy child, but I can't deal with this on my own right now. Just please stay.

Some of her panic must of flitted across her face- that or he just knew her well enough to guess what was going on in her head, perhaps both- because he began murmuring to her in a reassuring voice again. "Hey- I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here, okay?" He lightly tilted her head up so that the copper-haired girl was looking him in the eye. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't, but words tumbled from her mouth anyway. "You were dead- and so was Isabelle, and Alec, and Simon, and Magnus, and my mom, and Luke. Even Emma Carstairs and some of the Blackthorns were there." A fresh wave of sobs racked through her small body. "And- and I was re-responsible for-" she was interrupted by another sob, "all of your deaths- and-" and another, "there was bl- a lot of- a lot of blood, and I was- I was drowning in it. And," this was probably the worst of the fresh sobs, "Se-Sebastian was there."

Jace must've sensed that she was done, because she had hardly decided herself that was all she was saying when he pulled her back into a tight embrace and began stroking her hair. "It's all right. It was just a nightmare. I'm right here."

Several more minutes passed before Clary was able to stop sobbing again. Jace's murmuring began to trickle off until he was just holding her. They were silent like that for a few more minutes.

"You must think I'm such a nuisance," Clary interrupted the silence with a soft whisper. "I almost always have trouble falling asleep and when I do, either I wake up screaming or I thrash around and screech and you have to come wake me up."

Jace's voice was gentle, but firm at the same time. "You're not a nuisance, Clary. We all have trouble sleeping. We all have nightmares. Sometimes me or Alec have to wake up Isabelle because she has nightmares like yours. Me and Alec don't like to admit it, but we have nightmares, too."

"Then how come you're always the one waking me up, and I never have to wake you up?" she asked.

Jace teased her, "Probably because I don't scream like a five year-old girl-"

"I don't scream like a five year old," Clary petulantly interrupted.

Clary couldn't see his face though she could tell he was smiling. "-and you're a much heavier sleeper. I wouldn't at all be surprised if you slept through the end of world."

"Only if the world ended very quietly and quickly."

Tears had stopped welling up in her eyes now and her posture had relaxed a considerable amount as the conversation took a lighter tone. The girl leaned contentedly in the light-eyed boy's embrace.

Jace laughed. "Maybe. You're a lot lighter sleeper now as opposed to when we met."

"Becoming a shadowhunter and fighting in two wars does that, you know."

"I assume you're feeling better now?"

A small smile crept up on her features. "Yeah, you kinda have that effect."

Jace chuckled softly. "Do I?"

Clary snuggled closer to him, if that was at all possible. "Yes." The two of them were silent for a brief stretch of time before Jace leaned down a bit and pressed a light kiss, hardly more than a brush of lips, on her temple.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

It's been awhile since I've published anything on here and I'm really sorry if you've been looking forward to more of my writing. I really don't know why you would though because I think I've made it pretty clear I suck at writing. Especially fluff.

Fluff is so weird to write for some reason. I just feel all tingly and weird and awkward.

A Brief Note About my Fanfic "Runes and Ruins"- I plan on rewriting the six chapters I've already published (by the angel, they are so crappy) before continuing, so it'll probably remain on hiatus for a few more months. School gets in the way of so many things, doesn't it?

love all you guys very much

-shortcomings