(Also, it just happens to be that they are surgeons. It works best. Now I have to write this while bawling my eyes out for Jackson and April.)

. . .

We're sitting across from each other, my eyes keep glancing between the intimidating papers in front of me and the beautiful man across from me.

I hear the lawyer talking, understand what she is saying, but I don't care - not as the thing that I cherish most is about to be taken from me; not when I look into his eyes and see such sureness and certitude.

And the worst part - oh, the worst part, was that I tried so hard, for nothing! The worst part was that I had been blind, and I kept trying.

"These movies are just so bad, I hate them," Jace exclaimed, laughing as he entered the apartment. He set down the Taki's food on a counter and turned around to look at her.

"I know," Clary said with a smile, walking in and setting the bags next to the other bags.

"Why in the world do you like them?"

Wistfully, she said, "they're entertaining."

He shook his head, a smile on his face. "There are so many good entertaining shows and movies, why do you just like the bad ones?"

"I don't know," she chuckled, throwing her arms up in the air.

"So, what did you order for me?"

"I could ask the same about you?"

She raised and eyebrow at him. "Fine, fine. Why don't you see for yourself," he said handing her a brown paper bag.

She glanced at him, then at the back, and then back at him again, and took it, grinning. "Oh, my God," she laughed. "Pancakes with coconut on top? Wow, and I was scared for a moment!'

"What," he said, laying out the food on the small table at the side of the kitchen, which was also part of the living room. "You don't think I know you as well as you know me?"

"No, no," she said, sitting down at the table, openining the take out boxes, "I just, you know, figured you would have forgotten, that's all."

"Why would I forget?"

"Well," she sighed. "It was something that I started to hate and never crave when I was . . . and that was like three years ago. So, you basicly haven't seen me eat this since . . ."

"I wouldn't forget. How could I forget?" he murmered, gazing at her through his beautiful eyelashes. She smiled, nodding, and then started digging into her food."I mean, I was the one who was reliving everyday while you were out doing important, fun, mind-occupating things."

She stopped eating, freezing. She sighed, shaking her head. She put the fork down on the table and closed her eyes. "Jace," she said. "Really?"

"What," he asked, looking at her, also putting down his utensil.

"Really, the spiteful comments?" Her eyebrows rose in amazement. "And here I thought we were going to have a nice and normal conversation."

He looked thrououghly confused. "I thought that we were."

"Obviously not if you're blaming me for going out and living my life."

"I was not blaming you for anything." He reached his hand out and caressed her arm, lovingly. "I don't want to fight. I want to talk."

She nodded her head rapidly, biting her lip.

"So," she said, placing a new smile on her face, one to lighten the mood. "What shows have you watched that you recommend?"

He threw his head back in laughter. It was a laugh that Clary loved - also one she didn't hear often. Once calming himself, he started going on about "quality cinema."

"Bad movies are 'good cinema,'" she said, laughing.

"mm-hm," he nodded, smirking.

"They are," she insisted. "Their purpose is to entertain, and thet do!"

"But see," Jace said, "all cinema is meant to entertain. But they can also be orginal with good acting."

"I hate you," she said, shaking her head.

"fine, fine. I'll leave with you with your bad movies," he said, putting his hands up in surrender.

They ate in silence (it was neither awkward or comfortable) and when they were finishing up, Clary said, "so, you wanted to talk. What was it?"

Jace glanced between her and his food, thinking. "Um," he blew out a gust of air. "It's not cinema - though, I am right because I am always right - its about . . . us."

Clary clicked her tongue. "Really?" She pressed her lips into a thin line, clapping her hands together loudly in front of her. "What do you mean?"

"After everything," Jace said, nodding his head side to side. "It could be a . . . sensitive -"

"Jace," Clary snapped. "Just say it."

He sighed, closing his eyes. When he finally found the courage to look at her, he said with a frown, "I think its best if we . . . talk about divorce."

Clary shook her head, standing up quickly, pushing her chair across the floor dramatically. "No," she said, as the idea disgusted her (it did.)

He stood up, calmly trying to reason with her. But she wouldn't hear it. She took her empty take out box of Taki's leftover to the trash can and threw them out.

"Clary, can we talk about this? Without you just deciding without consulting me?"

"I wanted to talk - I still do - but you never did," she shouted. "I want to fix us - this marriage - and you don't want to. You stopped. You don't do that in a marriage - you fight. As spouses, we fight for each other. That's what you do!"

"Because," Jace said, walking over to the counter on the opposite of Clary. "Every time we talk, we fight. This is the first time in . . . months where we had a real conversation."

"All I wanted to do was talk. But you never did. You'd walk away from me -"

"Like you walked away from me," Jace said, very calmly.

"It's not the same, Jace -"

"Oh, really?" He shook his head in disbelief. "When I wanted to talk, when I wanted each other to be there for one another, you walked away; you left, me."

Tears rimmed her eyes. "I had to leave. I had to go. Being here was killing me. I had died - died!"

"And the only way," she said, her voice quiet and calm, "that I could find myself, was by leaving. I had to do it."

"So, you left. You painted the world - your sorrows, leaving me here, alone, to grieve."

"I. Had. To. Jace, I had to. You were fine. You were sad, upset, but I? I was dead. So, yeah, I had to go. I had to leave you."

"Do you even hear yourself, what you're saying? Of course not, all you think Is about yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't think I was dying, too? You don't think It killed me?"

"It didn't kill you. You were - you were coping with the death, it was different. I needed to leave, be myself, to become myself. I needed that to survive. I found beauty and life in the work I was creating, and it was beautiful, and here I am, trying."

"I wasn't 'coping'. I was being strong. I was being what I thought you needed. I was being a fucking husband - supporting you."

"No, you're just upset that you weren't what I needed."

"I don't care that I wasn't what you needed, I was being a husband, I was listening to my vows! But you weren't. You weren't there!"

"Because I was off fixing myself. Doing what I needed. Why can't you be happy about that," she wailed.

"You know what I needed?"

"What?"

"I needed you!" It went completely silent. Clary looked at him surprised. "To survive, I needed you. But you didn't even think about what I needed. You ran leaving me."

Clary and Jace stood there silent, looking at each other. "You talk about marriage and what we're supposed to do, but I did what I was supposed to do - you didn't. You didn't support me - didn't even try to - you just ran."

Clary was left speechless.

Jace was about to walk away, but Clary said, in a small voice, but it was resolute.

But Clary said, with small but very determined growl, "What about loving me until you die?"

. . .

We tried so hard. We tried to bring back the intimacy, the fire, the passion.

"She said we shouldn't be having sex," Clary said. "I think we should listen to the shrink."

"I would agree, but could you deny yourself this body?" Jace teased,

Clary looked him over, then grinned. They were in the middle of the hall, right in front of a bunch of nurses, doctors, and patients. She leaned into him, their lips meters apart. "Maybe," she said.

"You are evil," he said narrowing his eyes at her.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

She leaned up on her tippie-toes and whispered into his ear, "we should go to an on-call room."

"I like the way you think," he said, smirking. He bent down, catching her lips in his.

She laughed. She took his hand, and pulled him to a on-call room, where she pinned him against a wall and kissed him. ]

She whispered to him, inbetween hot kisses in the dark, "our marriage counselor said we shouldn't. We should try to stay away from one another if we want to try to make this work," she sighs, as he kissed down her neck.

"Well, I love you and I want you," Jace replied, kissing her again.

. . .

Looking back, I can remember the best time of our relationships: right after I left SImon at the alter after Jace declared his love for me at my wedding, and right before we had a very impromptu wedding. Oh, we were so happy.

"I can't actually believe that I left my own wedding." Clary's eyes were sparkling.

"I hope you don't regret it - its a little too late to go back now," Jace laughed.

She looked at him, a big smile on her lips. "I will never regret this decision." She leaned in across the car to kiss him on the lips, the seatbelt straining againt her body. Their lips melded together, and when they pulled away they had the biggest smiles.

"What are we going to do now, Jace?"

Jace remained silent, not having a clue, but then he got an idea, and he had a very goofy grin.

"Lets get married," Jace said, searching her eyes, taking her hands.

Clary's breath caught in her throat, but she smiled, nodding. "Really? Oh, my God, Yes. I love you, I love you."

She unbuckled her seatbelt and took his face into her hands, cupping his cheeks, and then she kissed him, and it was perfect.

When they pulled back Clary said, "Lets get married."

"Okay, okay."

Clary re-buckled her seatbelt, and Jace started driving. They didn't thin about everything thet left behind - Simon, Kaelie, Clarys's family, Simon's family, their friends - they were they in their own bubble.

I remember when we were happy. When we were all dancing.

They were acting all normal.

"Hello, Maryse," Jace said, as he walked into the attendings longue, the grin on his face was invoulantary. He had a kick in his step as he walked to the coffee machine.

"Jace," Maryse said with a laugh. "You're happy."

"Who wouldn't be happy if they looked like me and had the personality of me," he remarked, earning an eyeroll from Maryse. She took her coffee and left the room, just as Clary entered.

They gave each other special grins, and he strides over to her, spinning her around in circles. "I love you," she said, as his lips descend on hers.

"I love you, too." He grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest grinning down at her. "Dance with me," he said, twirling her. She laughs, rolling her eyes.

"And I thought I was the nerd," she laughed, snorting.

"If being a nerd means dancing with their wife because they're so happy then I am a nerd." He pecked her lips. "A proud one - and a good-looking at that too."

She laughed, and then they were chest to chest, waltzing around the room, narrowing missing the sofa and chairs, and sliding past the kitchen table. A moment later, Alec walked in, startled by the giddy smiles and dancing.

"Whoa!" He said, halting at the door. "Why are we dancing?"

"Because of good news," Clary exclaimed.

Alec looked at the two suspiciously, but finally gave in, jumping up and down aound the room, his arms in the air.

Then Magnus walked. "Oh, dancing. I love dancing!" He walked over to Alec, grabbing him by the arms and spinning him.

Soon, Mayrse walked in, then Izzy, and after their initla surpise, they all joined in, dancing happily in one big circle - without any music.

Then, Izzy walked in.

"Oh," she smiled. "Dancing, we're dancing. Exciting."

But then Alec paused for a second and asked, "hey, why are we dancing?"

Izzy, with her eyes closed, replied, "for the news of the baby, right?"

Everyone froze, looking at Izzy with their eyes widened.

She looked at Jace and Clary and sucked in a breath. She scrunched up her nose. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, was I?"

Everyone looked to Jace and Clary, demanding answers. "Okay,okay," Clary said over the news, grabbing everyone's attention. She glanced at Jace. "We didn't want to tell anyone until later, but, I'm pregnant."

Everyone broke out into "yays" and "congratulations." Everyone was hugging and laughing.

. . .

But the happiness was short lived, because it soon all went to hell.

Clary awoke in the middle of the night, gasping as she felt a warm liquid run down her legs. She shoved her hand in between her thighs, and screamed when she saw blood. Jace woke up, disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

He looked at Clary, his eyes wide. "Whats wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Clary frantically yanked off the covers, breathing frantically. "Jace, I-I-I'm scared," she sobbed.

Jace gasped. "Clary," he said, trying to calm her down, "it may just be clotting, or . . ." When it didn't calm her down, he said, "Clary, it may not be miscarriage. Light bleeding, as you know, is sometimes common in the first trimester."

Clary shook her head. "Its not light, Jace. I think . . ."

"Clary, we are not sure. It may be something else. It could very likely be something else. We know all the possoblities. Lets not worry ourselves. Lets go to the hospital, see whats happening. Okay?"

Clary nodded her head, holding in her sobs.

So, they went to the hospital.

Clary sat on the examination table as a radiologist did an ultrasound. "You know," she said trying to clear the awkward and suspenseful tension, "its so refreshing to see a couple, In here, together. Husbands never want to go to these types of things."

Jace chuckled, but his heart wasn't into it; he was too worried. He glanced at Clary, and he saw that she was biting her lip, her eyes trained on the doctor, but the radiolisgit eyes betrayed nothing.

She looked at Clary, glanced at Jace, and he strided over to Clary, taking her hand. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

They nodded. When she left the room, Clary broke out into sob. "She saw something - somethings wrong, that's why she left," Clary said, through her tears.

"Clary," Jace soothed. "It may not be a miscarriage but something else entirely. You know it could be something else."

Clary shook her head. "Jace, I feel that something is missing."

When the radiogist came in, another doctor was close behind her. She pointed at something on the screen and whispered something. He nodded, understanding. He moved closer, squinting.

Clary and Jace recongnized him: Head of radiology.

They wheeled her back on the gurney to the Emergency Room, telling her that they were going to admit her soon. Both Clary and Jace looked at each other and rolled their eyes; they knew it 'soon' meant hours.

When they did finally admit her, hours later, a doctor walked in, telling her they were going to do a pelvic exam and use a fetal heart rate moniter.

Hours later, when the pelvic exam and they had used the fetal heart rate moniter, they received earth shattering news:

"I am so sorry for your loss," said the attending OBGYN. "But you have suffered from a miscarriage . . ." Everything else was drowned out by the couple's ears. They didn't care. They had had a miscarriage; they lost their baby.

Clary immideatly clung to Jace's arm and sobbed as he withhold his tears, although a tear slipped, and dripped down his face, falling over his chin, and landing on his shoes.

He put his arm around Clary's shoulders and rubbed her arm, kissing her hair.

"We will give you some medication so your uterus can contract and ultimately expel the fetus," the doctor said.

. . .

The worst part was that he was right. I wasn't there for him. He survived without the thing he needed, while I ran, showering myself with my necessity; He was stronger than me.

Jace was in the Emergency Room, a first-year resident doing sutures on his badly cut arm. Jace kept glancing at the intern's work, thinking to himself that he could do better.

Alec walked in, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and his eyes glazed over in concern.

"Jace, what happened? Are you okay," he rushed over to Jace.

"Um, I was -" He couldn't think of an excuse. He knew how he cut the gash, but he would rather not explain.

"Never mind," he chuckled.

Alec stared at him for a few extra moments werily. He shook his head, clapping his arms together. "How is Clary doing, in - where is she now?"

Jace gave a resentful, tight-lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes - more like he was holding in a scowl. "Beats me," he said enthusicatily, but Alec knew he was being sarcastic.

"How is that, by the way, you and Clary?"

Jace's face sombered, reavealing nothing. "I'm fine. We're healing - she is healing. What more could I want?"

Alec put his hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. He gave a encouraging half-smile.

Jace glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and nudged it off. "Alec," he looked at him. "I'm fine. I'm enjoying - the space. Really."

Alec nodded, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Okay, just tell me if you need anything. I'm your brother. "

What Alec didn't know was how Jace acquired the injury.

See, Clary was at about five months pregnant when she miscarried - which is rare, since most misccaraige happen before 12 weeks. So, they started setting up the baby's room, cribs, toys, dressers, a child's table and chairs - everything.

Jace, that day, figured it was time to dismantlt and put the things away. As he was unscrewing parts of the crib, the images of a baby, sleeping peacefully in the bed flashed in his head, halting him; he couldn't get rid of their baby's bed; their babies sanctuary.

But there isn't a baby anymore, he thought frusterated and angry. This bed will never belong to a baby. He kicked the wooden columns, tears streaming down his face at the thought of his baby never getting to sleep in there. Never getting the chance to scream for his parents. Never getting to do anything because he was gone. He didn't have a baby.

He thought that by getting rid of the baby's things it would, maybe solve things, help him with dealing with the baby's death. But as he stood over the baby's crib, imagining, he realized that he couldn't 'deal with it,' couldn't 'solve' anything. There was no solving the way out of the horibble pain in him that felt like dying.

And she just left, Jace thought. With that, he sobbed, slididing down to the floor. I'm dying, and she left me alone to wither and die, he thought. He imagined holding his baby, feeding his baby, playing with his baby, and he couldn't do anything about it, and that caused such a deep pain that felt like it would never go away - because it wouldn't.

He turned, and in desperation to relieve the pain, he punched through the crib, over and over. All you could hear were hiccups, broken sobs, and the sound of wood splintering and crashing.

When the crib was destroyed he pulled back his arm and saw that the long gash on his limb, and the physical pain started. But unlike all the other times that pain worked to relive him of anger, guilt, sadness, it did nothing.

. . .

Actually, what's worse is that I wasn't there for him but he had tried to be there for me.

Clary was sitting on the small rocking chair meant for toddlers, her hair unbrushed, in her pajamas, bags under her eyes. She had in her arms their child's blanket, or what would have been theit child's blanket.

She hugged it to her body. There was an empty box of tissues on the table next to her.

When Jace walked by the room on his way out to go to work, he saw Clary, staring at the wall, doing and looking exactly that.

The door was open, as always, and he walked in, knocking hesitanly on the door.

When he got no response, he walked in, crouching down next to her, and putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm going to work," he said. She looked as if she didn't even register that he had walked in.

"Would you like anything?" He was met with silence.

He sighed. "Clary." He put his hand on her chin and forced her to look at him. She looked at him, her eyes metting his, but they empty. "This isn't healhty, Clare. You have to interact with -"

"All I want to interact with is my child - my dead child," she said, angrily, tearing her eyes from him harshly.

He stood there for a good minute before, stupidly, saying, "We can try for another baby?"

Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. And instantly he regretted suggesting it; her eyes were narrowed, her mouth twisted into a sadistic frown.

"What?" She said, as if what he said disgusted -which it did. She pushed him away. "How could you even suggest that?" She yelled at him.

"Clary, I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"Did their death really mean so little to you that you just replace them so easily?" When he said nothing (Not because what she said was true, but because of the guilt he felt for saying that) she spat at him, "Unlike you, I'm not heartless."

Tears were in his eyes, but he was sniffling them back. "Clary." His voice was cracked. "I'm sorry. That's not true; they meant everything to me. Please" - the first and last tear fell - "I'm trying."

She looked down at him (there was nothing in her eyes expect deep pain). "Then stop trying."

. . .

But as I look at the papers, and then at him, all I can think of is how It all started.

Clary and Simon were standing at the alter, grinning at eachother. Clary loved Simon, she did. This was right, she thought, I'm getting married, in a church, with the man I love, with the people I love.

As the priest spoke, Simon and Clary couldn't stop looking at each other - they were too excited.

"If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace," The Priest said looking at the crowd.

Clary didn't know wether or not to be relived or disappointed that Jace did not stand up and object. Instead, he stayed in his seat, holding his girlfriend's hand - Kaelie.

Jace wanted to get up, to say something, but he couldn't. He had a girlfriend, one sitting right next to him, holding his hand, smiling happily for the couple on the alter.

He wanted to. He really wanted to. He wanted to get up, profess his love, kiss, and run out the church, but he knew that couldn't happen. Oh, but he wanted it to.

And almost as his own mind wanted to - which it did - he stood up. Everyone gasped. "Jace," Kaelie asked, looking up at Jace, uncertain and scared. Simon and Clary looked at Jace, confused. Clary had shock in her eyes, but also a glimmerofhope. Simon looked thoroughly confused and upset.

Jace say down, shaking his head.

"Jace," Kaelie whispered, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and anger.

But he ignored Kaelie, staring straight ahead, breathing heavily.

It wasn't that he didn't like her; he did. But he loved Clary.

He looked at Kaelie and said, "I'm sorry."

He stood up, and didn't sit down. "Clary," he said, taking a deep breath. "I love you. I'll love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, I'll love you then."

Everyone murmured and gasped, glancing between Clary and Jace, waiting.

Simon, whose hands were still holding hers, nudged her. But she was staring straight at Jace, holding her breath.

"I love everything about. Even the things I don't like, I -" he sighed, "love. So, be with me."

Clary was breathing heavily, chewing on her lip.

"Clary," Simon said. "Clary."

She let go of Simon's hand and stepped forward, taking a step down. She swallowed. "Yes."

. . .

If this were a show, you would see Jace and Clary running out the church doors, their hands intertwined, grinning at each other.

I look at Jace, and I can tell he was reliving the same memories as me, but while my eyes hold doubt, his doesn't.

He nods at the lawyers, brings the pen to the paper, glances at me, and says, "we tried, so hard."

I nod, but chew my lip. We sign, flip the pages, sign, flip, sign until we're done and divorced.

All I can think is that we tried.

Review and Favorite, thank you. It makes me happy.