I'm really sorry for this. It just came to me and I had to write it down. Please don't kill me.

Chapter 1

Jace's POV

It had been so long since they'd been to Idris. As beautiful as the city was, it brought back painful memories. So much death and destruction had occurred there. It was hard to believe that it had been almost 8 years since everything had happened, and still they had nightmares about the things they had endured. But here they were, facing it all again.

"Are you okay?" a young man asked his wife. She was holding a small baby bundled in a pink blanket. The name Rowan was sewn onto the edge. Freckles dotted her face that matched her mother's, who had fiery red hair and bright green eyes.

The woman sighed. "I don't know, Jace. I've never left her alone before." The man – Jace – chuckled, shaking his head.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Clary," Jace, who had light blonde hair and golden eyes, assured her. "The place seems good. I haven't heard anything bad about it." Clary looked up at Jace (she was quite short), a nervous look in her eyes. Noticing, Jace wrapped an arm around his wife and said, "Rowan will be fine. I promise."

Clary nodded, eyes distant. Jace removed his arm and took his wife's hand instead. She glanced up at her husband and smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Clary's POV

"Somehow I think the Clave has managed to make those meetings more boring every time they hold them," Jace said. "Instead of discussing politics, they talk about more ways to try and bore us to sleep."

Clary laughed, shaking her head. "I highly doubt that, but believe that if you want to. I won't try and convince you otherwise." She took Jace's hand as they carefully walked down the hill that led up to the Accords Hall. The sun was setting, making the sky hues of gold, pink, yellow, and orange. Clary glanced behind her at the Hall, and instantly she was dying for her paints or something to capture the way the sky reflected off the glass, casting rainbows ground all around them.

A sharp scream pulled Clary from her thoughts. She and her husband locked eyes, and sprinted towards the direction of the sound. A small group was rushing towards… No, Clary thought. She recognized these streets from that morning. All the store names and houses, but it couldn't be. She was certain. But as she, Jace, and other Shadowhunters who too had heard the shout kept running, Clary's certainty lessened and lessened.

By the time they'd found where the scream had come from, a large mob had formed. Clary, being only 5'2" and at the back, couldn't see what had happened. She knew where they were, though. And she was dreading every scenario that came to mind.

"Jace?" Clary whispered. He didn't respond. She repeated his name again, louder this time. "What happened? Jace, you know I'm short and I can't see. Tell me what happened." But he didn't respond. Instead he rushed forward, pushing through the mob, Clary on his heels. Tears were welling in her eyes.

Jace and Clary threw open the door. Just hours before, they'd left their daughter here so they could go to the Clave meeting. At first glance, you wouldn't even be able to tell something was wrong. But something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Clary could feel it.

Slowly, the young woman peered into one of the cribs. Inside was a baby boy in a blue onesie. The child looked very small, like it was a newborn. His skin was pale, making his long, dark eyelashes pop out on his face. The only thing that was wrong was the long, deep cut across the baby's neck. It looked like it had been done quickly and carelessly, as though the killer was moving fast. The blood left a large stain on the front of the baby's clothes and on the white sheets in the crib. Clary's eyes widened and she stumbled backwards, bumping into something behind her. She screamed.

"Shh," she heard Jace say. "It's just me." He wrapped his arms around her, and she turned around and embraced him tightly. Warm, salty tears were pouring down her cheeks now.

Clary wiped her eyes and looked up and Jace. "The others, are they…" Clary couldn't finish the question, but Jace knew. He nodded gravely. "And –"Clary took a shaky breath. "And Rowan?" Jace looked away, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. That was all the assurance Clary needed to know, but she wasn't ready to believe it.

"No…" Clary whispered, shaking her head. "No, Rowan's fine. She has to be. I would know if she wasn't." Her voice dropped even quieter. "I'm her mother." Jace stepped forward and took Clary's hands. He slowly guided her over to another crib. Inside was a baby girl with fair skin and freckles who was wrapped in pink blanket. She too was murdered , the same way as the other little boy. A name was sewn onto the side of the blanket: Rowan.

Clary couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Rowan, her daughter, her baby girl, was gone. And she wasn't even there to protect her. "I've failed," Clary wheezed out. "I've failed her, Jace. I couldn't save her, and now she's gone. My baby is gone –" her voice broke and she burst into tears. Clary was shaking and hyperventilating, so much so that she could see the world going darker. Suddenly, her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees. Breathing became increasingly difficult, like someone was pressing down on her chest. Her senses went into overdrive, making everything seem louder and brighter. With one hand on her chest and the other gripping a leg on the crib, she squeezed her eyes shut. Clary knew what was happening but she couldn't make it stop. She was having a panic attack (A/N: This is how I experience panic attacks. I am in no way saying that this is what happens to everyone. Panic attacks are different for each person), something that hadn't happened to her since she was fifteen.

"Jace," she wheezed. He was already on his knees next to her, arms wrapped around her protectively. Clary could hear his voice in her ear, quietly whispering soothingly, trying to help her and calm her down. Slowly, her breathing steadied and feeling came back to her limbs. Clary wasn't totally sure of how long the panic attack lasted; time was harder to measure when she had one.

Clary looked up at the room. People had begun entering, talking quietly among themselves and trying to make sense of what had happened in what was supposed to be their safe haven. Gratefully Clary realized the no one she knew had come in. She would have hated for her family to see her like this, like the weak and vulnerable girl she'd left behind with her mundane life so many years ago.

"You're not weak," Jace whispered, as though he'd read her mind. "Not for reacting like this. There is nothing wrong with how you responded, nothing wrong with you. Don't ever think that. And you didn't fail Rowan." Clary looked into his faded gold eyes. "You could never, ever fail her." Slowly, Jace took his wife's hands and pulled her to her feet. Once standing, he carefully wrapped his arms around her. Jace lifted Clary's lifted chin so they locked eyes. He wiped the tears off her cheeks and tucked a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear.

Jace leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. "I love you, Clary Herondale. You know that, right?" She nodded. "Good. Don't ever forget it."

"I won't. I love you too."

The young couple turned their attention towards a small group that had formed at one of the walls. People were muttering amongst themselves, seemingly obsessed with a marking on the wall. A young woman stepped forward. "What is that? What does it mean?"

"It's the Mortal Cup. The Clave is behind this," an older man answered. The small mob erupting, shouting and arguing at one another. Clary and Jace pushed forward to get a better look at the symbol on the wall. It wasn't the Mortal Cup.

They locked eyes, silently communicating with each other and knowing what they had to do. Jace pushed his way towards the entrance while Clary maneuvered her way to a set of chairs and climbed atop one of them. Moments later, the lights went out and on again, silencing everyone.

"That's not the Mortal Cup," Clary said loudly. "It's the Infernal Cup, from 8 years ago. Whoever, or whatever did this, must be stopped. Because if this symbol is appearing again, that means that a very dark force is back. A force on the side of my dead brother, Sebastian Morgenstern.

Jace's POV

A knock at the door came just as Jace collapsed against his chair. They' been looking for almost seven years, and never was any real progress made. All they ever found were false leads. But they never stopped looking. Papers spread out across the table with markings and codes that only the creator would understand. There was a manhunt going on at the New York Institute. For days and nights, every inhabitant was pouring themselves into research and detective work, putting all their energy into finding him. It. Whatever it was. The most important thing was ridding the world of anyone and anything on the side of Sebastian Morgenstern. Not to be confused with Jonathon. It was an unspoken agreement between Jace and Clary that they were two different people. Especially after they had died in Hell. Recently, the Shadowhunters had found clues to where whatever it was they were looking for was hiding. The only problem was pinpointing an exact location. "Somewhere in New York City" was very helpful. Sort of.

Not really.

"Come in," Jace called. A young woman with jet-black hair and dark eyes burst through the door. "We found it. We found his hiding place."

Jace's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "Where is it, Izzy?" he asked as he went across the room to grab his sword and stele.

His adoptive sister –Izzy– smirked. "232 Riverside Drive." Jace looked at Izzy puzzlingly. She knew what he was asking, and nodded. "Yes, that is where Sebastian was resurrected 15 years ago. Almost funny, isn't it?" Jace pushed passed her out of the room, only stopped at the end of the hall. He glanced back and said: "Yes, almost poetic."

Two and a time, Jace and Izzy ran down the steps of the Institute. Just before the gates stood Clary and Alec (Simon and Magnus were watching the kids), all fully geared and ready to go. They turned as the sound of their shoes hitting the stone steps rang out through the air. Jace and Clary embraced each other as he reached the grass. This was just one of countless missions they'd gone on together, trying to bring justice to the death of their daughter. But for seven years, time and time again they failed, mislead by false clues and trails of bread crumbs that led them nowhere.

And yet, there was something that felt different about this find. There was a gut feeling that Jace just couldn't shake. This one felt right. This one was going to be it. He just knew it.

Clary's POV

A sinking feeling was growing in the pit of Clary's stomach as they approached the building. So much had happened there. Too much. The attack from Lilith, Sebastian's return, losing Jace. It still haunted her sometimes. Then again, most of did.

"We should scout the building in pairs," Alec suggested as he handed Jace his stele. Parabatai always created stronger runes. "Each duo can take a few floors."

Jace and Izzy agreed, but Clary was skeptical. There was something bugging her about this mission and she wanted to check it out. Alone. "I don't know," she admitted. "If we went solo we could cover more ground faster. And we are all strong enough fighters to last on our own, at least until someone comes with backup." No one seemed to object. "Perfect. I can take the upper floors and the roof." Once the group finished their runes they carefully walked towards the front door.

As Clary began to climb the stairs, she felt a hand on her wrist. She turned and saw Jace at the bottom of the steps. Clary threw her arms around her husband. Jace was clearly surprised, but he wrapped his arms around her tightly. It was unlike Clary to be so sentimental before a possible fight, but she couldn't shake the feeling something really big was going to happen. Jace noticed the difference too, and he asked why the sudden change.

Clary rested her chin on Jace's shoulder. It was strange to finally be at his height; being a few stairs above someone can make you taller. "I love you," she whispered, dodging his question. And with that, Clary pulled away and quickly climbed the rest of the steps

The roof looked nearly identical as to how she'd left it 15 years ago. Some plants had died and were withering away, but otherwise it appeared to be untouched. The coffin was even still there, broken and open. Clary shuddered at the memory.

As Clary examined the roof she tried to find something that would calm her nerves. Something crossed the roof behind her. Her sword practically flew into her hand as Clary whipped around. Clary came face to face with a body of white scales. She barely had time to mentally identify the demon before it attacked her. Raum demon, she thought.

Clary ducked and rolled to the side as one of the spike-encrusted tentacles swiped at her head. As she jumped onto her feet, Clary stabbed her sword at the demon's leg. It screeched and attempted another blow at Clary, who used her weapon to slice off the tentacle. Before the Raum demon could recover, she kicked it backwards. Clary ran at the demon, which was raising its tentacles to strike again. Grabbing the hilt of her sword with both hands, Clary stabbed downward at the demons gut. Just as the tip of the sword pierced the scales, a tentacle wrapped itself around Clary's left arm and threw her to the side. She gasped as the small needles cut through her soft skin. Desperately trying to ignore the thin-but-deep cuts stinging up and down her arm, Clary ran out to the center of the roof; she needed space to fight. The Raum demon charged at Clary, but her sword was already raised and swinging at the white-scaled body. Black fluid had begun to spill just as the remaining arm wrapped itself around the young woman's body.

Suddenly, Clary remembered why she had the sinking feeling in her stomach on the way to the building.

(A/N Lord of Shadows, page 61, sorry for spoilers. It is slightly adjusted for conversation/speaking specification purposes.)

"'A knowledge of what?" Emma asked softly.

"'That I'm going to die," Clary said. "Not a long time from now. Soon"

Apparently, soon meant now.

Jace's POV

The moment Jace heard the crash from the roof he began running up the stairs two at a time. He threw open the door and, for a moment, froze. In the center of the roof were Clary and a Raum demon, whose tentacle was wrapped around his wife. Jace watched as Clary crumpled to the floor, and for a moment he remembered her in the same spot the first time they were on this roof.

In the same moment, Jace snapped back into action and sprinted forward. Just as the demon moved to finish Clary, Jace whipped out his seraph blade and sliced it in half. As the demon vanished, Jace dropped to his knees and pulled his wife into his lap. She was bruised and bloody, her whole core and forearms were cut up with deep marks from the Raum demon's tentacles. Clary was breathing short, heavy breaths, like she was having trouble bringing oxygen into her lungs.

"This might hurt a little," Jace reminded Clary as he pulled his stele from his belt and began drawing a healing rune. The young woman yelped as the stele touched her skin. Jace winced at the sound, but kept his hand steady as he finished the rune.

Jace watched intently and waiting impatiently for the rune to do its work. Instead, it faded into Clary's skin. The Shadowhunter tightened his grip on the stele and tried again, putting more force and power behind drawing. Again, it did nothing, and again Jace tried but finding no outcome.

"Stop," Clary whispered. "The wounds are too deep. It won't work." She raised her good hand and placed it on her husband's cheek. "It's okay."

"No, Clary. It's not okay. Just let me try again. Or the Institute," Jace remembered. "Simon is there and parabatai runes are always stronger. Just hang on 'til then." He tried again to draw a successful iratze and again it didn't work. By now his hands were beginning to shake.

Clary pulled her hand from Jace's cheek and took the stele. She laid it down on the ground next to them. "Jace, I promise you I will be fine." Her voice was low and raspy, and her breathes were growing quicker and heavier. "But I need you to stay strong for me."

Jace shook his head. "But, I need you to stay with me, Clary. I can't lose you too." Clary smiled sadly, and Jace knew there was no point in continuing. Clary didn't want it. Regretfully, the man took a mental picture in his head of his wife laying in his lap, of her green eyes and her fiery red hair. A picture of all of her.

"I love you, Jace Herondale."

Simon's POV

Simon reached up and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. He was on dinner duty while Magnus stayed with the kids. Tonight was pasta, seeing as that was the only thing Simon knew how to make without butchering it.

A sudden burst of pain shot through Simon's body. "Clary," he whispered.

Then he collapsed.

I'm really really really sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it was really hard to write.