Disclaimer: TDA isn't mine, sorry. You can tell because i suck at writing romance and Cassandra Clare does not.

Kit didn't know what he expected from a Shadowhunting spare room, but the one he'd locked himself into was surprisingly normal. There was a twin-sized bed, made with plain but clean white sheets, up against one wall. On another wall were a wooden dresser and a walk-in closet – both empty, as he found when he investigated them. He had a big window overlooking the ocean. There were no weapons on the shelves, no big picture of the angel on the wall, no book of laws in the nightstand. You'd almost think normal people lived here.

He didn't find all this out right away. The first thing he did was to test the lock on the door, and the strength of the wood. He'd warned Emma Carstairs that he'd kill anyone who came in after him, but they were all Nephilim and he wasn't. Or, he apparently was, but he didn't know how to kill people. He wasn't actually sure if he had it in him. These people, on the other had, had been training since they could walk to kill gigantic preying mantises that burst into people's houses. He wouldn't stand a chance.

Once assured of his safety (at least until the thought that someone was sure to have a spare key occurred to him several hours later), the strands holding him together parted. He flung himself dramatically on the bed and sobbed. His father was dead. His home was wrecked. He wasn't even who he thought he was.

He wasn't sure how long it had been when he heard the murmur of voices outside. He couldn't make out the words – or even be sure if he recognized the voices – but one sounded female and the other was too quiet to tell. He sat up and looked toward the door. After a moment, one of the voices knocked.

"Kit?" She was speaking louder now, because she was taking to him and not whoever was out there with her. "It's Emma. I've got some food here if you want it – it's about dinnertime." A pause, and: "Ty's out here, but he isn't gonna bother you."

"Go away," Kit said loudly. He didn't care who was out there. He didn't want to see anybody. So what if it was dinnertime?

He could just barely hear them talking to each other again, before Emma said, "Okay, we're going now. I'll leave the tray out here in case you're hungry. Come on." That last bit was quieter, directed away from him, but Kit heard it. There was a bit of murmured conversation, but it faded away. He waited several long minutes after all sounds disappeared before he cracked open the door.

Sure enough, there were no Shadowhunters in the hallway. It was empty except for a wooden tray on the floor beside the doorway, just as Emma had said. He seized it and withdrew.

Who knew Shadowhunters ate enchiladas?

Ty was curious about the newcomer in the Institute. They said he was a Shadowhunter, but that didn't make sense. If you were a Shadowhunter, you knew it; you didn't live in hiding pretending to be someone else. He'd heard about Clary Fairchild, of course, but that was one incidence in a thousand years of Shadowhunter history. Stray Shadowhunters didn't just pop out of the woodwork every few years.

But he had to be. Once you'd eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, must be the truth, as Holmes often said. And Ty had seen Kit open the door to the Institute, which was impossible for anyone who wasn't a Shadowhunter.

That was his intellectual curiosity, but there was something else. Ty couldn't quite identify it, but he thought maybe it had to do with the way Kit had been in the entryway. He'd laughed when Ty told him that threatening him with a knife before wasn't personal, but it wasn't a good laugh. Ty wondered if he had believed him. And he'd been covered in blood.

Whatever it was, it naggled at him, and Ty didn't like the feeling. He'd have to find out what was causing it, and anyway, there was his curiosity to satisfy.

But what if Kit didn't want to talk to him at all?

Ty wasn't sure he wanted to go right into the room that was now Kit's and talk to him, so instead he stationed himself in the hallway outside and waited. Kit would come out eventually, and when he did, Ty would be ready.

Kit was stubborn, as it turned out. There wasn't a sound or sign of life from behind his door for hours. He must really want to be left alone.

Emma said he shouldn't be bothered, and Julian and the others agreed. Ty understood the feeling. He'd lock himself in his own room, or go outside, or just put on his headphones and tune everything out so he could think properly or read without distractions, but even though he preferred to be alone a lot of the time, he liked to be around his family too. Kit must be so lonely here, without anyone he knew. If what Emma had said was true, he couldn't ever go home.

And so Ty waited. He was determined to be there when Kit was ready. Emma had drawn him away once, but that was just for dinner, so it was fine if he went back. As soon as the meal was over, he was back in the hallway outside Kit's room.

The tray of food Emma had left was still outside the door, but it had moved slightly, and the dishes were empty. Kit was eating, although Ty was a bit miffed he hadn't been there when Kit had come out. He thought briefly that he should probably take the plate to the kitchen, but then Kit was sure to open the door again while he was gone.

Well, there would be other chances. Ty planted himself against the wall opposite Kit's door to wait again.

He didn't listen to his music. Ty didn't want to miss anything Kit might be doing, so he left his headphones quiet around his neck. The familiar weight of them should be enough. Add to that a novel from a new detective writer Ty had discovered, and he was set. Well, no, the writer wasn't new, he'd died in 1927, but Ty hadn't read his work before, and that was close enough. Ty furrowed his brow as he read, and kept his ears pricked for sounds.

Julian came by briefly, to check on things and collect the tray. He agreed that it was good Kit had opened the door for food, but he didn't wait with Ty. That was fine. Ty thought this would be better if he was alone.

Kit was beginning to get bored in his self-imposed exile, but what was he supposed to do? That woman, Tessa, had made a good point when she explained why he couldn't just leave, much as he hated to admit it. And there was no way he was going to go out and kick it with the Nephilim.

Still, maybe he could explore a little. Find out a little about the Shadowhunters who lived here, see if they did anything for fun besides polishing their weapons. If he was careful, he wouldn't get caught.

Sneakily he opened his door a crack. Through the gap, he could see a sliver of the black-haired boy who'd held a knife to his throat previously, sitting in the hall. Forgetting to be stealthy, he swung the door open the rest of the way. "What are you doing?"

The boy – Ty, he was called Ty, it was short for something weird – looked up from the book on his lap. "Reading," he said.

Kit gritted his teeth. He could figure that out for himself, thanks; no need to state the obvious. And the other boy still wasn't looking directly at him.

"Why are you reading right outside my room?"

He shrugged.

"Are you stalking me?" Kit demanded.

The other boy blinked. A long moment passed before he said, "No." He sounded faintly puzzled.

Kit sagged against the doorframe. It was all too much. For now, he'd just go with it. "I'm Kit," he said, realizing belatedly that he'd already given his name when they'd met before – when this Shadowhunter boy held a knife to his throat, his mind couldn't help reminding him.

"I'm Tiberius Blackthorn," the seated boy said. Once he heard it, Kit recognized the weird name he'd heard previously. That was a mouthful, all right. "People call me Ty," Ty added. He did meet Kit's gaze then, for a moment, with grey eyes shadowed with long lashes, and Kit remembered his first impulse on seeing him. Beautiful.

Kit sank down to sit on his threshold, still leaning against the jamb. "What are you reading?" he asked, hoping for a new subject.

Silently Ty showed him the cover. The Mystery of the Yellow Room. Kit hadn't heard of it. "Is it any good?" he asked.

Ty frowned. "I don't know yet," he said. "The narration keeps saying it's better than Sherlock Holmes, and Poe's detective stories, but it doesn't seem all that special at this point."

"Oh." Kit had seen some Sherlock Holmes movies, but he hadn't read any of the books, and he wasn't sure if Ty meant the other one as Edgar Allan Poe or some other Poe. Had Edgar Allan Poe written detective stories?

Ty's gaze had already returned to the page. Kit tipped his head back. It bonked against the doorframe.

"So is this a habit of yours?" he asked. "Following around people you threatened, and then ignoring them? Like, if you wanted to talk or something, i guess i'd understand, but you're just sitting there reading."

Ty closed his book, leaving one finger to mark his page, and looked at Kit. "Do you want to talk to me?"

To say he looked at Kit wasn't quite accurate. He appeared to be studying Kit's left ear. The anger Kit had felt before when Ty didn't look directly at him stirred again, but he was too worn out to be properly upset. "Why don't you ever look at me?" he asked. "You didn't before either."

"I do!" Ty replied defensively. "Just because i don't look you in the eye doesn't mean i don't look at you at all."

Kit felt like groaning. This wasn't going to go anywhere. Why was he even talking to him at all? He should just go back into his room. Instead he raised an eyebrow and pressed, "So why?"

Ty was silent. Kit almost gave up on getting an answer, but then he said, "It's too much."

Ty looked up at Kit again, and even though he still wasn't meeting his gaze, he was at least looking at his face. "I don't know how to explain it, but it feels too close. Too personal. And i can't think."

"Oh," Kit said. He realized that he was having what seemed suspiciously like a normal conversation with a Shadowhunter, and felt defensive. "So why'd you pull a knife on me?" he asked. "And don't give me that it was just work. You didn't need to threaten me." As he spoke, he remembered the helpless rage that had filled him. Ty had broken into his house and held a knife to his throat after Kit had to hide from the other Shadowhunters, and then used him to get information out of his dad.

"Maybe," Ty said, and Kit wanted to hit him. Kit and his father had both been terrified and furious, and all that was worth was a maybe? "But i don't think he'd have told Emma and Julian if i didn't, and we needed to know."

"Oh, right," Kit sniped. "You were trying to save lives. Like putting someone else's life in danger was going to help."

"I wasn't going to actually hurt you," Ty said fiercely. "And we were trying to save lives."

"You were trying to butt into everyone's business," Kit replied. "Like Shadowhunters always do. It's not like you had anything at stake."

Ty pinched his lips together and looked down. Finally he said, "My little brother almost got killed. And if we didn't find whoever was doing the murders, we were going to lose one of my other brothers. I couldn't let that happen."

Kit hadn't expected something like this. "You were trying to protect your family?"

"Yes," Ty muttered. "And i'd do it again if i had to. I don't want to, but i would."

There was a long silence as Kit considered the new information. He hadn't really thought of Shadowhunters as people who had families before. People who worried about losing their siblings, even though Kit knew they fought demons. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen anyone connected to the Institute who looked more than twenty.

Ty had his book open again, glaring at the page as if it personally offended him, but his eyes weren't moving. Somehow the fact that he was pretending to read made him seem more real than anything else, and Kit wondered what else he'd been missing.

"You're not anything like i expected a Shadowhunter to be," he said.

He'd meant it to be a conciliatory gesture, but Ty's head jerked up and there was a bit of an edge to his voice when he said, "What do you mean?"

Kit wasn't sure how he'd offended him, but it was supposed to be a compliment, so he was just going to be honest. "You don't act like you're better than everyone else," he started. He wasn't sure, but he had a theory why Ty seemed aloof, and it wasn't because of his Nephilim blood. "You're not trying to run things. You care about your family, and you said you didn't want to threaten me." He hesitated. He'd probably assumed too much.

Ty thought about it, and Kit thought he was going to say something, but they were both distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. As Ty glanced toward the source of the noise, Kit ducked back into his room and shut the door. He might have reached a sort of truce with Ty, but he wasn't ready for Nephilim in general.

When he thought it was safe to look out again, he did, but Ty was gone.

Even after Julian convinced Ty to leave his vigil and go to bed, he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about his conversation with Kit Rook. Had it gone well? He wasn't sure.

Eventually, to settle his mind, he turned his light back on and returned to his book.

The next morning found him back outside Kit's room, book in hand. He did have to leave once or twice over time, but in the early afternoon the door swung open again, and Kit looked down at him.

"You're back," Kit said, like he wasn't sure.

"Yeah," Ty replied. After a moment, he added, "We aren't really like that."

"What?" Kit said blankly.

"Shadowhunters," Ty explained. "We're not like you said. At least, not those of us here at this Institute."

"If you say so," Kit said. Ty could tell he didn't believe him. What was he supposed to say to convince him? Julian would know, but Ty wasn't sure. He riffled the pages of the book in his lap.

The sound drew Kit's attention to the book. "Did you finish the Yellow Room?" he asked.

Ty blinked up at him. "Yeah," he said. He was back to The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, but he was a bit surprised Kit had noticed. He didn't think the other boy had cared what he was reading.

"How was it?" Kit asked.

Ty hadn't expected the question. While his family were willing enough to listen to him talk about the detective novels he read, he sometimes got the feeling they weren't entirely paying attention, and they never went out of their way to ask about them. "It was good," he said. "But Holmes would have figured it out."

"Yeah?" In his peripheral vision, he saw Kit bite his lip. Then he stood back from his door. "Want to tell me about it?"

Ty realized this was a big deal. Kit, who hated Shadowhunters, was inviting him into his room. To talk about a book. He'd managed to maybe make friends with Kit. And he did want to rant a little about the way the author had written it, and the twist had been a good one, even if Ty didn't like Leroux as much as Doyle.

"Okay, he said, and got up. He was a little glad Kit didn't offer him a hand; it would have been awkward.

The inside of Kit's room was bare. Ty realized Kit didn't have anything besides the clothes he'd been wearing when he arrived. Maybe later, when Kit was ready to leave the room, they could talk to Julian about it.

Now, though, he needed to talk about the mystery. He could feel points and arguments welling up inside him, and Kit had asked him about it. "So there was this girl," he started, and she was attacked in her bedroom . . ."

A/N: Gods, i am such a slow writer, i meant this to be out like a year ago. At least i beat LoS, by a few days.

Why Yellow Room, you ask? Well, we all know Holmes is Ty's favorite detective, but there's nothing to suggest Ty only reads Holmes stories, and i wanted to show Rouletabille some love. What Ty says about the book were my exact feelings while reading it, although when i reached the end i thought it was worth the bragging.