A/N: So, basically this is a Fanfic I've 'worked on' (meaning typing about 2 sentences one day, erasing them the next, wrecking my brain for new ones...) since the moment I first read the November Cookie from CoG. As I couldn't stop fantasizing about what would happen next, I decided to satiate my hunger for some Jace/Clary action by writing some of my imaginings down.

Well, easier said than done: Truth be told, I'm kind of stuck.

-And what would be better than some nice and fluffy reviews *wink, wink* to get me going again?

So, I'll submit what I've come up with so far and myself to your mercy ;)

Note that this is really just a one-shot that's been divided into (admittedly pretty random) parts. The paragraph in italics is the excerpt from (well, almost the whole of...) the November Cookie from CoG.

Before the crazy fun can start, here my beloved...

...DISCLAIMER: ALL MINE, ALL MINE! -Except for the part that isn't...

~HOME~

-Part 1-

"Love is to me

that you are the knife

which I turn within myself"

-Franz Kafka-


There was a rustling sound by the curtains, and a sudden wash of moonlight poured into the room. Clary sat bolt upright, scrabbling for the seraph blade she kept on the bedside table.
"It's all right." A hand came down on hers—a slender, scarred, familiar hand. "It's me."
Clary drew her breath in sharply, and he took his hand back.
"Jace," she said. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"
For a moment he didn't answer, and she twisted to look at him, pulling the bedclothes up around her. She felt herself flush, acutely conscious of the fact that she was wearing only
pajama bottoms and a camisole—and then she saw his expression, and her embarrassment faded.
"Jace?" she whispered. He was standing by the head of her bed, still wearing his white mourning clothes, and there was nothing light or sarcastic or distant in the way he was looking down at her. He was very pale, and his eyes looked haunted and nearly black with strain. "Are you all right?"
"I don't know," he said in the dazed manner of someone just waking up from a dream. "I wasn't going to come here. I've been wandering around all night—I couldn't sleep—and I kept finding myself walking here. To you."
Clary sat up straighter, letting the bedclothes fall down around her hips. "Why can't you sleep? Did something happen?" she asked, and immediately felt stupid. What hadn't happened?
Jace, however, barely seemed to hear the question. "I had to see you," he said, mostly to himself. "I know I shouldn't. But I had to."
"Well, sit down, then," she said, pulling her legs back to make a space for him to sit at the edge of the bed. "Because you're freaking me out. Are you sure nothing's happened?"
"I didn't say nothing happened." He sat down on the bed, facing her.
Her chest tightened. "Is there bad news? Is everything—is everyone—"
"It's not bad," said Jace, "and it's not news. It's the opposite of news. It's something I've always known, and you—you probably know it too."
"Jace," she whispered suddenly, and for no reason she could identify, she was frightened of what he was about to say. "Jace, don't —"

„Don't what, Clary?", he interrupted her with a strangely indulgent and gentle voice. "What do you want me to refrain from? Eating the last of the cereals for breakfast, 'though I know you'd want some?" But despite Jace's mild teasing, Clary was well aware of his scorching eyes, which vowed that he would do, what he'd come here to do. Her face flushed as her treacherous heart sent images to her mind of what exactly that cold be, and left her panting, every other worries gone.

"Jace, we can't!"

She couldn't really tell from the dim moonlight shining through a space between the curtains, but somehow his eyes seemed to loose their last bit of color at her words, as if their golden lights had extinguished. But his answering smile was brilliant and the sarcastic curve of his mouth all too familiar.

"But what couldn't we do? I, with my admirable good looks and my myriad of other considerable multi- faceted skills, and you, with your stunning ability to deny even the most obvious truths?"

Clary inhaled one sharp, angry breath. She knew he was goading her, but she didn't care. By now she was strangling her blanket to keep herself from doing the same with her brother whose sarcastic façade was apparently back on. Nothing left of his former vulnerability, although the strange calm -or rather determination- that still emanated from him unsettled her.

"Oh, so I'm denying the truth? Then the fact that we're siblings, Jace, has just, what? –Managed to escape your attention?"

At her mentioning their relation, Jace didn't even bat an eyelid, while Clary's whole being cringed away from mouthing the word.

Even his voice sounded only mildly pained, when he sighed theatrically "Aaah, never, dearest sister."

The warm air of his exhalation brushed her skin and a shudder rippled through her body. Although Clary knew Jace would have noticed and given credit to his proximity to her, she made no move to wrap the blanket back around her shoulders. She hadn't even noticed she'd gotten cold and now she was glowing anyway. And yearning...

"So why are you doing this to me?", Clary demanded, fighting hard to keep her anger plain and her desperation hidden in her voice.

He cocked his head to the side -like a bird of prey that has spotted a mouse- and grinned slightly.

"Done? But what have I ever done to you, but keep you safe?"

Something inside of Clary cracked. Whether it was the piece of control she was trying to maintain or the emotional walls that had contained all her pent- up anger, frustration and desire, Clary couldn't tell. Probably both.

The only way to ensure my safety- and yours, if I think about it- would be to keep me away from you, Clary thought matter- of- factly, before she lost it.

"You keep punishing me for what we are! You obviously enjoy seeing me squirm and stutter while you make your witty little remarks, but you're the coward here, Jace! You never let anyone in, but you expect me to vow my undying love and devotion to you? To my brother!?"

Although her screaming had probably woken up at least the southern side of the house, Jace's eyes never flickered from hers. And they had regained their tender gleam, despite his rigid, almost expectant posture as he sat there only an arm's length across from her.

-As if he understood what pain even the infinitesimal distance caused her.

-As if he, too, had to fight with all his might to keep himself from closing the space.

Seeing the atypical commiserative expression in her brother's face, which also reminded her of the trying day that lay behind, Clary suddenly didn't have it in herself to fight. And suddenly she knew, she had never intended to. Not tonight. Not now that she had finally begun to grasp the transience, the value of life. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes only to snap them open a second later, to focus on the seraphic, blond boy in front of her.

"Fine." She exhaled. With the air, all her denial, hesitation and guilt seemed to stream out of her body to make way for the all-consuming truth, that finally demanded to be voiced. "I love you, Jace." Clary marvelled at how verity and certainty rang in every word. And a touch of both challenge and surrender.

Jace swallowed convulsively and in her peripheral vision his hand, clinging to a corner of her blanket, appeared to be shaking slightly. But his eyes still bored into hers, albeit the expression in his ardent gaze now bordered on panic. Well, I hope he'll let me finish, before he makes a run for it, Clary thought. She felt herself smile slightly as the image of a terrified Jace, bolting for the door- or better: the window- formed in her mind. Immediately a frown of confusion appeared on Jace's brow, reacting to the small shift in her features.

Suddenly it struck Clary how transperent his feelings had become to her. And certainly not, because she had studied his face so intently that she could have projected his every lineament, each angle and shade, out of her memory onto paper and would have found a perfect copy of the original. No. It seemed like Jace's mask of indifference and superiority had gone missing and he didn't feel inclined to look for it. Because he wanted her to see what he couldn't say. See his pain, his vulnerability, his...love? The side of him he usually fought hard to hide.

-Not that it didn't shine through.

-Not that she didn't love him when he was once again exploring the multitude of ways to irritate her to death...

"And I mean every part of you", Clary clarified. "I don't care whether you are Jace Wayland, the Shadowhunter: Cocky, slightly self- absorbed and fearless on the verge of idotic recklessness. Or Jace Morgenstern: Always sarcastic, bitter and lost in self-denial. Or Jonathan Christopher, my big brother, my sentinel. The only one who can snap me out of my reveries or make me hopping mad....although that's a common feature of all the Jace's...", she trailed off in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
She had carefully monitored his reactions, while first amusement, then bitterness and finally a familar sadness had flitted across his face. With her last words his expression turned strangely wistful.

For the first time he unlocked his gaze from hers, as he turned his head to look at the star- filled sky outside her window.

"You forgot one.", he noted.

Ha, kind of a cliffhanger! So,

anyone knows which of the Jaces Clary has forgotten?(I do, I do!!!)

anyone shook their head/smiled weakly at "Clary clarified"? (I did, I did!!!)

anyone up to some green-button-pushing? (I would, I would, if it weren't slightly pathetic if I'd review my own story... -.-')