Simon's mother had once told him that we only fall in love three times in our life, each for a different reason.

The first love comes early in our life and it seems like a perfect fairytale, but when it comes to an end it's abrupt and heartbreaking. The second love will last longer. This love will help you mature and become strong but it doesn't last. The third love you never see coming. It comes easy, naturally, and it's an infinite connection that can't be explained. It's meant to be.

The more he thought about it, he realized his mother had been right.

Clary had been his first love, his best friend who he had been in love with since they were little. He had been thrilled when she had decided to give him a chance, but eventually, he had realized that no matter how much she cared about him, she would always love Jace more.

Maia came next. She wasn't like any girl he had ever met. She was smart and nerdy, and funny, and she understood what it was like to live a life you never wanted. The life of a Downworlder. She understood him in a way that even Clary never could, and he had loved her, but it hadn't been enough.

Isabelle had surprised him. Even though he had known the Shadow World was full of magic, he didn't think there was any world where a girl like Isabelle Lightwood would fall for a guy like him. Even before he had met Izzy, Simon had always thought he knew what he wanted. He never would have imagined himself wanting to live a life he had thought only existed in D&D, giving up his dream of being a rockstar and promising to fight the evil things that went bump in the night in order to create a better life for his son.

A son whose ear-piercing cries were waking Simon up for the third time that night.

Simon sighed and opened a single eye, his sight immediately adjusting to the darkness, Though he had been a Shadowhunter for nearly six years, there were still things about it that surprised him. Like when his eyes immediately adjusted to his surroundings, even in the dark, without his glasses.

He waited for a moment, expecting Isabelle to wake up, but she stayed asleep, her soft snores barely audible over the sound of their son's crying. A part of him was jealous, wishing he was able to sleep through the screaming as she could, but the larger part of him felt bad because he knew she was exhausted. So, heaving another heavy sigh, Simon got up out of the bed and silently padded across the room towards the crib. Yet another thing that surprised him. If it wasn't for the Soundless rune etched into the skin of his upper arm, his loud, clumsy footsteps would have woken Izzy up for sure.

The infant's cry ceased as soon as he was picked up and Simon almost laughed. His son was like Isabelle in almost every way, down to the curl of his eyelashes, but he and Simon did have one thing in common: sometimes they simply wanted comfort.

The day he was born was both the happiest and most terrifying day of Simon's life. He hadn't been able to believe he was going to be a father and couldn't wait to see what his son would look like, who he would be.

But it also scared the hell out of him.

Thoughts that had kept him up at night raced through his head at a million miles an hour. What if I screw up? What if something happens to him? What if something happens to me?

The last question was the one that haunted him the most. His father had died when he was young and he knew how much it sucked to grow up without one. Not only that, but Shadowhunters lived a dangerous life. They married young, had children young because they might die young. Isabelle's little brother, Max, had been proof of that.

All his fears had been forgotten when he saw him, with his dark hair and brown eyes that were so much like Isabelle's it was hard to believe Simon was any part of him at all. Simon didn't think he had ever seen anything so beautiful or loved anything so much in his life. He was completely happy.

That had changed when Clary had asked him what the baby's name was. He had paused because truth be told he hadn't thought too hard about it. Before he could say anything though, Isabelle, her eyes closed and her voice drawn and exhausted, had said, "George. Let's call him George."

Simon had stared at her. George Lovelace had been the brother he never had, the only friend who hadn't known him as a Daylighter and hadn't looked at him as a hero he didn't remember being. Even nearly a decade after his friend's death, the idea of him being gone made Simon's heart twist painfully. There were nights when he still woke up from dreams of what happened in the Accords Hall that day with tears streaming down his face, times, when he would remember something from his days at the Academy and turn to share it with George only to find that he couldn't, because that was all George, was now. A memory.

Isabelle knew that. She knew what the significance of naming their son after his friend would be for Simon. But she didn't say anything else, so he nodded. "George. George Lewis Lovelace Lightwood." Clary had given him a sad smile. "It's perfect."

And just then, from over her shoulder, in the corner of the infirmary, Simon saw him.

George.

He was exactly as Simon remembered him. Light, curly hair, tanned skin stark against his rumpled polo shirt, and a slouching posture that made him appear shorter than he was. He was smiling, leaning against the wall with his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans, watching Simon as he held his son close to his chest. His expression was one of gratitude, and when he opened his mouth to speak, though there was no sound, Simon understood every word.

"Thanks, mate."

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell his friend that he hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to, but the words wouldn't come out. But George seemed to understand Simon as Simon had understood him, and with a wink, he pushed himself off the wall and disappeared altogether, gone as quickly as he had appeared.

The sound of Little George beginning to cry again broke Simon out of his thoughts. The baby's arm had come free of his blanket and he was waving a small, angry fist in the air, narrowly missing Simon's chin. "Hey, hey, hey, hey. Shhhhhh." Simon said softly. "It's okay. It's okay." He smiled down at the infant, bouncing him as he remembered when he and George had found Max on the doorstep of the Academy, and George's first thought had been that they could raise the warlock together in their sock drawer.

"Someday," he told his son. "Someday I'll tell you all about him. Who he was, what happened to him." He sighed and pressed a kiss to George's dark hair, setting him in his crib with as much care as possible. Infinitely better than a sock drawer. Simon thought, almost smugly, as he paused, waiting for the baby to wake up again. Even when he didn't, Simon didn't move. He simply stood, watching out the window as the clouds passed over the moon.

"Hey." Simon jumped slightly as Isabelle came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He smiled faintly, placing his hands over hers where they rested on his chest. "You okay?" she asked. "Yeah. I miss him so much. I wish he could be here to see this." He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand, because she knew. Isabelle always knew. She sighed and laid her head between his shoulder blades. "He would have been proud of you, you know. I am."

Simon turned so he was facing her. "What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?" Izzy shrugged nonchalantly. "You did save the world." "I'm serious." He leaned down so his forehead was resting against hers. "I love you." She stretched up on her toes and kissed him softly, looking up at him with loving dark eyes. "I know. I love you too."