This is my first Mortal Instruments fanfiction, so I hope it's good. I had this idea right when I was reading City of Fallen Angels not too long ago, right in the middle of Simon and Isabelle's talk at the condo place where Lilith nearly rose.
Dedicated to: The girl who lent me the fourth book and is the first person I've really had a chance to freak out about this series with.
Disclaimer: I don't own City of anything, or the characters, world, etc.
Under the stars, looking up at them; Isabelle could almost pretend she had stars in her life. Spots of light that cast light in the dark, light that wasn't from the sun hurling down at her during the apocalypse she was foreshadowing. What, with Jace running around the place possessed, the cult of Lilith popping up in Chicago, Clary locked in her room by Alec until she stopped rampaging on everything breakable she saw… If Isabelle had to imagine an apocalypse it'd look like that.
She didn't even have a fall back plan for that, or anybody to turn to considering –as previously mentioned- Clary was blowing up some steam warm enough to melt the poles, Jordan and Maia were happily whisked off together again, Magnus and Alec were skipping around New York holding hands and looking for Jace who –also previously mentioned- was freaking possessed...
"You doing okay?" Someone asked. She turned her head to see Simon.
She wasn't going to class him under gothic beauty, or marble god statue come to life any time soon. He was still Simon; Simon with a dark brown mess on his head; Simon with the same old glasses that were crooked no matter what but made his eyes brighter; Simon in his old t-shirts and jeans and sneakers with the ruined tips… But there was a feeling in the middle of Isabelle's stomach when she saw his messed up hair or ruined shoelace now; like Simon with a punch. The kind of punch girls got from gothic beauty or marble god statues come to life.
"I guess."
"You don't sound so sure."
"It was an educated guess." Isabelle said.
"You make figuring out how you're doing sound so complicated." Simon said.
"It is complicated! And retarded, and dumb, and…"
"How is it complicated? I mean, sure, New York is falling apart, but I'm talking about you. Not the city, or the Clave, your family, the Institute... Just you." He asked. Isabelle looked back at the skyline, square windows lit up, helicopters, streetlights… Lots of light, but none for her.
"Everything bad is happening and it's so real I can touch it." Isabelle said. "Everything good isn't real, which pretty much brings us to the apocalypse, making me not okay."
Simon walked down the tilted Sanctuary roof and lied down next to her. Isabelle felt the punch. It made her want to take his hand, to bury her face in his shoulder, to rest her head on his chest… But she just looked at him like he looked at her. His glasses were crooked.
"Magnus and Alec together are real. The Faerie Queen allying her court to us to find Jace is real. Warm chocolate chip cookies and kittens are real." He said. She looked at the stars for a few seconds.
"We're not real." Isabelle whispered. Simon didn't say anything, and Isabelle just ploughed on. "But it was right there, right in front of me. I was just so scared to make it real. Because if I really went for it; if I really went to your house for supper, or kept your sweaters after you lent them to me, or any of that… if you broke up with me the pain would be real too." She blabbered off her regret list, point form item at the time. They didn't get off her chest like they were supposed to. Those were so real right now…
Simon took her hand. His touch was cold, but it anchored Isabelle to something solid and there and reliable.
"We were real to me." He said. The grip on her hand tightened, and she squeezed her fingers closer too. He was real.
And maybe, just maybe- holding his hand on the roof of a very dangerous city with very dangerous Shadowhunters and demons and hybrids… Maybe something good could be something real too.