It was snowing when they exited Taki's, a popular Downworlder restaurant. Jace impatiently shoved his arms through the sleeves of his thin jacket, rushing forward to catch up with Jocelyn, who had made it half a block already. It didn't long, Jocelyn wasn't much taller than Clary, and it only took six or seven of Jace's long-legged strides to fall into place beside her.

"Jocelyn—Mrs. Garroway?" he asked, feeling uncertain for the first time in his life. Jace Lightwood was always so sure of what he did, never being intimidated, holding his head high. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him; Jocelyn was the only person—besides Jace's adoptive mother, of course—that could make Jace feel smaller than a crumb of a crumb. Though he had tried to initiate a conversation, she kept her steely gaze forward and walked at a brisk pace for what Jace assumed would be difficult for an out of practice Shadowhunter, but Jace found rather leisurely.

But it was anything but. Jace could picture Clary in his mind; Clary laughing, her face scrunching up, and her petite hand raising to cover her mouth; Clary drawing, her head bent in concentration her gaze fixed on the sheet of paper in front of her, nothing, and nobody could break her out of her world once she was in it; Clary fighting, biting slightly on her lip as she tried to balance, or take Jace down when he trained her. But whenever he tried to picture her lying motionless in a papery white hospital gown, the image slipped through his mind like trying grasp water through your fingers.

He felt away, like Clary in her world, but he was in his. There were no honking cars, no homeless people wrapped in rags on the street, asking Jace for money, there were no business men walking briskly with their phones clipped to their ears and yelling to the receiving end. There was just him, trying to navigate his way through a labyrinth, searching for a red flame in the middle. Clary was that red flame. Jace looked pleadingly at Jocelyn, wishing she's tell him what was going on, but her gaze stayed fixed ahead.

Jace felt tears sting the back of his eyes as he stared straight ahead into the white wonderland, the biting wind whipping around his ears and blocking out all the noise.

Jace soon realized with a start that Jocelyn was holding something out to him. He took it without question. It was a boring grey cell phone, sadly outdated, with a large antenna sticking out from the side. It wobbled slightly when Jace flipped the phone open.

"Call Luke," Jocelyn said, breath puffing out like a dragon. "Tell him to meet us at the hospital."

Jace did as he was told and held the metal contraption to his ear as they stopped at a crosswalk. Jace wished there was a rune to make heavy traffic disperse. Sadly, no such thing existed.

"Luke," he said when Luke picked up on the third ring. "We're on our way to hospital, can you meet us there?" Luke agreed, a heavy sigh emitting through the phone.

"Is she alright? What kind of demon was it?" He asked. Jace informed him that it was no demon they had ever seen, or at least one that has been recorded.

They hung up shortly after and Jace saw the hospital as they turned a corner. Jocelyn cried out and ran to the wide double doors, pushing them open roughly. A blast of warm air shot out and thawed out Jace's face, though he had never really felt the cold. He was numb. They frantically went to the reception desk where Jocelyn informed them that they were there to see Clary.

"Ma'am, she's in—unfit condition for company, she's not ready for visitors quite yet," the receptionist replied, looking nervous.

"Please, I have to see my baby," Jocelyn's eyes were sparkling, bringing out the emerald. The receptionist—Wanda, from her nametag—sucked in a deep breath and released it, scrubbing her hands over her face.

"One moment," she said, clicking away on the clunking computer in front of her. Jace heard his name being shouted behind him and he turned abruptly. Luke was walking in the front doors that they had entered moments before. Luke showed up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder, his other hand resting lightly on Jocelyn's waist. He was dressed as he normally was, flannel and jeans, though he had a light coat thrown over, but Jace noticed he had purple bags under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in a long time. Jace imagined he looked the same.

Wanda Gave them the number to Clary's new room, expressing profusely how different as she had put it, Clary was. Jace had seen a dead body. But no matter how much the receptionist tried to warn him, the real sight made Jace want to throw up.

Her face was greyish, completely drained of color, except for the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Jace felt his heart drop. Clary and death had never been in the sentence for him before; he had always sworn to protect her, and he failed. But as he watched closer, he saw a thin tube running from her arm to a big metal contraption and the closer he watched, he saw the rise and fall of her chest—

"Clary!" Jocelyn cried, throwing the door open and appearing at her side. She took Clary's hand and clutched it between her own two. Jace stood awkwardly in the door, once again unsure if he should be there at all. Jocelyn obviously didn't want him to be there, and Luke was just being polite, he assumed. But in the end, his desire to touch Clary, to make sure she was really there won over. He stalked forward and touched her hand. It was so cold.

They stood in the room for what felt like hours but probably wasn't more than half an hour. Waiting for her eyes to open, when they fluttered softly. Jace gasped.

Instead of their normal vibrant green they were a sickly grey, they almost matched perfectly to the grey clouds littering the sky. She glance around, surprised to see all the faces. She looked at Jocelyn.

"Mom, what happened?" Jocelyn smiled and rubbed her hair back. Jace could tell she was trying to hide the confusion in her gaze as to why Clary's eyes were changed.

"You were attacked, sweetheart," Jocelyn said, squeezing her hand. Jace's hand had pulled back from Clary's; it felt different, not wrong, but like Clary didn't want him to.

"The last thing I remembered was... I was standing outside Pandemonium with Simon. How long ago was that? Was I attacked in line?" Jocelyn sucked in a breath. She watched Jace. His mind slowly started to piece some of what Clary had said.

The night Clary had been out with Simon was the night she met him. If the last thing she remembered was before she met him—

She didn't remember him.

It was like a stab to the heart; he slowly back out of the room, his heart beating erratically in his chest. He bumped into the table on the far end of the room. His gaze snapped up just as Clary met his eyes.

It's strange, knowing someone for as long as you did, knowing them as much as you do, and knowing that they don't know you. Jace felt as if his insides were being picked apart, piece by piece, his heart shattering. It was like the time at the lake, when Valentine had stabbed him. But this was much, much worse.

Clary took one long look at him. Her gaze swept down and rested on his belt. Then she screamed.

Okay so I updated fairly quick, I think. If there are any corrections that need to be made, I'm sorry. (I'm really bad at revision) So help me out, and please review. Thanks to those who have updated already (it helps me update faster) Thanks! Luv you all

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