A/N: Disclaimer - All rights go to Cassandra Clare, who, coincidentally, owns the reality in which I wish to live.


Dark is the night

I can weather the storm

Never say die

I've been down this road before

-Brian McKnight

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"He's acting so weird."

"Well, have you talked to him about it?"

"No…"

"Clary!"

"Well, what do you propose I do? Go up to him and admit my suspicions he's cheating?"

Isabelle sighed in exasperation, her dark hair undone and cascading down her shoulders in a waving grace. Even bearing no makeup, she still is the most beautiful girl Clary had ever met. Once that thought would've been followed with a burning jealousy that was hard to tame, but now she couldn't wish a better feat for Izzy. The girl was beautiful on the outside and beautiful on the inside. It works. "No," she said, flipping a lock behind her ear. She shook her head. "I don't know about this, Clary. He doesn't seem the one to cheat. Especially on you."

"That's what I thought," Clary muttered. She took a quick glance around the other girl's room. Once, a few years back the walls bore a glittery façade that reminded Clary of a disco ball. Now, with the owner of the room grown and matured, the glitter had been painted over with a shade of mauveine. The room now wasn't quite so messy, either – Isabelle had invested in a new, elegant dresser containing many drawers that stored her makeup, clothing, fashionable scabbards and sheathes, and even some fashionable demon weapons. Everything fit, so naturally nothing needed to be thrown on the floor.

A hand was waved in her face, drawing her back to an annoyed Isabelle. "By the Angel, you do that too much," she declared, her hand dropping back to her lap. She picked up her nail file and leisurely scraped at her already-perfect nails. "You know, going off in your own head." She waved the file in emphasis.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Lately I've had a lot on my mind, sorry."

Isabelle snorted. "Yeah, clearly," she said sarcastically. "Dealing with a may-or-may-not be cheating boyfriend who declares his love for you every time he breathes must really be a head-scratcher, right?"

"Isabelle," Clary groaned. Her head dropped limp in her hands. "He's just so… distant nowadays. I rarely see him anymore, and when I do, he's guarded. Which makes no sense at all. I mean, why would he be guarded from me? And sometimes, when he's alone in his room, I catch him writing something in a fire message. He does that almost every week. And when I confronted him about it, he always says he's talking to Simon, or Alec, or Magnus. But why not call?" Clary lifted her head to meet the steady gaze of Isabelle, who was gnawing worriedly at her lower lip. "Why not call?"

Isabelle didn't speak for a long time. Finally she slowly shook her head. "I don't know, Clary," she said softly. "It doesn't look good, that's for sure."

"No," she said, and even she heard the exhaustion and exasperation in her voice, "it doesn't."

Isabelle, who had been sitting Indian-style on her bed, jumped up. "Simon," she said, in response to Clary's startled expression. "He met up with Jace yesterday. He told me. Maybe Jace made some indication as to why he's so suspicious."

Clary sat up straight at that. She shifted herself to face Isabelle, who was dialing a number in her phone. She lifted the phone to her ear and leaned against the dresser. "Come on, Simon," she muttered. "Pick up. Please, pick up. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…. Oh, hey, Simon!"

Clary gripped the duvet on Isabelle's bed in an anxious suspense. She carefully watched Isabelle's expressions as she spoke. "No, no, I'm fine. Clary's fine. We're all fine. I just–" her happy smile dropped into confusion. Clary's heart started to race. "What? Oh, okay. No problem. It's okay." But it clearly wasn't, as Izzy worried her lip to such an extreme her mouth paled from strain. "Yeah, we'll talk later. Okay, yeah, love you too. Bye."

Clary watched as Isabelle, who had paled exceptionally during the conversation, lowered the phone onto her dresser. "What happened?"

"Simon," she whispered. She hugged herself tightly, as if to keep herself from falling apart. "He never sounded so nervous before. It was almost as if right when he heard my voice, he started to freak out. I heard someone on the other line," she added, almost as an afterthought. "It sounded like a girl."

"Oh, Izzy," Clary sighed. "Don't let yourself do this. Chances are, it was probably one of his old band mates." She shrugged lightly. "They can sound feminine sometimes."

Isabelle shook her head frantically. "Clary, don't you remember? He broke off all connections with his mundane life, like, five years ago, when he agreed to attend the Academy."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Oh, my God." She stared at Isabelle in shock. "Do you think…maybe…," She broke off, the words forming on her lips too hard to release. If it her words were true, the reality would crush her.

It seems Isabelle was stronger. "Both our guys are cheating?" She finished bitterly. She bit harder on her lip, and Clary saw the slightest wince come out from her. "It wouldn't be the first time Simon did it to me."

Clary flinched. She thought of when she walked in on Jace in a deep make out session with Aline, and the memory brought on a slight sting. And then she thought of those lonely weeks of when he was slowly becoming possessed with Lilith, and remembered thinking that their relationship was in ashes. "I understand." she sighed heavily.

Isabelle's gaze was redirected on her, but not fully – her dark eyes seemed to be millions of miles away. "I can't believe this is happening," she declared finally, after they spent several moments in silence, staring at each other. "I thought Simon really cared this time, after Maia was out of the way."

"Isabelle," Clary interrupted. "We don't actually have proof of them cheating. We still have one last string of hope left."

"Which is?"

The corner of Clary's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "If there's one person who would know for sure if either of them were cheating," she said, "it would be your brother. It would be Alec."

It didn't take long for both of the girls to jump up, throw on their coats, slip into gloves, hats, and their boots, grab their respected weapons (Clary her sword heosphoros, and Isabelle her whip) and head out of the Institute. After the end of the War, Alec had moved out of the Institute and into Magnus's apartment in Brooklyn.

After stepping out of the Institute, icy wind whipped both the girls' hair in their face and stuck their blood into ice. The frost bites of the wild snow bit into their skin and collected into their hair. Desperately Clary hailed a taxi, and out of relief, one finally skidded to a stop next to the curb they stood at. Isabelle yanked open the car door and both girls climbed in, slamming off the icy wind behind them.

"Brooklyn," Isabelle called to the taxi driver, and quickly told him the directions as the cab shot down the street.

Clary stared out the window, her mind lost into a flurry of thoughts. Jace had been acting strange for a long time now – maybe three weeks, four at best. They hadn't had a full, proper conversation in a month, and every time she saw him, he would gradually grow more nervous. Jace, nervous. It was almost unthinkable. Biting her lip, she remembered all those nights of waking up to see him bent over his desk, scribbling a fire message, and watched in an aching sadness as it lit into flame. And she remembered how hard it was to pretend she was still asleep as he slipped into bed beside her.

"Clary," Isabelle said, digging her elbow into her ribs. Clary looked at her reproachfully, and smiled as she realized they were at Magnus's. She whipped open the door, tossed a twenty to the driver, and jumped out of the car, Isabelle sticking close behind her. They walked up to Magnus's apartment as the cab sped away, and Isabelle knocked on the door.

And out came Magnus in his full, glittery self, wearing a neon pink tux with a golden tie, and standing behind him was Alec, who looked – well, so Alec. He bore one of his sweaters and jeans, though after living with Magnus for so long, Clary noticed the sweater had no holes, and seemed to come from a more expensive brand. She bit back a tiny smile as Isabelle stepped forward, just as Magnus opened his mouth. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise," he said, grinning at them both. "Isabelle and Clary, dropping in for an unexpected visit."

"Magnus," Alec cut off. "Don't."

"What?" Magnus glanced down at Alec. "I was merely welcoming our guests. A pity they have to leave so soon."

"Alec," Isabelle said, ignoring the warlock. "We need to talk. Now."

Alec glanced at Magnus in warning, as if to say do not speak. "Isabelle, I'm happy to see you, really," he said. "But now isn't a good time."

"Why?" Isabelle demanded, looking between Alec and Magnus, who glanced at each other anxiously. "Wait," she said, realization dawning on her. "You're both dressed up nicely. Where are you both going?"

"Uh…," Alec said, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. "Clave business."

Isabelle cocked an eyebrow. "Clave business?"

"What I don't see," Magnus said, "is how this is any of your business."

"It's my business that I want to talk to my older brother and being rejected in a time of need is so not cool!" Isabelle frowned at Alec. "You're failing being a brother. What will our mother say?"

Alec rolled his eyes to the sky. "Alright, fine. You win. Come on in."

Magnus whirled on Alec. "Alexander–"

"Magnus," Alec shook his head at him, a silent warning. Magnus, getting the message, nodded and thinned his lips. He stepped aside and let in Isabelle and Clary, who were both shivering from being out in the cold for so long.

Their apartment had always been cozy and inviting, and today was no exception. The living room updated its status to black leather couches that held colorful throw pillows. A Persian rug was thrown over dark oak wood flooring, and large flat screen with several game consoles occupied the wall above the extravagant fireplace. Overlooking the room were large windows draped with blood red curtains. Isabelle shrugged off her trench coat and draped it over the bar chair in the kitchen. Clary slipped out of her own coat and gloves, but respectfully hung them on the peg by the doorway. Magnus was already pissed – she didn't want to anger him further and have him turn her into a rat.

Alec followed them inside and fell into the leather armchair sitting by the windows. Isabelle slumped into the couch beside him, and Clary followed her lead, not without noticing Magnus hanging out around the kitchen. She sent an anxious glance at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. His arms were crossed and his jaw was clearly locked. She turned her attention back at the Lightwood siblings.

"So," Isabelle began, rubbing her hands together to generate heat. "We have rising suspicions."

"Really?" Alec interrupted, sitting up. "Suspicions? This couldn't wait?"

"No." Isabelle said, and something in her voice made Alec alert. He didn't slump back down in his chair, and instead narrowed his eyes at his sister. "This can't."

Isabelle shot a sideways look at Clary, and she realized she needed to speak now. "Alec, have you had contact with Jace or Simon lately?"

His narrowed gaze slid over to her, and after gnawing at his cheek for a moment, his eyes widened slightly. "No," he said, too quickly. "No, I have not." He shot a glance at Magnus. "And neither has Magnus."

Clary decided not to argue him on this. "Okay, but when was the last time you guys did talk?"

Alec seemed to increasingly become uncomfortable. He fidgeted with his sweater, and his gaze dropped to his lap. "It's been a while."

"Alec, cut the crap," Isabelle snapped. "We know you're lying." Clary glanced at her, and was surprised to find Izzy almost in tears. Her hands shook as she pushed her wet black hair back. "Okay, fine," she said. "Fine. Clary, I think we got the answers we need."

Clary froze. "But, Isabelle–"

Alec jumped to his feet when Isabelle shot up and began to quickly make her way to the door. "Isabelle, wait! Wait! What do you mean–"

She whirled on him as her hand grasped the doorknob. "Do you think we're idiots?" She yelled. Isabelle was in hysterics, and Clary had a feeling it wasn't just about Simon anymore. "My own brother, keeping this from me. How fantastic. Now I'm the one with brother troubles."

Clary flinched at that implication, and her movement didn't go unnoticed. Magnus stared at her worriedly, and through his eyes Clary saw him questioning if she was okay. She shrugged in response as Alec quickly answered his sister. "Isabelle, I don't know what you mean–"

"How do you not know?" She screamed. "You kept this from me, from Clary, and not a single part of you decided that keeping this from us was wrong?"

"Isabelle," said Alec calmly. He reached out and gripped her shoulders. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

She stared at him, her dark eyes hardened with anger and sadness. Clary felt numb – she couldn't register what was happening anymore. Already her heart felt like it was in her throat, her stomach dropping to the floor, her blood freezing to ice. Were Jace and Simon cheating? She didn't know anymore, and Alec's reactions weren't making any sense. "Is it true?" Isabelle finally choked out. "Jace and Simon, are they cheating on us?"

"What?" The shock in Alec was evident; he released her shoulders and actually took a step back. His ocean eyes quickly scanned her face, searching for any signs of a prank, any signs of her not being serious.

Even Magnus was a bit shocked. "Isabelle," he said, stepping forward. Isabelle, who had started to hug herself again, looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Just…what?"

"Well, are they?" she snapped.

"How could you possibly assume that? Both of you?" Alec demanded, his glance switching between Isabelle and Clary. Clary swallowed and sunk a bit deeper into their leather couch, relief washing over her in waves. They weren't cheating. When they didn't answer, Alec continued. "Isabelle, maybe I can see this from you. I said maybe," he added, after her narrowed glance. "But Clary? Really?"

Anger started to boil deep in her veins. So Jace had been ignoring her for weeks now for nothing? "So what?" she snapped, rising from the couch. She saw everyone's expressions turn to one of surprise and felt more anger. "He hadn't talked to me, been sneaking behind my back, practically ignored me for three weeks, and for what? For space?" She was shaking now, but not for the same reason as before. Thoughts and scenarios ran wild in her mind. "God, if he wants to break up, he should tell me–"

"No! By the Angel, Clary, Jace definitely does not want to break up with you!" Alec interrupted. He whirled to Isabelle. "Isabelle, Simon isn't cheating on you either. They both" – he looked at both girls – "do not want to break up."

"Then why?" Isabelle demanded. "Why the distance?"

"Because…" for the first time since they arrived, Alec looked uncomfortable. He shot a glance at Magnus, who shrugged in response. "Well…"

"Come on, then," Isabelle snapped. "Spit it out."

"I can't tell you." He finished lamely.

"Come on, Alec, I think it's time to go," said Magnus hastily, detaching himself from the wall. He grabbed Alec's arm and turned to Isabelle. "It hadn't been a pleasure," he said quickly, interrupting whatever she was going to say. "We do not want to hear from you soon, so please, move out of my way so we can leave. Then please show yourself out and do not return."

Isabelle huffed. "So that's it? Not even telling us why our boyfriends are causing trouble?"

Alec nodded. "Pretty much," But seeing his little sister's expression, he stopped himself from being dragged out by Magnus. "Look, I can't help you from your relationship problems. That's a personal problematic issue you two have to solve." He lifted Isabelle's fallen chin with his index finger. "But I can tell you this. Both of you." He turned around, briefly, to meet Clary's gaze. "Nothing is wrong. And all your questions will be answered tomorrow. Other than that, I can't say more. I'm sorry, I promised. Just," Magnus shoved him out the door, and Alec called out a final, "Wait." Then the door shut, and Magnus and Alec were gone.

Isabelle turned around to meet Clary's gaze. She let out a slow, deep breath, and reached for her coat on the bar chair. "Well," she huffed. "That didn't really answer much."

"But it did." Clary said, pushing herself off the couch. She crossed the living room and grabbed her coat and gloves off the peg. She slipped on her jacket and pulled on her leather gloves, watching Isabelle pull out her gloves from her coat pocket and slipping them on. "It answered a lot."

"Like what?" the other girl demanded.

"For one, they aren't cheating," Clary said lightly. She pulled her hair out from her coat collar and twirled it into a high bun. "And two, nothing is wrong."

"And three," Isabelle added, "We'll figure out why they're acting weird tomorrow."

"But why tomorrow?" Clary wondered aloud, throwing open the door. "Why not now?"

"Because they're boys," Isabelle answered, as if it were obvious. "And boys are dramatic."

Clary couldn't agree more.


I'll try to update soon, pinky promise.

~MJ