Their second meeting was not quite so awkward as the first, but was, in no way, a sign that they were back on their old, familiar footing.
Simon had a tendency to be somewhat moody - as if a greater part of him wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else. Clary suspected that he had never really wanted to give up music, other factors had simply forced his hand.
Up close, she could see how the drugs and alcohol had taken their toll on his body, from the weariness with which he spoke, to the dark shadows under his eyes that never really went away. He was, quite simply, a mess.
Like Clary. They were both a mess - life had seen fit to dump them unceremoniously on their knees with no clue as how to go about normally. They had to fake it, fake the cheeriness, fake the smiles, fake the appearance of lightness. They had to ignore the fact that life had screwed them well and truly.

Clary remembered the last few months before Jace left. He'd been angry almost continously. They'd fight, then have rough sex, then sleep on it, and in the morning he'd be gone.
She'd sometimes suspected that he might have had another woman somewhere. After all, Jace Herondale always had a reputation for being a ladies' man.
It had driven her nearly to madness, so much so that one morning, she'd purposely woken up just as he was leaving so she could follow him and see what he was up to.
Clary'd been bitterly disappointed to lose him, while in the process of shadowing him.
It had only been the thought of him holding her and kissing her while she slept that kept Clary sane. It'd only been a sliver of the relationship she'd originally had, but she cherished it more than the cold loneliness that arrived after the divorce.
The cold loneliness that had arrived to stay, unless Clary could figure out a way to drive it out of her life, which she had neither the energy nor the peace of mind to do.

Clary continued meeting Simon at the café. It became a weekly occurrence - something they could look forward to.
It was at one of these outings that he commented, "There's a nice movie they're showing at the cinema this week."
"Really? It's not Transformers, is it? They're still going strong, you know, those movies."
"No, it isn't Transformers." Simon warmed his hands with his coffee cup. "It's some silly old movie from ages ago - The Other Woman. Cameron Diaz, and I can't remember the other women's names." He took a sip of coffee. "I was thinking, we might go see it. You don't get out much and neither do I. It'll do us a world of good."
Clary's face eased into a smile. "I remember us watching that as kids. Yes, I guess it'll be nice to go and see it again."
Simon's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds before drifting away.
"What?" Clary asked, a bit self-conscious. "Do I have foam on my face or something? It wouldn't be the first time, if so."
"No." Simon had a half-smile on his face. "Your face is fine."

Her relationship with Jace had pretty much always been turbulent. In the beginning it had been raw and passionate - he'd loved her the way he made love to her. Then, something happened, the spark died out and it dulled to ashes that could be icy cold one minute and burning hot the other.
Clary couldn't understand how his personality could switch so completely in a matter of minutes. She'd taken years to study his character, but his character had suddenly changed into something fluid and impermanent that she couldn't read, couldn't figure out, no matter how hard she tried.
And she did try. She tried very, very hard to make it work, but in the end it all came crashing down.
The raw pain had subsided, but there was still a dull ache now and then. That sort of wound was inescapable when emotions ran so deep.
Clary'd hoped against hope that she'd meet a new Mr. Right, someone to sweep her off her feet and make her forget all about Jace, but that all fizzled out as the years dragged on.
Her only hope now was Simon - a good friend she could use to bind her wounds. In turn she'd bind his wounds, or at least she'd try.
She knew he was longing for the brief escape that drugs would give him, but he had had a long-term battle with them that nearly cost him his life. It would be foolish to throw away the little blessings that life had given him.
Clary sometimes envied him. He'd understood every aspect of his relationship with Isabelle, even if he couldn't stop himself hurting her as he drowned his sorrows in bottle after bottle of alcohol.
Clary'd never had that with Jace. Their relationship had been as confusing as it had been turbulent. She still had no clue as to what the real reason for their divorce was, which was a pathetic thing to say.
Oh, well - life makes pathetic fools out of everyone.

"I loved the way she put that stuff in his drink." Clary grinned all over her face.
She'd gone to the cinema with Simon, and they'd had an unexpectedly good time. The movie had had the right tone of lightness that their dinner at a lovely restaurant was accentuating.
"He deserved it." Simon returned, nearly dropping his fork. "He behaved like an absolute prick. I'm surprised none of the women decided to shoot him in his particulars. He would've deserved it."
Clary giggled. The combination of good food, good company and good mood was getting to her. It was impossible for her not to enjoy herself.
"I'd invite you over to my place for a nightcap, but it's an absolute mess." Simon confided, after dinner. "Unless, of course, you don't mind the mess." He ended on a hopeful note.
"I don't." Clary replied, a little too quickly. "I'm quite used to it at my flat."
Simon smiled. "Come on, then."

"This is nice."
It was a relatively small house with a tiny strip of garden - not what you'd expect an ex-rock star to have. Still, it was homely and the decor, though barely there, had a very Simon feel to it.
"Isn't it?" He smiled. "I was sick and tired of living in crappy, impersonal hotel rooms. This is a great deal simpler, but I can live here."
Clary "hmmm'd" in reply and wandered over to the French windows that looked out into the small garden.
"You have plants?"
Simon smiled at her surprised expression. "Yeah. Gives a me a bit of responsibility, doesn't it? And they aren't just plants, that's a rosebush over there."
"Really?" Clary's nose was right up against the glass.
"Here, why don't I show you?"
He unlocked the French windows and opened them, leading Clary out onto the small lawn.
"There's one rose still there - the rest fell off." He held it up for Clary to see, his eyes excited. In the moonlight they looked more silvery-black than brown, and Clary could see her own face reflected in them.
"You can have it." Simon plucked it off the bush and handed it to her.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
He had a feverish expression in his eyes as his face inched closer to Clary's, and, to her own surprise, she found herself moving closer to him too.
They kissed, very briefly, almost as tentative as if it were an experiment.
"Simon?" Clary lifted her hand to brush his cheek, her heart pounding in her ears, but he moved away.
"I think it's going to rain." He replied softly. "We'd better go back in."