Isabelle:

Izzy sighed, pursing her lips. She was in her room lying on her bed, throwing knives at her dartboard that she had on her wall. She couldn't help but think about a certain brown haired nerd.

Simon.

What are we now? she thought to herself. Do I even want to date him? He's so different now.

"I miss the old Simon," she said quietly.

She picked up her favorite knife. Dagger, really. Seraph blade, technically.

It had come from Max when he was five. He had made a trade with with an older boy and gave it to her for Christmas. She had thought it was so sweet and thoughtful, especially since he was only five.

It was black, old, and worn out, but she loved it. She kept it in her room so it wouldn't get lost. And to remember him. So she would always have a little piece of him with her.

She closed her eyes, gripped the handle, shoulders straight, arm raised, and threw it.

She opened her eyes to find the dagger in the center, the board now cracked in half.

She walked- stalked, more like- over to the board and yanked the blade out. She set it on her electric pink nightstand, her thoughts wandering back to Simon.

One of her favorite memories of him was when he told her the plot of Star Wars. Yes, she had said she'd been too tired and drunk to remember it, but she had sort of lied-

She could remember tiny parts. And every time Simon or Clary- since no one else had watched Star Wars, to her knowledge, anyway- mentioned Luke Skywalker, she instantly thought of Biggs Darklighter.

"This is so frustrating!" she nearly shouted.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled her covers off, turned off her light, and threw herself into her bed, trying to think of how cute Alec and Magnus were as a couple to make herself fall asleep.

Simon:

Simon walked down the hallway that lead to his destination...at least, he thought it did...the stupid Institute had more hallways then he could count, and twice as many doors.

He stopped in front of a door with pink wallpaper all over it, and a purple sign that said: NO BOYS. Enter at YOUR OWN risk!- unless you're hot...or Simon.

Simon blushed and knocked. Nothing. He knocked again. After hesitating for a few minutes, he opened the door himself, his eyes half closed, hoping Isabelle wasn't undressed or something.

What he saw, however, surprised him.

She was lying in her bed, the blankets just covering the middle of her stomach, almost higher. Her black tank top was pulled down, revealing a little more then Simon would have liked- or not, depending- including the tip of her pink bra. Her eyes were closed.

"Izzy?" he whispered softly into the dark. A ray of light shined down on her face from the open door, and her face looked looked peaceful, looked happy, she looked...young.

"Isabelle," he said again, a little more urgently, even though his instincts told him not to wake up the Lightwood's only daughter.

She began to stir, and slowly she sat up, blinking at him through her long, dark eyelashes, a look of surprise passing over her face. He instantly thought of a few lines from Alec Cooper's Poison- 'One look, could kill, my pain, your thrill.'

"What are you doing in my room?" she asked.

"Um-I-well-" No matter how hard Simon tried, the words refused to come out.

he took a deep breath and said, "We need to talk."

"Yes, we do. But not at-! What time is it?" She folded her arms. She looked cross.

"Um, midnight," Simon said, and realized midnight was probably not the best time to wake Izzy to talk.

"Sit," she ordered, sighing, pointing beside her. Awkwardly he sat.

A few moments of silence passed. He didn't want to look at her.

"So," he eventually started. Isabelle looked at him expectantly, her eyes shining in the almost completely dark room. "What...what are...we?' he finally asked. He still didn't want to look at her.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I...don't know."

"Oh," Simon said. For some reason, he felt stupid.

"I mean, I want to be your girlfriend, but it's different, too. You're different, Simon." Izzy's voice wavered. "I want you, Si,"- she winced at the nickname -" but it's not the same, now that your memories are- are...gone."

Simon made a quick decision. He wasn't sure it was the best. "Izzy, you remember when I said I didn't remember telling you the plot of star Wars that one night?"

She nodded. Her expression was unreadable.

He hesitated. "Well, I lied. I do remember- some. Bits and pieces," Simon said quietly.

Isabelle's hand shot out and she punched him hard. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked angrily.

Except then Simon realized it wasn't anger she felt. She was hurt. Hurt by all of this, and she was using it to project anger. It made him sad.

he rubbed his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Iz," he said, and quickly said, "Isabelle?," when she glared at him.

"Don't call me Iz," she said.

"Izzy?" he suggested. She punched his shoulder again in the same spot and he yelped.

"Shut up!" she hissed. "Do you want people to realize you're in here and wonder what we're doing?"

"I only yelled," he said indignantly, feeling a bit brave. "For good reason- oh. Well, they might think you're murdering me," he offered.

"I'm considering it," was her dark reply.

Simon shuddered. He didn't doubt it.

"Then what do you want me to call you?"

She didn't answer, her head down.

"My girlfriend?'' he said quietly. "The love of my life?'

She stared at him then, and he was forced to watch as tears sprung in her eyes.

He wanted nothing more then to kiss her right now. He wanted to hug her, hold her tight, until all her pain was washed away by his love.

He could see himself pulling her into his arms, kissing her, running his hands through her shiny, raven black hair, he could feel the beat of her heart, of his, and he just wanted her so much...he just wanted her forgivness, if anything.

But that wasn't possible right now.

"Isabelle," he said softly, reaching a hand out to touch her arm. "I'm sorry. I can only remember so much. I don't want to disappoint you-"

"That's not it," she interrupted, her face wet, her eyes shining with more tears left unshed.

Confused, Simon slowly said, "Then...what is it?'

"I just- you can't remember everything, Simon. What if you decide it isn't worth it, that since you can't really remember me, I'm not- not worth it?' She choked over those words.

He stared at her. He had never seen her this vulnerable. He had never remembered her as this vulnerable.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, head down. "I don't want- I've broken many boy's hearts before, Simon. But I've never had mine broken."

She looked up at him, her breath growing heavier. "My heart has never been broken, never felt anything, never been even injured, not a little bit- not until I met you. And- and I don't want my heart to break even more, I can't have it broken, I just can't, Simon."

She looked up at him again, sadly, and Simon wondered if her vision was blurry from all her tears. It was a stupid thought. He had only seen Izzy cry once, and that was when Max died.

He didn't remember it much. But he remembered that. He remembered her pain.

He stepped a little closer to her, suddenly feeling braver again.

"Isabelle Lightwood," he said softly and firmly, "I would never, ever willingly hurt you. I love you."

Her eyes flickered down to his lips as he stared into her brown eyes. They both leaned forward unconsciously. and then Simon's hands were on her waist, and hers were the ones buried in his hair, and he pulled her up against him as tightly as he could, savoring every moment, and she stepped forward and pressed him against the wall, and Simon thought, This is the Isabelle I know, and then everything just felt right.