"You know, the last time I was doing any magic on you, you'd leave not remembering me." Magnus joked as Clary lay on an arched cushion that thinly resembled something that a doctor would have his patient lie down on. Jace nervously glanced at the High Warlock of Brooklyn, wondering if he could already tell if something was different about Clary or the baby's condition. Whether it was because of finding out that she was carrying his child or possibly that his heart had swelled with such love for them both, Jace could see a glow to her skin. A pinkish tint to her ivory cheeks. Even the way she talked sounded like the ringing of a well-crafted bell.

"Jace, cut it out." Clary spoke up, startling him out of his reverie.

"What? Cut what out?" He frowned, taking her hand in his own to assure her that wasn't fretting over this visit since the night before when they uncovered her pregnancy. "I'm doing… better. I promise I won't freak out." Jace said, kissing her knuckles while keeping one hand behind his back like people did in the movies she'd shown him when they wanted to shed off some of the guilt for lying.

"He has his fingers crossed." Magnus said flatly, closing his eyes and breathing in to concentrate on the feeling of magic sparking between his palms. Jace looked at him incredulously, shooting daggers at his wrinkle-less face. Clary rolled her eyes and sighed loudly with disappointment.

"How'd you know?"

"Jace!" Clary said, angered that Magnus had been right.

"What do you expect, Clary? This is our child, and you figure me as a man that wouldn't care enough to worry?" Jace snapped, immediately regretting it. Clary's gaze lowered while Magnus' raised and he glared at the blond. "I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh-" He began.

"No, I'm sorry. You must be worried sick, and me telling you to be calm isn't helping." She nodded, brushing her hand across her cheek where a tear must've slid down; making him feel low for making his pregnant fiancee cry. In that moment, he felt closer to his father in all the wrong ways. Had Stephen ever done this to Celine?

"You know I love you both, right?" He asked, kissing her knuckles again and nuzzling into her palm afterwards. She nodded as Magnus cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" Jace asked him.

"The question isn't whether I am ready, but if you both are." Magnus corrected, his cat eyes flickering a neon yellow as the humidity in the room increased. Jace and Clary answered with an nervous yes. Jace intertwined their fingers together, his jaw clenching as the warlock raised a hand to hover over Clary's stomach. There was pause in Jace's thinking as a feeling of confusion slithered between their joined fingers and into his head. Clary's face contorted in a lost expression, dazed even, but Magnus did not experience the tremor of emotion.

The lights of the room shut off, replaced by a blueish hue that was emanating from Magnus' palms. Sweat rose from the warlock's pores as he muttered something underneath his breath. Vertigo hit Jace as he kneeled beside Clary and he was sure that he would have fallen if he were to be standing at the time. He shut his eyes to steady his world and regain some form of mental stability

"Magnus," Clary whispered with tension between her teeth. The clattering of objects varying from small to large was growing louder around them. Jace popped open his eyes to see the room practically floating, excluding the mattress that Clary was laying on. He was at a loss for words as he stared at the levitating nightstands and end tables, even the dishes from the kitchen had wandered to where they were, like a magnet had pulled each of the fine china to the main room. "Magnus, something doesn't feel right…" Clary spoke up again.

Magnus groaned, and Jace stared in shock as cracks broke out across his glimmering skin, like volcanic rock splitting to reveal magma. Clary was whimpering with her mouth and eyes shut tightly as if the energy inside her would spew out like a hose. "It's too much…" Clary trailed off, holding Jace's hand over her stomach that was hot to the touch. Jace pulled his hand back, remembering a time when he'd been consumed by heavenly fire, comparing this to that moment when he lost control.

"Magnus, that's enough!" Jace snapped, growling when his skin heated up in pain as well. The urge to protect Clary was mixed with fear and unexplained guilt, taking away his vision and replacing it with images of blinding fire, some sort of tent filled with water and hands being placed outside of the tent; blocking out the warm light that was streaming through. They pulled away painfully from his mind, making his teeth grind together in resistance. All things that had been floating came crashing to the floor as if they had been forced down, most breaking on impact. The cracks shut on Magnus' skin, but he wouldn't have taken notice to them anyway.

Clary was weeping on the mattress and Magnus had fallen to the floor. Jace cupped Clary's chin but she couldn't focus on anything but the hold she hand on her abdomen. In the back of his mind did he register what had just happened though the safety of his fiancee was much too important to allow himself to wander about in his thoughts.

"By the Angel, are you alright, Clary?" He said with shaking fingers as he grasped at her shoulders. She wouldn't open her eyes as she kept sobbing. Magnus was panting as he regained his footing; walking up to the couple and standing undecidedly next to Jace. "What happened?" Jace growled at the warlock, not for a second taking his eyes off of Clary. A pair of hands reached at her stomach, pulling back her shirt to show severe burns that had not been there before, and as soon as they appeared did they also leave suddenly; melting back into Clary's skin and leaving no trace of the injury. Jace had no words to speak.

Anger boiled in his chest as he realized what had done this to her. His child, of course it was a Herondale to hurt a woman. He should have been more careful when they were intimate, and now he was only causing her pain with his corrupted spaw-

"It's… really protective of her." Magnus answered with an incredulous tone to his sentence. Jace whipped his head back, prepared to snap at him with all the rage and worry pent up in his chest. "Okay, what I mean is that it doesn't like magic, at all. At least, not the kind that warlocks manipulate." He clarified.

"So you expect me to believe that a fetus lifted furniture and nearly killed the High Warlock of Brooklyn and its father, never mind burning its own mother?" Jace scoffed. Magnus, however, agreed to the slapdash presumption. Clary had stilled next to him, and he realized that the temperature of her abdomen had cooled to its default.

"It's a defence mechanism, so to speak. I got too close, and what we saw was how it wanted to protect her, protect its mother." He detailed. "It feels guilty for hurting her though." Magnus finished.

"How did he hurt her though? Didn't you say he wanted to protect his mother?" Jace said, emphasizing on the pronoun so Magnus could stop referring to his child as an it.

"You have heavenly blood running in you, Jace Herondale, straight from the angels themselves. Both of you do. With enough of that power can someone generate… heavenly fire." The last words to leave Magnus' lips made Jace want to shout back that he was wrong. That, after such a blaze had nearly destroyed his life, he didn't think it would ever resurface. He remembered when he had lost control for just a second, and burned whatever it was that was in his grasps. How would a baby rein in discipline? Let alone an infant!

"You're wrong. What you're saying is impossible." Jace hissed, moving Clary to where he could cradle her limp body in his arms.

"No, not impossible, just new. There is a reason that shadowhunters don't have an excess of angel blood, and this is why."

"Is there any way to stop this, to keep her safe, or at least to ensure safety?" He asked in a whisper so soft that he wondered if he thought the sentence out, surprised when Magnus responded to him. His features calmed as he opened his mouth, his hands locking together in front of him.

"There's one way that I can promise you she'll be okay," Magnus said in a guilty voice. Jace's brows furrowed with anger as his fists clenched around Clary. As frightened as he was, never would he take away this thing, this beautiful thing that had already made an impression on their lives.

"No, Magnus. Absolutely not." He said finally. Jace swore to himself that he wouldn't be like his father and force Clary to do something she wasn't willing to. He wouldn't force a child in or out of her life, not if she swore against it. But, what if he could get her to see reason? To see that a child between the two of them was far too dangerous to carry. He'd even offer adoption if it meant that he could keep her longer. Nothing was worse than seeing the burns his child had cast upon her, its own mother. How could he love something that hurt the woman he loved? His thoughts stopped as he realized who he sounded like.

"Then the answer will remain undecided."

He rose with a stretch, throwing the blankets off the bed and swinging his feet over the mattress. Clary groaned in her sleep, angry for the cool air that seeped under the bedding, so Jace quickly fixed his error and kissed the side of her head lovingly. His lips brushed against the corners of her smile, making his own lips do the same as he returned to his task of getting out of bed. The muscle's of his back cried out in response to his stretching as he stood tall. He hadn't remembered getting any sleep the night before.

"Come back to bed," Jace heard Clary say in a voice so soft and delicate that it shed a few years off her age. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat as he padded over to the bathroom, making sure he didn't ram his foot into the counter of the sink as he'd done so many times before. He slid down his boxers, as he didn't change into pajamas and instead stripped to his underwear the night before. The sheer worry of the future that was condemned to his child made sure that he wasn't stiff and ready to reacquaint himself with his wife's needy body.

Wife?

Jace shook his head, correcting the word to fiancee as he tucked himself back into the delicate fabric of his gray boxers.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" A voice sounded from the bed. Still was she using that same feather-light voice. But this wasn't the only change in her this morning. Jace was surprised that she'd even offer to prepare breakfast, considering she saw that he was a much better cook than she, which wasn't saying much since he best meal was macaroni. As far as he knew about mundanes and their everyday lives, Jace was sure that they didn't enjoy macaroni for breakfast, much to his chagrin.

He peeked his head out of the bathroom doorway and saw that she was still in a ball under the blankets like a scared child. A part of him recounted that she still was one, and felt guilt for taking her youth away.

No… she was only six months younger than him, he thought. Jace's brows furrowed as he brushed away the strange assumption. Perhaps the sleep deprivation was getting to him? He promised himself that he'd try to get a few more minutes of rest once he showered and properly welcomed his wife into the new day.

There is was again! Maybe he was excited for the wedding? Of course, that was probably it. He wondered if her near-full term would be shocking to the guest of their wedding. Sure, she was a small thing, but even the smallest of women grew to accommodate children while they were pregnant. His son was bound to carry the Herondale stature that neared six feet.

Again did his thoughts confuse him. Clary wasn't even showing and here he was already assuming that she'd be large by the ceremony. And his son? He knew that Clary had called their child a he, but she'd probably prefer he over it.

Jace realized that Clary was waiting on his answer for breakfast.

"Uh, no that's alright. We'll just pick up something from Taki's on our way to see Magnus." He answered gently, staring at her exhausted form.

"Magnus? I thought you didn't want to associate with… them." She said worriedly, though not rising from the bed just yet. Jace's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what it was that she was talking about.

"The Council? Is that it?" He asked, clueless. Jace saw her shake her head, the noise being her over the silk fabric of the pillows.

"Downworlders." She answered him. He was taken aback by the phrase, having not heard it in so long. And, he never thought he'd hear her say it in such a… negative tone? Why would she be acting this way.

"Downworlders? What's up with you?" Jace asked, stalking over to her but pausing as he passed a mirror. There was something different about his appearance, the tired look to his composure - even if he did just wake up a few minutes ago. His gaze trailed from the different placement of fading runes to the birthmark on his shoulder. At least that remained the same, but it wasn't as bright. He looked at himself, recoiling back from the mirror with a violent surge of fright.

Was what he had seen real? He couldn't scrub the oceanic color out of his mind as he rose from his position on the floor. The mattress shifted as Clary was no doubt rising to see if he was alright. Though he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he approached the mirror once more. His hands brushed his cheek bones, and they appeared more angular, deep shadows cast upon them with exhaustion. Had he been so tired?

Jace looked at himself, sucking in a breath of chilly Idris air as he gawked at the change of his eye color. They were not their golden default, but were a stunning blue!

"Oh! He's kicking! I swear he is!" He heard Clary giggle, and turned around to see what she was talking about. Magnus had talked about their child being a bit more progressive in the night of his child's discovery, but kicking? Wasn't it too soon for such a thing?

When his eyes landed on Clary, they grew wide with shock.

Where red hairs had curled wildly around her midsection, they were now a common blonde, and straighter. Her skin wasn't as pale, but much more at the same time. She looked almost sickly, but the sickness was natural? Her naturally small body was frail, reminding him of the angel he'd watched die in Fairchild manor.

And her stomach… by the Angel was it so much more bigger than the night before! This woman wasn't Clary, she was the exact opposite. His heart didn't give that thud of pure love when he saw her, because the one he loved was living somewhere else.

Jace's head shook away the thought as he approached the woman who had an almost child-like face despite it's deep shadows of weakness and her swollen abdomen. She was giggling as she held her stomach, scaring him half to death when she reached for his hand and rested it on her abdomen. Sure enough, he felt a thud against his hand.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I need you to leave." Jace asked in a shaky voice, taking his hand away from the woman's pregnant belly. Should he even call her a woman? She looked like a teenager! Her features collapsed to sadness, and her face grew even darker without the faint glow of her smile.

"I'm sorry about what happened to her brother, but you can't, after finding out about our son, still be in love with her, Stephen." She whispered, sounding weak and vulnerable as she spoke. Jace backed up from her in disbelief.

"What did you call me?" He gasped.

"I figured since you didn't want me calling you Sir anymore, that it was okay to use your name." She explained, her fingers messing with the slip she had on. Who wears slips these days? Jace thought to himself.

"No," he said, shaking his head at her answer. "I mean why did you call me that?" He asked with more clarity to his question. Her eyes lit up with confusion, her head cocking to the side.

"Because that is your name?" She said with a raised eyebrow and a higher pitch to her adolescent voice. Jace's fingers were starting to feel thick with numbness, as if he'd stuck them in cold water and let them shrivel up.

"No, it's not. My name is Jace… Herondale." His last word came out as a whisper, and he turned back the mirror to feel recognition in the blue of his eyes. Of his father's eyes. It made sense, with how his appearance had aged slightly in the curves of his face. But the exhausted look added to it.

"Celine?" Jace said to what he believed to be his mother. Her ears pricked up as if waiting a command, making his throat tighten in bile.

"Yes?" She chirped.

No… Jace thought to himself. The eager wait for an order that he saw in the ghost of his mother was nauseating to him. How young she was, and pregnant. His father was practically cradle robbing!

"This isn't happening." He thought outloud. He wanted to find Clary, to ask her what was happening and to hear her reassuring opinion. And he needed to know that his child was safe.

"Stephen, what's wrong-"

"I'm not him!" Jace snapped back, his fists clenching. Tears pooled in his mother's eyes, and his knees began to feel weak with regret. "Wait! Please don't cry!" He scrambled to her side where she buried her face in his chest that was more muscular than he remembered. "I'm sorry, but I don't know why this is happening." He explained.

"... this is our baby. I thought you would love us both, in time. Why is it so hard to love him, at least. He's just a baby! He didn't ask to be created!" She cried. Jace's throat tightened at remember how his mother had slit her wrists, not caring for the younger Jace inside her.

The crying stopped and Jace looked to see that his mother was gone. A soft cooing was heard across the room and his eyes travelled to… Clary! His excitement then turned to panic as there was a baby in her arms, and as she cradled it, her wrists were bleeding.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word…" She sung, brushing back the golden curls that were in its eyes, and in doing so did she smear blood across its forehead. Jace felt like he was going to be sick.

"Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird…" Clary continued, giggling as the baby reached for her hand and stuck a finger into its mouth, not minding the globs of blood that spread to ribbon around its gums. Jace stood from the bed, approaching her with caution.

"Clary, give me the baby," he soothed, reaching for the child that looked at him with green eyes that matched hers. Clary's singing stopped abruptly, and when Jace peered up at her, she was weeping softly. He took the baby out of her arms, and instantly did it begin to wail. The deep cuts in her wrist caused blood to drip onto the floor with a noise that made him want to heave.

"You don't care about us." She stated, not minding to raise concern about her grave injuries. Jace rocked the baby in his arms to soothe him, but it was of no use. His gaze lowered when the child stilled as Clary continued on. "I'm a benefit. Something you want to use improve our species. You wouldn't want me if it wasn't for Valentine and what he did." Jace watched as the child's eyes turned golden and shaped to match his own.

"You're just like him." And this time it was Celine saying this with anger as Jace looked down at an infant version of himself, watching as the child turned pale with oxygen deprivation and his skin slick with a thick fluid. In front of him did he hear his mother collapse to the ground with a thud.

"No!" Jace bellowed as he sat up in bed, his eyes shut tight and his fingers digging into the palms of his fists. He heard a click and then there was a warmth trying to pry into his shut eyes. Someone reached out for him, touching his bicep, but Jace recoiled and skidded off the bed, opening his eyes to see a shocked Clary with her hand lowering.

"Jace?" She asked, confusion making her voice high and reminding her of his dream. Of his nightmare. "Jace, calm down." Clary said, her eyes soft and yet sharp as they assessed his condition. He didn't like it when she did that: tried to dissect him with only her strong gaze. It was enough to have him taking a few steps back from the foot of the bed. Her soft eyes grew pained as she was trying to understand what was wrong with him. Why he was breathing so hard and sweating when it was a cold night in Idris.

There had been few times when Jace could say he was afraid, and even fewer could he say that he was terrified for. Like, when he first met Clary and felt his heart turn away from those around him and centered on her. He was terrified when he found out the monster that everyone had been talking about was his father, and then when he learned that the only woman he could think of loving was his sister. He was terrified when he figured he'd lost Clary to who believed at the time was Sebastian Verlac. He was terrified when he saw his toy soldier hanging from Max's limp hand, and even more so when he learned of the man who'd done such a thing to his family. Now, as he remembered his mother telling him that he'd turn into his Downworlder-hating father, he couldn't imagine a more frightened feeling coursing through his veins and being pumped by his heart.

"Please," Clary sobbed. He looked at her, sentences upon sentences caught in his throat. His knees felt weak with untreated shock, but his fists were still tight at his sides as he just… stared at her. She couldn't have been experiencing half of the emotions flooding through him, but she was showing twice as much. Was it the hormones? He didn't know.

"I - I can't." He croaked; his knees giving out and sending him to the floor where he still failed to show any reaction towards what had engulfed his mind. Clary rushed over to him, combing her small hands through his hair and whispering words of comfort in his ears. He could have sworn that he heard what she was saying, but it would have been a poor gamble.

"You're alright. We're alright." She insisted, her hands rubbing his back soothingly like Celine should have done. Would have done if it weren't for Stephen. Would she have have committed suicide if it weren't for Jace as well? Was the thought of raising a monster's son alone that impossible for her? Even Jocelyn had returned for Jonathan the night of the Uprising. Why did she want to kill him? Kill her son who had no chance, to take him down alongside her and Stephen.

"... this is our baby. I thought you would love us both, in time. Why is it so hard to love him, at least? He's just a baby! He didn't ask to be created!" Jace thought of the words Celine had wept. He then thought of the dying fetus in his arms that was him. Was that what Valentine had rescued? Had cut out of her? How had he turned the lifeless baby into the warrior he was now?

He hadn't even heard the words leave his mouth repetitively until his jaw kept brushing against the crook of her neck enough times to warm his chin. "I'm not him, I'm not him, I'm not him…" He sobbed into her skin, making it damp with his tears. Every few seconds did his body rack with sob-induced hiccups. Nevertheless, she continued to rub his muscular back with her delicate hands, coaxing the emotions out of him.

Jace realized that he was clinging to Clary tightly, more tightly that what was probably comfortable for her. He released her, just a bit though. He didn't think he could handle letting her go when he was crumbling.

"Was it just a dream?" She asked him. A dream? There was no word for what he'd just experienced. He was sure that if he looked into the mirror, his father's blue eyes would be staring back at him, and that if he focused hard enough would Clary's red hair turn blonde. That her wrists would be slashed from the sadness he'd eventually throw her into. The last time he had a nightmare this vivid, he actually did end up hurting her.

"No," he answered honestly.

AN: Things are getting a bit angsty in this chapter. Jace is afraid of becoming his father (obviously) with the fact that he now struggling to love the baby that is hurting Clary. Maybe in the next chapter will we hear Clary's point of view on the pregnancy...

Special thanks to all of you that take the time to read this story!

Leave your comments in the reviews and I'll get started on the next chapter!