She heard giggling above her, and reached out, eyes closed, and tried brushed her fingers against her daughters wild curls. Clary's back no longer hurt, and this confused her as to that it had every time she slept on it. The many perks of being pregnant, she sighed mentally. Clary couldn't remember Sebastian taking Beth to bed, and didn't really care much, as her daughter wasn't in a crank mood. The bed around her was cold however, and she didn't want Beth to catch an illness, as worried of a mother as she was.

"Sebastian, I think you should turn the heater up, it's cold." Clary groaned, feeling the chill of her bed. When no reply came, she brushed her hands out, feeling nothing. Finally, she opened her eyes with an annoyed huff, only to find that she was in her apartment, alone, two years later.

After her family was long gone.

"Oh…" Clary whispered out loud, her voice echoing in her empty room. The cold bed now felt as if she'd get frostbite if she laid in it for another second. Her legs sprung out, and she groaned as she felt the bullet wound sting. She reached for the crutches, and thought that maybe she didn't need them, as her wound was stitched and healing.

"Slowly, Fairchild." Clary breathed, her feet pressing against the wooden boards with a squeak. Seeing as she had regained some strength, she pulled a hail mary by propelling her back straight, standing up.

At first, her muscles didn't ache, and a smile blossomed on her face. She could tell Jace to leave, she could go to work and pretend like it was no big deal. She could calm her mother, and finally, finally, escape the damn apartment that had haunted her for two years too long.

Then, reality hit her, hard.

Her legs swayed back in forth like a screen door in a hurricane. Clary's hand flew to the mattress, and when it was too far out of reach, fear tightened in her chest. The floor boards appeared closer, and in a panic, she reached for anything in her circumference. Clary's fingertips grazed a glass of water on her nightstand, knocking it over, falling alongside her with a shatter.

She flipped herself on her back, shivering as cold water ran under her tense muscles. Moments passed before someone flung her bedroom door open. Jace's worried face came into view, and she saw him bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her frustrated face. Clary had seen Beth make this face several times, and her frustrated face grew helpless as she reached out for him.

"Help me up before I recover and kick your ass." She growled. He spread his arms, scooping her up and was about to set her on her bed.

"No - wait!" Clary cried out. "Damnit." She sighed, her wet body soaking the bed. Jace turned, and looking at the graying sheets, he picked her up again and brought her to her bathroom, placing Clary on the marble sink.

"Any request for clothing?" He asked.

"Make sure it isn't wet." Clary grumbled, her arms folded in anger as he turned to leave her. She wondered where he slept, seeing as her spare bedroom was empty, devoid of any evidence of its previous residence.

Not much had happened yesterday, they had breakfast, Clary visited a very worried mother for most of the day, and Jace said that he'd see his brother; to call her when she needed to be picked up. When it was the late evening, Jace had served her what he called a 'TV dinner,' and she excused herself to her bedroom.

"Back, they aren't wet." He chimed in through the doorway. Jace handed her a jeans and a salmon button up.

"Can you actually give me a different shirt?" Jace looked confused at the request, as he saw nothing wrong with the shirt. "Please?" She begged him. Clary should have warned him of the memories the salmon fabric held. It was originally maternity wear, one of the few shirts she actually purchased with her second child.

"Uh, here." He said, coming back with a shirt that declared her a runner in a New York 5K. She took it without protest, and he slid her crutches next to the sink. "Do you need any help with…" Jace's face flushed pink as he nodded at the pile of clothing. Clary shrugged at him, straightening her legs out for him to pull on the sweats. She braced her hands on the marble, prepared for him to pull.

"What are you waiting for?" Clary asked him. She heard him swallow thickly, clearing his throat as he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He gave a gentle tug, her dark sweats falling passed her red boy short underwear that she had purchased from the mall. Whether it was intention or not, his eyes failed to remain on her sweats, and instead skimmed up her long ivory legs. A short moment later, her sweats were off and she was pulling her pants up her legs in a sitting position. Clary found it difficult to get them up to her waist and coughed at Jace to help out.

"Right, sorry." He said, lifting her small wait and finally her jeans slid on.

"You can go now," She said. Jace interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.

"How can I go when you can't even walk? When you think you can after a few days of healing?" Clary's eyes widened as she realized he was fighting for her to let him stay.

"I meant that as in I didn't need help putting on the shirt." She whispered.

"Oh, right." Jace sighed in relief and stupidity. He walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door to give her privacy, though she didn't think he'd ever go in. She pulled the shirt on over her head and swung the crutches under her arms, no longer overestimating her healing legs.

When she finally made it to the kitchen, her eyes darted to the front door, checking to see if it was locked. Never again would she let herself make that mistake again.

"Glad to see you wearing them." Jace nodded towards the crutches. She rolled her eyes, limping to the fridge to see what she had in stock. Surprise overtook her as she saw that there was a fresh stock of vegetables and fruit, along with few pleasures such as ice cream and pudding.

"You went grocery shopping?" She asked. Jace appeared guilty as he searched for an answer that couldn't make its way to the tip of his tongue. "You didn't have to do that." Clary said gently. She saw a pile of blankets on her couch, and smiled to herself. "You're already finding your way around the house?"

"Uh, yeah. Not that big really, only had to go to the hallway closet." He explained with hesitation.

"I don't mind, actually. Seeing as you're not going to leave until I'm fully healed." She shrugged, pulling out a box of strawberries. A few minutes passed before Jace coughed at her, gesturing towards the almost empty plastic box.

"What?" She asked him.

"You seem to like strawberries." He smirked, as if satisfied he was getting to know her. Clary chucked the now empty box in the trash bin, it nearly falling over, making her heart skip a beat in mild frustration.

"My mother said if I kept eating them, my head would turn redder, so I didn't eat them throughout my childhood. I see it as making up for lost time." She clarified. Jace laughed at her story.

"I had the same problem with macaroni, except I wanted my hair to look as if it was made of gold. I faintly remember it being the theme of my tenth birthday." Jace grinned to himself, and she wanted to hear more about the memory.