Hey, guys. It's me :/ I know. I haven't updated in two weeks, or more, and I am really REALLY depressed. Like, really. I won't blame anyone if you all are really angry at me, or won't even review anymore, becuz, as you all know, I really love my reviews. I read them, and it seriously makes my day 100% better. They're all really unique and praising, that's why I luv u guys, and take the time to write for you. If I lost some fans, I can accept it. But I really love writing, and a few summer distractions won't stop me. Maybe I can get some new fans, and those who are new viewers, plz enjoy :) Those who took the time to wait and are still reading, I'm happy. :) Anyway, here's the new chapter. It won't be as good as the rest, but it'll take me a few chapters to catch up to being the really descriptive me. I lost a few points over time.

Three days. Isabelle gave out a sigh of exhaustion. It's been three-and-a-half days since Jace brought in an unexpected guest, dripping blood and smelling of rot and wet grass. Isabelle was horrified at first that Jace would even think of bringing a mundane into the Institute. Then again, he's changed a lot since that first night in Pandemonium. Before that time, he was the Jace fonder of his Shadowhunter work than that of an unrelated matter.

Isabelle looked at Clary from the next bed, and thought, for the hundredth time that day, why Jace was so interested in such an ordinary girl. He's met many pixies, other female Shadowhunters, even she-demons, and was only interested for a week or so. With this mundane, the first in Jace's long line of fascinations, he has been interested for five days, and was just as addicted as the first day.

What perturbed Isabelle, mostly, is her homestead. For years, the three of them called the Institute their second home; the infirmary was their alternative dorm, since they found themselves spending more time in it than their supposed rooms. If Isabelle hadn't changed Clary's bloodied rags into something more comfortable, things would've been a lot worse than just the scratched floorboards and dirty bedsheets. She even took the time and care to lend her some of her clothes.

There was a knock at the door and Isabelle watched as Alec strolled in, face in a grimace. He walked in with a poise that marked Alec as Alec.

"I told you it was the same girl," Isabelle said quietly, voicing her thoughts. Yesterday, the two siblings had a small argument. Alec refused to believe it was the same mundane they met at the night club a few days ago. Alec was sure they would never see that girl again.

"I know. Little thing, isn't she?" Isabelle made a motion for him to sit next to her on the bed. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes and his slurry words exposed it. But Alec stayed where he was. "Jace said she killed a Ravener."

It was accidental. She was strolling down the hall the night Jace brought Clary in. She just happened to come across a discussion between Hodge and him, and hid from around the corner. She didn't know she was eavesdropping, she just knew that if she interrupted, they would postpone their discussion. It turned out that it was that that informed her of the Inquisitor's coming, and she hurried to tell Alec. It was that time, too, that she learned about Clary's victory. Ever since then, Jace had been quiet, and rarely spoke up like he did before. Like everyone else, as if there was a sort of warlock magic in the air, he had a hard time sleeping the past three days. Hodge offered help for all of them, especially Jace; their sleepless nights was getting serious and unnatural. But no one really accepted it.

She risked another glance at Clary. Her red hair stuck out from the hem of the bedsheets, sprawled all over the feather pillow. The contrast between the two very different colors irritated Isabelle's eyes, and she looked away. The mundane probably expected to wake up to her mundane life, which was dramatically destroyed in less than an hour and with one swoop.

"Yeah. I thought she was a pixie the first time we saw her." Then, quickly, she added, "She's not pretty enought to be a pixie, though."

"Well, no one looks their best with demon poison in their veins. Is Hodge going to call on the Brothers?"

Immediately, a face formed in her head; pale, pasty. Eyes hollowed out into nothing and mouth sewed shut. It's been done to block out outer forces and create peace within. Instead, it generates internal suffering, making Shadowhunters shiver at their mention. Isabelle forced the image away. "I hope not. They give me the creeps. Anyone who mutilates themselves like that-"

"We mutilate ourselves."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I know, Alec. But when we do it, it isn't permanent. And it doesn't always hurt..."

"If you're old enough," she heard Alec scoff. "Speaking of which, where is Jace? He saved her, didn't he?" Alec didn't look that concerned, and he shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't care."

Isabelle scoffed. If he didn't have these nights of constant wake, he'd be all over this situation. "Sometimes I wonder if he-" Something shifted from under the bedsheets. As a Shadowhunter, Isabelle paused at the most tiniest things. After she realized it was the mundane, she exhaled. "Look! She moved!"

She ignored the change of expressions from Alec. "I guess she's alive after all," he sighed. "I'll tell Hodge."

Isabelle nodded, and with that, Alec left the room, not taking care to close the door quietly after him.

Alec barged into the library, making much commotion, that he didn't notice Hodge jump from an uncomprehending position. When he saw Alec walk in, he quickly straightened the loose articles around his desk and made himself appear above suspicion. Though he was still full of curiosity and concern on the look on Alec's face.

"The mundane is alive and well," he said, as if he didn't show any sign of irritation.

Hodge chuckled as Alec made his way to the couch in the middle of the room. He sat casually in one corner, one foot up and one foot on the ground, his arm slumped over its back. "You seem disappointed, Alec."

Alec shook his head in an attractive way that the sunlight bounced off of his silky dark hair. "What makes you say that?"

Hodge shrugged. "Well, for one, you're here, and not there now with Isabelle, assuring of her recovery."

It was silent between them for a while as Alec contemplated his argument and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. After a while, Alec sighed. It was no hiding how he saw his relationship with the mundane.

"Not particularly. After she is in good health, she should be in a capable position of returning home," he reasoned.

"Her home was abolished. She has no nearby relatives, or anywhere to go. It would be polite to offer her shelter until she gets back on her feet."

"Does her mother or she not have close enough friends? It's appropriate that they provide her temporary homestead," Alec tried.

Hodge tended back to the papers on his desk, and dipped his pen in the ink. He was wearing a crooked grin and one of those warm expressions that Isabelle, Jace and Alec grew up with.

"Try getting that past Jace, Alec, and you'll work out something, I assure you," hodge said finally.

Alec stood up from the couch and headed for the wooden doors, exasperated. It seemed that what Hodge said was his permission to leave. Even if it wasn't, he had no conversation-starters. He needed silence, needed...training.

He just reached the doorway, his hand upon the steel rods, when Hodge said, "Oh, and Alec?" Alec twisted around. Hodge's eyes twinkled-.-which startled Alec, seeing that there was no light. "Good luck."

Alec didn't know what to say to that, so, with the same poise he had before, he carried on to the weapons room.

An hour later, Isabelle still could not find herself to leave the infirmary. She sat on that bed, deep in her thoughts. About Alec, about Jace, the named Clary, even about the Silent Brothers. She preferred not to think about that too long; she would always look around the room in caution, as if they would pop in any moment, after their horrid images would run through her mind.

Alec didn't come back; neither did Jace. She was alone with Clary in the silent room. She even thought the constant sight of white was making her slightly dizzy. She'd have to stare at the angel mural on the ceiling, and breathe, as if the walls closed in on her, leaving her breathless and claustrophobic. It was too quiet, even the car horns of New York in the distant seemed muted; the infirmary smelled of odd medicines and potions. Sunlight shone in through pink pastel curtains. She couldn't believe it was still ten in the morning; she felt that she was in the infirmary for a full day, when she was only there for three.

Every few minutes, the mundane would stir. She felt the only thing keeping her there now is the knowledge that Clary would wake up really soon.

None to her surprise, a moment later, she heard the mundane slowly, painfully, push herself up. When she did, Isabelle snapped her head back down and watched her recovery. She seemed to be dedicated in taking in the room, that she wouldn't have noticed Isabelle if she didn't speak up.

"So you're finally awake," she said, saying it more sourly than she intended. Maybe it was the hours of interminable silence that she forgot even how her own voice sounded. "Hodge will be pleased. We all thought you'd probably die in your sleep."

Clary looked at Isabelle as quickly as she could, but slowed down, as it seemed, when it pained her to do so. It took a while for her to take in the girl she had seen at Pandemonium. Isabelle didn't blame her; she probably expected Jace, the rugged blond who had saved her from Ravener poisoning, who brought her here to the Institute and yet didn't seem to visit and check up on his mundane.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said, her voice still scratchy, and with the same annoyed tone Isabelle figured Clary heard her use. "Is this the Institute?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Is there anything Jace didn't tell you?"

Clary coughed, but what sounded to Isabelle as choking. She cringed in discomfort. "This is the Institute, right?" she tried, a little spark in her eyes.

"Yes. You're in the infirmary." She added, "Not that you haven't figured that out already."

Suddenly, the mundane's hand shot to her stomach and gasped. Isabelle's stomach jumped. She prepared to see Clary throw up, or faint again. Whatever it was, she had no desire to wipe it up or heal her back to health. She would have to fetch Hodge. Or Jace, if he cared.

"Are you alright?" she asked, panic in her voice.

She saw Clary swallow, a little unsteady, and her gaze went down to her hand. "My stomach," she said simply.

Isabelle exhaled. She remembered what Hodge had told her after he had put Clary to rest. That the mundane would be hungry after days of no intake. It's like going forward in time, but there were still effects like three days' worth of thirst, famine, and exhaustion.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot." Isabelle jumped for the pitcher and poured a steamy brown liquid into a small cup. "Hodge said to give you this when you woke up. " She handed the cup to her, and she peered down into it. The moment she smelled its rich, thick scent, her pains seemed to be carried away with the steam. But it didn't seem to fulfill her hunger. "You haven't eaten in three days," Isabelle explained. "That's probably why you feel sick."

Clary tasted it. Her expression told Isabelle it worked. "What is this?"

"One of Hodge's tisanes. They always work."

Isabelle just slipped from the bed; no warning, no cause. Everything came in a rush, and she shot out her hands to restrain her fall. That's what she loved about being a Shadowhunter. Being one depended all on adrenaline and how fast your instincts were; but the job was purely made for you if you enjoyed the action and racing pulses.

"I'm Isabelle Lightwood, by the way. I live here."

"I know your name," she said, as if Isabelle hadn't just landed on the floor. "I'm Clary. Clary Fray. Did Jace bring me here?"

Isabelle nodded. "Hodge was furious. You got ichor and blood all over the carpet in the entryway. If he'd done it while my parents were here, he'd have gotten grounded for sure." She looked at Clary skeptically. "Jace said you killed that Ravener demon all by yourself."

Clary gulped down her drink and glanced over at Isabelle. "I guess I did."

"But you're a mundie," she said, as if it explained everything. What befuddled her, was that how a normal mundane like Clary know that the runes on the Sensor could incapacitate a demon. Or maybe she could've just shoved it down its throat, hoping that the thing would choke it. That would make more sense. Either way, it was still, to Isabelle's surprise, impressive.

"Amazing, isn't it?" she said, face in a semi-glow. "Where is Jace?" Is he around?"

Isabelle sighed inwardly. No one really knew these days. Instead, she shrugged, and said, "Somewhere. I should go tell everyone you're up. Hodge'll want to talk to you."

"Hodge is Jace's tutor, right?"

Isabelle did all she could to keep from rolling her eyes. Everything; Jace told her everything. All the mundie seemed to talk about was he.

"Hodge tutors us all." Then, before she could do harm, she pointed towards the bathroom. "The bathroom's through there, and I hung some of my old clothes on the towel rack in case you want to change."

Clary gathered the sheets up around her. "What happened to my clothes?"

"They were covered in blood and poison. Jace burned them," Isabelle was pleased to say.

Her face changed from embarrassed, as if she felt that she didn't belong and that her welcome was overstayed, to shocked and annoyed. "Did he? Tell me, is he always really rude, or does he save that for mundanes?"

Isabelle decided to play with this. "Oh, he's rude to everyone. It's what makes him so damn sexy. That, and he's killed more demons than anyone else his age."

She thought she got her. Clary's eyes widened, and she paled. She realized that was a mistake, when Clary said, "Isn't he your brother?"

It was Isabelle's turn to be baffled. She laughed out loud. "Jace? My brother? No. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, he lives here with you, doesn't he?"

She nodded, slowly. She didn't like where this was going. "Well, yes, but..."

"Why doesn't he live with his own parents?" That hit the spot. Isabelle found herself speechless and her retorted manner disappeared.

"Because," she said quietly, "they're dead."

Clary's mouth dropped open. "Did they die in an accident?"

Isabelle found herself uncomfortable. Jace never talked about his parents, so this was less of a forbidden subject and more of a non-existent matter, making it difficult to talk about.

"No, his mother died when he was born. His father was murdered when he was ten. Jace saw the whole thing." She hoped that the conversation was closed, now that she knew what happened. But, again, she was mistaken.

"Oh. Was it...demons?" she squeaked.

Isabelle stood up and headed for the door, as to that was the best way to avoid this.

"Look, I'd better let everyone know you've woken up. They've been waiting for you to open your eyes for three days." She opened the door, and stepped through. Just one more time. "Oh, and there's soap in the bathroom. You might want to clean up a little. You smell."

Clary shot her a glare. "Thanks a lot."

"Any time," she said sweetly and shut the door quietly.

Isabelle made her way to the library, a place where she knew Hodge was. She pushed the heavy wooden doors open and poked her head in.

"Hodge," she called. A movement from the far corner of the room was her reply. She stepped in, watching Hodge. His glasses were on crooked and he looked enticed in his book, but as he glanced up, he transferred his full attention on Isabelle. He was standing near the bookshelf; several leather-bound books lay open on his desk. Papers were strewn all over the floor. These were all signs that Hodge was starting a new research project. "The mundane-Clary-is awake. I sent her to get freshened up; I'll bring her here as soon as she does."

She scanned the room, looking for Alec. He was nowhere to be found.

"I hear she is very individualized, Isabelle. Why don't we have her tour the Institute for a little while?" he inserted the book he was skimming through back in its place on the shelf and sat down at his desk. "You look like you could use some sleep."

Isabelle shrugged. "Well, yes, but..."

Hodge waited, but Isabelle didn't continue. "...Yes...?"

"Do you know where Alec is?" she exclaimed. "I need him."

Hodge studied her expression, making Isabelle fidget at its intensity. When he finally spoke, "He was here earlier. He headed off either looking for Jace or off to where he normally goes when he needs to think." He sent her a gesture what they both knew meant. She turned on her heels to leave, when Hodge added, "Please get some rest, Isabelle. You look frazzled."

With a nod, she hurried out of the library to the training room.

Jace replayed the piece over and over again in frustration. His father had always played the piano perfectly, his hands glided across the keys in one swift motion. He couldn't see it in himself. Jace felt that he inherited only some of his father's traits. Music and art was not one of them. His mother, however, had had great talent, his father told him. She knew how to draw and paint and cook. How Jace doesn't have any of those talents, he doesn't know.

He was told several times that he got his Shadowhunter ability from his father, who was one of the best. But Jace believes he acquired the talent himself, seeing that the reason why he loved the job so much, was that it was a distraction. From his parents, from their death. He learned afterwards that not only was shadowhunting a convenience to him, but he also deeply loved the nonstop action and the feeling that you might die any minute. It sharpened your senses.

Taking a deep breath, Jace tried the piece his father taught him one more time.

He thought he was doing it right for once, and he continued, the song extending to every corner of the room. When finally Jace was not that much in his thoughts, he heard a soft intake of breath at the door. It was as if the small sound broke through his concentration and split the song in its construction. He turned around and squinted through the darkness, seeing the outline of a figure.

"Alec?" He hoped it was not the Inquisitor, or the Brothers. It would be quite a bother. He would have to explain that the mundane was still at rest and ask for an extension of time. "Is that you?"

He had not expected a small, female voice. "It's not Alec." The figure stepped out from the shadows, so that the sun exposed her features.

Red, tangled hair dangled loosely around her shoulders. Bags under her eyes were a sign of exhaustion. Her jeans were folded several times at her ankles and hung from her hips. The red shirt she wore was baggy and loose.

"It's me. Clary."

Jace was truly shocked. Astonished. He expected her not to wake up for a few more hours. The sight of her up and healthy-.-mostly-.-caught him off guard. He stood up, a little too quickly, hitting the piano on the way up. A Shadowhunter habit.

"Our own Sleeping Beauty," he teased, his hand on the piano cover. "Who finally kissed you awake?"

"Nobody," she replied. "I woke up on my own."

"Was there anyone with you?" The last he checked, Isabelle had stayed overnight at the infirmary.

"Isabelle, but she went off to get someone-.-Hodge, I think," she said. "She told me to wait, but-"

Jace could've laughed or smiled. "I should have told her about your habit of never doing what you're told." Clary raised an eyebrow, and he realized, with amusement, that he was also describing himself. She did not know that yet, though, Jace thought. He changed the subject. "Are those Isabelle's clothes? They look ridiculous on you."

Clary scowled. "I could point out you burned my clothes."

"It was purely precautionary," he slid the piano cover shut and padded over to where she stood. "Come on, I'll take you to Hodge."

Isabelle opened the double doors quietly. The first thing she saw was the engraved walls, covered in ancient runes. Some were runes that Shadowhunters didn't use anymore. Metal shelves lined the walls, weapons Hodge said not to touch until turned a legal adult, to the weapons that were that simple as a seraph blade. In one corner, were discarded blades Isabelle and Alec used when they were little. In another corner was Alec's bow and arrows. A table stood against the far wall, different sizes of blades and swords scattered among its surface.

The floor was padded under her and the ceiling was carved along solid marble. There were no windows, so no outsiders could peer in, and only one entrance, so that there were no break-ins. There was Alec standing in a fighting stance, one blade in each hand, both glowing brightly. His back was to her.

Isabelle quickly pulled out her whip from her wrist, and dashed for Alec. The movement was too quick to see, she found herself in the middle of the room in one second. Before Alec could turn around, she had her whip uncoiled and it lashed out, splitting the air, so that all you saw was a flash of gold. Alec spun around, and caught sight of Isabelle in a small moment, so he had no time to react to her sudden appearance because Isabelle already lashed her whip the second time.

It had been too soon, too last-second for Alec to counter her offense. Instead, he dodged it swiftly, too quick for Isabelle's eyes to see. The next thing she saw was Alec yards away from where he was a second ago. Her whip scourged at the floor, leaving a deep groove on the padding, and her whip drooped at her feet. She leaped and landed close enough to him, so that she recoiled and shot out her whip again. This time Alec brought up one of the blades above his head, and the whip curled and wrapped around the weapon. She gave it a little tug and the weapon went flying out of his hand and it clanged onto the floor.

Alec flung his second blade in a javelin motion at her left shoulder; the blade cut through the small length of space between them. Isabelle missed it by centimeters, and the blade pierced the wall behind her. She stood up, slowly, the blade still vibrating in the wall behind her. She heard her quick breathing and rushing blood in her ears. Alec's chest was heaving rapidly as he watched Isabelle in confusion, as if he was taking her in, not getting the chance a few moments ago.

It was then that Isabelle knew that everything happened in seconds, so quick. It felt like minutes.

"Isabelle," Alec breathed, irritation in his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

Isabelle chuckled in relief, coiling her whip around her wrist. "Just thought we would train like old times." Her voice sounded weird, it was because the spike of adrenaline was confusedly settling back. Her startled heart and stomach returned back to their normal pulses. She exhaled sharply and leaned against the wall, ripping the blade out of the wall. There were several deep hollows on it, evidence from many past training sessions gone wrong, or maybe even completely right.

"It's too much of a challenge for you to be training with me." Alec was suddenly next to her, his hand outstretched for the blade. She handed it to him, and he turned around to walk away.

"Then why don't you ever get out?" she said.

Alec stopped in his tracks and spun around, looking back at Isabelle. "What?"

She left her spot at the wall and took a step closer to him. "It's been a while since you went with Jace and me on a fight, Alec. We're starting to think something's wrong. It was years since we ever trained together, and I'm getting tired of training by myself!"

Alec was shaking his head. "There is nothing wrong. I just grew older."

"Is it-"

"Nothing," he enunciated. He shot a look at Isabelle that told her that he would not say anything more. Isabelle stared at him in concern, examining the brother she used to know so well. He had the same long lashes and long dark hair that wrapped around his ears and neck.

It had been a while since either one of them spoke up again. It was Isabelle. "Clary is awake, and is bound to find Jace," she said. "I heard him in the music room a while ago. Just thought I'd let you know."

Not looking at Isabelle, Alec said, "I have to speak with Hodge." He hurried over to the table on the other side of the room and set the dull blades down. The doors flung open, and he was gone, leaving Isabelle staring at the unused, pristine weapons.

Please, R&R guys. It would make my day much better. I also want to know what my other fans think. If you're mad at me, or if you're not. The new viewers, also R&R and tell me if something's wrong, or what you liked about it :) I'll change any mistakes. Some ppl already know that. Anyway, here's my chapterly shout-out: I LUV U GUYS AND HOPE YOU'LL FORGIVE ME? I really miss you :/ ENjoy my MM's (Made myself's) and the original scenes.