CHAPTER SEVEN
Simon threw his phone down on the desk before picking it up and hitting the redial button again. The dial tone sounded and he raked his hand through his hair compulsively.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Clary had promised to call him when he last saw her at the park the other day, but he hadn't heard from her since then. Simon paced back and forth in his dorm before trying to call her again. He hadn't needed to leave his dorm yet as his family didn't celebrate Christmas. Putting away his phone, Simon decided that his first stop should be to go check her room here at school.
Braving the cold he went to her dorm and knocked down her door, then pounding it with an open palm. There was no answer until a girl down the hallways opened the door and told him to shut up.
"Wow, how creative." She had closed her door, "At least you're pithy! Know when you're not wanted!" He called out anyways.
Simon pulled his laptop out of his bag and sat down in the middle of the hallway. He couldn't go to the university security if this was some kind of supernatural mumbo jumbo bullshit. It's not like they could help his magical half-angel friend if she had been kidnapped by witch doctors who meant to harvest her liver for the full moon.
Simon took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He would've slapped himself if he could, but his elbows had never been quite that dexterous. They had always been more pointy, sharp, and, well, elbowy.
He pulled up his programming software, thankful that he had upgraded his laptop and hacked the security system. Of course his classes never taught them how to actually hack but when you learn how to weave the material software is made of, hacking was as simple as pulling at a loose string in an old sweater until it all unraveled for you.
After what felt like an hour, but was actually 2.17 minutes, Simon pulled up what he was looking for:
Clary Fray
Student: Senior
Last Swipe In: December 12, 2015 12:57:32 PM.
Right. So she hadn't come back here since moving oh so casually into the Shadowhunter fortress on 96th and York.
Wait.
Why had Simon not thought of this earlier? One crosstown bus and three subway stops later Simon was walking up to a decrepit building.
It was just the way that Clary had described, the glamour he realized. But, unlike Clary, he couldn't scrape the glamour away. Steeling himself for a nest of ravenous vampires or malicious bogarts Simon walked up the steps and tried to wrench the door open.
Nothing happened.
Simon was getting really tired of this. His body repeated itself as he pounded on the doors to the Institute. No response. He walked around looking for an eye level window that he could peek into, but he was out of luck. He returned to the main door and began pounding and shouting.
"Hello? Hello! Someone please! Answer! I'm not leaving until I see Clary!"
Nothing. He continued shouting until his voice was hoarse and his mouth tasted coppery.
Finally, the door pulled open and, not for the first time today, an angry girl poked her head out of the door to glare at him. It was the girl from the park. Isabelle.
She glowered.
"What do you want?"
"Clary."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Clary's at home with her family and if she wanted to see you, you would probably already know that."
Simon was affronted.
"I did know that, but I've been calling her cell phone and she hasn't picked up."
"Well that doesn't mean anything, she probably just forgot to charge it like she always does." Isabelle unconsciously folded her arms across her chest.
"No, I haven't spoken to her since the day before Christmas Eve. Have you?"
"No."
"I think something's wrong."
"Don't jump to conclusions."
"I am not jumping. There is no jumping going on here. I am taking a step from Point A to Point B that my accident prone friend who is a novitiate into all things supernatural and horrible has had some kind of terrible accident or been selected as a human sacrifice for the full moon."
Isabelle raised the other eyebrow.
"Do you practice that?" Simon asked pointing awkwardly at his eyebrows, trying to push one up while he kept the other down. "Or does it come complimentary with the skeptic-tough-chick ™ upgrade that you downloaded?"
The eyebrows did not go down.
"Since you are a weak and defenseless mundane, I am going to ignore your gross insult against me and focus on helping you with your problem. Since I am, after all, sworn to protect vulnerable humans like you. And since I would hate to lose Clary after investing so much time in her . . ." she trailed off.
"Have you tried calling her house phone?" Isabelle asked suddenly, refocusing her attention.
"Her mom disconnected their home phone a couple years ago, she read online that it caused brain cancer."
"Well she certainly sounds like she's a couple sandwiches short of a picnic."
"Don't talk about Jocelyn like that."
"Jocelyn, huh? What you got a crush on Clary's mom too?"
"Don't be crude. I have nothing but respect and platonic love for both Clary and her mother and her mother's boyfriend. You only just met Clary, I've known her since we were both in diapers. She's like a sister to me. You hardly know anything about her."
"Woah there, lassie, you just sound jealous now. I'm not trying to steal your best friend."
"I'm not jealous. Please stop antagonizing me so that we can focus on the task at hand."
"Which is?"
"Finding Clary so we can determine whether or not she is actually in any sort of danger . . .?"
"Right. Well let's check her room here first and then head out to Brooklyn if we can't find anything here, alright?"
"Alright." He pulled down his shirt as she opened the door wider for him, "Where is everyone?"
"Michael, the littlest one, wanted to see Alicante decorated for Christmas. It's a big holiday for my people, I'm sure you can understand why."
It was strange to hear Isabelle say "my people" un-ironically. She didn't look like someone who hailed from a mother country. She looked like a New Yorker. Simon chastised himself for his close-mindedness.
He stepped inside of the cathedral and was awed by its beauty. He felt a welling up of some emotion in his chest and wasn't sure what it was. Clary always talked about being "moved" by art. Getting aesthetic chills. Maybe he experienced that with architecture. A feeling of surrealism descended upon him. He had been hearing about Clary's new world for weeks and had seen parts of it before, but this was the first time that he was actually becoming immersed in it.
He had to hurry up to catch up with Isabelle as she curved around the hallways. Finally after about fifteen minutes and too many staircases they came to Clary's room.
"Clary?" Isabelle knocked.
The silence that followed was becoming too familiar. Simon felt hollow with disappointment as Isabelle opened the door to reveal that her room was empty. It was a beautiful room, straight out of a medieval romance novel, canopy bed, fireplace and all.
Simon absently thought that this was how he would have pictured Grimmuald Place to have looked in all its glory before it fell into disrepair, aside from the fact that it was mostly decorated in warm Gryffindor colors. Simon shook the Harry Potter themed musings out of his head and turned to face Isabelle.
"Brooklyn, then?" he asked.
"Yep. Quick stop here though."
She walked the two of them to the armory and began arming herself.
"You need to bring something with you. Something small that you're most comfortable with and have a low chance of accidentally hurting someone else."
He looked through the weapons case before pulling out a long dagger. It had a hole in the top.
Isabelle caught him looking at the hole.
"That's for your index finger to go through, gives you more control of the blade." She threw him a belt so that he could sheath the dagger at his waist, "Good choice, by the way. That blade is poisonous to all creatures except humans."
He nodded, the surrealistic feeling intensified.
The train ride was long and uncomfortable and they were only half way there.
Simon was bouncing his left leg up and down, a nervous habit. Isabelle looked over at him and his leg, trying to glare it into submission.
When he didn't get the message, she put his hand on the top of his thigh and Simon jumped slightly in his seat. She didn't move her hand
"She'll be alright." It was the first time Simon had seen her look earnest.
"We'll find her," she gave his leg a squeeze and looked directly into his eyes, "I promise."
She didn't move her hand for the rest of the trip. And though it should have made Simon even more jittery and anxious, it didn't. It was as if her confidence and calm were flowing through her finger tips and into him. He drew on her strength and hoped it was enough.
When they walked up to the Fray (Fairchild?) apartment door Simon raised his hand to knock and then lowered it. Somehow understanding his fear of hearing nothing again or worse, finding the apartment to be evidence of an attack, Isabelle knocked for him.
Nothing.
And then, something.
First foot steps. The door opened.
"Jocelyn!" Simon exclaimed, "Have you seen Clary?"
The older woman's forehead crinkled as she furrowed her brow.
"Simon, I was actually just about to call you." She looked to Simon's left to see Isabelle, "Or you Isabelle. I was hoping Clary just went back to the Institute."
Simon felt all of the blood drain out of his face.
"I don't understand." His tone was flat, hollow.
Jocelyn wrapped her dressing gown tighter and hugged herself. Luke walked up behind her.
"Clary and her mother had a bit of a fight, Clary stormed out and we haven't heard from her since." Luke explained.
Simon could feel a panic attack coming on.
"What do you mean? How could you just let her go? And you're just standing here in your pajamas like you don't care? Have you even tried looking for her? What you're too busy eating brunch while Clary could be bleeding out in a ditch somewhere? Couldn't you use your super magical, hyper werewolf nose to sniff her out?" He was half-screaming by now and Isabelle took a hold of his arm to calm him down.
He would later reflect that Isabelle had seemed uncharacteristically compassionate that day. But that was just how Isabelle operated. She knew where the line between sarcasm and cruelty lay and, besides, it was hard to snark with your body when you wanted to comfort.
Isabelle turned him to look at her, "We'll find her." She repeated and Simon nodded.
Isabelle turned to look at Jocelyn and Luke: "Get dressed and armed. Werewolf, scent Clary and get ready for a hunt. I need to fire-call my family and tell them what's going on. Simon, go into Clary's room—look for her phone, wallet, anything else that might suggest where she went. Everyone meet back here ASAP."
Part of Simon's mind told him that he should make a joke about women who took charge, but he was far too shaken up to find the innuendo hidden in the situation. Instead he did what she asked and went into Clary's bedroom.
It felt wrong to be in Clary's room when she wasn't there. It was unsettling to disturb her things. Suddenly he was struck by thoughts of teenage rooms that parents turned into shrines when their children died too soon. Simon rubbed his hands over his face trying to block out the poisonous thoughts, but it was difficult.
There were no clues, no hints. She had even left her computer there. He knew her password. She'd used the same one for years and used it on all of her accounts. There was nothing out of the ordinary, mostly spam and list serve emails. The "Merry Christmas!" emails seemed offensive and inappropriate.
Simon closed the door to Clary's room, feeling like he was sealing off the door to a was standing in the doorframe to the apartment when Simon left Clary's room.
"Anything helpful?" she asked.
Simon sighed and tried not to let desperation overwhelm him.
"No." He ground out.
She grimaced. "I left a message for my parents. They're out, but hopefully they'll come back when they get the message."
Simon was glad that she didn't start in again on the platitudes. They were beginning to wear thin on him. Jocelyn and Luke followed the two of them out of the building and they began following.
Luke was having a hard time. He would occasionally catch her scent and then lose it on a crosswalk or by a trashcan and would have to circle the block to pick it up again.
It was a horribly onerous process.
After three hours of watching Luke take random lefts and rights and doubling back, he perked up.
"She must be within three blocks!" He yelled.
The four began searching anew, Simon was unconvinced.
He sidled up to Luke, "How can you be so sure?" Simon asked him.
"Her scent is so strong, she must be here."
Simon tried not to dismiss him, but had a hard time not rolling his eyes and sped up out of Luke's line of sight so that Luke wouldn't see.
As he sped ahead, Simon could see a group of people being pushed back by policemen half a block ahead. They were trying to get a glimpse inside an alleyway wrapped up in police tape.
A crime scene, Simon realized. He broke out into a run, pushing past bodies as he struggled to make his way to the front of the crowd.
The scene before him was like one out of a horror movie. The bodies had been removed, but the evidence of death had not. Chalk outlines showed where bodies had lain and blood stained practically half of the alleyway. It was splattered against the walls, smeared on the ground, and Simon had to look away before he threw up.
He stumbled to a garbage can, hunched over it and emptied his stomach's contents into the black bag. The others had caught up. Jocelyn put a hand over her mouth.
Her eyes welled up and she turned towards Luke, "Please tell me that's not my baby's blood in there."
He said nothing and she seemed to break inside.
"Please." She whispered.
All Luke said in response was, "I'm sorry Jocelyn." She collapsed into him and he hugged her tight repeating, "I'm sorry."
Only Isabelle maintained her composure and Simon was forcefully reminded of Joan of Arc. Isabelle was a warrior and this was probably not the first time she had seen death. Nor the last.
She walked up to him with a blank face. Simon didn't know if her neutral expression meant.
"There's no body. No body means she might not be dead." He tried, desperate.
She smiled a small, sad smile.
"Simon, they've moved the bodies."
Simon steeled himself and walked up to a policeman.
"Excuse me officer, I think my friend may have been involved in this accident. Please, were there any survivors?"
"Move along, civilian, this is an active crime scene. I can't answer any of your questions, it would impede the investigation."
Isabelle turned up the waterworks and asked, "Please, Sir, she's my sister. Clary Fray," Isabelle held a picture up of her, "Please just tell me if she's alright."
Swayed by Isabelle he answered, "There was a girl, I can't remember what she looked like though, and they took all the bodies, alive and dead, to Beth Israel. If your sister was here last night, she's there today. But you didn't hear it from me."
BREAK
When they got there, the hospital was cold and quiet. Thankfully, Jocelyn had her ID that proved she was, in fact, Clary Fray's mother. The woman at the desk insisted, for some unfathomable reason, on giving Jocelyn a difficult time anyways before finally informing her that Clary was alive and in surgery.
Simon would have expected Jocelyn to collapse again from the news, but instead she exploded in rage.
"How dare you not call me? I am her mother! Her only living relative! You just put her into surgery without anyone in the world even realizing that she is injured!"
"With all due respect ma'am your daughter is an adult. It's not my, or anyone else's responsibility to call you when your daughter gets an ouchie. Now move along please, there are people waiting behind you."
The receptionist shooed Jocelyn away with a dismissive hand gesture and Isabelle responded with a rather rude hand gesture of her own.
Together the four of them went upstairs to the appointed waiting room. A nurse came out to tell them that there was no news at the moment. Clary had suffered a gunshot wound to the chest and would be in surgery for several hours.
As the nurse walked out of the room, Jace and Alec walked in. Isabelle introduced Alec to Simon and they shook hands while Jocelyn explained the situation to the two newcomers.
"But what the hell happened?" Jace asked, "How did she wind up getting shot? Runes are supposed to prevent gun powder from igniting."
"It doesn't matter right now," Isabelle responded turning towards Jocelyn and Luke, "What matters is that Clary is gravely injured and she needs a healer, not a mundane one, a proper one."
"I'll call Magnus." Alec offered, stepping aside to dial a number into his phone.
"Magnus?" Simon asked.
"My boyfriend." Alec mumbled.
"And a centuries old warlock capable of legendary acts and magical powers." Jace added.
"Yeah well he feels bad about sapping Clary's memories for twenty something years so I'm sure he'd be happy to make it up to her." Alec explained.
"Wait, you're dating Clary's mind rapist?" Simon asked.
"Don't call him that, but yes." Alec stepped aside and put the phone up to his ear.
"Wait, wait." Simon said, "We can't just sneak him into the operating room. And you can't use more magic to explain it away, there's cameras and paperwork and loads of people, you'll just have to trust the mundane doctors until she's out of surgery and then you can heal her. OK?"
"And what if they just make it worse?" Jace asked.
"They won't."
"How do you know?"
"Well I've been depending on mundane medicine for twenty-two years and it's worked out so far." Simon's voice was taking on a sarcastic edge.
"Have you ever suffered a gunshot wound?" Jace asked.
". . .No"
"And you still haven't turned out that well."
Simon's eyes flashed and he took a step towards Jace.
"Enough." Alec hung up the phone and stepped in between Jace and Simon. "Enough. We're here to help Clary. Simon's plan is a solid one. We wait for her to get out of surgery; Magnus can heal her once she's in a private room. He'll be here in a couple hours."
"This is bullshit." Jace swore, "Those barbarians could kill her in there."
Luke came forward and took Jace by the elbow, "Don't make the mistake of thinking that you are the only one here who cares for Clary" he said firmly.
Jace nodded and pulled his elbow out of Luke's grasp, his face tight.
Jocelyn, who had been speaking with a nurse again, returned to the group. Her face was stained with tear tracks and Luke moved to put his arms around her.
"Any news?" Isabelle asked quietly.
"She's stable. She'll be in surgery for at least three more hours. Apparently she was mugged" she spat the word out, "But she fought back and they shot her. Some Good Samaritan found her and called 911. But when she wakes up she needs to make a statement to the police because there were three other men in the alley. And the men were all dead. If the ambulance had come ten minutes later, Clary would have bled out too."
"Police?" Alec asked "No, we need to start doing damage control as soon as possible. I'll contact the Clave."
"No!" Jocelyn said, "Please, you can't. They still don't know who Clary is. Please, they'll lock her up just to get to Valentine."
"Not so loud." Luke gently reminded her, "We are in a public place."
"Fine," Alec acquiesced, "But it's going to take longer to have Magnus modify all of their memories."
"He doesn't have to do that," Simon said, "Clary only defended herself. For all we know, she walked into the scene trying to prevent the murders. Wrong place, wrong time."
Jace looked uneasy. "Once the statement goes into the system it will be very difficult to change it without the Clave's help."
"It's our best bet. We have to have faith in Clary, believe that she was innocent." Simon decided
And so they waited. Precisely two hours later, a man in an oversized hat and blackest black eyeliner arrived. Magnus, Simon presumed, as he went straight to Alec and kissed him reassuringly.
Magnus reasserted the offer of altering the witnesses' memories. They explained the situation to him and he nodded gravely.
"Right then, well she should be getting out of surgery in three quarters of an hour." Magnus said, "You two," he pointed at Luke and Jocelyn, "get her some of her own clothing, she'll want to be dressed comfortably and I'm guessing what she was wearing when she came in has been shot to pieces, no pun intended. You," he pointed at Jace and handed him a slip of paper, "go get me these from the apothecary two streets over, you know the one. You two," now he pointed to Simon and Isabelle, "Go to the grocery store, get food and drinks. This hospital food is terrible and we'll all need our strength today."
They all did as they were told, shocked into obedience by Magnus' commanding tone. Simon was reminded that, maybe aside from Alec, Magnus was the only one who didn't have an emotional connection Clary. Well, that wasn't strictly true, Simon thought, Magnus had known Clary since she was a little girl. Maybe living for hundreds of years taught you how to keep calm in the face of disaster. Yes, that must be it, Simon thought, the wisdom of age.
Isabelle and Simon were silent save for the sounds of cars and sirens passing them as they walked down the street.
There was a small store across the street and they walked in side by side. Simon walked through the aisles blindly picking up packages and putting it into a basket.
Isabelle stopped him and took the basket, inspecting its contents.
"Spaghetti, marshmallows, and cabbage?" Isabelle asked, "Exactly what delicacy do you have planned for us this afternoon Master Chef Lewis?"
He stared at her.
"How do you do that?" He asked.
"Do what?" she asked.
"You know what." He answered, his eyes beginning to sting, his throat closing, "Act like there's nothing wrong, like we're just shopping for a fucking picnic."
Isabelle wanted to snap at him, but he was close to tears and his sad boyish face plucked at her heartstrings.
She put down the basket and wrapped her arms around him. Maybe she was being too forward, but kind words had never been Isabelle's strong suit. She could use her words to cut, but not to heal. She took a deep breath and tried to think of an acceptable response.
She wanted to tell him what it was like to be a Shadowhunter, make him understand what it meant to expect the worst possible thing every time she got a phone call from a family member. To be prepared for death at every corner. Instead all she could say was:
"Because I have to."
They stood there like that for a few minutes, embracing in the dry goods aisle, before Isabelle stepped back. She ran her hands up and down his arms as if she could infuse energy into him with friction.
"Come on" she said, "Let's get some sandwiches."
They picked up an assortment of sandwiches, chips, cookies, and other snack foods that didn't need to be heated, thawed, chopped, peeled or any other sort of preparation.
By the time they arrived back in the waiting room, everyone else was standing while Jocelyn spoke to another nurse.
"She's out of surgery," Alec explained to Simon and Isabelle as they walked up to the group.
Jocelyn thanked the nurse and walked over to the group.
"She's out, but she's not awake yet."
Magnus activated his invisibility rune, collected his equipment from Jace, and went into the room to begin his work on healing and waking Clary. Isabelle, as the only member of the group with healing experience activated her invisibility rune as well and went to assist him.
Jocelyn and Luke followed, allowed to enter her room normally as Clary's "parents."
Simon, Jace, and Alec remained in the waiting room. Finally Jace cracked, activated his invisibility rune as well and, without a word, went into Clary's room.
Alec sat on the couch and said nothing.
"This is ridiculous." Simon said to Alec.
"This is the life of a Shadowhunter." Alec answered, "It's messy."
"But necessary." Simon's voice was unsure.
"Yes." Alec answered, "More than most people realize."
A beat.
"So" Simon tried, "How was Alicante? And where's Michael?"
"Alicante was nice, thank you for asking, and we decided that Michael had been traumatized enough as it was in the past month so we left him at the Institute with Hodge when we portaled back."
"What's the deal with that guy? Clary's mentioned him, he sounds like a hermit."
Alec's jaw clenched. He went to tell Simon exactly what was what when Jocelyn came out of Clary's room.
"You can come in, boys, she's alright." Jocelyn smiled obviously relieved.
"I'll wait here." Alec offered.
Simon made no such offers and went directly into Clary's room.
Her room was bleached white like the rest of the hospital. There were two other beds in the room, but they were empty. Magnus had pulled one of the extra beds up to use as a makeshift workbench. Only now was he beginning to pack up his potions and tools.
Clary had pushed herself upright, leaning against the pillows.
"Si" she weakly reached out her left hand towards him and he grasped it tightly, fighting back tears again.
"Clare" he smiled, "You're alright."
"Of course, takes more than a hunk of metal to get rid of me."
Light laughter rippled through the room as everyone crowded around Clary's bed.
"As heartwarming as this is," Magnus began, "You need to get your story straight, Clary. What happened?"
She thought of what happened, the man who died protecting her, the man who died attacking her, and the man she tried to kill and who had returned the favor. Her head swam.
"I don't know. . ." She said. She did know, but she didn't want to share, it was too much. She was responsible for the deaths of three men. Three human men.
"Well here's what you'll say: two men were attacking a homeless man, you intervened and got shot. Wrong time, wrong place OK? Whatever you say to the policemen, make it as simple and close to the truth as you can. No making up details, it needs to be believable and you need to be able to repeat it without screwing it up."
"Alright," Clary said, "Alright. . .Wait, my staff. I-I used it, do you know where it is? Did they lock it up as evidence?"
"Nope." Jace answered, popping the 'p' in his answer, he held up the compressed staff, "I got this off the crime scene earlier. They still couldn't see it. You never removed the invisibility rune. It's covered in blood though Clary, whatever happened, either you killed someone or a non-mundane used your staff."
"Or you were attacked by non-mundanes who could see it." Simon offered.
Clary knew this was untrue. She remembered the feeling as she drove the staff through the first man's throat and the second man's chest. She shuddered.
Just then her friends and family were shooed out by a nurse as two detectives entered the room.
"Clary Fray?" They asked.
"Yes."
They introduced themselves and took down Clary's statement. She tried to follow Magnus' advice being as general as possible while extricating herself from any dangerous positions. If she was charged with anything, self-defense should be acceptable. Still, she told them that her memory was foggy. She remembered two men attacking a screaming homeless man, she stepped in to help, but they shot him. There was a struggle and she didn't remember anything else.
They seemed happy enough with her explanation and they both give her their cards in case she remembered anything else. She watched as they walked out of her room, watched until their identical black suits faded from view.
Clary took a deep breath and opened her dressing gown, alone for the first time since the attack. Magnus had taped the bandaging back over her chest wound to avoid suspicion, but she knew there was nothing there anymore just white scar tissue. She picked up her clothes from home, grateful that her parents had brought them to her. She pulled on her clothes and gathered her things, walking into the waiting room.
"Clary!" her mother exclaimed. The men all rushed forward to help her as she stumbled.
Jace caught her before she could fall and picked her up bridal style. Clary could feel the drugs (potions?) beginning to kick in as she reached up and cupped his jaw with her hand, "My knight in shining armor," She whispered as he gently carried her back to bed and pulled the covers over her prone form.
The next time Clary woke up, Simon was sitting in a chair next to her bed. Their hands were linked on the edge of the bed and he was fast asleep, his feet tucked under him and his neck crooked so that his head rested on the chair back.
She smiled at the familiar sight. Simon didn't fall asleep in strange places that often, but whenever he did it was always in a bizarre position. Isabelle sat beside him, also sleeping. She was smaller and fit into the chair a bit better, her head resting on Simon's shoulder.
She probably should have let them sleep, but instead she squeezed Simon's hand and watched him wake up.
"Guys!" he called, "She's awake!"
"What day is it?" Clary asked as her parents came into the room.
"The 28th Clary, it's only been a few hours since you came out of surgery." Luke answered, "How are you feeling?"
"I feel good, not quite as woozy as before." Clary answered.
"Yes," Isabelle said with disdain, "Turns out your fainting spell was not because of your injury but rather because of some drug those barbaric healers gave you to numb the pain. Obviously you don't need it now though, healed properly as you are. Are you ready to go home?"
"Yes." Clary answered sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Jocelyn put her hands up, "Don't be so careless Clary. You were just seriously injured you need to take it easy for a few days. I think even walking up the stairs at home would be detrimental to your recovery."
Clary looked between her parents and her friends, "Actually Mom I was planning on going back to the Institute."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I see." Jocelyn stood up and smoothed out her crumpled shirt, "Well then we should get you uptown and back in bed." She pulled out a wheelchair and Luke helped her into it.
Apparently the Institute did own a car, one of the perks of having multiple underground levels in your building in the middle of Manhattan that Jace had gone to retrieve. He pulled it up to the curb of the hospital. Clary, Alec, Magnus, Isabelle, and Simon got into the huge car. Jocelyn and Luke waved goodbye as it pulled away, getting in a cab to go back to their apartment. Jocelyn felt uneasy, but knew that she had to let Clary make her own choices. She sighed and let Luke steer her home.
Back in the car, Clary had already fallen asleep. Again.
It seemed that the medication had not quite worked its way out of her system. With some teamwork and not a little bit of magic, they managed to put her to bed without waking her up again.
Magnus wrote two sets of instructions: one for Clary's bedside table and one for Isabelle who would be in charge of her when Alec and Magnus left the Institute for Magnus' apartment.
Clary would be fine, she just couldn't do any strenuous training for five days and she needed to consume plenty of liquids.
Clary woke up at 4:37 in the morning, wide awake after sleeping so much after the past two days. She read Magnus' instructions that he had set out for her. It was not as restricting as she had expected. She decided to go for a walk through the hallways and ended up, again, in the library. She sat in a window seat on the second floor of the library looking out of the window onto the river to watch the sunrise.
It was burning and beautiful and reminded her of Jace. Jace, she hadn't had a chance to talk to him yet and he still had her staff. Well, the staff that he had given her. She wondered if he had cleaned the blood off of it yet or if it still stained her staff red. The only evidence of her kills.
She wondered if Simon had stayed in the Institute. If he had slept in Isabelle's room. She hoped not. Not out of any jealousy, but out of a kind of selfishness. Of course she wanted Simon to be happy, and she could definitely see Isabelle making him happy, but right now he wanted him to herself.
He knew her better than anyone, including her mother, and only he would understand how she was feeling right now. It was so hard to articulate—detached? Numb? Hollow?
There were warring ribbons of guilt and pride weaving their way through her every time she thought of how she had killed those two men. Proud because she had held her own, tricked one even, and taken two criminals off the street. Guilty that she could kill without remorse. What kind of monster did that make her? She was supposed to fight monsters, not become one.
She shook her head and cracked the window open, hoping that the cold air washing over her would clear her mind. It did help a bit, but it was not enough. She decided to get dressed and go searching for Simon.
It was useless, of course. The Institute was huge and they could have put Simon in any room. Hell, he could have gone home for all she knew. So, instead, she returned to her room. As she entered it, she looked over to her bureau and realized that her long lost phone had been sitting there the whole time.
Incredibly, it still held a charge. She turned it on and it flashed:
57 Missed Calls
23 Voicemails
34 Messages
Most were from Simon. A couple from Isabelle, her Mom, and the "unknown" number—Jace. She really needed to get his real number. As she went through the messages, deleting them she was struck by how lucky she was to have so many people in her life who cared so deeply for her. She was truly blessed. It was a very Christmas-y feeling, even if had come about in an odd way and three days too late.
How could she show her gratitude though? It's not like there was an opportunity anytime soon to show them. Well how would her parents show her that they loved her?
So she went back to her favorite kitchen and began pulling out the necessary ingredients only wincing occasionally when she had to reach too high.
Just as she was about to start pouring the batter onto the griddle, she heard tiny footsteps pattering their way to the kitchen.
She smiled to herself and turned around when she heard a tinny voice exclaim; "Pancakes!"
Michael stood across the kitchen, smiling his megawatt smile and reminding Clary sharply of a miniature version of Jace.
He walked up to her, a bit shyer now, "Clary" he said, struggling with the 'r' in her name as he yawned, "Are you making me pancakes for my breakfast?"
"I'm making everyone pancakes! Do you want to be a big helper?"
He nodded eagerly.
"Well," she handed him an old carton of berries and two bowls, "Can you go through those and put the good berries in one bowl and the bad ones in another?"
He nodded and went straight to work, sitting on the floor in his footsie pajamas behind Clary while she poured batter and flipped the pancakes.
This is exactly how Jace found them not five minutes later. He stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to be as quiet as he could. He was grateful that Clary had not progressed too far into her training yet. If she had she would've been aware of his presence and probably would have stopped doing the horribly embarrassing dance that she did as she hummed to herself and Michael.
As it was, she did not notice him standing in the doorframe, smiling. He pulled his phone out, put it on silent, and snapped a few pictures of Clary and Michael before announcing his presence.
"Smells good," he intoned, "But I think one or both of you should still be in bed . . ."
Clary jumped and turned around, still holding a wooden spoon as she did so, spilling a bit of batter on the floor.
"Jace!"
He wasn't sure why she was so surprised, he did live there after all. Before he could think too hard on it though, Michael called up to him from the floor.
"Jacie! He reached upwards with both hands and motioned that he wanted to be picked up. Jace complied, pretending that Michael was much, much heavier than he really was.
"When did you get so big?" Jace asked.
"Last night!" Michael answered sticking his tongue out.
"So sassy!" Jace smiled as he adjusted Michael on his hip, "you've been spending too much time with Isabelle." Jace decided.
Michael just giggled and buried his face into Jace's chest. The sweetness was almost overwhelming and Clary was glad that she had her pancakes to turn back to.
"Clary says I'm her big helper!"
"Is that why you've put the raspberries in one bowl and the rest in another?" Jace asked.
"Clary said to put the good berries in one bowl and the bad ones in another! I hate raspberries."
"Not exactly what I meant by 'bad berries' but I still appreciate the effort."
Michael frowned.
"Am I still your big helper?"
"You sure are." Clary confirmed, "If you want to be an even bigger helper you two could go let everyone know that breakfast is ready. How about that?"
"OK!" And like a rocket, Michael shot off into the hallway.
Jace shared a look with Clary that was probably supposed to be exasperation but came across as fondness more than anything.
While they were gone, Clary set the table with a pretty patterned white and blue cloth and matching china. She arranged the different types of pancakes and set out coffee and juice. Worried that everyone might not like pancakes, Clary fried up some bacon and eggs too.
She was very proud of herself. Though she was many things, domestic was not one of them. She couldn't make many meals, but breakfast she could do. And she could do it spectacularly.
She might have turned their lives upside down and stolen them from Alicante when they were supposed to be enjoying Christmas vacation, but at least she could give them the best breakfast they had ever had.
As she sat down with the Ligthwoods and Simon, Clary felt relaxed, and only a little sad that her mother and Luke didn't fit into this happy picture.
A/N: And we're over 30K words! This was the longest chapter so far but a bit of a filler, I promise more action is on the way.
Big thanks for all of the reviewers:IChangedForYou, RonaldGarcia91, KlausXElena, MEEC7, angelequalsdevil, Zoe Potter Lightwood, and Stydialover (Did you see 3X13? So good!) and to everyone who favorited and followe would really not be writing this story if it weren't for the people who read it!
Sorry for uploading a day late, I plan to try and keep writing frequently over the next two weeks so the next update should be up soon.