Isabelle kept looking over at Jasmine as the five of them were led back up to the park by Meliorn. She was the only one who paid her any mind at all, considering Jace and Clary were both too flustered and in thought, and Simon trailed behind lazily, his hands in the pockets of his wet jeans. Jasmine's own head felt hazy and her stomach was in a tight knot. How was she supposed to deal with something like this? With seeing the boy she was in love with kiss his sister?

But Jace didn't feel anything for Clary - did he? Even if he didn't, the Seelie Queen had been sure that Clary desired his kiss, which proved to be true when she was released from the Court. That in itself was sickening to Jasmine. It was wrong.

But maybe all of that wasn't the problem... Maybe the thing that was hurting Jasmine so much lay within herself.

Meliorn didn't even glance at Isabelle when he jumped back through the pond, leaving the five of them on the other side. "He is so broken up with," grumbled Isabelle. She sighed and buttoned up her coat. "We'd better get back. Before we freeze to death."

Jasmine hadn't even noticed the cold.

"It's going to take forever to get back to Brooklyn," Clary said. "Maybe we should take a taxi."

"Or we could just go to the Institute," suggested Isabelle. "No one's there anyway - they're all in the Bone City, looking for clues. It'll just take a second to stop by and grab your clothes, change into something dry. Besides, the Institute is still your home, Jace."

"It's fine," Jace said. "There's something I need from my room there anyway."

Clary seemed to hesitate. "I don't know. I might just grab a cab back with Simon."

Jace looked at the redhead. "That might be a little difficult," he said, "seeing that he left already."

"He what?" asked Clary. Even Jasmine was surprised to see that Simon was gone. Her heart went out to him, and quietly, she hoped he was okay. But she knew he wasn't, because she herself wasn't okay either.

0o0o0o0

Max was asleep on the couch in the foyer when the four of them got to the Institute. He would probably wake up with a sore back later, as he was positioned in a way that looked like he hadn't meant to fall asleep.

"Should we wake him up?" asked Jasmine quietly, speaking for the first time. "He looks uncomfortable."

"Max is like a cat. He can sleep anywhere," said Jace to her as he reached down and retrieved Max's glasses, setting them aside. Jasmine pretended not to hear him. Not out of pettiness or anything, but because she wasn't ready to talk to him. She didn't want to face or speak of what had happened at the Seelie Court.

"Oh, leave his stuff alone - you'll just get mud on it," said Isabelle with a frown, shrugging off her wet coat. "I can feel a cold coming on," she said. "I'm going to take a hot shower."

Jace watched Isabelle walk out, shaking his head slightly. "Sometimes she reminds me of the poem. 'Isabelle, Isabelle, didn't worry. Isabelle didn't scream or scurry—'"

Jasmine interrupted him by walking out herself, her arms crossed over her chest. She could definitely feel a cold coming on as well, which was not unsurprising. She was not wearing the most weather-appropriate outfit of all time. She was starting to feel numb as she reached her room, which was a first. Jasmine stripped down with wet, sticky difficulty and turned on the shower.

She stood under scorching hot water for a while, her arms hanging motionlessly at her sides. She wasn't sure what she wanted. Release, perhaps. She wanted comfort; somebody to hold her. But then there was a part of her that just wanted nothing. There was this raw feeling inside her stomach, and it stayed with her until she was out of the shower and drying her skin off.

As she dressed in a pair of wide pajama pants and a teal tank top, she heard voices in the next room. Jace's room.

"It didn't seem to me that either of us had a choice in the matter," said Jace, his voice muffled by the wall that separated the bedrooms. Jasmine reached out and wiped the condensation off the mirror in the bathroom. She locked eyes with her reflection.

"That's what I don't understand!" Clary burst out, and Jasmine's heart sank into her stomach. She was in Jace's room with him... "Why did she make you kiss me? The Queen, I mean. Why force us to do—that? What pleasure could she possibly have gotten out of it?" Clary asked.

"You heard what the Queen said. She thought she was doing you a favor," Jace said bitterly.

"That's not true."

"It is true. How many times do I have to tell you? The Fair Folk don't lie," said Jace.

"Then she was wrong."

"She wasn't wrong," Jace said. "She saw the way you looked at me, and me and Jasmine at each other, and Simon at you, and she played us like the instruments we are to her."

Clary said something Jasmine couldn't understand, and when Jace called her out on it, she repeated her statement: "I said, I don't look at you. At least I try not to."

"You shouldn't have to try," Jace snapped. "You're my sister." His voice was quieter now, and Jasmine wondered how close the two were standing together. Were his hands on her? Jasmine could feel tears starting to well in her eyes. The numbness was starting to fade away, now replaced with a growing sense of panic.

"Do you think I want to feel this way?"

"Does it matter?" Jace asked. There was a thump and a crash, and Jasmine figured he must have knocked something over - either accidentally or on purpose. "You don't understand," he said. His voice shook. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I didn't think I could. I thought—the way I grew up—my father—"

"To love is to destroy," Clary said. "I remember."

"I thought that part of my heart was broken," he said, and Jasmine's sense of panic turned into something else. Something worse. Something she couldn't describe. "Forever. But Jasmine—"

It was agony, Jasmine realized. What she felt was pure agony, and fear and despair. And the feeling grew and grew until it overtook her senses, and she heard nothing but her own shrieking and saw nothing but her reflection shattering. Pieces of the mirror fell into the sink, drops of red following.

Blood gushed from her knuckles, wrist and fingers, and she got the relief she had been wanting. With teary eyes and a bleeding hand, Jasmine sank to the tile floor and laid her head against the side of the sink. And then Jasmine saw her - she saw Darya on her knees, wearing the same white, bedraggled gown she'd been wearing in many of Jasmine's dreams. Darya was weeping. She was weeping for Jasmine, for her daughter.

She was gone as quickly as she'd appeared, but she left Jasmine with a sense of serenity. Of comfort.

Jasmine pulled herself to her feet and carried herself back into the bedroom. She became aware of the harsh knocking on her door, of Jace asking her to let him in. Jasmine wiped at her eyes and placed her hand on the door knob, unable to remember locking the door in the first place.

"Jasmine." He dropped his voice, as if he was aware of her presence on the other side. As if he could feel her close to him. "Jasmine, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm all right," Jasmine said.

"Open the door, Jasmine."

Her voice broke. "I can't."

Isabelle spoke this time. "All right, that's it! I'm breaking down this door. Jace, get out of the way-"

"Izzy, stop." Jace sounded tired.

"Would you sit around if it were Alec? She's my parabatai-"

"Not yet, she isn't," said Jace. "And I don't think kicking down the door is a wise idea. Go get your stele instead."

Jasmine took a shaky breath and unlocked the door, turning the knob until she could see Jace and Isabelle staring down at her with concerned eyes. She instinctively moved to hide her bloody hand, whose pain she only then started feeling.

Isabelle threw herself at Jasmine, grabbing her and examining every part of her. "By the Angel, your hand! What happened?" she gasped. Jasmine's knuckles were still bleeding heavily, and little shards were visible in the cuts.

"I'm fine," Jasmine said regretfully. Great, now she'd made a big scene again.

"Isabelle, go fetch me my stele," Jace said, not looking away from Jasmine. "Now," he said before the Lightwood girl could object. Isabelle left them alone, grumbling something under her breath.

Jace took a step towards Jasmine, who took a step back. And then she saw that look in his eyes again. That vulnerable look she'd seen back at Renwick's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Jace made an unhappy sound. "What could you be sorry for?"

"For getting us into this mess," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "For neglecting the consequences..."

"You're not making any sense."

"I don't want this," Jasmine said finally.

Jace turned around and kicked the door shut, locking it back up. He was still facing the door when he spoke again. "What is it exactly you don't want?"

"I don't want to have to rely on you," Jasmine said. "When I first got to New York, I felt like my world was caving in. I didn't have a home or parents or a positive outlook on my future. I was lost and scared and I was lonely. And then I met you, and I trusted you with everything I had. You made me feel less afraid. And when we kissed, I felt like I had found my home, and my home was you. And then Isabelle as well. Even Alec. I was happy."

Jace turned back to face her. He was frowning. "You're apologizing for being happy?"

"No!" Jasmine burst out. Her hand was starting to throb very badly - so much so that she felt the need to cradle her entire arm, staining her unmarred skin with blood. "I'm apologizing for being wrong! I was wrong for filling that... that hole inside my heart with my feelings for you."

"What hole?" asked Jace, taking another step toward her. This time she didn't step back.

"I don't know. There is a hole, a part of me that's missing, and I don't know what it is. I thought it was the lack love in my life, and hell it might be," Jasmine said, sitting herself down on the bed. "But it's not romantic love. It's not the love I feel for you. What I feel for you is based on my own emptiness. There is no substance, nothing to keep it - to keep me standing if that gets taken away from me. Seeing you kiss Clary made me realize what a huge mistake I was making."

The door knob turned aggressively, but Isabelle didn't succeed in stepping through.

"What are you saying?" Jace said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

"I'm saying-" Jasmine cut herself off when she felt a fresh load of tears rise in her eyes. She closed them. "I'm saying that I need some time for myself. I'm saying that I can't be with you until I know I'm not just trying to hold onto something - anything - for my life. I can't get stronger if I'm hiding behind you."

She didn't see Jace, but she felt him move towards the door. "I'll get you a rag for your hand," he said gravely.

Jasmine opened her eyes, allowing her tears to fall. "I'm sorry-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. He breathed out through his nose. "No. Don't be sorry." He unlocked the door and threw it open, pushing past an agitated Isabelle.

"Freaking finally," said the girl, and cocked an eyebrow when she saw the state Jasmine was in. Izzy walked over and sat down next to her. "What happened?"

"I needed some space," said Jasmine, wiping her eyes on her shoulder. Isabelle gingerly placed the tip of her stele down on Jasmine's upperarm, and drew an iratze. "So I told him that, and now he hates me."

"I don't think so," Isabelle said, sounding more serious than ever. "I think he loves you."

Jasmine choked back a sob. "That makes it even worse."

o0o0o0o

It was three in the morning when Jasmine awoke from her slumber. She had been having nightmares all night long. Mostly of her time at Renwick's, of the battle that took place there. She dreamed about being chained down as Valentine injected her with a black liquid, as Amir drew Teroran runes all over her. She dreamed about Jace and Clary and Valentine leaving her behind as she bled to death. But the entire time, two women stood by her side. Darya and Noella. They never interfered, but they never moved away from her either.

Isabelle, who had fallen asleep next to Jasmine, was waking up as well. It didn't take long to figure out that the thing that had woken them up was the harsh sound of the Institute's doorbell. Izzy groaned into the pillow she'd hogged out from under Jasmine's head. "Oh, for God's sake."

Jasmine swung her legs over the edge of the bed, getting up on bare feet. Her hair was nearly dry and getting very long, she noticed. Her curls went down to the small of her back now, which was a change from her usual bra-strap-length locks.

She slid on a grey jacket and exited the room with Isabelle following in her tracks. They were halfway to the foyer when the two of them bumped into Jace and Clary. "It's three in the morning!" Isabelle hissed almost accusingly. "Who's ringing our doorbell at three in the morning?"

"Maybe it's the Inquisitor," Clary said. Jasmine didn't look at her - she couldn't. Nor could she stand to look at Jace.

"She could get in on her own," said Jace. "Any Shadowhunter could. The Institute is only closed to mundanes and Downworlders."

"Simon!" Clary burst out. "It must be him!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," yawned Isabelle, "is he really waking us up at this ungodly hour just to prove his love to you or something? Couldn't he have called? Mundane men are such twits."

"Well, he's only sixteen," mumbled Jasmine.

They reached the foyer. The couch Max had been sleeping on was now devoid of the nine-year-old, which meant he must have gone to bed on his own.

Isabelle pulled a switch and sighed. "There," she said. "Elevator's on its way."

"I can't believe he didn't have the dignity and presence of mind just to get drunk and pass out in some gutter," said Jace. "I must say, I'm disappointed in the little fellow."

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm worried about him," she said.

Clary looked at her. "You're worried about him?"

"Yes, is that so strange?" Jasmine all but snapped. Now she did look at the redhead, and her gaze was filled with hatred. She wasn't sure why she was so angry at Clary, but she was. Or maybe she was just angry in general. "His heart got stomped on less than nine hours ago, and now he's come to the Institute at three in the morning. I think he might not be doing too well," she deadpanned.

"We don't know if it's Simon," Isabelle said.

Jasmine shrugged. "Who else could it be?"

The elevator doors opened then, but nobody was inside. Without a moment's hesitation, Clary stepped into the hollow box. Isabelle gave the redhead a confused look. she stepped inside. "What are you doing?"

"It's Simon down there," Clary said. "I know it is."

"But—"

"Oh, by the Angel," said Jasmine, joining Clary in the elevator. She held the doors open for the others.

Jace followed then and said, "Come on, Izzy."

Sighing dramatically, Isabelle stepped inside as well. Jasmine kept her head down as the four of them rode down the elevator together. She was looking at the back of her right hand, which had healed very well. The only thing indicating that she had ever slammed her fist into the bathroom mirror was the thin white line along her knuckles. She was aware that both she and Jace were pretending not to notice the other's presence, but she didn't know what else to do, or how else to act.

The doorbell rang again, sounding louder now that they were closer to the door. The elevator doors opened and Clary practially ran out. The rest followed her down the narrow aisle between the pews and to the wide double doors of the Institute. Clary struggled to get the heavy doors open, but Jace and Jasmine helped her pull them back. Cold night air blew in their faces immediately, smelling of fumes and salt and smoke. And then Jasmine smelled blood, and she knew it wasn't her own.

Clary screamed, and Jace barely caught his sister as her knees gave out. And although Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face, she was quick to catch the empty candelabra Isabelle threw her way. The Lightwood girl grabbed one for herself as well, and aimed it at the vampire that stood on the other side of the doors, holding a severely wounded Simon. "What have you done to Simon?" Isabelle demanded.

"El no es muerto," said the vampire, and laid Simon down on the ground. The poor boy was almost covered in blood. His wrists and throat were torn, as if he'd been mauled on by a bunch of wild animals. His skin was a sickly green.

"Did you say—" Clary began.

"He isn't dead," Jace said. "He's not dead."

Jasmine stepped forward, holding the candelabra the way Isabelle was, pointed dangerously at the vampire. "What have you done to him?" Her voice sounded more powerful and commanding than she was used to from herself. "Answer me!"

Clary went to her knees on the ground, pulling Simon into her lap. "Simon," she whispered. "Simon, it's me."

"He can't hear you," said the vampire. "He's dying."

Clary looked up at him. "But you said—"

"I said he was not dead yet," said the vampire. "But in a few minutes—ten, perhaps—his heart will slow and stop. Already he is beyond seeing or hearing anything."

"We have to get him to a hospital—or call Magnus," said Clary, holding Simon tighter.

"They can't do him any good," said the vampire. "You don't understand."

"No," said Jace dangerously. "We don't. And perhaps you should explain yourself. Because otherwise I'm going to assume you're a rogue bloodsucker, and cut your heart out. Like I should have done last time we met."

The vampire smiled. "You swore not to harm me, Shadowhunter. Have you forgotten?"

"I never actually nished the oath," Jace said.

"And I never started," said Isabelle.

"I remembered that night you broke into the Dumort looking for your friend. It is why I brought him here"— and he gestured at Simon—"when I found him in the hotel, instead of letting the others drink him to death. You see, he broke in, without permission, and therefore was fair game for us. But I kept him alive, knowing he was yours. I have no wish for a war with the Nephilim."

"He broke in?" Clary said in disbelief. "Simon would never do anything that stupid and crazy."

"But he did," said the vampire, "because he was afraid he was becoming one of us, and he wanted to know if the process could be reversed. You might remember that when he was in the form of a rat, and you came to fetch him from us, he bit me."

"Very enterprising of him," said Jace. "I approved."

"Perhaps," said the vampire. "In any case, he took some of my blood into his mouth when he did it. You know that is how we pass our powers to each other. Through the blood."

Clary looked as if she had been struck with realization. "He thought he was turning into one of you," she said. "He went to the hotel to see if it was true."

"Yes," said the vampire. "The pity of it is that the effects of my blood would probably have faded over time had he done nothing. But now—"

"Now what?" said Isabelle, with a hard edge to her voice. "Now he'll die?"

"And rise again. Now he will be a vampire."

Jasmine's breath caught in her throat. Isabelle's candelabra tipped forward as all eyes widened in shock. "What?"

Jace caught the candelabra before it hit the floor. "You're lying."

"Wait and see," said the vampire. "He will die and rise as one of the Night Children. That is also why I came. Simon is one of mine now."

"Oh, my God," breathed Jasmine. "Oh, Jesus" She set the candelabra aside and dropped to her knees.

"Jaz, what are you doing?" asked Isabelle, panic lining her voice.

"Helping him!" she exclaimed, but when she reached for Simon, she was pushed back by Clary.

"Get away from him!" she shrieked. "Don't touch him!"

Jasmine wanted to smack her. "Let me help him, by the ANGEL! CLARY, HE'LL DIE!" Clary choked on a sob, but did not push Jasmine off again. Jasmine's mouth twitched in anxiety and horror as she wrapped her hands around Simon's thin, bloodied wrists. She took deep, shaky breaths and focused on healing him. She felt her hands get hot, and saw them light up. When she pulled away, the gashes had healed, but Simon was still not waking up.

"Don't bother," said the vampire. "He has lost too much blood."

Clary leaned down and told Simon that she loved him, and then he stopped breathing completely.

Jasmine swallowed the lump in her throat. "We have to get him to a cemetery," she said. "We have to bury him."

"Absolutely not!" said Clary fiercely.

"No, I don't mean bury him forever," Jasmine explained. "He'll dig his way out, but as a vampire. I'm sorry, Clary." She sounded pained, even to her own ears.

"She is right," said the vampire overhead. "It is how we are made. We are drained, blooded, and buried. When he digs his own way out of a grave, that is when a vampire is born. How did you know?"

"I knew the brother of a newly fledged vampire a while ago, back in Amsterdam," Jasmine said. "He told me all about it."

"I won't put Simon in the ground," Clary sobbed.

"Then he'll stay like this," said the vampire. "Dead but not quite dead. Never waking. I should tell you, that there is not much time. The longer we wait before putting him into the ground, the less likely he'll be able to dig his own way back out of it."

Clary looked down at Simon, and sounded pained when she spoke. "We can bury him," she said. "But I want it to be in a Jewish cemetery. And I want to be there when he wakes up."

"It will not be pleasant."

"Nothing ever is." Clary set her jaw. "Let's get going. We only have a few hours until dawn."

Jace immediately turned to Jasmine. "You should stay here," he said as she got to her feet. "In case the Inquisitor or the Lightwoods get back. The Inquisitor still doesn't fully trust you. If she gets back and you're not here, you'll be in even more trouble than you are now."

"Jace is right," said Izzy. "It's better not to risk it."

"Agreed," said Jasmine, because while she felt like she had to go with them, she didn't think it would be very pretty, and the whole concept of death was a sensitive topic with Jasmine ever since Alaric had died under her hands. "Take care, everyone." Jasmine shrugged off her jacket and held it out to Clary, almost as if it were a peace offering. "Here. It's cold outside."

Clary glanced down at the piece of clothing, and reluctantly took it from Jasmine. "Thank you," she said, and slipped it on. It looked a little big on the redhead, but the two of them were the closest in sizes.

Jasmine gave Isabelle a hasty hug. "We'll try not to be long," said Isabelle. "Although, I have no idea how long something like this takes."

"Get back to your room," Jace said, not looking at her. "You'll catch a cold dressed like that."

Jasmine rubbed her upperarms, which were covered in goosebumps. She bid all of them good-bye and good-luck, and headed back inside with the biggest feeling of dread in her chest. Poor Simon, she thought, shaking her head. Poor, poor Simon.

I FUCKING HATED WRITING THIS CHAPTER UWU. JACE AND JASMINE MY HEART X.X Btw every odd thing that might happen in this story, like Jaz seeing Darya sitting next to her, is for a reason folks. There is so much symbolism in this story oh mY.

Please leave a comment, y'all! AxidentlGoddess, your latest comment inspired me so much you have no idea. Thank you! XXX