Wrote this really really really fast...like legitly in an hour and a half...so there are bound to be lots of mistakes...merp...buttttttttttttttttt it's an update :) Annnnnd I'd like to clear up a little...mishap that I caught myself on...I've been switching Jace's last name from Wayland to Herondale and back to Wayland...It's really really really hard to keep this crap straight! :D haha but it's supposed to be Herondale...since Michael Wayland isn't his real father. He just had custody over Jace after his mother died or rather...was murdered. Okay...any-whoooo...read and enjoy :)

Not surprisingly, Clary woke up alone in her hospital room, the sheets tangled around her feet where Jace's shins had once been pressed up against her. She sighed contentedly, her cheek sunk deeply into the pillow. She hadn't expected him to be here this morning, what with the way he stormed out so quickly the previous day, but it was an odd sensation to fall asleep with heat radiating through your entire body and then wake shivering cold. She allowed her eyelids to open, confirming the fact that Jace was no longer with her.

In his place sat her giant teddy bear from Seb. Clary reached out and pulled it to her, smiling at the note attached to its paw. The words across the white surface were written in perfect script with a black pen that Jace undoubtedly wooed away from one of the nurses.

Who's my competition? She giggled, wondering if Jace really thought he was competing with her brother. She rolled onto her back and stretched her shoulders, her left one sore from laying on it the entire night. Removing traces of drool from her cheek, she propped herself up into a sitting position, noticing the kindly nurse for the first time. She had light brown hair that was kempt and clean, wrapped tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her face was freckled from the sunshine and laugh-lines creased the corners of her eyes.

Clary nodded in greeting to the woman, who'd often come to check on Clary over the past few days. The printed nametag pinned onto her scrubs reminded Clary that the woman's name was Amatis Graymark. She pulled the sheets up around her sweatshirt-clad body, trying to hide the name stitched across the back. The nurse was too preoccupied with unhooking the wires that connected Clary to the infernal contraptions the hospital called monitors. There was a stinging sensation as the IV needle was removed from beneath her skin, and Clary winced against the pain. "I'm sorry, dear," Amatis apologized kindly, a small smile gracing her dry lips. She looked tired, her blue eyes not seeming to be able to focus on one thing in particular. Clary felt for the woman. She must be working one of those overnight shifts right now.

"Alright, honey," she chirped as soon as Clary had been released from the confinements of cords and wires. She shoved a pile of clothing into the redhead's hands and patted her knee the way older women do. "Here's your clothes. Your discharge papers are all signed. I'll bring up a wheelchair." Clary furrowed her brow.

"I can walk just fine—"

The nurse laughed not unkindly, her eyes crinkling with the size of her smile. "It's a hospital policy that you leave in a wheelchair. Too much liability, I guess." Clary scratched behind her ear, remembering that she hadn't showered in forever. She was suddenly excited to get home.

"Thank you," she whispered as Amatis left the room to give Clary some privacy. After the woman shut the door behind her, Clary rose from the bed, the draft from the open nightgown hitting her right away. She flushed even though no one was in the room to hear her squeal. Seriously, would it be so expensive to just buy something that covered everything? She'd never been so excited to wriggle herself into a pair of jeans. Wondering who had brought her clothes since they weren't the ones from the day of the accident, she tugged on her slightly too big t-shirt from her varsity volleyball camp two years ago. After balling up the sweet-smelling sweatshirt, stuck it into her purse, making sure the word Herondale was completely hidden.. She checked her phone for the first time and saw all the missed calls from her family and friends. She sighed and chucked it back into the cloth bag, thinking that she could just reply when she got home. She was missing classes today, and she didn't have any tomorrow since it was Friday, so what was the point?

As she was twisting her hair into a knot at the top of her head, there was a gentle knock at the door. After granting her permission, Clary watched Amatis push a wheelchair into the small room. Unlike everything else in the hospital, the wheelchair was purple, and at this, Clary grinned. "I snagged you the pretty one," Amatis grinned, gesturing for Clary to take a seat. She obliged, allowing the kindly nurse to shuffle along behind her as the wheels of the chair glided silently along the tile. In the harsh lighting of the hospital hallways, Clary saw a smattering of sickly looking patients, walking the halls on wobbly legs with canes and nurses readily at hands. A few, like Clary, were being pushed in the direction of the exit, smiles on their faces at the thought of getting out into the sunshine.

"Alright, Miss Fairchild, you're ride is here." Clary frowned in displeasure. Isabelle was in class. Jace was at practice. Her parents were both at work, and she didn't want them to pick her up anyways. Who was coming to get her today? She fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans. Then it dawned on her. The last time she'd seen these clothes was when she'd left them at Simon's after a night over, going home in a pair of his ratty sweatpants and one of his t-shirts.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered under her breath, seeing the Eric's orange van pulled up to the curb. She mentally cursed. The nurse waved obliviously at the brown-haired boy leaning casually against the passenger door. Clary glared daggers at him, and he flinched, his cool façade faltering.

The nurse clamped the break on the wheelchair, and Simon opened the door obediently. Seeing no other option, Clary slid into the passenger seat as the nurse leaned in. "What a kind boyfriend you have," she said quietly. It sounded almost skeptical. Of course the nurse had seen Jace and Clary cuddled in bed together, and Clary released an unladylike snort.

"He is most definitely not my boyfriend." The nurse pressed her lips in a thin line and shut the door for Clary, hightailing it away from the van with the wheelchair in tow. There was a click as Simon put in his seatbelt into the catch. The van made an angry noise as the engine struggled to turn over. It finally did, but the sputtering and popping did nothing to cover the uncomfortable silence or Clary's thinly veiled distaste. Simon remained silent as he steered the van out of the parking lot and onto the highway, en route to the Institute.

"Clary—" he began, saying her name in such a pleading way that Clary's naturally kind heart almost melted. Almost.

"Save it, Simon. I have no words for you," her reply was short and a bit temperamental for Clary's taste. What had happened to the sweet, caring girl she'd once been? Life, she reminded herself, life happened.

"Ididn'tcheatonyou," he blurted at the same time, his words and letters tumbling over each other as if he had some sort of speech impediment.

"What? Si, speak English." She rubbed her eyes tiredly, even though only a half hour ago she'd woken up exuberant from her conversation with Jace the night before. Though she was speaking to Simon, she kept her gaze focused outside the passenger window.

"I didn't cheat on you, Clary. I could never, ever do that to you." Clary rolled her eyes comically as her fingers clenched into fists.

"That's exactly what a guilty boyfriend would say, Simon. I heard you moan her name! 'Oh, Maia…'" The imitation of his voice was poor, but her point was clear.

"I was playing COD with her boyfriend, Clary! I was making fun of him! She wasn't even there! Gosh, do you not trust me at all?" Clary's face heated as she blushed from embarrassment. She really had jumped to conclusions.

"Then why were you at Pandemonium with Isabelle?" Simon furrowed his eyebrows at her next accusation.

"What's a pandemonium, and who's Isabelle?" She rubbed her temples. She'd seen him there. She knew she had? Even though he hadn't been wearing his glasses, she'd seen his hair. She tried to clear the haziness from her memory, the same way as one would focus a blurry camera lens. The fog lifted, and she looked clearly at the guy beneath Isabelle. His jawbone was too strong, his nose to straight. He wasn't scrawny at all like Simon. He really hadn't been there. Melorn, Clary thought, remembering the way Isabelle had described her dark knight.

Clary scratched the back of her burning neck. She had only seen what she wanted to. "Look, Clary, before you say anything. I really don't blame you for thinking what you did. Our relationship wasn't very good, and I realize that now. I just, I really miss our friendship. That bond was strong and, God, it hurts so much not being able to text you the new name of our band—Millennium Lint, by the way—or send you funny pictures of my cat," Clary allowed a small giggle to escape her mouth, but Simon's speech continued as if she hadn't made a sound, "I wasn't the best boyfriend out there, and I realize that even though I loved you, you never really loved me—"

"I love you, Si." This earned her a weak smile.

"Not the way I wanted you to, Clary." She offered him a weak shrug, and he smiled.

"Whatdaya say, Freckles," Simon inquired using his old pet name for her, "friends?" She bit her lip shyly before spitting into her hand and sticking it out for the most binding promise of all.

"Best friends."

"This is so gross, Clary," Simon whined, extending his saliva-coated hand for her to grab. She grinned at him and gave it a hardy shake, making sure to lean over and wipe the excess liquid onto his jeans. "Jeez, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" She bobbed her head up and down excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat. She had her best friend back. She hadn't really realized how much she missed him until she set foot into this car.

"I missed you, Si," she sighed, leaning over to rest her head on her shoulder. Simon shifted carefully so he could turn up the radio without jostling Clary.

"Country? Really, Si?" Clary scrutinized as they caught the last few seconds of a twanging song. She felt his shoulder move as he shrugged and laughed, listening to the voice on the radio.

"Hey! I'm Tiffany, and I love Tim McGraw," a caller said to the radio's deejay. "Can you play 'My Old Friend' for me?" The music started, and Clary zoned out, letting the words flow around her.

My old friend, I recall

The times we had hanging on my wall

I wouldn't trade them for gold

Cause they laugh and they cry me

Somehow sanctify me

They're woven in the stories I have told

And tell again.

She looked quizzically at Simon, wondering if somehow he'd set this up. He seemed oblivious and aloof as always, squinting behind the lenses of his glasses to read the exit signs. He flipped his blinker on and checked all his mirrors before merging into another lane. He was the same old Simon as he'd been a few weeks ago. He was steady and safe—two of the reasons she'd dated him in the first place, hoping that he wouldn't hurt her. And he hadn't. She'd hurt herself.

My old friend, I apologize

For the years that have passed

Since the last time you and I

Dusted off those memories

But the running and the races

The people and the places

There's always somewhere else I had to be

Time gets slim, my old friend.

She only momentarily allowed herself to think of what years without Simon and his constant chatter about video games would have been like. It was too dreary, and she as quickly as she thought it, she shoved it away, replacing it with one of her fondest memories of Simon.

"Clarryyyyyy, what if we get into trouble?" eight-year-old Simon feared, his lip quivering as he looked around to check for peeping eyes.

"Simon, we aren't robbing a bank or anything. Don't you wanna see what it's like?" She wiggled her fingers at him the way little girls do when they are chasing their crushes. Not that Clary had a crush on him. That would have been gross. He was like her brother.

"What if I get cooties?" His eyes were as wide as saucers, and his mouth agape in shock.

"I do not have cooties, Simon!" Clary screeched, offended. That was the first time that Simon had ever said something mean to her, besides the time he told her that his video games trumped her My Little Ponies. The geeky boy pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose as he stuttered an apology. "Come on, Simon. I'll give you my cookie from my lunch box!" Again, Simon looked around at the other kids on the playground. Each child was too engrossed in their own activities to notice what the two best friends were doing in the middle of the sandbox.

"Deal," he agreed finally, watching Clary spit into her hand and reach out for his.

"That's so nasty, Freckles. Can't we just pinkie swear?" Clary rolled her eyes.

"Pinkie swears are for kindergarteners, Si. Do you want my cookie or not?" Simon's dark irises rolled toward the sky as he straightened his Star Wars t-shirt. There was a spitting noise as he did as she asked, and their hands shook tightly. Simon looked down at the ground as Clary bit her lip shyly. "Go ahead, Si. Do it." He looked up at his best friend with nervous eyes. His fingers were twitching as he pressed them into the sand on either side of Clary's knees. His face inched closer and closer, his nose touching hers.

"What are you doing?" he asked as Clary took his hands in hers. She sighed as if it were the most idiotic question in the world.

"It's what they do in movies, Simon. Yeesh." Simon leaned in and their lips touched for a split second before Clary fell backwards laughing. "That was so icky! Why do adults like it so much?" Simon nodded in agreement with her, though he wasn't laughing. He actually looked kind of sad.

"Yeah. Gross." His voice sounded flat, but Clary didn't really notice as she spat into the sand.

"Let's never do that again. Ever!" Clary unclasped their fingers and ran her sleeve across her lips, mock gagging at her best friend. She then stood up abruptly, her fire-engine red pigtails bouncing around with the motion. "Race you to the swings," she yelled over her shoulder as she ran toward the rest of the jungle gym, her pink dress flying wildly behind her.

Her first kiss had been with Simon on the playground. It was the worst experience of her childhood when she was younger, but looking back on it now, it made her smile. She wondered if Simon remembered that. She should have remembered when he'd asked her out. Maybe she wouldn't have had to live without Simon during the worst two weeks of her life.

Don't know why, don't know why

Don't know why, don't know why

She idly curled her fingers around a loose curl, gnawing at her lower lip vigorously as Simon sped up a little to pass a slow-moving car. Why had she ever risked her friendship to date him? They were best friends. They had all the same interests and like all the same things, but there was no romantic spark between them. And she'd known that! So why did she almost lose him by attempting to reciprocate something she never could? "What are you thinking, Clare-bear? You look a million miles away." Clary dropped the curl that she was tugging straight and it sprung back to its original state, bouncing around annoyingly in front of her eyes. She mumbled a lie about being tired, not really wanting to tell him that she regretted dating him. He wasn't her type. She couldn't stop the flash of gold that spiraled through her mind when she thought of her type of guy. Butterflies tore through her stomach as she mentally got lost in the liquid pools of gold.

My old friend, this song's for you

Cause a few simple verses

Was the least that I could do

To tell the world that you were here

Cause the love and the laughter

Will live on long after

All of the sadness and the tears.

The song cut off as Simon flipped the key and opened his door. The Institute stood in its sordid glory before them, seeming even darker in the gray light of the cloud covering. He opened the door for Clary and helped her leap down from the tall van. "Are you coming in, Si?" She really wanted to spend some time with him now that they were friends again, but to her dismay, Simon shook his head.

"I would love to, Freckles, but I have to get back to NYU. I have my graphics class tomorrow morning." Clary sighed, but leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

"Call you to get coffee sometime?" she suggested, shutting the orange door to the van. Paint flecked off and fell to the ground like fiery snowflakes. Simon's smile was bright as he nodded, jangling the keys in his hand as he made his way around to the driver's seat once more.

"I really missed you, Clary," he said, his voice melancholy. Clary felt on side of her lips pull up.

"Me, too, Si," she replied, unsure if he heard her over the roar of the departing van's engine. She really had missed him and his stupid cat pictures. She turned on her heal and rummaged through her purse for the key to the Institute, jamming it into the lock and running headlong for the elevator.

She hit the button for the floor that they lived on and listened to the hum as she glided lower and lower into the ground. Finally, a dinging signaled her arrival. She hitched her purse higher onto her shoulder and watched the metal doors part to allow her to exit. Her face dropped as soon as they opened large enough for her to see out.

"Clary," the person greeted, "we need to talk."

Muahahahahahaha who could it be? ;) The song is "My Old Friend" by Tim McGraw...and before you say anything, yes, I know it's about someone who died, but hey...it works, okay? :D Annnnd I love country...don't judge me...I'm from a hicktown :P Anyways...I do enjoy being mean and leaving you with Cliffies, butttt depending on the LOVE (or hate, you know, whatever floats you boat) I get for this chapter...I will write faster :) And the next chapter will have Jace in it *Waggles eyebrows suggestively* sooo I suggest you push that little review button and help me help you ;)

All My Love, Lovelies

~BallinBlonde21