"Jace where are you going with your bag?" Alec asked from the couch where he was drinking his morning coffee. Robert was still asleep upstairs. Jace dropped his duffle bag at the door before running back up the stairs. He came back minutes later with the clothes bag. Alec sat up. "Is my robe in there too?"

Jace spared him a glance before jogging back upstairs, He answered as he swerved around Robert, "Yes."

"Was that aimed at me or you?" Alec's father asked, making his way to the brightly illuminated kitchen. The coffee was freshly brewed.

"Me… I think." Alec stood, finishing the last of his drink. He walked to the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.

"Are the two of you leaving today?"

"I don't know. He hasn't told me when we're leaving."

Robert nodded, bringing a blue mug to his lips. "That would be something I'd check on, if I were you."

Alec groaned irritably, "You're probably right."

"Thank you, I try."

The younger shadowhunter smiled, giving his dad his empty mug. He walked to the bottom of the stairs.

"Jace," he called. When their was no answered he began the climb and called again, "Jace, what are you doing?"

The parabatai almost collided the second Alec placed both feet on the upper landing. The blond shoved Alec bag into his arms none to gently. "Take that down." He said. Jace walked into the bathroom and began to fill two small bags with their toiletries.

"Sorry, did you pack my stuff?" Alec asked. He went to his room and to his dismay the entirety had been cleaned spotless. He hadn't been downstairs an hour. Alec almost questioned Jace about it, but had a second more pressing thought. "Clary's not in labor, is she?"

Jace, the bags now full in his one hand, exited the bathroom. "Why, did she contact you," He asked not without anxiety. An under tone of jealousy hid under his voice. If the blue-eyed nephilim didn't know him so well he wouldn't have noticed. Thinking longer on Jace's behavior, he realized that if Clary was indeed in labor he wouldn't have had to ask.

"No, just curious," Alec answered in a calm fashion. There were occasions in the past months that Jace would get this look in his eye. A uncertainty that never graced him before his up coming parenthood. In those occasions when he was present Alec would use his role as the other's parabatai and simply breathe for him. They shared emotions. They were blood brothers.

"Yes, I packed your bag," Jace said, throwing the small bag full of Alec's toiletries onto the duffle he already held in his arms. "I thought that was obvious. Really Alec, you're old enough to do it yourself."

"So we're leaving?"

The blond rolled his eyes, flew down the step, and threw his bag with the rest at the front door. "No, we're going to camp out in the living room," He called up sarcastically, "I told you we were. Venimous vedimus vicimus, but now we must leave."

Alec stepped down, and leaned over the rail, "When did you tell me that?" He asked, annoyed.

"A couple nights ago. I told you to call Magnus." Jace said, exiting the kitchen with a cup of coffee being lifted to his lips.

"No, you didn't." He said in an exasperated breath, "You never told me when we were leaving or to call Magnus."

Tapping his index finger on the mug's rim thoughtfully, Jace said, "Well, you might want to talk to that husband of yours because we're leaving in an hour."

o.O.o

"Clary, why don't you have a seat?" Magnus asked, gesturing to her dinning room chair he conjured up minutes before. The red-head stood next to him, stubborn as always, arms crossed over her chest.

"For the last time, I'm fine. I don't need to sit." Clary said hugging her green, plaid coat tighter to her body. It wasn't cold. She shifted to the other leg and tried to hide a wince when weight was placed on her other foot. Though trained as a shadowhunter to be a creature of indifference, her emotions were always readable. Her green eyes were an open book. She was impatient, always had been, but even more now that Jace was minutes from walking through the portal. Magnus had to admit that was anxious to see Alec step through. Because of the time difference Clary and he were standing outside Jace and her brooklyn townhouse at three am.

Magnus leaned against the brick wall, and closed his eyes for a minute. He fought back a smirk when he heard the ginger give-up, taking a seat. He opened his gold, slitted eyes training them on Clary's hand, which resting on her stomach. She had her eyes closed and was leaning heavily against the backrest. She had been informed by Jace when the parabatai were arriving days ago. Clary told him later that day, knowing that he'd be the one to receive the two from Alicante. He smiled fondly at the memory of Alec calling him over an hour ago. Magnus, fully awake and getting ready to leave, answered his phone expecting this very thing to happen. The first words out of Alec's mouth were apologies for waking him up in the middle of the night.

Not a minute later both Magnus and Clary's attention was grasped when the portal's characteristic swishing noise grew in volume. Jace strode out first grinning smugly, a clothes bag draped over his shoulder like a model. Alec, carrying both duffle bags, glared at the back of the blond's head. He mumbled something Magnus couldn't make out. It didn't matter because Alec's attention was on him. He felt the butterflies that fluttered every so often when Alec looked at him. Alec made him feel.

"Hey." He said, throwing one of the duffle bags toward where Jace and Clary were standing. Jace was fussing over her while Clary looked happy to just have him home. She kissed him. That worked to keep them busy.

Alec made a face at the couple and walked to where Magnus was still leaning against the brick, hands in pants pockets. "Miss me?" Magnus asked.

The nephilim stood in front of him. He shrugged in replied, eyes glinting with amusement.

Magnus opened his mouth in mock horror. "Should I be worried, Alexander? Has my trust been misplaced?"

A late summer's breeze ruffled the hairs on Alec's head as he scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. After a moment, when realization set in, he rolled his eyes in a way only a Lightwood could. His expression was serious. "You shouldn't think like that, Magnus."

Magnus pushed himself off the building's side with his booted foot, his hands still in the deep purple pockets. He walked to Alec until there shoes were touching. The warlock lifted his ringed hands to his husband's chin, stroking gently. He placed a firm kiss on Alec's lips, keeping it short, but full of love in the mind of Alec's dislike of excess public affection.

"Even if you didn't miss me, I still missed you." He delivered one more kiss. "Very much so."

"You make it very hard not to reciprocate those feelings." The shadowhunter replied, pulling the downworlder in an embrace.

Over Magnus' shoulder Alec saw Clary looking distressed under Jace's fretting. She caught his eye and gave him a look he himself must have had many times before. He pulled away from his love and called over to the couple, "Hey Jace, she's fine. There's no need to smother her."

Jace glared, but there was no real mirth behind it.

Magnus spoke with his usual air of indifference. As if he were simply an amused spectator. "Well, this has been a pleasant reunion, but it feels like a good time for us to depart." He eyed the chair sitting in the middle of the small front lawn and waved his hand nonchalantly. "I will dispose of that properly."

"No, I'll get it. It's my chair anyway." Interrupted Jace, picking up the piece of furniture. He carried it up the stairs quickly, depositing it just inside the thresh hold, before jogging down the steps silently and taking Clary's hand in his own. "See you thursday for dinner?"

"Yeah, we'll bring corn." Alec answered. Thursday night dinners had become tradition amongst the Lightwoods. "I'll see ya."

The rest of the group said their farewells and exchanged hugs, before the expecting couple closed their front door.

Magnus and Alec began their ten minute walk home. The nephilim began to regale things from his trip before he stopped suddenly. "Sorry, I'll tell you about it later. You probably want to go back home and to sleep."

"I think I want to do something else." He said with a smirk, stepping closer to the warmth Alec's sweater and jeans clad body emanated.

"Do you now?" Alec raised an eyebrow, matching his better half's smirk. He linked their hands together, and pulled him across the road toward home.

"What can I say? I missed you." Magnus planted a few clumsy, chaste kisses on the nephilim's lips. Small promises of more to come.

o.O.o

Bay stood stoically as Rabbi Direbloom entered the small room. It was one of the few rooms in her synagogue used for pray or to consult with the rabbi. Sarah, standing beside her, shook his hand respectfully. He took it with barely hidden distain. It wasn't unknown that Sarah and he didn't always see eye to eye. Rabbi Direbloom was old. He had lived through WWII and was a firm believer that one should study Judaism to its fullest. Sarah often neglected to take her to tuesday's Hebrew school and, like yesterday, the services.

He leaned in front of her and spoke. His voice low and quiet. His white beard was directly in front of her face. It smelled of malt balls and incense. She wondered vaguely if the stories the other children in the congregation said were true. The Rabbi Direbloom slept in some preserving chamber under the temple and that he was over two hundred years old. The older kids often told rumors about Direbloom to her and her peers. Rebbe Wayland was a favorite among everyone. He taught the Hebrew school here. No one ever made-up rumors about him. He always said Hanukkah matata. She didn't get it.

The three nephilim sat. Two facing one. Sarah talked with the rabbi and Bay was prayed over. It was quiet. Almost to a point were Bay wanted to open one of the sound proof windows and hear the life of her city, Alicante. Instead she sat and spoke when spoken to under the harsh lighting. The witch lights on the wall were only softened by the green scones adorning them.

When Bay had asked Sarah earlier why they were going to the synagogue her guardian had answered simply that in times of sickness many people went back to their roots. Sarah's roots were Judaism. Her mother had left the Shadowhunters to marry her jewish father and converted. She had raised Bay the way she had been raised as parental beings so often did. They didn't eat pork, they went to temple events when Sarah didn't have to work or Bay didn't have studies to accomplish. They celebrated the important holidays (Rosh Hashanah wasn't that far away). They lived their lives.

It was a small comfort to hear Direbloom speak in Hebrew. She didn't know it that well, but when she was younger on rare occasions Sarah would sing little songs to her in Hebrew. They were good memories filled with laughter and little dances. Bay hung her head lower, sinking into the red velvet chair she was curled in, as a depressing thought entered her mind. The girl with big blue eyes doubted she'd have anymore of those memories anytime soon. Or ever.

She almost burst into tears there. Instead, carried in Sarah arms, Bay wet her shirt on the walk home.

o.O.o

Tuesday brought the worst possible part of her day. Self defense class taught by Mr. Brian Wayland. He may have been the son to good, sweet Rebbe Wayland, but he was nothing like his father. He was a meanie.

"Bay, this is the third time you've tried to kick me in the side," He said, an arm locking Bay's leg between his elbow and side. She hopped around on the one foot. He dropped her leg, clutching his close-cut red hair out of frustration. "That isn't even what I asked you to do. I said we were going to block punches not attempt to kick me in the stomach. Go sit down. You'll be talking to the school counselor after class."

Scowl on her face, Bay sat in the circle of children next to Peter. She crossed her legs and stared at the middle of the mat where Julie Carstairs was doing a perfect job blocking Mr. Wayland's punches with her forearms. Her beautiful blonde hair was braided down the back. Bay without thinking tugged her own braid and frowned. She felt a stab of jealousy. Julie's hair was always prettier than hers.

"You're acting out." Peter said as he slid closer to her. "My mom said you would do that."

"Your mom is wrong a lot." She said without remorse. "This must be an accomplishment."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter, loyal as ever, about to defend his mother, but think better of it.

Yesterday had been the news breaking day. Her tutors were told first. It had been frustrating and confusing at first when they bickered with Sarah, yelling things back and forth at each other. Bay had sat on the piano bench not playing, but twitching and curling in on herself, the bones in her butt digging into the wood painfully. Mr. Westing had slipped her a bottle before she broke down completely.

It turned into what Sarah would call the blame game. Mr. Phineas told Bay's guardian that she should have been paying closer attention to her. Sarah argued that it have made a difference. Bay would have gotten cancer no matter how much attention was given to her. This went on for sometime. Eventually, after more words regarding Sarah's ability to nurture, brother Enoch was messaged.

The girl was familiar with brother Enoch. He was the silent brother that looked at her when something was wrong. Brother Enoch told her that when she was a baby she used to think the most oddest of thoughts, humming songs in her head or that his black robe looked like it was warm and cozy. He never shared private thoughts of hers with her tutors or Sarah, but would give her a sad smile like he new something she didn't. It wasn't until now that she understood what that thing was.

Later, after having her mind invaded, Bay begged Sarah to let Peter come over. He was probably wondering what happened to her since they didn't walk to school together or her show up at all. The brunette agreed and called Mrs. Everlane. Peter expression when arriving lacked the usual cheerfulness that embodied him when she saw her friend. Especially when they were going to have a sleepover, as the bag his mother brought indicated. Instead he looked suspicious and like he was trying to hide his worry.

The rest of the night was a blur of more tears and trying to fight off the effects of the drug administer earlier. It was easier than the previous dose, but still difficult to not lash out when the world seemed to get overly frustrating. Peter hadn't left her side since Sarah and Mrs Everlane helped Bay break the news. It was likely that the blond would sleep over again.

"When are you going to see the doctor again?" Her friend asked quietly, like a secret only they were privy to, from beside her.

"Tomorrow. Sarah said we may talk about where I'm going to get treated." She answered, keeping voice quiet, but not soft. Never soft. Babies were soft and gentle, and she was no baby.

Peter waited a moment before asking, "What does that mean?"

"What it means is that I won't be dancing anytime soon." Ballet classes were supposed to start this thursday and she was going to miss it. Just one more thing to hate about life, Bay thought.

"No, that not… What I meant to say was where are you going?"

Bay turned to her friend for the first time since they entered the training room. She scrunched her eye brows together in confusion. She hadn't thought of the fact that she may be going away for awhile. As far as she knew there weren't any cancer treatment centers in Idris. They weren't really needed when there was such a low percentage of shadowhunters contracting diseases of that nature. Especially when they lived in Idris.

"I don't know," She answered simply.

o.O.o

Dr. Wilson's office was as simple as him. LIght blue walls, dark leather chairs facing an oak desk, and frames hung along the wall with certificates. Bay and Sarah sat in those leather chairs, Dr. Wilson was leaning over his desk placing his weight on his elbows. By the slight wrinkle on his top, left side of is lips he wasn't going to stay in that position for much longer. Bay began a mental count down.

"Usually I wouldn't say this to a patient- or in this case parental figure- but I know you and your preferences on somethings. Generally I'd say France or Spain, somewhere close and with good statistics, but the treatments I know are run by nephilim." Sarah's face contorted in a sort of apologetic dislike. Bay didn't know the whole story and could't tell you why Sarah was uncomfortable around many nephilim and generally wouldn't let them get close. The girl just thought Sarah was weird. "American policies within the conclave and downworlders are less strict. I have some friends- downworlder friends- that run different hospitals. They're used to dealing with nephilim."

Sarah nodded. The glare of light on her ponytail moved with her head. "That's a far way to travel. The question is, is it worth going across the pond and trying our luck in America."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Bay noticed, hiding a smug smile, that he lightly rubbed his elbows with his finger tips. He hadn't lasted a minute.

"I think it would be well worth looking into. You can always quit one doctor and try another if it isn't working out."

"You do have a point, James." The woman said. She blew out a frustrated breath, "It's just a lot to think about… Bay, what are you thinking? You've been quiet."

Bay looked up. Her legs didn't reach the ground. Out of boredom, she had started to swing them and watch as their shadows moved in the patch of sunlight. "What am I thinking about?" She asked oblivious.

Sarah let out another breath, except this time an undercurrent of familiar contentment flowed into the still air. She smiled lightly, relieving some of the tension in the room. It was nice to see Sarah smile, Bay thought, She looked prettier when she did.

"Possibly going to America for treatment. Does that interest you?"

The girl looked at Dr. Wilson sharply, "Where?"

He blinked before answering, obviously not expecting her ask him any questions. "I know of a treatment center in Boston, New York-"

"You mean like New York City?"

"…Yes."

"Sarah, can we go there please?" She asked, her attention fully on her guardian. When Sarah didn't answer immediately, she began to persuade as best she could. "You said you spent time in New York. And why do we have to take forever making a decision. I'm not getting any better sitting here."

The woman rubbed her hands on her jean clad thighs. Bay knew she hit under the belt with her last statement, but it was the first thing she could think of. It wasn't like she was wrong. Sarah turned to Dr. Wilson who was watching them eyes wide in shocked confusion. "She has a point."

He nodded, coming back to normal, "Alright, I guess I'll make some calls and we'll figure something out."

"Alright." She said, and it was final.

o.O.o

An- Sorry about the crap chapter. I had to make it up as I went.

I don't think I mentioned it (though I'm sure you've got it by now) Bay is jewish. Since this kinda a transitioning chapter I felt like I should add something about Jewdism. I will admit that I'm not Jewish and everything I wrote was based off what I knew (Which is only some messianic Jews and missionary friends) and google. If I said something wrong tell me.

Also I've never personally had cancer myself so what I write this from other peoples experiences.