Oh look. I went off and failed at life again and took ages to write this... again. My apologies. Writers block kills. No worries, it didn't kill Jaci, she's still here. Promise.

Now I'm going to shamelessly advertise. I started yet another TMI fanfiction because I am just that cool. It's called 1910 and will be... different... So if you're interested in stories set 101 years ago, by all means, read it.

Also, I feel like I should address this: Jaci's use of Spanish. She doesn't speak Spanish fluently, she's like a third year student. Not all of her grammar will be correct and I know this and did it on purpose. For example: back with dear old Raphael she tells him in Spanish that he shouldn't swear (no debes maldecir) (literally: You shouldn't swear) she used the personal you form which might not have been appropriate seeing as they weren't on a first name basis yet. All right, Spanish lesson over. Disregard this author's note as I'm sure you do the rest.

(I don't own the song Vegas Skies mentioned in the below chapter.)

"So what's this random thing in your room about?" I asked as we ran softly through the halls of the Institute, close but not quite touching.

"Your birthday."

"My birthday was Thursday," I pointed out. "It's now Saturday night."

Jace grinned at me, proudly displaying his adorable chipped incisor. "Time is relative. Besides, I never gave you a gift."

"You don't have to," I said flatly.

He raised an eyebrow in response to my tone. "Nobody should get nothing for their birthday."

"I did get something," I pointed out; we had slowed to a walk by this point. "A cat."

"Speaking of, where is that devil beast?" Jace asked, his hand brushed mine lightly.

I tired not to show the burst of adrenaline that gave me. "In my room, sleeping."

Jace grinned and turned to walk backwards in front of me. "Then I am glad we picked my room."

"We picked the room?" I asked with a little giggle.

He leaned against his door, one hand behind him on the doorknob and the other reaching to take my hand. "You came along, didn't you?"

My heart stuttered as his thumb traced the slightly raised scar on the back of my hand. "I guess I did."

"Birthdays should be special," he said, opening the door and pulling me inside. I noticed offhandedly that his room was stark white. No clothes were tossed in a pile on the floor, nothing hung out of the dresser. And the bed was neatly made. He went and sat on the bed, propped in the corner made by the head board and the wall. "My birthday was always the one day my father said I could do or have anything I wanted."

"Anything?" I echoed, standing awkwardly by the door, not sure what I should do.

"Anything," he confirmed.

"Like what?" I asked, finally taking some type of initiative and crossing the room to craw up on the bed next to him. Somehow, I ended up curled next to him, head on his shoulder, his arm around my shoulders, playing with a lock of my hair that was escaping its constraints.

"When I was five, I wanted to take a bath in spaghetti."

I smiled, closing my eyes and attempting to picture a younger version of Jace with tousled blonde curls asking his father to allow him to bathe in pasta but it was hard to concentrate with Jace's collar bone right at my temple. I didn't understand how he could be bony and muscular at the same time. It didn't make sense.

"What kind of sauce?" I asked him.

His chuckle shook my body. "Just the pasta, no sauce."

I made a face and turned to look up at him. "What's the fun in that?"

"It wasn't to eat." He tugged on my hair.

"Hey!" I protested, reaching up to detach his hand. "Sé amable."

Suddenly, he had flung me on my back on the bed, crouching over me. "No."

My mouth twisted to a smirk that matched Jace's. "That's hardly polite."

Apparently crouching is overrated because he just flopped on me, squishing me into the bed. "No one said I was polite."

I took a deep breath, glad that even with a human deadweight on my stomach my diaphragm was still functional. Jace seemed to realize he was crushing me then and rolled off, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked as though he wasn't quite certain of how he'd gotten there.

"It's not here," he said randomly.

My blank stare conveyed all of my thoughts to him.

"It's in the weapons room."

I sat next to him, sort of understanding. "Can it wait for a bit?"

He looked startled but nodded cautiously.

"I want to just talk for a bit."

Jace scoffed at that. "Talk? You have me entirely at your disposal, in a locked room, and you want to talk?"

"Never mind," I said sharply, standing up. "I don't want to talk. Goodnight, Jace."

His arms were around my waist before I had the door completely open. Easily, he picked me up and set me down on the bed, kicking the door shut again. "You want to talk? We'll talk."

I stared up at him. He stood in front of me, arms crossed and looking threatening.

"This isn't an interrogation," I muttered darkly, turning my attention to the patch of floor just to the left of his foot.

"I know," Jace said softly.

The whole situation was weird and bizarre, conflicting but not. Like being with Jace always was. It was enough to drive a girl mildly insane.

"Did you go to school as a kid?" I asked. Then seeing his hesitant expression I added, "I don't mean to pry, I just don't know much about your past."

"I don't know much about your past," he countered. "And no, I didn't go to school."

"Sounds awfully lonely," I said, crossing my legs underneath me as he sat beside me.

"My father was all I needed."

I tried to imagine living life with only Jocelyn. I supposed it wouldn't be too terrible, but in comparison to a life with a sister and friends as well it was a dark alternative. "That still seems so lonely. Who would you talk to about… guy things?" I didn't even know if guys sat around and talked about things like girls did.

Jace chuckled but it was a hollow sound. "Oddly enough, Jaci, my father was a guy."

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant. But I guess you wouldn't talk all that much about the cute girl you met at school if you didn't go to school and meet cute girls, huh?"

"Who gets a crush when they're seven?"

I shrug. "I've heard it's happened before. Most seven year olds have a best friend, though."

"Did you?" he asks, gold eyes seeing straight to my soul.

I laugh at the crazy idea. "Clary's always been my best friend because she can't get away from me."

"But you can't tell your siblings everything," Jace argued.

"Do you tell Alec everything?" I counter.

"That's different," he dismissed. "We didn't know each other when we were in diapers."

"I don't tell Clary everything," I admit. "I don't tell anyone everything, actually."

Jace took my hand in his. I hadn't noticed before how cold my hands were. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Can I really?" I ask softly, searching his ocher eyes for some sort of proof that might be hidden there.

He put his other hand along my cheek and I automatically leaned into his touch. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for me. "Of course you can."

I gave him a small smile. "All right."

"So, what deep, dark secrets do you have, just dying to be released into the free world?"

Tons. But I just laugh.

"I'm boring, a mundane. I grew up and went to school. You didn't."

"So what are you saying?" he asked.

"I want to know about your life."

Jace was silent for so long I thought that I'd managed to cross some imaginary line. Again. I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch momentarily. "My father gave me everything; the best education, the best training. We traveled all over the world; London, Saint Petersburg, Egypt. We used to love to travel. I haven't been anywhere since he died. Nowhere but New York."

I sighed and flopped back on the bed, my knuckles striking the wall. I winced slightly. "I've always wanted to go to London."

"Don't hurt yourself," Jace suggests, looking down at me with a smirk. "And you should go sometime."

I laughed. "Yup. Just pack up my bags and head out to London."

"We could do it, you know," he said so softly I thought I imagined the we. But he fell down beside me, body awkwardly half off the bed. "Find a Portal and go."

"That can't be comfortable," I remarked, mind racing to process all this.

Jace glanced at how he was on the bed, as though he just noticed it. "It's not."

I sat up and made a big show of thinking about London. I knew it was just a joke, but still… the thought made me giddy.

"So what do you say?" he asked, moving so he was laying correctly on the bed.

I settled down next to him, burying my face in his neck. His scent overwhelmed me; soap, outside, and just… Jace. "I'll think about it."

I can feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. "Your hair smells nice."

"I hope so. I did shower not that long ago."

"Do you remember your father?" Jace asked randomly.

Slowly, I shake my head, my nose trailing across Jace's neck because I forgot how close I was to him. "That's the weird part. I can't remember him at all."

"Well, you were only one when he died. No one can be expected to remember that."

"I know," I said, "I just thought I'd remember something. Or maybe have something he gave me. Maybe a picture we were both in. What sort of father doesn't take at least one picture with his kid?"

"Mine?" Jace suggested dryly and immediately I feel bad for what I said.

Then, way off in the distance, a bell tolls the hour solemnly.

"Midnight," he said quietly.

"It's twelve o'clock and I need your attention," I quoted softly.

"What?"

"It's like the alcohol making my head spin," I continued. "Your scent is the rum, the room is a bottle. Keeping me hopeless 'til I wake tomorrow…"

"What is that?" Jace asked.

I pause before I answer, letting the memory of the melody wash over me. "A song. Vegas Skies by the Cab. It's pretty."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest. Not so much that I'm crushed just enough so I feel secure. More secure than I've ever felt in my life.

My lips found his and I give up any sort of resistance I've held over myself. I trust him.

His hands explore my back while mine catch hold of his hair, securing his face against mine. His lips are urgent but not frantic. I can hear my heart pounding like it's going to burst. I almost hope it does when I realize I've never been happier, as a Fray or a Flynn, than right there, trapped in Jace's embrace.

When we finally break apart he grins at me. "Damn."

"What?" I asked, studying his eyes again. I may or may not be obsessed with them. Don't judge me.

Then his mouth is on mine again, pulling my lower lip between his teeth and gently biting before letting go. "I hope Alec and Izzy approve."

Alec.

My lovely mood dropped a few notches and I frowned. Jace saw it, of course.

"Izzy and I have never-" he started, misinterpreting my reaction.

"No, that's not it," I said.

"She likes you," he noted, moving me so that he could rest his chin on the top of my head. I felt him kiss my hair. "I don't know why, but she does. Clary makes her nervous though."

I laughed. "Isn't it odd how the least intimidating people always seem to be the ones who make everyone jumpy?" My thoughts were on the quiet boy who sulked around, hoping not to be noticed.

"Should we go get your present now, or do you not want it?"

I considered saying no and just staying there. What more could he give me? I internally sneered at my sappiness.

"Let's go."

We ran lightly down the hall, hands locked together, Jace's thumb drawing patterns on the back of my hand. I was fighting a smile and blushing terribly. I felt silly and young while Jace looked calm and smooth. It made me want to hit him.

"…Clary? Where are you going?" I heard a voice say from just around the corner.

Jace suddenly stopped in front of me and I bumped into him causing him to step forward one more step. We were seen then by Clary and Simon who were in the hall outside her door. Simon looked like he'd just woken up and Clary, who was clutching her drawing pad to her chest, glared at me with such hatred that my words caught in my throat.

"Clary?" I finally manage.

"I hate you! Jaci! I hate you!" she screamed, pushing past me and sprinting away, tearing some part of me with her.