A/N: I wasn't actually going to update today… you have my neighbor to thank for this. So if you actually read this, thank Megan. She sent me a video with the word update in there about twenty million times.

Ok, so most of you must be familiar with ddpjclaf's Covert Cassanova. I FREAKING LOVE ddpjclaf. I was like, how come I don't have as much talent as she does.

And then, I remembered the fact that I am twelve years old, and she is married with three kids. -_- o.o reality check :P

But by the time I'm her age, I swear I'm going to have a published book. 'Cause she's my idol :D :D

Some of you hated the fact Seb died, some of you loved it, (cough cough CannibleDuckWithAnAxe).

Some of you thought he took the bad way out, which is probably true. He's a self-loving, pompous idiot. What did you expect? :P Anyways, at least he's outta the story, right?

Here's the update. May not be another one for a while, just warning you.

CPOV

I was dressed completely in black. Black was such a depressing color, although I had to say it fit the occasion. Today was Sebastian's funeral, and I found ironic that it was on a cold, rainy day.

Let the world mourn, I thought. Even thought Sebastian hadn't always been the best, he was still human. In the end, he had had the right intentions. And that was how I'd remember him. Not as the pompous, self-loving jerk, but as the person I'd loved for three years.

The person I'd seen reduced to practically nothing wasn't the Sebastian I wanted to remember. No, I kept in my memory the guy who had been my stronghold for years. That was the Sebastian people deserved to remember.

In one hand, I held the note he had given me, streaked with tears. In the other, I had a bunch of sketches and pictures of Seb and me. When he was buried, I wanted him to have some of us with him. The note, I'd keep for the rest of my life.

Don't ever make a silly mistake like I did. Sometimes, it could cost somebody their life.

"You ready?" a voice asked me. "Jesus, you girls and your extensive time getting ready."

"You take longer than I do, Jace," I said dryly, giving him a onceover.

He was wearing a black suit, black tie, and black shoes, hair combed neatly. Jace looked at me once, then wrapped me in his arms, like I was a Christmas present. And finally, finally, I cried, letting all the guilt out.

"Hey, Clary, baby, it's going to be okay," he said, making small circles on my back.

"No, it's not Jace," I blubbered, "It's all my freaking fault. If I hadn't been so stupid…"

"Not it's not, Clary," he told me firmly. "He made his choice, and you know what? When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, then throw it in the face of the person who gave you lemons, until they give you the oranges you originally asked for."

The whole statement was so Jace-like, I had to smile.

"Why am I in love with you again?"

"So many reasons, baby, so many. I personally think it's because of these handsome good looks, but you never know. It might just be the fact my name is Jace Lightwood."

"Wait… so I can throw lemonade at whoever made my life miserable, Jace?"

"Of course you can, Clary. I'll even do it with you!"

"Great, I'll just get some lemonade, then I'll start throwing it at you," I said, totally cracking up at his face.

"Um, no, Clary. Do you know what all that sugar and lemon will do to my face?! It takes a lot to keep this all hot and sexy."

"Whatever, Jace," I said, rolling my eyes, then feeling guilty about being happy.

I was here, laughing with my boyfriend, while Sebastian was in a casket. I was going to wake up tomorrow, and go to school, and Sebastian was going to be dead for the rest of forever.

"Shh, Clary, it's okay," Jace told me, kissing the tears off my face.

I just sat there, and cried and cried, until there were no more tears to be shed.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked me, quietly.

"Yeah," I nodded, ready to face whatever was ahead of.

IPOV

I sat in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, waiting for my turn. My doctor had said it was best to go with chemotherapy, and I had heard it hurt like hell.

Simon sat next to me, his hand holding my shaking one tightly.

"It's okay, Izzy," he whispered.

"No, it's not, Simon! I have fucking stage three cancer, and there's the possibility I'm going to die. Not to mention that chemotherapy will guarantee my hair will fall out."

"I think you look beautiful anyway," he told me, grinning crookedly, and leaning in for a kiss.

I obliged, sighing, wondering if this might be the last time I would kiss me. Stop thinking negatively, Izzy, I told myself. Stay positive, there's still hope.

Not really. The doctors told me there was about a three percent chance I'd survive, and at this point they weren't sure if I should take chemotherapy or not. I'd argued, using my seductiveness at one point, to make sure they'd agree with me. Because small hope is better than no hope at all.

I hated Sebastian for what he'd done. He took his life- at least he had a healthy one! Believe me, if that had been my life, I wouldn't have wasted it. I was going to die, and he just decided to take his life away, like it wasn't worth anything.

Life is precious. You're only there for a limited time, so make the most of it. Because sooner or later, that will be you in the grave, with your family and friends crying.

"Isabelle Lightwood?" a nurse called, gasping when she saw me.

I didn't exactly look like a cancer patient- not yet, anyway. Yeah, I was thinner, but I wasn't really pale, and my hair was still intact- for now!

"Yeah," I said, walking forward, dragging Simon with me.

She lead me to a room, where I was restrained, and put an I.V. into me.

"This may hurt a little bit," she told me, smiling briefly.

I wanted to smack that smile off her face. Cancer was nothing to smile about, and neither was chemotherapy. Anyways, I was sure that was her you'll-be-gone-soon-enough smile, and I didn't want her pity. Besides, I had seen her checking out Simon.

When the chemicals started, I screamed, tears rolling down onto my face, and Simon clutched my hand harder.

Forget hurting like hell, this was like walking to a farm, getting hit by a tractor, then by a car, then losing all of my clothes, and then earning a one-way trip to hell.

Yeah, it hurt, if you were wondering.

No wonder I was restrained, because otherwise, I would have run out by now.

I saw Simon crying with me, and that gave me a reason to stay alive. Love. Because whatever I felt, Simon felt too.

Simon was my other half, the yin to my yang, my soul mate, call it what you like. The only thing I knew was that Simon and I were meant to be, and I wasn't letting cancer get in the way. Or even death, for that matter. I would pull a Houdini if I had to, but no way was I leaving Simon.

He pulled me in for a kiss, and suddenly, the pain- all of it, went away. All there was was Simon, and only Simon.

The nurse cleared her throat, and we pulled away.

"Your time is up, Isabelle," she told me, eyeing Simon again.

She pulled the IV out, and I winced a little bit. This pain was tolerable, unlike the other one.

And then I was tired, so, so tired.

"Fatigue is to be expected," the nurse told Simon, and he nodded, picking me up, bridal style.

And I fell into a deep sleep, unaware of the rest of the world, at least for a little bit.

Although, if my hair fell out, I was going to have a sissy fit.

Jocelyn POV

"Jocelyn?" a voice called out.

"What is it?" I asked, gentler than the voice I would use with Valentine.

A blond figure emerged, tentatively, as if he was scared of being caught.

"Jonathan," I said, smiling a bit.

"Hi, mom," he replied, and I internally smiled, knowing that my son thought of me that way.

It was good to know that Valentine hadn't completely changed my son into a monster. He had that effect on people.

"I don't want to be alive," he whispered to me, and I found my heart breaking.

"Don't say that, baby." My own son didn't have the desire to live.

"No mom, I'm serious. I'm nothing but a genetic experiment, and I'm so tired of it!"

I knew what he was talking about. Valentine had experimented with me, and Clary at some points. I had escaped, far, far away, and he had no way of doing that. He wasn't stuck here, and I wanted to tell him stories of the real world. The real world wasn't like this.

I gasped suddenly, filled with idea.

"Jonathan, you see that purse over there? Run, away as fast as you can, to the Lightwood mansion. You know where that is right? Go, far, far away, and find Clary. She'll show you the real world. Tell her I sent you."

"Mom," he protested.

"No buts, young man. Go, quickly, before he comes."

He nodded at me once, hugged me, and I kissed his forehead. I watched his shadow leave, my heart aching when I couldn't see him anymore.

I had set my little boy free, into a big scary world, one that just possibly might be scarier than this tortured reality.

If you love something, let it go. If it loves you, it will come back to you.

There you go :D :D I'm proud of me. Are you proud? :O :O

Please please please please 230 reviews. I will freaking worship you if you do.

Thanks for reading, I love you :D