Woohoo. Another. Please read and R&R after :)

The words fell over Isabelle like air, no meaning held to them, not substantial enough to bring justice to her brother. It was just the voice of a man, mundane words spoken by so many, linked together to form nothing more than consolations for the dead that couldn't hear them anyway. How many times had he given those same ones to grieving families? How many times had he spoken over the body of a child without truly knowing them? The thought of it made Isabelle's stomach clench in anger.

She felt someone squeeze her hand, Simon, who stood next her, but he stayed quiet. She wanted to look at him, a face that offered her comfort, but her eyes remained trailed on the sword, wielded by her mother whose cheeks were stained with tears.

She wanted to cry for her brother, but her anger overpowered that desire. She couldn't get the image of her brother from her mind, telling her that she was sorry for betraying them. If he were here, she would punch him. She would demand to know what he was thinking, why he put his own wants above everyone else's, willing to place her, his last living sibling, in harm's way. Isabelle would have undoubtedly yelled, she'd have told him that she wouldn't forgive him, not for awhile at least. He would've walked away then, into the weapon's room or someplace else, leaving her behind to brood.

But he didn't come back. They left him behind, raging in a sewer's inferno, the cold of his blue eyes met with the fire. They didn't even have a body, no actual evidence that her brothers would lie next to each other, no trace of the boy she grew up with now buried in the ground. There was just a sword that he wielded, the heat of his grip wiped cold. Isabelle wanted that to be punishment enough and part of her accepted that bit as redemption, but there was still that anger locked inside that she willingly allowed to consume her in order to keep the pain away.

The man stopped talking, stepping away as Maryse took the middle, still brandishing the sword. Isabelle tried to drown out her words, not wanting to hear another goodbye from her mother whispered over the last of her sons. She heard some things spoken in Italian of loss and bravery and then they all raised their hands.

"Ave Atque Vale" they spoke in unison.

Once the ceremony had concluded, Jace, who had been gripping Clary's hand tightly, released her and walked away. He disappeared through the portal etched on a wall, the white he wore vanishing off the grass-covered hills and into darkness.

Clary, unable to bear him facing this alone, followed after him. The portal made her dizzy, bathing her in a swirl of darkness, pinpricks of light flashing before her eyes until she collapsed on the ground in front of the Institute. Trying to shake off the feeling of nausea, she stood up and walked inside.

She first looked for Jace in the weapons room, expecting to find him sparring with a blade or throwing knives at a target, but the room was empty. No, she found him in his room, sitting on his bed, his hands running over his face.

Silently, Clary stepped inside and closed the door.

A few moments passed in silence as she tried to muster up the courage to speak. What could she say? She couldn't offer anything to comfort him, couldn't say anything that would ease the pain of Alec's betrayal. She couldn't ask if he was okay, because she knew he was not, however hard he pretended to be.

Instead, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and said, "How are you feeling?" Maybe he would be honest with her.

But Jace just glanced up and cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

She knew better. "Jace-"

"No, Clary," he said, standing up and turning his back to her. "I'm fine."

She racked her brain, trying to think of words to say. Anything. "You... It wasn't-you know it wasn't your fault, righ-"

"That doesn't matter!" he said, sibilant. "None of it matters! So what if it was my fault? So what if I blame myself? Does it make a difference? No, Alec will still be dead."

Clary flinched internally, but refused to let him see it. "Of course it matters," she said, stepping forward. "It all matters! He chose to do what he did! You didn't make him choose to follow Sebastian! At least give him the credit of his decisions that they belonged to him."

Jace jerked around, staring at her in disbelief. "Credit? You want me to give him credit? The coward gave into the man that killed his brother! He worked with the man that drew his blood and put us in danger! He put you in danger!"

Clary looked away, down at her feet, past Jace's head, anything that wasn't his eyes, filled with something that she didn't recognize, a mixture of hate, love, hurt, and loss mingling in the gold of his irises. "He did what was right in the end," she said. "He sacrificed himself-"

"To reconcile the results of his first decision!" he shouted. Then he turned and hit the wooden dresser. It shuttered and creaked as a crack broke out along the surface and down the front.

"He went behind my back," Jace said, his voice low now, collective, which somehow made it worse. "He didn't talk to me, he didn't ask for my help. He didn't even take into account what would happen to me."

Clary shook her head, coming forward. "You don't know that."

He scoffed, "Well it sure didn't make him stop and think for a second before doing it. He still went through with it."

What do I do, Clary asked herself, trying to get Jace to open up to her, which he was in a way. But there was still something he was holding back. "He didn't think you would get hurt."

"What?" he said, his tone darkening again. He stared down at her. "Because Sebastian told him that? Because he was willing to risk us at the hands of that man's words? He trusted his word enough to lead us to him!" His voice rose. "To betray me! To betray Isabelle and Maryse! He chose him over us for something...self-beneficial. He chose Sebastian over me!"

There it was. The thing that had taken root into Jace and had grown profoundly, cutting him from the inside. Now the armor cracked, fissuring down the center and Clary pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

But he didn't cry. He simply held onto her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat in the sea of his despair.

Then he pulled back and his lips collided with hers and she gave into him willingly. She wanted to take his pain and bear it herself, to shield the boy that she loved who continued to be hurt and wronged, who deserved only good things and continued to get the bad ones. Give it to me, she wanted to say. I can bear this for both of us.

He pushed her back until her knees hit the bed. Then he was kissing her again, his lips against hers, molding against them, binding them to one another. The sick feeling inside her subsided, shrinking into the corners of her mind until there was only him. Nothing else existed.

She grabbed at his arms, her fingers dancing over the hard ropes of his muscles, tight around his abdomen. She outlined the scars on his body, the way she did every time, loving each mark, each memory crafted onto the skin of this boy.

But then he pulled back, gazing down at her, his eyes glassy and wide. "We should...we should probably wait."

She started to wonder why, but then she felt it, the sudden bout of exhaustion, the ragged sound of her breath, far more rough than it should be and nodded slowly.

He put his hands around her waist and pulled him against her atop the pillows, where she fit perfectly against him.

"You should rest," he told her.

She didn't want that kiss to stop, but she knew he was right. Clary snuggled more into the side of Jace and closed her eyes.

Clary woke a short time later, the sky outside an inky black. The bedside next to her was vacant, the impression and heat of Jace's body still there. He just left.

She took a deep breath, thinking if she should meet him, but decided against it. He needed time, she knew.

Clary wrapped the blanket tightly around her as a shaft of air suddenly seemed to press against the window and seep inside. The frosted air chilled her skin and she stood to close it. It latched tightly against the sill, but the cold didn't seem to leave.

Something felt wrong.

"This is getting too easy," a dark, deceptive voice chimed and Clary whirled around so quickly that her head spun. Sebastian stood a few feet away, leaning against the back wall, molded perfectly against the darkness. It sliced against his body, the moonlight shining on his legs but his face was drenched in the shadows. "I thought our time together would have given you a better sense of self-preservation. I guess you still underestimate me."

Clary thought of calling out for Jace, but a part of her did not feel in danger. Apparently, Sebastian had come to talk to her and probably only her.

"What do you want?" she hissed, feeling vulnerable without anything to defend herself with. But she didn't back away. She would not look afraid.

"Oh, just to chat for a bit. I had some time and I thought I'd drop in on my little sister to see how she's coping."

She glared at him. "Alec was not mine to really mourn. He might have helped you, but he gave himself up for us in the end."

Sebastian chuckled, a throaty gurgle that echoed from the darkness. "True. So dynamic. I didn't think he would go through with it. Shows just how ignorant some can be. Selfish."

"Is this your idea of chatting? If all you're doing is pride yourself over the damage you caused, leave." Clary said. Jace could be back soon and he was losing time to say what he came here for, if for anything.

"I feel sorry for you, abashed at how you think you are doing something for the greater good." He crossed his legs and she could hear the dark humor in his voice. "The world is in ruins, Clarissa. You cannot even see how...lost it is, acclaiming small victories in its inevitable defeat. Such a waste."

"Thanks, but I am not in the mood for a lecture right now," she said, but he ignored her, drawling on.

"It is wasting away, undirected, living under a false fabrication of reality. How...stagnant," he said, sounding bored. "How unfulfilling and unjust it must be, saving those that hide from you, yet unknowingly dependent on your kind. Don't you ever wish to fight for those deserving of it? For people who will applaud you and be loyal to you instead of running away in terror at your approach?"

"So this is a lecture on my morals, I see."

Sebastian came forward, the darkness leaking away from his face, all except for his eyes, his sallow cheeks giving him a corporeal look. "Aren't you ever sick of the unending battles that do nothing but prevaricate another for a bit? Don't you realize that your skill at wielding a sword, however well you can, makes no ripple on the surface of this world? The runes on your arms, worn by so many, do you think they make a difference?"

He chuckled melodramatically, as if he found this ironic. "But you have so much to offer, a gift that can make an actual difference, but you reap yourself of it for something...so insignificant. You follow the principles of a million others, all who have fallen in vain in the name of them.

"But you...you could be more, Clarissa. Much more. Other than another role of a Shadowhunter pawn, played by so many, whose names are now coated in dust, words inscribed on walls in the City of Bones." He laughed again, but his eyes were serious.

"Is that all you want to be, Clarissa?" he asked. "Just another corroded name, fading on stone?"

Clary stayed quiet, unknowing how to answer. "Is that all?"

Sebastian sighed. "I'd love to stay, but...something tells me Jace would not approve."

"Then leave," she said. "Now."

He smiled derisively at her, his teeth gleaming brightly in the moonlight. "Just remember, Clarissa, if you ever want to be more and give your life for a cause that would actually do something, I won't be hard to find."

She shook her head. "The only time you will see me purposefully look for you, is to kill you." Perhaps that was not the best thing to say, but the words just slipped out.

The humor vanished from Sebastian's gaze. "You'll be amazed to find the things a person will resort to under the right circumstances."

Clary narrowed her eyes. "I will never," she said, her tone fierce.

He opened the window, turning his back to her. She heard a low chuckle. "That's what Alexander said."