Hi everyone! I wrote a bonus chapter for y'all; a different version of the hospital scene. Like what could have happened.

Anyways, i hope you enjoy it. It's unedited... Oops. Make sure to listen to the song, and read the author's note at the BOTTOM.

Alternative Hospital Scene

Song: Lay Me Down, Sam Smith

I enter the room, and see her sitting up. A potent mix of relief and grief hits me, and I feel my eyes burning. I blink quickly, openly staring at her perfection, despite the conditions.

"Jace?" Clary says calmly. I gasp, staring at her. She is turned towards myself now, blue eyes attuned to me. Her slightly bedraggled red hair is pulled into a slipping ponytail, where a few rebellious strands have escaped. They now fall on her face; harsh red lines against the porcelain skin.

"Clary." I say her name like a breath; soft and without thinking. I have no intentions as I say her name aloud, letting the simplicity of the letters collapse on the tense silence that seals the room.

"You can come in." She says kindly, gesturing to the chair I inhabited earlier. After my brief, albeit unpleasant, run-in with Jocelyn and Luke, I feel myself slightly tired.

"Do you remember?" I ask, tentatively. I realize how much rests on this single question. I can see the decision in Clary's eyes as she chooses her answer carefully.

"I think so. It's odd though. It's like I'm reading a book where paragraphs have been cut out. I have to assume and fill in what's missing." She stares the simple bed sheets that are tightly wound around her small frame.

"Jace, I'm dying." She deadpans.

My head snaps upward, painfully, and my eyes find hers. I can imagine that my golden irises have darkened considerably, due to the anger that I'm feeling.

"Stop it. Don't say that. You'll be find Clary, this is a set-back." I say, with power behind my words. But despite the obvious power I'm using, it's rage, not conviction.

"I won't stop, I'll say whatever I want, and I won't be fine. I'm telling you this so that when I die you stay alive. My life is out of my hands but you have a choice Jace. Just because I'll be gone doesn't mean the world is over. You lived before be and you'll live after." She says strongly, twisting the engagement ring on her hand. I stare the intricate leaves and clench my jaw.

"I don't want to talk about death, Clary." I answer quietly. She must sense the change in my tone, since she lifts her eyes and looks me over.

"Jonathan Christopher Lightwood." She says my – full – name sternly. I meet her gaze with cool detachment, waiting for her to finish.

"People are born to die. Every moment that we live is a moment wasted and a moment closer to the grave. People die every day and people are born every day, because that's how life works. When I die, I become a statistic; another dead. I mean no more than a poor child involved in a school shooting, or an old lady who dies of heart failure. We as humans cannot control how or when we die; death in inevitable. So when I die I want you to remember the times we had, but the life you had without me. I'm asking you to forget me, for your sake. I can't stand the idea of me causing you eternal grief."

I take a moment to process her words before firing back,

"Every moment with you is a moment well spent, and I know our graves are far away. Life is a complex matter, involving much more than births and deaths. It involves love, which is what we've found. If you die, you are not a statistic. You are a fucking person Clary, and you mean everything to me. Death might be inevitable, but that doesn't mean you should welcome it with open arms. If you die, I'm not forgetting you because you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm not forgetting that. I can't stand the idea of you dying for me." I use the back of my hand to wipe my eyes as I finish. Clary was already in tears and now she pushes her palms into her eyelids.

"Jace," she sobs, lowering herself to rest on her side instead of sitting up. She moves over so that there is room beside her, and I slide in behind her. My arm automatically drapes over her protectively and I press my head into her shoulders and neck.

"I love you. Too much. This is too hard for me, Clare." I admit, mumbling into the sheet. We lie there silently, our cries occasionally ripping the silence, for what feels like hours. The hospital staff seem to be avoiding her room, which is a relief.

"Clary?" I ask after about an hour. I'm stopped crying, and when she turns over, I see that she has too. She lies on her back as I prop myself up with an elbow.

"What do you think comes next?" I ask, trying to not sound morbid. Clary purses her lips and thinks carefully.

"I heard once that when you die the Greeks have scale where they weigh your heart. Depending on what your heart weighs, you either go to, their equivalent of, heaven or hell. If you get to heaven, you can choose to be reborn. If when you die from rebirth, and pass again, you can be reborn again. After reaching heaven a few times, you get to a different heaven; a super-elite members-only heaven. I like to think that after death you get to reflect on your life, and that leads to whether you enjoy your afterlife or not." I cling to ever word she says; laughing at the right parts, serious at others.

"Well, I think you're headed to the super awesome heaven." I joke back, letting my fingers find loose locks of her hair. By now, most of it has come loose from the sloppy ponytail that was done.

"I feel lightheaded Jace." Clary says suddenly. Even though she's lying down I can see the slight nausea and dizziness of her face.

"Nurse," she mumbles, closing her eyes. I get off the bed and pad into the hallway, where there are a few nurses milling around or scurrying to patients. I find one that looks in her mid-thirties who appears to be doing nothing.

"Nurse? My fiancée is saying that she feels light headed. Clary Fray." When I mention her name the nurse goes from mildly interesting to very intrigued.

"Thank you, I'll see to her." She scurries into Clary's room and quickly confers with her. After a moment she comes back to me at the door.

"You should go now, Mr. Lightwood. Visiting hours are nearly over and we need to do a few more tests on Clarissa right now."

She pushes me out before I can protest and I'm left in the hall, alone.

So; I wanted to write this scene for a while now, and I'm fairly happy with what I got. I hope you guys don't get too emotional…

I have an idea for a half-sequel that would be published throughout September: I write various chapters from Clary's POV. Probably not all of them, but maybe 5 to 10 ? Request which chapter(s) you want to see, in a review! (chapters 1 through 18 only, since those are the pre-death ones) THIS WILL NOT BE THE OFFICIAL SEQUEL.

I would upload Clary's POV chapters weekly or twice a week and include updates on the writing progress of the official sequel (entitled Stay With Me), which I'm hoping to start publishing by October 2014.

Anyways, thanks for reading this little alternative hospital scene with some final clace moments.