Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter! Some appearances from old friends in this chapter...


1992

The Uprising had momentarily put a pause on Simon's quest to take down Mikael. Both Shadowhunter and Downworlder communities alike were in chaos, trying to rebuild themselves in Valentine's aftermath. Knowing this was happening, that Valentine had been out there somewhere creating misery and pain in the lives of people Simon cared deeply about, but having to refrain from doing anything that might change that had been one of the hardest things Simon had faced. He wasn't stupid though, he had seen Back to the Future – he knew what kind of repercussions could happen from his meddling. So he had sat back and watched as his friends and parents of friends were thrown into a time of destruction and superstition. At least he had been able to warn Magnus, vaguely, that something like this would be happening. Hopefully, the warlock had been somewhat prepared.

However, the chaos and panic actually provided the perfect distraction amongst Mikael's troops, who were slightly more prone to slip up, provide information to Simon as he carefully manipulated them one way or another. He had even, at one point, managed to infiltrate that ranks of one of Mikael's factions, which had provided him with the locations of several important bases around the world where Mikael might have placed himself. Simon tried not to think too hard about the person he was pretending to be – tried not to wonder when, exactly, he stopped pretending and one personality had bled into the other.


1994

Returning to New York, home, after so long almost felt a little surreal. Although it was a little risky, potentially bumping into his past self or his parents, he just had to hope that the two different times would avoid colliding by themselves. He also had to mind that his path didn't cross with Magnus, who had recently established himself as the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Although the two tried to remain in contact after Simon's faked death, it was safer if no attention whatsoever was drawn to the warlock, that nothing from Simon could be traced back to him. If Mikael thought he posed no threat, then he would just let him get on with his life (which, as per usual with Magnus, had been jam-packed with crazy adventures, from what Simon had been able to follow).

The reason Simon had returned to New York was, of course, Mikael-related – one of his biggest operation centres was there, and Simon was trying to gradually win over the trust of one of the higher ups.

His mind was on a current dead-end he had hit, which was why he almost had a heart attack – that is, if such a thing were still anatomically possible – when he bumped into a stranger on the sidewalk and found himself face-to-face with a haggard-looking Luke. He looked a little worse for wear to say the least, his hair greasy and matted, dark shadows under his sunken eyes and twitchy quality to his movements.

"Sorry," he mumbled in a raspy voice, pushing his way past Simon before pausing and turning back to face him. "You wouldn't happen to know – I mean, I'm looking for this address," he extended a worn piece of paper towards Simon with a trembling hand. The writing was smudged and blurry, but he could have made out that address no matter how illegibly it was written. It was a place he had spent practically a third of his teenage life at, a place he could probably walk to from his mother's house with his eyes shut. Clary's home. The date and elements of Luke and Jocelyn's history clicked together suddenly in his mind. This must be the day Luke finally caught up with Clary's mom – the day he would discover she had been pregnant during the Uprising, that she had a little three-year-old daughter now. Simon cleared his throat of emotion before replying.

"Yeah. You're just a little way off course – you need to head back that way another block and turn left, then you'll be on that street." He handed the paper back to Luke, who muttered his thanks distractedly, a renewed gleam of hope and determination in his eye as he set off in the direction he came. Simon watched as he went, well aware of the importance of the event that was about to take place in the life of his old best friend.


1998

Simon was making his way back to his crappy apartment just as evening was beginning to cast everything in a darkened, pinkish light. Though he had been concerned about returning to New York when he was trying to stay under the radar, Augustina had made an excellent point – not only was it a city he was very familiar with, but where better to become an anonymous face in the crowd? Lately, Simon had been trying to contact Thea, using all his friends and resources to track her down. From Ixia and Adair in Downworld, to Hesper in Berlin, to Ragnor in Idris and Catarina in South America with Tessa, even Jem in the Silent Brothers, everyone he knew he could trust had been contacted by Magnus (news of his continued existence couldn't spread, after all, he was still officially dead to the majority of the population). He had just come from Magnus', in fact, for their monthly catch-up. Of course, still no news on the Thea front – she may have well become a ghost. Simon was getting restless with the whole situation. He and Mikael seemed to have reached a stalemate, although the other was still at large, recruiting and turning people for his ever-growing vampiric army.

As he turned a corner, Simon stopped dead in his tracks, ears suddenly straining to hear something specific above the general constant white noise of the city. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge, the familiar, uneasy prickling feeling washing through his body, telling him that he had been seen, despite his strong glamour. Slowly, he inched his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the person or thing behind him. Fingers flexing, muscles tense. Simon was ready to either run or fight at a moment's notice, but a second noise caught him off guard. A wet, sniffling sound. Almost like – He turned bodily, only for his eyes to land on the sight of a scared little girl with a very familiar face.

Although she was clearly frightened by her predicament, with tears and snot running down her face, she was standing her ground, posture clearly defensive in a way that suggested training. Her long black hair was plaited, though strands were now escaping their tightly woven confines. Her eyes were dark, already hard, despite the innocent face they were set in, a frown etched on her brow.

In spite of himself, Simon breathed a small laugh. Isabelle had always refused to show him pictures of when she was younger – probably because she didn't want him to see her as anything less than intimidating and dangerous. Because the sight in front of him was absolutely adorable.

Slowly, he approached her. She raised tiny, trembling fists at him and he paused, hands raised in a non-threatening gesture.

"You better not try anything, mister, or you'll be very sorry," she said, her wavering little voice as stern as she could make it.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, voice low and genuine. "You're a very intimidating young lady." She seemed pleased with his response, nodding firmly and jutting her delicate chin up at him.

"You're not a mundane," she stated, giving him the same analytical stare he was used to from his old Isabelle, squinting at him. "Otherwise you wouldn't be able to see me. Are you a Shadowhunter as well?"

Simon smiled gently at her, "No, I'm not. I'm... friends with a lot of them, though." It probably wouldn't go over too well with young Isabelle, saying he was a vampire outright.

"Do you know where the New York institute is?" she asked, "I'm lost." She added in a smaller voice, ducking her head so that her words were almost unintelligible.

Simon's face softened in sympathy. "Sure I do. I can take you there if you want. It's not too far."

Isabelle beamed at him, "I'd be very grateful! Perhaps if I get home soon, Mother won't have noticed I'm gone..."

"No problem," said Simon, beginning to lead the way down the street. "So," he turned to her, "I bet you wanna be a badass Shadowhunter when you're older, huh?"

"I'm gonna be the best Shadowhunter in the Lightwood family for generations," she declared, her nose raised in the air, with a confidence that made Simon grin. "I'm gonna prove to my brothers that girls can too fight better than boys,"

"Oh, no doubt about that. The world will fear you, Miss Lightwood."


1999 [part 1]

Years of research and preparation had led to this moment. Simon drew a subtle breath and rolled his shoulders back, maintaining a rigid, military-like posture. Beside him stood several others vampires in similar stances, all awaiting the arrival of their new superior. Nerves and adrenaline coursed through Simon's body, though he tried to keep a lid on it. After a few weeks of training and tests, he found himself here, unarmed and un-glamoured, hoping like hell that none of Mikael's men would recognise him until he had gotten the information he needed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they heard the sound of someone's heavy footsteps approaching. A rather brutish man appeared through the door, easily twice as tall as Simon and about four times his weight in body mass. A nasty scar cut across his face, distorting the puckered skin of his left cheek. He approached them one by one in silence, staring them down. Simon stared back, trying to come across as bold but not insubordinate.

"Recruits," sneered the man after several minutes of silent intimidation tactics. "I've just received word from Prince Jarlsberg de Vampyr himself that we have a traitor in our midst. Although I have my suspicions," he cast another firm look at each of them before continuing, "My superior, Prince de Vampyr's right hand man himself has come here himself in order to uncover this rat. And I can assure you, he won't be nearly as merciful as me when it comes to doling out the appropriate punishment," the man grinned sadistically. Next to him, a recruit Simon knew as "5" swallowed deeply.

Scarface turned to open the door, revealing a man Simon had thought had died a long time ago. Kaspar. His former second in command during his leadership of the Berlin clan, Hesper's brother, thought to have perished during the fight against Ixia at the circus. Although, they had never found a body – this would explain why. Simon fought against every instinct within him that wanted to react, kept a firm hold on his passive mask. He noted, when Kaspar's eyes passed over him, a slight widening – a flicker of recognition that was gone before anyone else could notice it. They held each other's gaze for a moment, a silent acknowledgement. Simon's long-dead heart was in his throat as he waited to see whether he would denounced by Kaspar, wondering how he could possibly make it out of here alive if he did. He was a skilled enough fighter, but without the Mark of Cain to protect him, right in the belly of the beast, there was almost no chance he would survive.

Kaspar's eyes flickered to 5. Simon's hands trembled with a combination of rage, betrayal and fear.

"Dismissed, Craw," Kaspar said to the thuggish vampire, tilting his head in his direction, gaze flitting back to Simon. "None of these recruits is the traitor."

The other man grunted and left, seemingly disappointed at the dismissal. Kaspar paced in front of the recruits another time. "The rest of you may leave as well. I will call on you for individual interviews at a later time. You," he said, eyes fixed on Simon, "Stay."

Once the others had cleared out of the room, Kaspar's emotionless facade seemed to fall and Simon tensed into a more aggressive stance.

"What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead!" hissed Kaspar.

"Funny," Simon whisper-shouted back, "I could ask you the same thing!"

Kaspar clenched his jaw. "We don't have time for this. I did you a favour, for old time's sake, back there. I suggest you leave before the others catch on to your true identity, Sir,"

"I'm not leaving until I get what I came here for!" Simon snarled. He found himself pinned against the wall with Kaspar's hand on his throat.

"Don't you understand? You have to leave. Right now. Or I will kill you myself."

Before Simon could utter his scathing retort, the door was flung open by another member of Mikael's operation. "Sir! The Prince has arrived and is requesting your presence. The Queen has been placed in a holding cell, as per his orders."

With his back to the other, Kaspar shot Simon a look that clearly said, you should have taken your chance to get out while you could.


I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but there are only two more chapters left (49 and 50)! Simon's story has almost come to an end.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter (:

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