I honestly wasn't expecting you guys to respond so strongly to this story right off the bat, so I want to start by thanking you. I'm still retooling ideas and how I want things to work in the outline, but we're now on this road together. Meaning, if I make you angry and frustrated over the course of this story, I'm only half to blame.

There was a demon attack. He wasn't there to protect her, to save her, and she died. Her mother took away her memories again, knowing that with Jace gone Clary could have a normal mundane life. Simon swooped in and took advantage of Clary in her vulnerable state. Knowing that without Jace, she might as well settle, Clary gave in to his advances and it was now his hands that danced across her skin. The misery and lack of satisfaction caused her to die of a broken heart. She sacrificed herself for ones she loved and had been in a coma ever since.

With each passing second his siblings didn't tell him where Clary was, more terrible possibilities would fill his head. The Lightwoods looked nervously between each other, arguing through silent gestures and whispers, as if Jace weren't standing there going out of his mind. Alec turned to Jace and opened his mouth, clearly about to talk, before a sharp nudge to the ribs by Isabelle brought his attention back to her.

"Where. Is. Clary."

Dead. Hurt. Kidnapped. Missing. Abused. In danger. Crying out for him.

"She—"

The door slammed, startling the three. Jace's heart skipped a hopeful beat, waiting to see windswept red curls whipping through the halls and into his arms.

"I couldn't decide whether to get the Death Star crib or the lightsaber mobile so I got both and—holy shit!"

Simon tumbled to the ground, sending shopping bags flying. Jace groaned. He had gotten his hopes up just for it to be Simon. As if he hadn't suffered enough. He rolled his eyes at Simon's mouth flopping up and down and pointing at him like a mentally challenged fish.

"You're even worse than Isabelle," Jace muttered. He turned to his sister. "You mean to tell me that three years have passed and you're still slumming it with the bloodsucker?"

Isabelle huffed, crossing her arms so they rested just above her baby bump.

Wait.

Jace looked from Isabelle, to Simon (who was still pointing), to Isabelle's pregnant stomach, and to the baby supplies scattered across the floor. His eyes narrowed.

"Shit. It's bad enough that you lowered your standards, but having a kid with him? What has that child done to you to deserve sharing the Bloodsucker's DNA?"

"Shut it, Jace," she growled. "Besides, he hasn't been a vampire for years." Jace smirked, causing a sharp intake of breath from Simon.

"Holy…it's actually him. He's alive. He…" Simon shook his head repeatedly, his eyes searching Isabelle's desperately. Though Simon was no longer a vampire, in that moment his skin was just as pale. It seemed odd that out of everyone, Simon looked the most horrified at his reappearance.

"Isabelle, you can't."

She shifted, nervously wringing her hands and turned to Alec, dropping her voice to a murmur.

"Maybe he has a point. I mean—"

Alec shook his head forcefully.

"He deserves to know."

"Yeah, but what about her," Simon jumped in harshly.

So Clary was alive at least. The three continued their arguments, seeming to forget Jace was there. He was tired. Of what exactly it was hard to tell. Listening, waiting, Simon, not being with Clary, not knowing what happened to him. He needed her now. Everything in his life had been flipped upside down and he needed the one person who could ground him. Now.

They were laughing. She held her sketchbook far away from him—a challenge—and he descended like a lion on his prey. He hovered over her, tickling the spots he knew would destroy her resolve, and together they fell. By the end, as he held her in his arms, he removed the pencil that held her hair in a bun, sending her waves cascading around her shoulders. Just as he liked it best. She stuck her tongue out at him and, to add insult to injury, he cheekily pocketed her pencil. It was soon forgotten as they continued to getting lost in one another.

His heart ached. How many perfect days like that had been stolen from them? Three years. Longer than they had known each other. His hand snaked into his pocket where Clary's pencil remained. Too much time had been stolen from them already to wait for his siblings and Simon to finish deciding whether to tell him the truth about his own life. He pulled out his stele and quickly sketched a tracking rune onto his hand, holding the pencil steady. A few moments passed before he felt a pull. A flash of images raced before his vision.

He could feel her. His fingers gripped the pencil—his lifeline to her—tightly. She was on the Upper West Side. It was a far trip from Brooklyn and definitely not her usual stomping grounds. Were there any museums she was fond of in that area? It didn't matter. The pencil jerked in his hand and he knew which way he had to go. He couldn't leave fast enough.

Sneaking out of the Institute was easy enough with an argument still in deep pursuit. Then it was just a matter of hailing a cab (why were so many called Uber and Lyft?) and he was on his way. He was three years too late, but he was coming.

Wealthy-looking socialites in thick wool coats carrying briefcases and dogs in purses went in and out of the modern glass skyscraper towering above Jace. Lush plants lined the entrance, contrasting the gritty New York jungle. From what Jace could tell, the building seemed to be some ultra rich apartment high-rise full of geometrically strange furniture and floor to ceiling windows. What would Clary be doing here?

He could ask her soon. A thrill ran through him and he smiled, scratching on a glamour. There was no way he could get through security otherwise. Adrenaline pumped through him with each stride of his legs through the lobby and then to the elevator and up, up, closer. With each ding of a new floor, Jace's heart gave a jolt.

What do you say to someone who believed you dead? The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated? She'd probably punch him on the spot, but at least she could skip the seraph blade to the throat stage. He could beg for forgiveness, though he knew there weren't enough words to express how sorry he was. If it had been reversed and he had to go three years thinking Clary was dead…

He had always known she was the stronger one.

The elevator doors opened and he burst forward, blindly following the tugging of the pencil. He hoped he wasn't sweating as much as he felt like he was. Lord knows how long it had been since he had had a shower. Come to think of it, he hadn't even had time to see his appearance since waking up. What if he had some new grotesque scar that left Clary horrified? Isabelle did try to kill him. Maybe part of that was from some terrible disfigurement?

His feet stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. The pencil practically burned his palm pointing toward the door. She was there. All that separated him from the one he loved was a three inch door. Unconsciously, he flicked the rune off with his stele. She was so close. With one hand smoothing out his hair, the other knocked on the door.

Was the knock too forceful? Too quick? What if she didn't come to the door because she thought he was some weirdo? By the angel, was this how Simon felt all the time? Jace felt a new wave of pity rush through him that was quickly forgotten by the sound of a lock turning. Jace straightened. The door handle turned and slowly opened.

There was a sharp intake of breath, from who Jace didn't care. When he last saw her, she had just turned 18. Now…now the 21-year-old woman standing before him could destroy him and he would apologize to her. Perhaps his senses were partially blinded due to the oversized Columbia sweatshirt she wore—just the sweatshirt—which barely grazed her mid-thigh, leaving a large canvas of silky porcelain skin exposed to his eyes. Her body had grown curvier and more angular, with noticeable muscle definition. She had been training, protecting herself with him gone. And she had bangs now, which made her eyes wider—not that they could be much wider at the moment, staring at him. Her cheekbones were sharper, more prominent, and her lips…well, thankfully those hadn't changed. They remained the same lips he had grown so familiar with and accustomed to and…now he was staring.

But so was she. He knew that he had to stop staring at her, challenging as it was. He had to explain and he had questions to ask her and—

Her mouth had dropped and a gasp, so much like the one he made every time he kissed her, escaped. His eyes clouded, his senses went into overdrive, his pulse throbbed.

Fuck it.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed and then his lips were on hers and her body was crushed against his. It seemed she wouldn't respond. A moment later, her lips moved against his—fast and passionate. His senses exploded. She was his aphrodisiac and he would happily overdose on her. His hands fell from the small of her back to her creamy thighs, slipping her leg around his waist. Her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, pulling at his curls and eliciting a groan and—

"Clary, who was at the door?"

Her eyes burst open, bulging, and then suddenly she was forcefully pushing him away. Clary jolted backward, putting two, then three feet between them until her back hit the wall. Carefully, she raised her fingers to her lips as if his kisses had burned. Jace knew he should focus on the new voice—wait, why was it male—but she drowned out everything else.

"Clary," Jace murmured and then a fist was flying at him. Being three years out of practice, Jace's reflexes kicked in too late. The punch landed and he tumbled back against the door. Jace flexed his jaw. Nothing was broken, but it would certainly leave a nasty bruise if Jace didn't put an iratze on it. He raised his eyebrows. Whoever this man was, he was strong. He had to be a Shadowhunter. But why would he be in an apartment with Clary, early in the morning, alone, half-dressed, while she'd thought Jace was dead…

Jace flew upwards and tackled the man, sending them both crashing to the floor. Clary's yelp and subsequent yelling fell upon death ears. All Jace heard was his fist pounding into the dumb, ugly face of the man. Repeatedly. A hit for every time he touched…

Red clouded Jace's vision; red that only reminded Jace of Clary, which enraged him further. He deserved to die. Jace hit him harder, grinning as he drew blood.

"Stop it! Both of you!"

Jace paused briefly at Clary's cries, giving the man an opening to flip Jace off of him and take the upper hand. Jace swerved his head to the right just as the man's fist came down. He sent a knee upwards, which the man dodged. The man sent a well-aimed punch to his neck, making Jace grunt. Moments later Jace got in a solid elbow to the man's chest, likely cracking two ribs.

"To hell with this!"

Just as Jace had regained dominance, a wave of icy water crashed over them both. His eyes burst wide, staring up at Clary. She looked down at the two with hands on her hips and a scowl forged from hellfire. Jace swallowed. He couldn't remember his throat ever feeling so dry. Hadn't he been coming here to apologize with his tail between his legs for all the misery he had caused her? He glanced down at the bloodied, bruised, and newly soaked man, not feeling particularly sorry for the damage he had caused.

"Clary, I—"

She shifted, crossing her arms, and the light hit just right, catching onto her hand. Since when did Clary wear rings? And so early in the morning. Jace squinted as the light illuminated the diamond on her finger. Clearly Clary still wasn't the ring type because she was wearing it on the wrong finger. According to Isabelle, girls were only supposed to wear rings on the fourth finger of their left hand if—

The apartment door burst open. Alec, Isabelle, and Simon spilled into the apartment, apparently having realized where he disappeared to. Within two bounds, someone was at his side pulling him off the man and away. Jace didn't try to fight. He couldn't if he wanted to. For the first time, the fight had died within him.

"Goddamnit. You shouldn't have come here, Jace," Simon whispered at his side. Jace blinked. Where was…

Alec placed a gentle hand on Clary's shoulder. Her breathing was quick and Jace couldn't make out her words, which were frenzied and near hyperventilation. His chest tightened at the sight, but then she turned from Alec to whisper something to the man who was readily at her side. All Jace saw was Clary, the man, and the ring on her finger.

Isabelle hesitantly came to stand at Simon's side.

"Jace." Nothing. She opened her mouth to try again when she followed Jace's line of sight. Her lips tightened.

"We tried to warn you," she murmured in his ear. "Come with us. You—"

Her gaze locked with Clary's. Alec quickly nudged her, bringing Clary's focus back to him. Isabelle flexed her jaw, looking back to Jace with newly wet eyes.

"Both of you have too much to process right now and we can explain. But we need to go."

Jace only had enough energy to nod. With one last glimpse of Clary with tears streaking down her cheeks and the man putting his arms around her, he let Simon and Isabelle lead him away.

At this story's heart is a mystery, so naturally clues have already been slipped in and I'll be super interested in hearing your predictions. I have a few more chapters already pre-written, so the next update will depend on the amount of reviews. Thank you for reading, reviewing, and everything else!

-A.