Just finished writing a 60-page script for one of my classes which featured more profanity than I think I've said my entire life, so this is a nice palette cleanser.

"So I guess the rumors are true," Magnus strode into the Institute's infirmary, quirking an eyebrow at the sight of Jace. "Has anyone ever told you you're like a cockroach?"

Jace shrugged. He didn't feel much like talking. In the two hours since he returned to the Institute, he had been just fine isolating himself within the infirmary so he could think. Even if his thinking was really just sulking like an angsty teenager.

"I don't want to be a man," Jace had told Clary and Luke after Maryse kicked him out. "I want to be an angst-ridden teenager who can't confront his own demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead."

And the way Clary had looked at him, even when they thought they were siblings, with those green eyes of molten fire and innocence.

Nope. Shut it down.

No matter how hard he tried not to think about her, his mind kept going in circles. Truly, there had yet to be a moment he had stopped thinking about her. Those thoughts quickly lead to the apartment and then the ring, but thinking about the ring hurt too much, so he would spiral into the little details that he had missed when his body had been running on pure adrenaline.

Whose sweatshirt was Clary wearing? The man's? Had he been touching her as only Jace was supposed to before Jace arrived? Her curls had been askew, but that could have just as easily been from sleeping versus…

How long exactly did it take for Clary to forget about Jace and move on? It had been three years. Clary and Jace had been together for two. In that time, they had overcome thinking they were siblings, two wars, Jace being possessed and controlled by Clary's brother who attempted to assault her, and Jace being a human flamethrower. Through all that, they had never broached the subject of marriage. So what exactly had some guy with a mediocre Ivy League sweatshirt—which was probably made by child laborers in a third-world country—been through with Clary that had simultaneously gotten her through Jace's death and convinced her to marry him? And for that matter, what—

There was a sharp zap to Jace's chest, shocking him upright and to attention. Magnus smirked, dripping in satisfaction as he blew a puff of smoke from his finger. Jace narrowed his eyes.

"Was that really necessary?" He ground out.

Magnus shrugged.

"I don't appreciate my valuable time being wasted by your brooding. I'd much rather get to the bottom of your mysterious resurrection."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a resurrection. I'm pretty sure that I was never actually dead but just…missing."

Magnus's cat-like eyes flashed with excitement. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Luckily, we can at least get to the bottom of that mystery." He paused for only a moment, appraising Jace. "That is, assuming I have your permission to examine you."

The question was clearly less for permission and more out of rudimentary politeness, likely having something to do with Alec slipping into the infirmary moments before.

"Are you saying I have a choice?"

Magnus's hand lit up in a flash of blue sparks. His face lit up in a grin madder than the cheshire cat.

Jace remembered how the heavenly fire had felt: like electricty thrumming through his veins, always waiting for the gasoline to spark. That was what it felt like when Magnus put his hand upon his head. His entire body raced with energy, a painful chaotic force of adrenaline which made sitting still agonizing. But he couldn't move if he wanted to. Flashes danced across his eyelids.

He was at the doorstep of Clary's brownstone. She smiled up at him in the darkness, completely unaware to her own beauty.

"I still can't believe you've never seen a single Disney movie," she teased. He could never figure out her and Simon's fascination with cartoons meant for children.

"There's a duck not wearing pants. That's all I need to know." Her features scrunched into a playful scowl and he knew he had won. He swooped down, kissing her on her forehead. She pouted.

"That's all I get?"

"Considering your mother is watching us out her window, I figured you would like me better tomorrow if I remained unmauled."

Clary twisted, spotting Jocelyn peeking out from behind the curtains. Luke could be seen gently trying to pull her back. Clary rolled her eyes and groaned.

"I just turned 18, yet she still treats me like a child; as if I'm not trained to fight demons." She slipped her hands around his neck, tugging him closer. Who was he to refuse?

"You know, there's always one solution to your mother's nightly stake outs. You could move in with me."

Clary jumped back, though her arms remained around him. She blinked up at him slowly with wide eyes, gauging whether or not he was serious.

"You aren't joking." It wasn't a question, but Jace shook his head regardless.

"You practically live at the Institute anyway. Why not make it official?"

Clary's smile grew wider.

"You sure you won't get sick of me?"

"Impossible."

She pulled him closer, crashing his lips to hers, her mother be damned. Then he had bid her goodnight and promised to see her in the morning, grinning as he thought of the coming days where he would no longer have to say goodbye. He continued walking with a stupid grin on his face for a few more blocks until the sensor in his pocket began to vibrate. Jace's lovestruck grin twisted into one of bloodlust.

The demon was built like a tree trunk, thick limbs knocking clumsily against the alley walls. The body glistened and pulsed a dark black, like it oozed oil. It was an easy kill, easier than even Jace was expecting. A full minute of action at the most, leaving Jace with a lot of unspent adenaline buzzing in him. He picked up his seraph blade, considering calling Alec for a spur of the moment hunt, when the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. There was movement behind him.

"I expected you would be more difficult, Jace Herondale," a women's voice crooned. Where had he heard that voice? "No matter. Thank you for all your help."

"I haven't done anything to help you."

Jace spun, his blade poised and aimed for the woman's throat.

It was all darkness from there.

"No, but you will," her voice floated in his ears.

There was a feminine hand brushing his cheek. Darkness. Vines twisting and coiling across his limbs. Darkness. The flash of a knife. Darkness. A rune he had never seen before, made from blood. Darkness. Grass in his hands and brimstone at his feet. Darkness, forever and always.

Jace burst upwards from the cot, gulping thick breaths of air and recoiling from the fluroescent lights above that so harshly contrasted against the darkness.

Magnus stood in front of him, his hand no longer glowing with sparks. He looked at Jace curiously, his lips pursed in a grim line.

"Magnus, what's wrong? Did you find out what happened to him?" Alec stepped forward, slipping his hand into Magnus's. My energy is yours if you need it. Take it, his eyes whispered to the warlock. Jace's heart clenched enviously, though he wished it hadn't. His parabatai had fought for his love against so many obstacles. He deserved this happiness, even while Jace's was in jeapardy.

"I sensed traces of magic on your body. I couldn't recognize the source, but whoever took you is capable of powerful, and dark, magic," Magnus directed at Jace. "They knew how to do a similar mind-blocking spell that I did on the biscuit, which suggests that wherever you were, you were conscious."

"But we know it was a warlock who took him, right?" Alec interjected, his tone venemous. "We can track him down like we tracked you down."

"Her," Jace added pointedly. Alec and Magnus looked at him curiously. "I couldn't see her face, but I remembered it was a woman who took me."

Alec looked at Magnus beseechingly. "That narrows it down. If we look through the female warlocks in your registry—"

"Just because she was capable of blocking his memory doesn't necessarily mean she was a warlock, just that she's powerful." Magnus put a tender hand to Alec's face, calming him down. There was a weary familiarity to the gesture that gave Jace the impression this had become a regular thing since Jace had been gone. It was only when Magnus lowered his hand that Jace noticed the identical rings on their fingers.

"You got married," Jace murmured. And I wasn't there for it. Alec nodded, albeit uneasily. He knew what Jace was thinking, of course. He had always known. Parabatai.

"Congratulations," Jace said, stuttering slightly. "I'm happy for you."

And he was. He only wished he could have been happy for them when it mattered, at the wedding, instead of having a separate life that he couldn't remember. So much had been stolen from him. Isabelle was pregnant, Alec was married, and Clary was…

"Jace," Magnus uneasily changed the subject. "Have you noticed any new marks or wounds on yourself in the mirror? They could give us a clue as to where you were."

Jace shifted on the cot and shook his head. "I've been a bit sidetracked"

"He tracked down Clary and found out about Eric," Alec supplied.

Eric. What a dumb name.

Magnus winced and looked as if he wanted to say something supportive, but he didn't get a chance. There was muffled yelling from outside the infirmary and then Clary burst through the door, screaming, "Who the hell do you think you are making me believe you are dead, turning up on my door after three years, kissing me, and then bailing without giving me so much as an explanation?"

Clary only had eyes for him as she tore through the infirmary, quickly brushing past Alec and Magnus and stopping five feet in front of Jace. It was a healthy distance, but it left a tangible weight. Jace wasn't ready to see her—not yet—but his gaze was locked on her with a magnetic charge. In his mind, it had only been a day since he last kissed her goodnight, but his body recognized what it had lost and refused to let him forget it. Even as her eyes were narrowed in fury and a glistening bright green that spoke of the pain he had caused her; and continued causing her.

"You're not welcome here!"

Jace spun to the source of the intrusion; Simon had torn himself from Isabelle's grip and was barreling towards them with a level of irateness Jace couldn't remember ever seeing from the nerdy boy. Jace furrowed his brow. He knew that his unprecedented return to the living had freaked Simon out earlier, but he couldn't think of anything that he had done to deserve Simon's abuse. At least, not recently.

"I get that we haven't always gotten along, but if this can wait—"

"I wasn't talking to you," Simon spat, not sparing a glance at Jace. His eyes were locked on a different target. But who…"I meant her."

Her? But there was only Isabelle and…

Clary scoffed, rolling her eyes and returning Simon's glare with equal, if not more deadly, ferocity.

"Well that didn't stop you from bursting into my apartment so, by all means, sit there and pout to your heart's content, bastardis sanguinis." The insult rolled off her tongue, instantly earning a reaction from Simon who lunged at her, stopped only by Magnus and Alec's fast reflexes. Jace wasn't sure what it meant, but the hatred in her voice toward her best friend sent a chill down her spine.

What the hell had happened?

Simon tensed, opening his lips to respond, when Isabelle moved to put a hand on his arm. The gesture instantly calmed him, allowing Alec and Magnus to release him without fear of homicide, though his eyes still burned with hatred toward Clary. In fact, Isabelle's gaze had hardened at the redhead's presence, though she didn't appear to be outright hostile. Clary, on the other hand…

Now that Jace was paying attention, he noticed a clear divide in the room. Clary stood on her own off to one side with the rest of their friends standing at the opposition, though Alec appeared visibly uncomfortable rather than angry and Magnus was grim but unsurprised. And then, in the middle of it all was Jace.

As if he wasn't dealing with enough as it was.

"Maybe we should give the two of them some privacy," Isabelle said stiffly, her gaze firmly on Jace.

"I think that's a great idea!" With a grand flourish, Magnus strode to usher Alec and Simon toward the doorway. Simon complied, as if he had a choice in the matter, but not before exchanging one final look at Jace. 'I'm sorry', he mouthed.

Before Jace could figure out what that meant, the room was cleared and it was just him, Clary, and the distance between them. Clary shifted, her eyes lingering at the doorway before slowly pivoting to him.

Jace leaned backward, flattening his hands firmly on the cot. He didn't trust being near her while his mind was so chaotic. Nothing was right anymore and he had so many questions he wanted to ask her. He lingered on Simon's parting message. What did Simon have to be sorry for? And why did it feel like a warning?

He wanted to ask her what happened between Simon and her and opened his mouth to form the question, but faltered. There was so much he wanted to ask her. Why would he start with Simon? But then again, it wasn't just Simon, it was everyone. The only one who didn't seem to be shunning her was Alec, of all people. So maybe it wasn't such a stupid question. Jace opened his mouth again, but then he thought about how she was feeling. Undoubtedly these last few hours had been a lot for her to handle. Was she okay? He wanted to know, so he should ask, but maybe that would seem like he was trying too hard.

Why was this so hard? This wasn't who he was. Did he even know who he was? He had been conscious during those three years, not that he could remember it. What had he done during that time? Against his will, an image of a hand brushing his cheek burst into the forefront of his mind. A pit settled in his stomach.

He looked up at Clary.

"What ha—How—When—" He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly. Clary stood silent and unmoving, taking him in. That was the most disconcerting part of seeing her. From the moment he met her, her emotions were clear for all to see through her green eyes. He knew when she was angry, hurt, prepping for battle, and deeply in love. Now when he looked in her eyes, he couldn't read anything; she was a blank slate and that was what he couldn't figure out above all else.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, interrupting their silent staring match. "The last time I saw you, we were on a picnic in Central Park. You wore a yellow romper with daisies on it. I can remember every detail of how you looked and the way you laughed and how it felt kissing you with the sunlight shining down.

"You kept getting mad at me for teasing you each time you reapplied sunscreen, but you were still smiling. I can remember every detail because that's the last thing I remember. And I don't remember what happened after, but you thought I was dead and for that I can't apologize enough."

Jace knew he was rambling, but the further he talked, the clearer the image of that day and that romper became. It shimmered in his eyes; his heart clenched as he fully took her in now.

Thankfully, she had changed out of her boyfriend's shirt and was now outfitted in full armor. It differed slightly from normal shadowhunter gear in that little touches of red on the belts and straps were added. He had grown used to seeing her in armor thoughout the many battles they fought together, but something about this armor felt significant. And then there was that ring, still on her finger.

"Do you know who took you?" Jace snapped his head up at the sound of her voice; the first time she had actually talked to him since his return. He shook his head.

She nodded, pursing her lips in concentration as her mind whirred. Her eyes snapped back into focus and then she was turning and rushing to the door.

"Well then, we better start looking so I can know who to kill," she called behind her. Jace blinked and then he was off the cot and chasing after her. She was short, but damn was she fast when charging off. He reached her when she had almost reached the door and quickly caught her arm.

"Clary, slow down."

She huffed, blowing a piece of stray hair from her face. His hand twitched and before he realized what he had done he was brushing the tendril behind her ear and slipping a finger underneath the ponytail restraining her hair. They both froze. Slowly, Jace drew his hand back. The ponytail remained in place.

"We should probably talk about us." He had thought it over and accepted that she was with someone else while she thought he was dead, but he wasn't dead anymore.

"Jace." Her tone made her reply clear. Not now. He clenched his jaw.

"We need to talk about this sometime. This hasn't been easy for me either, you know."

"Jace!" Her eyes flashed warningly. He bristled like a chastised child, slightly shaking his head.

"Fine. Why don't you tell me what happened between you and Simon, then."

She hesitated. Then, "A lot has changed since you've been gone."

Clary squared her shoulders and looked up at him. For the first time, she allowed him a glimpse into her emotions as her eyes glittered with tears.

"I'm not the girl in the daisy romper anymore, Jace." She pulled her arm from his loosened grip and took a step back, away from him. "She died with you."

With one last sorrowful look at him, she disappeared through the door and left him alone in an empty room with more questions than answers.

We got some hints, some more questions, and some more Jace and Clary. What more could you ask for? Actual answers? Well, next chapter does answer some questions and may or may not include the point of view of a certain redhead. The more reviews, the quicker the update.

See you guys next time and be sure to hang in there,

A.