Over a week later, and Clary still wasn't sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw dead blue ones staring back at her. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to get the image of Maureen out of her mind. She was trying to hide how much it was affecting her, but knew she wasn't doing a good job. Jace was constantly giving her worried looks, and even Izzy, who didn't know what had happened, was leaving her worried texts and voicemails. As much as she avoided talking about how she was feeling, she couldn't hide the physical signs, like the bags growing under her eyes or the obvious weight loss she was going through or the fake smiles she plastered on her face.

At the moment, she was in her bedroom trying to draw to get her mind off everything. It wasn't working, though. Images of Maureen continued to be at the forefront of her mind, and it was showing in her sketches. Despite her best effort, everything she drew was of Maureen. The most recent was of her body, just the way it had been at the crime scene. But Jonathan was looming over her in this sketch. Clary tore out the piece of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into a growing pile in the corner just as Jace walked in.

He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. "Artist's block?" he asked, looking at the pile of discarded sketches.

Clary shrugged as she began drawing on a new piece of paper. "I guess you could say that."

"Alec's Just about finished with dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she responded, staying focused on her drawing.

Jace glanced into the hallway before stepping completely inside the room and shutting the door behind him. "Talk to me, Clare. What's going on?"

Clary looked up to find him now standing right next to her bed. "Nothing," she muttered.

"Bullshit," he responded evenly, staring intensely at her. "You aren't sleeping. You hardly eat. You hole yourself up in your room whenever you aren't at the precinct. Plus, I have Izzy all up mine and Alec's asses because you've been ignoring her calls. I know something's wrong. Just please tell me what it is so I can try to help."

She tore her eyes away from his and looked back down at the black lines of her new drawing, "I guess the whole Maureen thing is just really getting to me," she said. "I mean, she was just a kid. How could he do that to her?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently placed a hand over one of hers. "The only advice I can give you is to simply try not to focus on it. There's nothing you could have done to stop it. The only thing you can do is work to catch the asshole."

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the lump in her throat. "But if I had just tried even a little harder before, we could have already caught him and that girl would still be alive and she wouldn't have left a grieving family behind." She had balled her hands into fists. She didn't realize it until that moment, but she really had been blaming herself for the whole thing. She hadn't done enough to make sure Jonathan was behind bars, and other people were paying the price.

Jace hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Hey, listen to me. You can't think like that. It's not going to help anyone. Just stop focusing on the past and the what-ifs and instead focus on the now. And more importantly, focusing on making yourself better."

"I-I don't know if I can, Jace."

He gave her a soft smile. "And that's okay, Clare. Just promise you'll at least try your best."

She nodded. "I promise."

"Alright," he breathed out, slapping his palms against his thighs. "Let's go eat."

"I just told you I wasn't hungry," she said as he stood up.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You also just told me you promise to try your best."

She let out a sigh. "Fine. I'll come eat with you guys."

His smile widened as he put a hand out to her and she accepted it.

The next day, she sat in a small café, waiting for Izzy. It was another suggestion from Jace to help her get over Maureen. He said being with friends would help distract her. She also had a feeling he only said it to get Izzy off his ass about her.

She took a drink of her coffee and looked at the clock on the wall. Izzy was 15 minutes late, which was pretty typical. However, Clary had hoped she would be on time at least just this once. She knew Izzy was going to interrogate her, and she really just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Sitting there and waiting was only making her anxious.

The bell above the door chimed, signaling someone had walked in. Clary looked over and saw that Izzy had finally arrived. Izzy met her gaze and all but ran over, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor.

"Ohmygod, Clary!" she yelled, throwing her arms around her in a hug. "I've missed you so much. Why haven't you been returning my calls or texts? I've been so worried."

Izzy sat down across from her, and Clary pushed the latte she had ordered for her across the table. "I just have a lot going on," she said.

Izzy rolled her eyes as she tentatively took a sip of the drink. "That's the same bullshit excuse my brother gave me. I want the real answer from you, Fray."

Clary wrapped her hands around her cup and stared into the black liquid. "I don't really want to talk about, Iz. It's something that I really want to have to explain right now."

"Clary, I'm your best friend. I'm just really worried about you and I want to help with whatever's going."

"I really appreciate that, Izzy, but I'm already trying to work on it. Jace has been giving me some really good advice."

Izzy's eyebrows shot up. "Jace, the guy you have hated with your entire being since day one, is giving you advice and you're actually listening to it?"

Clary nodded and shrugged. "He just has more experience with this type of situation."

Izzy leaned back in her seat and smirked. "I bet there's a few other situations he has a lot more experience with."

Clary choked on the sip of coffee she had just taken. "You're disgusting!" she gasped, but she couldn't the small laugh that escaped with it. She loved how her friend could diffuse tension so easily.

"Come on. Don't tell me you haven't even thought about it."

"Ew! No, Isabelle, I haven't. "

She let out a laugh. "You can't be sharing the same living space as that man and have not thought about it. Hell, even I've thought about it."

Clary wrinkled her nose. "He's practically your brother. That's gross."

"Maybe. But even I can admit he's hot. You'd have to be blind not to. And you'd have to be crazy to not think about what he can do in bed."

Clary felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her friend noticed immediately and grinned.

"Look at you blushing. I knew it!"

Clary glared at her. "Fine. You're right. I have thought about it. But that doesn't matter because it's never going to happen. Even if the opportunity presented itself, I don't think I could get over his ego and how much of an ass he is."

"I don't buy that."

"What do you mean? There's nothing to buy. That's just the way it is."

"You guys have been getting all buddy-buddy recently. It's only a matter of time." She sat up a little straighter and glanced at her watch. "Speaking of time, I really need to leave right now if I want to make it to my appointment on time."

Clary scoffed. "You're never on time to anything."

"Oh! That reminds me," she started digging through her purse. "I stopped by your apartment on my way here to get your mail so you wouldn't have to make the trip. That's why I was late."

She handed Clary a stack of about twenty envelopes, and Clary thanked her after apologizing for her comment on her lateness. They said their goodbyes, and once Izzy was gone, Clary started sifting through the mail. One envelope made her stop cold. The return address was her childhood home, a house that no longer existed. The sender was a Jon Fray. Her brother was taunting her.

With shaky hands, she tore up the envelope. She pulled out a letter written on a nice piece of parchment paper, and a photo fell out along with it, landing face down on the table. She ignored the photo, and read the letter first:

Clarissa,

I warned you to stay way from the case. Maureen was another warning. You will not receive a third. Remember what is at stake and never question the lengths I am willing to go to.

Love always,

Jonathan

She felt bile rise in her throat as she picked up the photograph. It was of Maureen. She was on the floor of her room, screaming at Jonathan probably moments before he took her life away.

Clary quickly gathered all the mail and ran out of the café. She didn't stop until she was safely in her room in Jace's and Alec's apartment. It was there that she finally allowed herself to break down.

She was in Maureen's bedroom, watching as a figure moved in on the screaming girl. She could see the evident fear in her eyes and her screams shook her to her core. She tried to move to intervene, but was glued to the spot. She tried to yell out, but she had no voice.

The figure got closer and closer to Maureen, and the panic started to rise in Clary's chest. She had to do something, but couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move an inch or speak or a word. She was completely useless.

As the figure went to make their lethal strike, their identity was revealed. However, it wasn't Jonathan standing there with a malicious smile on his face. It was Clary going for the kill.

She woke up with a start, a scream ripping from her throat. The door to her room flung open, and Jace looked around frantically with his gun drawn.

"What is it? What happened?" he asked, the panic evident in his voice.

"J-Just a bad dream," she responded, sitting up in bed.

Jace's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank god," he sighed as he put his weapon down.

"But Jace, I have to tell you something."

Whoa hey an update. Pls review.