AN: Loved writing this chapter, hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

CLARY POV:

Clary sat slouched under a gigantic oak tree beside the bleachers on the school sports field, a sketchpad open and leaning against her legs.

The morning brought out the beauties of nature that most people overlooked or failed to appreciate. Bright yellow rays filtered through the branches of the trees that framed the field. The air was cool and crisp; traces of a new season filled the air along with dew bringing out the earthly smell of the sport field in front of her.

Clary was dressed in her casual attire of a comfy oversized t-shirt and frayed jeans, today her jeans were pale blue and little pen drawings decorated them. She swept her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and held it in place with an extra graphite pencil, letting the loose wisps billow around her in the cool Alicante wind.

Clary scrunched her face up in concentration and lightly gripped the pencil hovering above the page. She had decided to change her scenery; instead of the playground across the road from her house, she had walked down to the school to sketch.

Clary was slightly optimistic; she had an idea for her art board and had been drawing the golden leaves that formed a carpet around her. Clary had about twenty different shades of red, orange, yellow, brown and gold pencils lying in front of her, which she was experimenting mixing together.

Clary didn't know how much time had passed, but when she looked up she noticed the outline of a tall, athletic figure across the field, dribbling a soccer ball. He was wearing a black muscle singlet and shorts, his bedhead golden hair flying around him as he expertly tapped and pushed the ball around, guiding it with his soccer boots. The boy sped down the field as he avoided imaginary players and kept possession of the ball as he flicked it off his boots, knees and head.

Clary, who had never been a fan of soccer, even when Jonathan had played, was transfixed and amazed at the skill as she watched the path of the ball spiral and zigzag around the boy and down the field.

The boy reached the end of the field and gave a powerful kick that sent the ball flying through the air and straight through the goal posts. He turned around and Clary was forced to admit what she hadn't wanted to believe: that this boy, expressing deep artistic emotion was Jace Herondale.

She studied his face and was surprised to find raw emotion; his usual hard, striking features were soft and unguarded. Jace hadn't seen her yet, but at that moment, they made eye contact and Jace looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Clary?" He called out, squinting into the shadows of the treeline where she sat, surrounded by her golden leaves and pencils. "Clary?" He repeated, "What are you doing here?"

His voice didn't hold any sarcasm or wit or charm or anything, it was empty and for once Jace sounded vulnerable. For some reason, Clary felt she was intruding on a private moment.

"I'm drawing." Her voice sounded small.

"Well go find somewhere else to draw," He cried, his voice cracked as he started to stride towards her, ball in hand. "You have no right to be here spying on me so just leave me alone, Clary."

"I have every right to be here Jace! And I'm not spying, you don't think I have better things to do?" Clary seethed as she stood up, not caring to brush off the leaves that were stuck to was angry now: Typical Jace, thinking everything and everyone revolved around him.

"Do you even know what day it is, Jace? It's the anniversary of my brothers death, so if anything, you should be the one leaving me alone."

Jace's expression hardened as he stared at her. "Your brother was my best friend, Clary." He shouted and his voice echoed off the field and through the trees, startling nearby birds.

"Don't make me laugh! You've obviously moved on. You have no heart Jace, none at all."

Jace was no more than a meter away from her now, close enough that Clary was surprised to see tears running down his face, and she realized her own face was damp and her vision blurred.

"I think about the crash everyday, everyday, Clary. You would think after two years it would get easier, but it doesn't. And today especially is not easy." Jace's chest heaved as he took a step closer.

He was still holding the ball, and now she was closer, she instantly recognized it. A battered gold soccer ball and the initials J.M stitched in black. Clary gasped: "Why the hell do you have Jonathan's ball? Give it!" She grabbed onto the ball. "I said, give me Jonathan's ball, Jace!" Clary put all her strength into tugging the ball out of Jace's hold; clearly surprising Jace as she went stumbling backwards to land on the carpet of leaves, bringing him down with her.

Jace had fallen on top of her and Clary was too stunned to move as she lay beneath him. Clary's pencil must have fallen out of her bun, as copper locks spilled around them. Clary looked up into Jace's sad, golden eyes and wondered, how he was obviously torn apart but still looked so perfect. Disheveled golden blond curls hung limply around his sunken face and he had noticeable bags under his eyes, but he was still beautiful.

They looked into each other's eyes and in that moment they had a silent understanding.

"I'm sorry, Clary," Jace whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Two Years Ago - JACE POV:

Jace stumbled over yet another unconscious body sprawled on the floor as he made his way through the trashed room to Jonathan. He was witnessing what one of Magnus Bane's famous parties looked like at four in the morning. As soon as Jonathan caught sight of Jace, he smiled broadly before winning at the tipsy girl in front of him and unsteadily walking towards Jace.

"Hey, Bro," Jonathan slurred as he playfully punched Jace's shoulder. "You ready to leave?"

"Yeah man, let's go," Jace replied with a grin, before dizzily trailing out of the room after Jonathan's retreating figure. Jace watched Jonathan yank the silver keys out of his signature leather jacket.

"Are you okay to drive, man?" Jace asked doubtfully as they descended the slippery marble stairs at the entrance of Magnus's house, which was more of a mansion.

"Dude, I am fine. I may have had a few but I'm good to drive."

In the back of his mind Jace wondered if it was really the best idea to, not only let the drunken Jonathan drive, but get in the car with him. But then again, this was Jonathan. Cool, calm, and collected, Jonathan, who was two years older and always looking out for Jace and Clary. He trusted Jonathan, and if Jonathan said he was okay to drive, he was okay to drive.

If only Jace had known just how wrong he was.

Jace opened the meticulously cleaned black door of the passenger seat to Jonathan's car. Jonathan has just gotten it for his eighteenth birthday, and his love for it was almost concerning. Just as Jace flopped into his seat, Jonathan's car roared to life; illuminating the line of cars parked up and down the street before them.

"You know, I saw that pretty hot blonde eyeing you up back there. Kaelie?" Jonathan joked as he lazily spun the car's steering wheel. "When you next see her, don't forget to use protection."

"Shut up, dude," Jace muttered heatedly, as he crossed his arms in irritation.

"Oh right, how could I forget about Clarissa Fray, the great love of your life?"

"Dude!" Jace cried in indignation while Jonathan cackled at Jace's distress.

"Okay, okay, I'll drop it. For now." Jonathan laughed as he turned his head to ruffle Jace's hair.

Jace saw the headlights before he saw the car. The lights illuminated Jonathan's grinning face, angelic-like. And then they collided with the car.

The car smashed into the side of Jonathan's and they were sent spinning. Jace felt his heart drop into his stomach before everything went black.

When Jace regained consciousness the first thing that hit him was the searing pain in his thigh. A shard of glass stained with blood, his blood, had impaled his leg. Then he remembered what had happened and adrenaline surged through him, dulling the pain. Jace reached out in panic once he realized he was upside down, dangling from the seat belt of Jonathan's car like a helpless spider.

"Jonathan!" Jace cried out, as he frantically searched his blurry surrounding, which was barely visible by the light of the moon.

"Jonathan!" Jace yelled hoarsely as he tried to free himself from the seatbelt, which trapped him against the car. "Oh god," Jace murmured painfully as he saw his friend's crumpled, bloody figure, lying through the smashed windscreen of the car.

Jace hissed in pain as he escaped the restraints of the seat belt and hit the ground. He attempted to wipe the blood trickling down his brow before he dragged himself through the shattered remains of the windshield and towards his friend's unmoving body.

"Jonathan?" Jace whimpered once he had reached his friend's side. Jonathan's face remained facing the ground and his body did not stir. Jace gently placed his arm on his friend's shoulder, only to find it saturated with blood. In the back of his mind, Jace registered the sharp, icy rain that had began to fall and the ringing of sirens in the distance, but he could not take his eyes off his friend. As he turned Jonathan's body he took in the bruised and bloody skin, the cuts carved deep with stray shards of glass. He couldn't take his eyes off of the blood still trickling out of Jonathan's straight nose, or the blood covering the permanent smile on Jonathan's mouth. And Jace would never forget Jonathan's lifeless green eyes, staring blankly at the moon that stared straight back.

Present Day - CLARY POV:

Clary huffed and rolled over in bed to grab her phone from the cluttered nightstand where it was charging. The lock screen; a selfie of her, Tessa, Izzy, Simon, Magnus, Maia and Jordan, their overly-happy faces crammed into the small frame, lit up Clary's dark bedroom as she read the time: 2:03. Sighing and giving up hope of sleep, Clary clambered out of bed and crossed the room to collapse in her desk chair, which had half her wardrobe draped over the back of it.

The nights were the hardest for Clary during the weeks after Jonathan's death. When everything was quiet and there were no distractions, Clary's mind was left to swarm with the dreaded thoughts and images. The memory of accident was burned into Clary's head, haunting her when she closed her eyes. Clary and Jonathan had not only been siblings - they had been best friends, therefore when she had seen Jonathan that night two years ago, staring lifelessly into the night sky, a small smile remaining on his face, Clary felt as though someone had reached into her chest and tore her heart into a million pieces. Like humpty-dumpty not able to be put together again. She was left drowning deep in her misery.

Clary would wake from haunting nightmares, slick with sweat and gasping for breath, sobs wreaking her frail body. Often, she would find herself crossing the hallway to Jonathan's bedroom where he would have made space for her in his bed and soothingly rubbed her back, whispering reassurances in her ear that it was only a nightmare, none of it was real. But what was real was that Jonathan was gone and when she reached his room, his bed was always cold. Empty.

Clary pulled across the curtain above her desk and gazed out the window to the Lightwood house. Jace's bedroom was directly opposite hers, dimly illuminated by the streetlights. The last time she had seen Jace was after he had said he was sorry. Jace had scrambled to his feet and ran away from her, out of the school, leaving Clary in her pile of golden leaves.

She still had to sort things with him. Clay had seen a side of Jace she had never imagined he possessed: vulnerable, emotional and in grief. Come to think of it, Clary had never seen Jace cry, not even when he was a kid and had broken his arm falling from the tree house. He had been a tough kid and had never showed much emotion.

Lost in thought, Clary realized with a start; she had never hated Jace. Sure, she had hated how arrogant and obnoxious he acted and she hated how he paraded around without a care in the world, but Clary had never really thought why Jace was the way he was. Why was he so different from the boy she once knew? Was it because of the accident? Was it because of her?

She had been gazing at the velvet, star scattered sky for over half an hour when out of the corner of her eye, she saw the window of Jace's bedroom slowly inch open. Clary, now alert, watched as the figure that could only be Jace, expertly slid down the roof and climbed down the trellis attached to the side of the house, before he disappeared from view. Curious, Clary opened up her own window and carefully made her way onto the cold, aluminum roof. She spotted Jace climb up the old tree house and without thinking, Clary walked until the roof lined up with the tree, then grabbed into a branch and swung herself through, like she had done countless times before.

She landed in the tree house with a thud and Jace spun around in alarm.

"Clary?" It was dark, but moonlight spilt through the tree house, illuminating his face in an unearthly glow. She could see the defined bags under his eyes and his disarrayed hair, as if he had raked his hands through it over and over again.

"I can't sleep," she stated and rubbed her arms, wishing she had brought a sweater. "Jace, we need to talk."

Jace didn't reply, but nodded as he sat down, leaning his back against the sturdy tree house wall.

"I've been thinking, a lot, and I've realized something." Clary took a deep breath and sat down beside him. How was she supposed to say this? "Jace, for two whole years I've blamed you for the accident and for Jonathan's death because I believed it truly was your fault."

"Clary, I told you, I'm really sorry-"

"No, Jace, the thing is you shouldn't be sorry because none of it was your fault. I just realized why I hated you so much, Jace. I needed someone to blame for Jonathan's death, to make it easier. So I could take all my anger of losing him out on someone else. You were easy to blame because you were with him that night." Clary felt a lump start to form in her throat and tears burn at the back of her eyes, but held it in. "I'm sorry for blaming you when it wasn't your fault, when there was nothing you could have done."

"But there was. I could have stopped him from driving, I knew he was drunk and I still let him drive." Jace spoke as he turned to face her, and again she was met with the vulnerable, unguarded Jace from the soccer field.

"No, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known." Without thinking, she took his hand in hers like she used to when they were kids, when they had tripped over and scrapped their knees on the pavement. "Jace, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm sorry for blaming you and treating so horribly. Jonathan wouldn't be proud of me."

Clary then let the tears spill freely and the lump in her throat turn into a sob as Jace embraced her, soothingly rubbing her back and whispering reassurances in her ear. Just as Jonathan would have done.

AN: Please give me feedback and thoughts in a review, would love to hear from you! :)