Jace P.O.V.

"How is she?" the words slipped out of my mouth before Magnus had barely even shut the door.

"Perhaps you could ask her yourself," the man cooed.

I fell silent and ground my teeth together to stop the wave of pain. I blocked the red-haired girl from my mind before she could weasel her way in with that smile. "Because she doesn't want me there."

I fell into step beside Magnus as the two of us walked through the steel-covered halls of the compound. "Doesn't she, though?" Magnus clicked his tongue.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I genuinely didn't.

"Are you so horrible at reading people? Perhaps I should tell Command and have you kicked out."

I wanted nothing more. Well…maybe one thing more… But I didn't tell him that. Instead I said, "When my parents were killed, Command took me in. I won't have—,"

But Magnus had whirled on him.

"Command did not take you in, Jonathon, he created you. Your parents were killed by his enemy and he raised you so he could use you against Valentine. And if you do nothing," Magnus gritted his teeth and his voice lowered to a whisper. "Then the same thing will happen to her."

I didn't need to ask who he meant.

0.o.O.o.0

I was to take her home. It made sense, since I had practically lived with her and was therefore the obvious choice, but that didn't allow me to find sleep that night. Because that was before. Now she hated him, and perhaps that would never change.

I hadn't meant to kiss her. I'd relied on my instincts my whole life but in that moment, that terrible twist of fate, it was life I suddenly had two, very different sets of instincts. Work-instincts were what kept me operating day after day. But my Clary-instincts had kicked in the second I'd heard her voice, choked with tears, as she threw words at me over her shoulder.

I'd had to kiss her. Right then. Or else there was a very real chance I would have passed straight out and maybe never woken up again. That was the kind of need I was feeling. Like a need to breathe in air—to breathe in Clary.

But those damned work-instincts had taken over, too soon, too fast. So he'd carefully slipped the pill into his own mouth before he took her face in his hands. And then—right then, as my lips met hers, as she responded wonderfully to the touch—was when I began to regret it. And now…now I'd been regretting it ever since. If she hadn't decided to fight with them, I would have found a way to get Clary out of there.

But she'd made her decision. And I would let her have that, the only thing. And God, she was a natural.

I observed, desperate enough to have snuck into a vent a few times to watch her in the early lessons. She spun easily—if not a little haphazardly—away from Luke's blows and efficiently parried them with some of her own. It would take work, but she was learning fast. Unfortunately, I'd had to retreat when Magnus had come into the room to observe and his eyes had immediately flicked to the vent I was in. He'd smirked.

I wanted her not to hate me. I wanted her to love me.

But I learned a long time ago that dreams were not to be had, much less believed, much less followed.

0.o.O.o.0

Clary P.O.V.

I missed mashed potatoes.

I missed cheeseburgers, and twizzlers, and pepperoni pizza. I missed Simon, and my mother, and who I thought Jace had been.

And I missed goddamn mashed potatoes.

Honestly, how hard was it to find some good-quality food to put in that prison cafeteria. Soggy green beans and bread, dry spaghetti and bread, soggy green beans and bread, dry spaghetti and bread. The pattern continues.

But soon, I'd be done.

Today was the day I'd leave.

For show, Magnus had told me, I'd be bound to a chair and gagged while they administered the drug that would wipe out all my memories of this place. This time, I was happy to let it all go, to let the cruelty be washed away. But I would not forget the betrayal Jace had performed just before the poison had entered my system. I was afraid I would never forget.

Some part of me didn't want to. I wanted to remember the training I went through. I wanted to remember the slow rebuilding of trust I'd gained with Magnus—remember the fact that Magnus was fighting for me at all. (I'd refused to acknowledge the fact that if Magnus was fighting for me, then Jace was too. He was not.)

That was why, just moments before I was gagged, I looked Jace—who, obviously, would be the one to bring her home—in the eye and whispered one word. "Please."

I saw that glimmer of hope in his eyes and let him believe I might someday forgive him. For my own purposes, it was worth it. I knew that he understood what I meant. I was confident he would do it, for me. The boy who I'd wanted so badly to love and certainly had not needed to administer the drug two weeks prior the way he did.

And I was right.

But the pain hit me all over again when I woke up the next day and remembered every last shred. Every last detail. Every last heartbreak.