Hope you all enjoy! Please review and tell me what you all think.

Thanks to Izzy for giving out points, correcting all those stupid little things called errors, and having an awesome use of highlighting. Love ya, Isclanel! :)

Chapter 3

Waking up was peaceful.

I had cotton bed sheets laid over me on a warm mattress in the Institute's hospital wing and Jace was standing over me saying, "I can't believe you blacked out, idiot!"

Okay, no, this was a lie. This was just how I wished I had woken up, seeing everything perfectly alright and whatever happened in the portal was just my mind going even more insane and delusional.

I woke up to hectic surroundings and clamoring with a cold, uncomfortable cot underneath me and a figure standing over me. At first, when I opened my eyes just halfway I really did think I was at the Institute with Jace, but of course I had to be wrong.

Whoever it was kneeled down to be eye level with me on the cot and gently shook my shoulder.

"Hello, can you hear me?" he asked. The tiny shred of hop in me was half gone when I saw that his hair was too dirty blonde, his eyes too Granny Smith Apple green, and his voice too high for this person to be Jace, or anybody else I knew.

My first instinct was to attack and defend myself from unknown people and areas. Panic rushed over me and my Shadowhunter instincts took control. I forced my body into a sitting position to push whoever it was away, but my body felt bruised and sore and I could barely make my closed fist properly hit my target.

I let a soft cry of pain out.

"Hey hey, slow down man. You're alright. We just want to help." My instinct to run was gone. He was only one guy; I could take him down by myself if it comes to that. Besides, he sounded kind.

"My name is George." He held out his hand for me to shake and I attentively shook it.

"Alec," I said. He nodded.

Now that I wasn't in such a state of unconsciousness and everything wasn't in such a haze, it all looked much clearer.

George didn't look a day over sixteen. I let my gaze drift. He wasn't necessarily in rags but his loose fitting, long sleeved shirt and brown pants looked worn out, for lack of a better word.

My little uncomfortable cot was only one of maybe ten or fifteen. Long-stemmed candles adorned the room liberally, being a major part of lighting in the room.

People of all different varieties were running around, yelling and calling to each other. They looked hurried, as if they needed to do whatever it was they were doing for a very specific deadline.

I looked to George again and noticed slower than I should have that he was a mundane. No purple hairs, red eyes, lime green skin, scar, or wing in sight. I looked around the room again. They were all mundanes. This was interesting; at least this means I didn't end up in a totally different dimension. That would've been a disaster.

"Our guest is awake, I see." A woman, or a girl really, that looked very much like George was walking towards us and eventually ended up at his side, her hand sliding into his.

"This is my sister, Violet."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Alexander." My voice sounded rough and scratchy, like a sore throat gone too far. "But you can call me Alec."

She and George must be twins.

"Alexander, what a lovely name," she said, batting her eyelashes. Hmm, I wonder if this is the part where I blurt out that I'm gay. She smiled a sweet, innocent smile that I knew must've hidden a different part of her personality.

She reminded me so much of Izzy that it hurt and my mind went into a frenzy and the panic came back.

Was the rest of my family okay? Did they go off into another place also, or were they safely at home, waiting for my return? Were they here too? But where was here exactly?

"Um I'm sorry, where am I?" They looked at me with puzzled looks.

"You're in London of course."

Oh London, how nice.

Wait, London?! I was hoping they would say I was in the United States, maybe if I was really lucky I could've been in Manhattan, or Brooklyn, I would've been okay with Hoboken. But nooo, I'm across the Atlantic Ocean.

Wow.

It's way better than another dimension, but really? London?

George and Violet looked at me expectantly. I blinked repeatedly and stuttered, "L-L-Lon-d-d-don?" I could feel my eyes widen. They both let out identical joyous laughs.

"Yes Alexander, London! June 13th 1878, what other time or place would it be?" George had a smile on his face the entire time. "Now, where are you from? The clothing you have arrived in is very . . . different from what everyone else here wears."

I laughed, my head thrown back and everything when I realized he was being serious. I looked down at my black jeans and dark blue sweater.

1878?

Is that even possible? Time travel is impossible, it's scientifically proven, and I know my science. And through a portal? I highly doubt this has ever happened.

It's insane.

They're either lying or I'm in a coma in the hospital wing having a very bad nightmare. I looked around for the third or fourth time.

The candles and gaslights, the ridiculously high, ornately-designed ceilings, the clothes.

A short plump woman passed by just then, wearing a simple black dress and white apron with her hair in a tight bun. She shoved a pile of clothing into a bucket of soapy water. She was washing clothes by hand, with a bucket and one of those rack things and everything.

It was like the Angel made her pass by for me to realize the situation.

But come on, some lady washing clothes in pilgrim clothing didn't mean I was in 19th century London. Maybe she was just old-fashioned. It wasn't unheard of.

Then, past the woman with her laundry was a window and through that window staring me right in the face was the Big Ben clock tower.

Holy shit.