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Chapter: Belle

Belle had to decide what to do, and quick. She was sure that one of Jem's questions was going to be who brought her to the Institute, and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. It wouldn't be easy to explain about Riley, she thought, without lying to Jem. And she didn't want to lie to Jem. He was such a nice guy, inquisitive but not intruding, polite and caring. She became acutely aware of Jem sitting there silent, smiling, apparently wanting her to answer a question she hadn't heard.

"Sorry, um, what did you say?" she asked, feeling herself blush.

Jem just smiled wider. "I said, how did you get to the Institute? You were unconscious when I found you, but you couldn't have been out there long. You didn't look as though you could walk on your injured leg… Did someone bring you?"

Here we go. Moment of truth. Belle took a deep breath. "Yes, someone carried me. We were together when the demon attacked, and he took me here. He had to leave, though. His name is Riley."

Jem gave her a strange look. Clearly he was thinking: What kind of person leaves their dying friend at the steps of a building? She sighed. "I know what you're thinking, you know. What kind of friend leaves me to die outside some random building? Well, I can't explain to you now. Let's just say, it is not in his best interests to be seen, particularly by Shadowhunters. He's not a criminal!" she said, seeing Jem's face. "He's just… never mind. I'll explain some other time."

If Jem thought this was an unsatisfactory explanation, he said nothing, just looked at Belle with quiet, respectful curiosity. She was used to people looking at her- she knew she was beautiful, though she tried very hard not to be arrogant about it. She could see him taking in the small details of her- her long lashes, high cheekbones and delicate eyebrows; the curve of her neck, her slender arms and small hands; and, of course, her legs. Unlike many of the others, though, he did not leer or stare openly, as she thought the boy Will might. He merely studied her as one might study a piece of artwork.

"So, is Riley a faerie too?" Jem asked politely.

Belle turned away. "No," she said simply. Please don't ask me, Jem, please don't ask, she thought.

He didn't. He just looked into her eyes and nodded. "I know there is something you don't want me to know. I understand. I just hope someday you'll tell me?" He ended hesitantly, on a question, possibly worried she would snap at him for prying.

Belle just sighed. "Someday, Jem. Hey, about breakfast…?"

Jem jumped up from the chair he's been sitting in. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. Between Will, and my questions, I just forgot. I'll be right back." He slipped out the door remarkably fast. Belle watched him go with a strange feeling inside her. She didn't deserve all the attention she was receiving from the lovely silver Shadowhunter. He seemed so worried about her, but she was fine, really. Still, at least he cared. Unlike Will. Belle was sure Will didn't care about anyone, except possibly himself. Maybe he cared for Jem, though it didn't seem to stop him from treating him like that, like the way he treated everyone else.

Stop it, she told herself. You certainly won't make yourself better by thinking about unpleasant things, and Will counts as 'unpleasant'. Maybe try to get up again…?

Belle swung her legs over the side of the bed and again went to stand. The thought of I really never learn crossed her mind briefly, which made her smile. This time, though, her legs managed to hold. She managed to limp over to the window, where she collapsed in Jem's now unoccupied chair. She looked out into the cold, gray sky and thought longingly of New York. It would be beautiful there this time of year. Blue skies, the green of Central Park… Lost in memories of her first home, Belle didn't hear the door open and Jem come in. His voice was slightly surprised.

"Belle! You're up! I suppose you can walk now? Unless… you could walk before, you just wanted me to wake up, huh?" She could tell even before looking at him that he was smiling; she could hear it in his voice, and sure enough he was. He held up the tray he carried. "Breakfast."