Sorry, I know I haven't posted in FOREVER, but I've had a lot of schoolwork, and the SATs are Saturday... Well, here we go. *Thanks to Ski October, my soulmate/beta.*

Disclaimer: The usual. I own nothing.

Chapter: Jem

"Gabriel Lightwood," Belle said with a smile. She and Jem were sitting on one of the tables in the library, legs swinging, just talking. Jem had just asked her who her closest friend– besides Riley– was.

"Gabriel? Really?" It seemed strange to think, but it was really only Will, and by extension Jem, who quarreled with him. He was perfectly pleasant to everyone else. "What's he like, really? I've only ever seen him around Will, and, well, it isn't a pretty sight."

Belle smiled again. "God, he's great. He's so eager to make you happy, he'd do anything… Not like that!" she clarified quickly, as Jem's face seemed to convey his surprise and faint horror. "No, he's just great at cheering me up. I love talking to him, you know? He's not nearly as bad as Will makes him out to be."

Jem nodded. "I understand completely, but I must admit I find it hard to see it from your point of view. Did you know he holds a vendetta against Will to this day? I mean, we were fifteen. Everyone's done stupid things at fifteen–"

She held up a hand. "Explain."

Jem hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. He was sure Will wouldn't appreciate Belle hearing this story, but he could only hope Will never found out. "Well, don't tell Will that I told you this, but when we were fifteen, Will sort of coerced Gabriel's sister, Elizabeth, into… well, I think you can guess what happened. He was her first, and she has never forgiven him for this. Gabriel hates Will on his sister's behalf."

She was quiet. "Why did they have sex if she didn't like him?" she asked, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Near as I can tell, she was very drunk and didn't quite know what she was doing."

"And Will didn't stop? Didn't care that she probably didn't want to?"

Jem was silent, this thought having occurred to him any number of times. At the time, she did want it, and if I know Will, he had been drinking too. He wouldn't have forced himself on her if she had actively resisted… He hated that he wasn't sure, that there was still some doubt in mind. Will had taken the virtue of dozens of girls, and nearly all of them now hated him, but that was because they cared for him and he just used them for sex. Liz was different because she never liked him, and Jem hated that he wasn't entirely sure how much of their tryst was her bad decision making and how much was Will's sex drive.

"I see," she said quietly. "If I may ask… where do the Lightwood's live? I haven't seen Gabriel in a year now, and I quite miss him. I won't go over there now, but in a few days, I might…"

"Oh, yes, of course," Jem said, only too eager to get off the subject of Will and Liz. He gave Belle the address and made sure she knew how to get there.

"Thanks, Jem. I'll go write that down, because otherwise I'll forget." She hopped off the table, kissed Jem quickly, and ran out of the room, curls flying out behind her. Jem watched her go with a heaviness in his heart that he couldn't identify. After a moment it hit him– jealousy. He was jealous that Belle was so pleased about seeing another man, even if they were just friends. If he ever got wind of anything else, though, he wasn't sure even Charlotte would disapprove if Jem punched Gabriel in the face.

Did I really just think that? She wouldn't. She does care for me, I know it. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me. I wonder if she sees the same in mine… If she knows I love her…

Chapter: Belle

Belle was in the kitchen one cloudy afternoon a few days later, but she wasn't alone. She was wrapped tightly around Jem, her fingers in his hair and his hands pressed to her back. They were so involved in each other that they didn't hear the door open and someone enter.

"By the Angel, get a room!" the annoyed masculine voice called loudly. Belle disentangled herself from Jem and stood up, exasperated. "We had a room until you burst in."

"All I wanted was a cup of tea, and I have to see you two? It's too early for this."

"Will, it's three in the afternoon," Jem explained reasonably.

Will narrowed his eyes. "Well, I just woke up. Can you go anywhere else?"

"Can you?" Belle asked. "We have as much right to be here as you do!"

"This is the only kitchen, there's dozens of other rooms you could be in!" This sounded logical, which only made Belle more upset.

"Who do you think you are? Don't try to tell me where I can and cannot kiss Jem."

"Leave me out of this," he muttered, but the other two ignored him.

"Obviously not, but even whores have the courtesy to stay in their bedrooms."

"Are you calling me the whore, William? Bit like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"A bit, yes," he said, looking infuriatingly amused.

"God, you're terrible! Like there aren't much worse places you've partaken in your own amorous adventures, getting a lot farther than we just did!"

"Oh, just go away. Go have sex with Jem somewhere. Or it doesn't have to be him, it could be anyone, right? I don't suppose you're very particular, at least if all I've heard about faeries is true," he mused.

Belle looked like she would like nothing better than to kill him with her bare hands. "I'll do what I damn well please, you can't tell me what to do, where to do it and who to do it with, and for the last time, I am not a whore!"

"I'm not convinced. Try saying it again, with a bit more passion this time."

She threw her head back and let out a little scream of frustration before grabbing her sweatshirt from where it hung on the back of a chair. "Jem, I'll see you later."

"Bye," he called, but she was already gone, out the front door of the Institute.

Belle stormed down the streets of London, taking a shortcut to a familiar address. He has no right to speak to me like that. If I care for Jem and he cares for me, what's the harm in kissing? Especially since that's really all we've been doing, at least for now. God, I can't even think about him anymore. She found herself outside of a beautiful old house, walking up the stairs and knocking on the heavy oak door.

An older man answered, looking as though he was about to leave the house himself. He was dressed all in grey, matching his stormy eyes, salt-and-pepper hair and slightly greyish skin. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw her. "You!"

"Me," she agreed unsmilingly. "Benedict. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want?" he asked a bit rudely, but then, Benedict Lightwood was never famed for his manners.

"I'd like to see your son."

His mouth hardened into a firm line. "Michael won't–"

"I'm not here to see Michael," she interrupted. "I'm here to see Gabriel."

He looked at her suspiciously before calling, "Gabriel!" without turning around. A faint "what?" answered him.

"Get down here, you have a… visitor," he replied, a faint sneer coloring his voice. "You know, I don't think it appropriate for my son– any of my sons– to be so involved with a Downworlder such as yourself."

"You hypocrite! If even half the stories they tell about you are true–" Luckily, the sight of Gabriel appearing made Belle stop speaking and sent Benedict out the door.

"Belle?" Gabriel asked warily, unsure if it was her. Had she really changed so much in a year? He hadn't. He was still tall and slender, with the same tousled dark hair and brilliant green eyes set in an angular face. He was still quite good-looking.

She nodded, smiling. "Gabe…" she said, using her old nickname for him. "It's been a long time." She cleared her throat as he grinned.

"Missed you. It's been boring without you."

"I bet," she said with just a touch of arrogance. He waved her over, indicating she should follow him upstairs. She did, and he closed the door of his bedroom behind them.

"So," he asked after a moment's silence. "What brings you back?"

"It's about Will Herondale," she said quickly. His face turned stormy.

"What about him?" he forced out with obvious effort.

She sighed. "He's pissing me off, and I need someone I can talk to who hates him as much as I do right now. Jem's no good for that."

Gabriel nodded. "I'm your man."

"It's like, sometimes he can be a really nice guy, and we can joke around and have actual human conversations, but so much of the time he's just a– just a– God, I can't even think of a bad enough word. He's just a jerk, you know? I know you dislike him, but–"

"I don't just dislike him," he corrected. "I wish I could hate him to death."

She laughed. "I like that. Next time I see him, should I say, 'I wish I could hate you to death'?"

He shrugged. "If you want."

She grinned. "I knew you'd make me feel better," she said softly. "So what have you been up to in the year since I saw you last?"

If he noticed the abrupt change in subject, he said nothing about it. "Not much. Training, killing things, the usual. Yourself?"

"You know, the usual. Being lonely, falling in love with ten strangers a day, drinking at Angels and Demons…"

"Not a bad life, but not an altogether happy one, either, it would seem."

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "You would be correct, sir. I'm not precisely happy, but it's good enough for now."

He was dissatisfied with this answer, but sort of changed the subject. "Is it true that you are… involved with James Carstairs?"

Belle laughed. "It's true. Quite involved."

Gabriel looked alarmed. "How involved? You may recall it's technically illegal for a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder to be together."

"I remember," she replied darkly. "And don't be a prude, Gabe. We haven't gone much beyond kissing, so chill."

"Chill?" he asked, astonished. "Kissing leads to far more things, you know. That's how it started with you and Michael, too–"

Belle glowered. "I don't wish to discuss Michael. He made his choices and I've made mine. We both have to live with it."

"And he is living with them. He got married, didn't you hear? Céline is her name, and they have a baby on the way…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she insisted, though she ached to hear more. What was this girl like? Was she pretty? Was she smart, funny, sweet? And did she in any way remind Michael of Belle? Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "is she anything like me?"

Gabriel's face softened. "I hate to say it, but… no. Very quiet, almost shy, blonde, brown eyes. Not like you in the least."

"Nothing hurts more than to see your ex be with someone the complete opposite of you. It's like he's saying, 'remember all those things I liked about you? I lied.' Why did he stay with me if he falls in love with my opposite?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't pretend to understand him, even if he is my brother. We aren't very much alike, in case you didn't know."

"Of course I know. That's why I hate him– I think– but I'm still friends with you. You have a soul."

"And he doesn't?"

"No. Isn't it weird, being married to a woman with the same name as your sister?"

He shrugged. "It's a common Shadowhunter name. I'm sure it's fine for him."

Belle closed her eyes, an "I don't want to talk about it anymore" look on her face.

Gabriel nodded. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She shook her head, leaning over to rest her cheek on Gabriel's shoulder. "No, but thanks for asking. I just came to rant about Will, but I think I've basically got it out now. I just want to stay here for a while."

"I think that can be arranged," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She hugged back, resting her chin in the small divot on his shoulder blade as his hands clicked into place in the hollow of her lower back. "Still fits," he murmured.

"Perfectly," she agreed. They had always fit together like two pieces to a puzzle, and apparently it was still true. She wondered why they had never considered dating. It might be because for the longest time she was with Michael, and then pining for Michael, and really it was far too soon for that sort of rebound. What was stopping them now? Jem, Belle remembered, I love Jem. I don't love Gabriel, nor does he love me. We are excellent friends, though.

They stayed like that for minutes, reacquainting themselves with the feelings that had lain dormant for almost a year.