Sorry this chapter took such an obnoxiously long time. I re-wrote this one after the first attempt ended up being shallow, unbelievable and generally crap-tastic. So I posted the new and improved version.

For those of you who have already read this chapter: I posted this after working on it for 6 hours. I re-read it the next morning and thought: "Wow. This sucks. Let's re-write it…again!" So I did. You can skip up until the Jace section. That's where I started changing it.

Our Favorite Mortal Instruments quote of the chapter:

"'Jace?'

'Yeah?'
'How did you know I had Shadowhunter blood? Was there some way you could tell?' The elevator arrived with a final groan. Jace unlatched the gate and slid it open. The inside reminded Clary of a birdcage, all black metal and decorative bits of gilt.

'I guessed,' he said, latching the door behind them. 'It seemed like the most likely explanation.'
'You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me.' He pressed a button in the wall, and the elevator lurched into action with a vibrating groan that she felt all through the bones in her feet.

'I was ninety percent sure.'
'I see,' Clary said. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put a hand to his cheek, more in surprise than pain.

'What the hell was that for?'
'The other ten percent,' she said, and they rode the rest of the way down to the street in silence.

-Clary and Jace

oOo

Weak sunlight filters through the window. Clary rolls over and flings her hand over her eyes, silently willing the sun to go away and let her sleep. She pulls the blanket over her head and tucks her cold feet closer to her. Simon's in the kitchen, making breakfast, seemingly unaware that she's trying to sleep. She pulls a pillow over her head attempting to muffle the sound of Simon's off-key singing. She's half-asleep when her door bursts open. Her bed bows under Simon's weight as he sits half on top of her.

"Wakey wakey," he says, pulling the blankets off of her. She holds the pillow against her face, willing herself to go back to sleep. "Breakfast, Clary. Let's enter the world of the living now." Clary's response is grumbled obscenities. "I'm giving you five seconds to get out of that bed. One, two—"

"Go away, Mom," she says.

"Three, four, four and a half…come on Clary," Simon says in a sing-songy voice. She ignores him and rolls over so her back is to him. "Five." He picks her up and flings her over his shoulder, carrying her, not without effort, out of her room. Clary's small fists pound against his back.

"Ouch! Watch where you put those things."

"Simon! Let go of me!"

"Clary, do you know what time it is?" he asks her. "It's six. As in at night. You slept for more than twelve hours. It's wake-up time. You have work in an hour."

"No I don't," she protests, knowing very well that she did.

"Come on Clary," Simon says, huffing from the effort of carrying her resisting body to the kitchen. He drops her in a chair and looks at her sternly. "I made you pancakes. You're going to eat your pancakes. Then you are going to put on your scrubs and go to the hospital. Understood?" Clary nods. Simon smiles, apparently proud of himself. He puts a small stack of pancakes in front of her and she starts shoveling them into her mouth. She quickly finishes them and heads first to her bedroom to grab her clothes then to the bathroom. She washes her face with cold water, washing the last of the sleep from her eyes. She pulls off her pajamas and puts on her mint green scrubs.

Her hair, which is an unmanageable mess, ends up in a ponytail. She gives herself a once-over, not liking the circles under her eyes. The green of her scrubs only makes her red hair brighter. She turns away from her reflection, no longer wanting to see all of her faults. Simon's leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, a pair of her socks in one hand and her white work sneakers in the other.

"Thanks, Simon," she says with a smile. She pulls on her shoes, puts her phone in her pocket and grabs her keys, heading for the door with a small wave as a goodbye to Simon.

"Clary! Your coat!" he shouts after her. She turns and he throws the small black jacket to her.

"Thanks again!" she says, heading out the door while shrugging on her jacket.

"Have good night at work!" he calls after her.

"You too!" She walks down the hallway and checks her watch. It's six forty-five. She silently curses herself, knowing that she'll probably be late. She takes the stairs two at a time at a near run. She swings around the corner and runs right into someone, knocking both of them to the ground.

"Sorry!" she says quickly. "I'm really sor—oh! It's you," she says her apology quickly dying when she sees who it is.

"Nice to see you too," Jace says, standing and brushing himself off. "Well then. It feels like we're living in some badly written novel. Honestly, this isn't supposed to happen in real life."

"Yeah. It's thrilling," she mutters, not in the mood to fight with anyone, let alone the ass she met last night.

"You sound excited," he says, sarcasm dripping from his words. "You should be. You'll be living in the same building as me. We can become the best of friends. And eventually my insanely good looks will drive you to enter my room at some obscure hour of the night and rip all my clothes off. Then the next morning we'll both agree it was a mistake and be awkward around each other for a few months. Then eventually we'll have a conversation about our feelings in which you tell me about your engagement and you'll ask me to be your maid-of-honor. And then I'll decline and end up interrupting your wedding and declaring my love to you. After that—"

"Does this have a point?" Clary asks.

"You just interrupted my story. Of course, it was already ruined if you actually don't live here and were either robbing my neighbors or being a dirty little girl who was upstairs with your dirty little boyfriend."

"I have to go to work," Clary says behind her as she walks away.

"I'll tell your boy-toy you said hello," Jace says walking in the other direction. Clary stops in her tracks.

"You class A ass!" she says, turning and walking towards him. "Would it be impossible for you to be nice to someone? Or is it just me you act like—like this to?" She's stopped in front of him, her hands gesturing wildly around her as he looks at her with an amused expression.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm an ass to everyone."

"You're unbelievable," Clary says. "One day, something will happen to you and you'll need someone to be there for you and you're going to look around and realize that you have no one. And then you'll be sorry that you wasted your life being so horrible." She turns around again and walks away, waves of anger rolling off of her. She makes it to her car and throws open the door, shivering as she puts the key in the ignition and turns up the heat. Once the car is heated she makes her way to the hospital, trying not to take her anger out on her car.

oOo

Jace watches her as she storms away from him, her bright red ponytail swaying to the rhythm of her steps. He doesn't move as he digests what she just told him. You're going to look around and realize that you have no one. And then you'll be sorry that you wasted your life being so horrible. She didn't even bother to call him an ass. And that's how he knows she was being serious.

What if she's right? he asks himself. He imagines a time where he's pushed everyone away from him and immediately pushes the image away. The door slams shut behind her, bringing with it a burst of cold air. The chill knocks him to his senses and he starts climbing the ancient stairs. He pushes the redhead's words to the back of his mind and locks them there. He stops at his floor and takes a deep breath before stepping into the hall. He slips his key into the lock and pushes the door open.

"Hey, Jace. How was your walk?" Isabelle asks, standing behind the counter in the kitchen, making something that Jace knows will be disgusting. Alec and Jace share an apartment with Isabelle, Alec's sister. Jace has known the two of them since the Lightwood's took him in after his father died when Jace was 10.

"Long. Uneventful," Jace says.

"I'm making soup. Do you want some soup?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll order a pizza." Isabelle looks up at him, one hand on her hips, the other one holding a spoon which she waves threateningly at him.

"Jace Wayland. I made soup. You are going to eat my soup."

"I don't think so," Jace says, picking up the phone and dialing the number. "Where's Alec?" he asks as the phone rings.

"In his room. He came home a few minutes ago and passed out." Jace nods in response as he orders two large pepperoni pizza's, guessing that will be enough for the three of them. This is what always happens. Isabelle tries to play happy home-maker and ends up creating a disgusting pot of slop. She pretends to eat it then waits until Jace and Alec aren't paying attention and steals a piece of pizza while Jace and Alec pretend not to notice.

"Are you working tonight?" Isabelle asks.

"Yep."

"They're letting you work after yesterday?" Jace wrinkles his nose in disgust. Last night, a little girl had died on the way to the hospital. The only thing Jace could think of while she had coded was the look of relief on her parents face when the paramedics had told them that she was going to be fine. And then she had died. So Jace what he usually did when he was stressed; he punched something. Except this time it was a window which ended in a pissed off landlord, a trip to the hospital, and a scolding from his boss, Imogen. Jace glances down at his hand. Just more scars to add to the collection, he thinks, absent-mindedly rubbing the skin over his stomach.

"Yeah. I doubt they'll let me do anything, though."

"It's not like you don't deserve it," Isabelle says with a smile on her face.

"I know. You don't have to look so smug, though," Jace replies.

"It's about time you get knocked down for your anger problems." Jace rolls his eyes and drops onto the couch. He turns on the news and watches as the newscasters spout the daily crap about which celebrity is in which rehab clinic and what the politicians screwed up today. He half pays attention as he waits for the pizza to show up.

"From Fox News this is the Mideast update," the newscaster says. Jace freezes his eyes locked on the TV as his heart rate skyrockets. "Air raid sirens in Saudi Arabia. Moments later a US patriot blast. Witnesses report…" but that's all Jace hears. His mind is in another world, thousands of miles from here. He sees the explosions. Hears the sounds of thousands of bullets. Feels the blast of a grenade.

Suddenly Isabelle's hands are on him, shaking him fiercely.

"Jace! Jace!" He gasps in breath and grasps Isabelle's wrists. His vision clears and he focuses on her face. He glances at the TV set, glad to see it's off.

"Okay. Okay," he says to calm himself down. "No more news. As in ever." Isabelle lets out a breath, not looking amused. She sits in the chair next to him and puts her head in her hands. The doorbell rings, they both jump a little, neither finding the moment funny. Jace stands on shaky legs to answer the door. Pizza. He pays the delivery boy and takes the boxes inside. He puts them on the counter and sits on a stool. All his hunger was gone.

"Are you okay?" Isabelle asks.

"Fine," Jace says. He's glad to find his voice is not shaky.

"What just happened?" she asked.

"PTSD. It does that to a person."

"I didn't know it was that bad."

"It's that bad." Isabelle says nothing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks. Jace takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly out.

"Can we please forget anything happened?" Jace asks.

"You can't just—" Thank you, Alec¸ Jace thinks as Alec pushes open his door and ending the argument for now. Isabelle shoots him a look as if to say, this isn't over.

"You ordered pizza?" he asks Jace. "Smart." He opens the box and picks up a piece. "What did I miss?" Isabelle shoots Jace a look then walks back to the kitchen to stir her soup.

"Nothing much. Isabelle's convinced she can cook. I'm trying to set her strait but she's stubborn." Alec smiles and offers Jace a slice. He snatches one from the box and quickly devours it.

"I gotta head to work. Can I give anyone a ride?" he asks.

"Actually, I have a date and my car won't start. Can you give me a ride to the Pandemonium?"

"What's wrong with your car?" Jace asks.

"Like I know," Isabelle responds, turning off the burner.

"Did you look at it Alec?" Alec snorts in response.

"I did, but it wasn't any of the three things I actually know how to fix."

"I'll look at it later. Come on Isabelle," Jace says, grabbing another slice of pizza and his keys. "I don't want to be late. Imogen's already looking for blood. I don't need to give her more ammunition against me."

"I have to change!" Isabelle says. Jace checks his watch and quickly does the math.

"You have about 10 minutes." Isabelle raises her eyebrows at him.

"Because I can get ready in ten minutes."

"You have nine minutes and fifty seconds. Hurry." Isabelle curses under her breath and runs to her room where Alec and Jace hear the chaotic sounds of Isabelle getting ready. Jace walks into the room he shares with Alec and quickly pulls on his uniform. He's back in the kitchen after two minutes. Finally, Isabelle pushes out of her room, clad in a skin-tight black dress and a pair of what can only be described as stripper boots.

"Nice," Jace says sarcastically. "Are you trying to give off 'whore' vibes?" he asks.

"Ass," Isabelle mutters as she leaves the apartment with a wave to Alec. Jace's car is parked in front of the building, making the time Jace has before his interrogation annoyingly short. "I can't just forget what happened today," Isabelle says as Jace starts the car and puts it into drive.

"Try," Jace responds, flying out into the crowded streets. A car honks as he cuts them off.

"Jace…" Isabelle says, trailing off. Jace can guess that she doesn't know what to say. Just get to the club as quick as possible, he tells himself, running through a red light. "You're going to get us killed," Isabelle says. Jace says nothing to that, pulling up to the Pandemonium in record time. He leans across Isabelle to open to door. "Thanks for the ride," she says, almost sarcastically, as she closes the door behind her. He pulls away and heads to the station. The traffic is bad and he ends up being ten minutes late. The second he opens the doors of the station, the vultures (or more accurately, vulture) is upon him.

"Are you trying to get yourself fired, Mr. Wayland?" Imogen asks him.

"No, ma'am."

"Well it seems to me you are. I'm beginning to wonder why we hired such an irresponsible hooligan." Nobody says 'hooligan', Jace thinks to himself. He's learned to filter his comments around Imogen. Usually he likes it when he gets a rise out of people, but with Imogen, it's too easy so he doesn't bother. "You're lucky I'm not sending you home." Because that would be the absolute worst thing to ever happen, Jace thinks.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks.

"Of course I want you to stay! The roads are icy and we're understaffed! I can't exactly send you home!" As she says that, the phone rings, signaling an emergency. "See what I mean!" she says, answering the phone. Her face falls. "We have a crash at the intersection of First and Housten. Malik and Stephen, come with me. Amatis and Jace, you stay here." Jace groans and walked over to the couch in one corner of the room. He collapses into it and throws his arm over his eyes. Imogen and her team rush to the ambulance. Jace hears it fly out of the garage and down the streets, jealousy flooding him. Car crashes were always the most eventful.

"Babysitting service. Great," Amatis says. Jace chooses to ignore her. After a few minutes, exhaustion begins to settle in. Punching a window. His run in with the redhead. His…episode. His fight with Isabelle. He stretches out on the couch and counts down from 100. When that doesn't calm his turbulent mind he counts down from 1,000. When he's at 532, the phone rings. Amatis snatches it up quickly. Jace can tell from her stance that it's nothing good.

"Sixty year old man complaining about chest pains. His wife's worried it's a heart attack," Amatis shouts out. She hangs up the phone. "Fun." She heads out to the ambulance at a near run. Jace takes the shotgun seat and watches the world fly by as they race out of the garage and down the streets. They arrive at the man's house in a matter of minutes.

The wife is hysterical, tears streaming down her face as she fusses over her husband. He tries to comfort her between huffs of breath. Amatis checks his heart rate and blood pressure, finding their both elevated. She performs the basic tests while Jace questions the wife. They finish around the same time Jace does.

"I'm sorry to say it looks like you may be having a heart attack. I recommend you let us take you to the hospital," Amaits says. The wife starts crying hysterically. Amatis comforts her, telling her she can only go in the ambulance with us if she calms down. Jace silently curses him, not wanting to bother with the wife. He rushes out to the ambulance and grabs the stretcher. Jace and Amatis help the man onto the stretcher. They lift him into the ambulance and head to the hospital. Amatis drives while Jace stays in the back, tending to the sick man and his frantic wife. The trip is short and the staff is already there waiting for them. Jace sees that the redhead is out with them. He throws open the back doors of the ambulance and jumps out. A pair of doctors roll a gurney over. Jace and Amatis help to position the man on it. The doctors roll the gurney away. Jace helps the man's wife down from the ambulance, ignoring the pain her iron grip causes his injured left hand, and leads her through the double doors.

"You can wait here, ma'am," Jace says, motioning to the waiting room. He turns to walk away, but the old woman grabs onto his arm, her small, fragile hand shaking on his bicep. The hysterical tears have stopped, only to be replaced by slow sad ones.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asks quietly. Jace immediately feels bad for his earlier judgment of her. He allows the tension in his face to lessen as her reassures the woman that her husband will be just fine.

"Will you tell me—"she swallows hard as a surge of tears threaten to overcome her. "Will you tell me if anything—if anything happens?"

"Of course," he answers.

"Thank you," she whispers, releasing his hand and moving to sit in a chair. He walks away and heads to the room they wheeled the man into.

"How's he doing?" he asks.

"He's having a minor heart attack," answers an elaborately dressed man. He's wearing a bold pink shirt and pants that are a strange shade of blue, border line purple.

"His wife is worried about him." Jace can feel the redhead's eyes on him from across the room.

"She can see him in a few minutes." The doctor looks down at the patient. "It looks like you're going to be fine, sir. We're going to keep you overnight for observation. We'll talk to you later about what you should do to avoid another heart episode, but there's nothing you should really worry about." The man gives his thanks and the doctor nods, half listening as he finishes his examination. Jace leaves the room and walks over to the wife.

"You're husbands going to be fine. You can see him in a few minutes." The woman starts crying again, tears of happiness this time. She flings herself at Jace and starts hugging him. I forgot about this, Jace thought to himself. All of this hugging crap. Jace weakly hugs her back and lets her sob into his chest. He sees the redhead walk in. Her eyebrows are raised in amusement.

"Mrs. Johan?" the redhead asks. The wife turns around to look at her. "You can see your husband now." The woman, Mrs. Johan, has a death grip on Jace's arm. He walks with her to her husband's room. She lets go of Jace and runs to her husband as soon as she sees him. Jace fights to hide the smile on his face. He leaves the room with the redhead, the silence crackling with tension.

"I see you're not an ass to everyone," she says bitterly.

"Not now, Red. I can't deal with you right now."

"What did you just call me?" she asks.

"Red. As in, 'Person With Red Hair'. But that's a little wordy so I shortened it."

"Great." She turns a corner quickly, one Jace knows leads to Pediatrics. Jace can guess it was just to avoid spending more time with him. Way to be an ass, he thinks. A few seconds later he hears footsteps behind him. Red walks beside him, her head held defiantly high.

"I decided this is my hospital and if you want to be an ass then be an ass. But you don't get to be an ass to me and get away with it," she explains. "You can be the one who avoids me. Capisce?" Jace shoots her an amused look.

"Whatever

"Good." They lapse back into silence. "Why?" she asks.

"Why what?"

"Why are you such an ass?" He half snorts, half laughs, coming up with a thousand good reasons for him to act the way he does, but having trouble settling on one.

"Red. There are not enough hours in the day for me to tell you all my reasons for being an ass. But let me tell you one thing. I have plenty of good reasons."

"That's not a very good answer."

"I've had a hard life," Jace says, his face fixed in an expressionless mask.

"And that's why you get to be an ass?"

"Yep."

"I hope you know you're not the only one who's been handed a pile of crap for a life. Having a suck-y life doesn't give you an excuse to act like a douche." This simple conversation brings small onslaughts of memories. His dad. Blood. Suitcases. He briefly closes his eyes to push away the images and allow him to focus on the present. "And now you say nothing. Do you really think you're the only one—" But Jace isn't hearing her anymore. Her voice brings more memories up to the surface. He sees a battlefield. A gun held in his scarred hand. Jace quickly slaps his finger to his stomach to bring him back. He can feel the thick scars through the material of his shirt. The grenade goes off in his mind. He stops and reaches for the wall, something solid that will anchor him to the real world.

"Red, stop," he snarls. He clenches his eyes shut and grips the front of his shirt, using the pain from his injured hand to remind him of where he is. Jace can feel Red next to him, her small body stiff. She's silent, like he asked, waiting for something to happen that she can handle. He pushes down the memory and opens his eyes. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and pushes off the wall.

"Are you alright?" Red asks.

"No," he answers. He hurries down the hall. What the hell just happened? he asks himself. He'd never had an episode so suddenly like that with no apparent trigger. Earlier it had been the footage, and now… It must have been the subject¸ he thinks. He can hear Red walking a few steps behind him.

"Okay," she says. "I know I'm kind of a bitch, but I'm also a nurse and I just saw something that looks kind of medical, I guess. And it's in my contract to do something about it." He turns to face her. She squeaks in surprise, narrowly avoiding running into him.

"I'm fine. Really. This is my normal." He turns and keeps walking with her following him.

"Do you—I mean…" He hears her take a deep breath.

"Spit it out, Red."

"I don't know."

"Good." He stops and faces her, taking her shoulders in his hands. "Don't speak a word of this to anyone, understand?" Red nods. He watches her as she thinks. He can see the cogs in her brain working as she processes what just happened.

"Shit!" she finally says. "You really do have a screwed up life!"

"Thanks," Jace says, releasing her and walking again.

"No! I'm sorry. That sounded bad." He doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing. He remembers her earlier words about spending his life alone and decides to be nice for once. He stops one more time to face her. "I'm sorry. It's been a bad day. Hell, it's been a bad year. I can't deal with this right now, okay?" She nods slowly and turns around to leave him alone.

He makes it back to the ER and leaves in the ambulance with Amatis. He spends the ride calming his frantic nerves and cursing himself for not being a better person.

I hope this was better!