Hey, thanks for all the reviews! They were great encouragement :] Again, this is going unbeta'd. My beta, the ever amazing NixiexGrey, finds herself being bombarded by life these days - and who can blame her? Anyway, all mistakes are entirely mine, not hers.

Just in case there's some confusion, here are the ages for this fic:

Clary and Isabelle: 22

Jace: 23

Alec and Ryan (you'll see): 24

Simon: eternally stuck at 16/17 (somewhere between there, although year-wise he's the same as Clary and the lot)

"You've got to tell him." Isabelle's voice was uncharacteristically stern as she leaned toward Clary. "He can't not know."

Clary avoided her eyes. "What to tell him first?" she wondered, half to herself. "That is, if I want to talk to him," she added in a weary voice. She'd been angry for almost a week now, and she was tired of it all.

"I hate the idiot myself, but you have pressing issues to, uh, discuss." Isabelle suddenly glanced down and inspected her nails under the table.

Clary sighed. "I know. I don't know where to start, though."

"I can't help you with this," Isabelle told her without looking up. Her tone was small, cautious, and Clary hated it. Hated the reason behind it, and hated the fact that it was all hitting her again. If he'd wanted to go away, why couldn't he have stayed away?

She spread her small hands across the top of the waxy tabletop, absentmindedly circling the bottom of her coffee cup with her index fingers and thumbs. It was freezing outside, a blizzard having hit NYC a few days ago. Normally she would have been curled up somewhere warm with a few pillows and her sketchpad, but the atmosphere in the Institute had turned stifling and repressive lately. So she'd grabbed a willing Isabelle and a heavy coat before heading to Taki's. Isabelle had called Simon on the way and he was due to arrive any moment now. Her left side was cold from the chill emanating from the window, but her right side was toasty warm from the heating circulating the building. She shifted away from the window and took a long drink from her coffee as the bell above the front door jingled and a friendly face appeared.

"Simon!" Isabelle waved and he smiled quickly before heading over. He slid into the booth next to Isabelle and took a huge gulp from Clary's cup, ever-so-elegantly balancing a relationship and a friendship in his palms. Clary admired the way he was able to do that, and appreciated his effort. He really didn't have to be so careful all the time - she understood what a relationship entailed sometimes, and things between Izzy and Simon were strained enough as it was. There was the growing age gap to contend with, and Simon was still somewhat of a hotly-contested creature amongst the Downworlders, being a Daywalking vampire and all. Clary sincerely hoped that they'd make it through everything and emerge intact. Someone had to have a happy ending, right?

"So Clary." Simon gazed at her with the same intensity that Izzy had displayed only minutes ago. "What are you going to tell him, and what are you going to filter out?"

"I'm filtering out what I told you guys a month after he left," Clary said immediately, voice soft. "I think it was a mistake to tell anyone, no offense."

Izzy blinked. "You can't leave that out," she hissed. "That's the most important part!"

"Well, suck it up. I'm not telling him anything about that," Clary shot back. "And I know that you two won't tell him either." Her tone left no room for discussion.

"What about Ryan?" Simon asked calmly, eyes never wavering.

Clary hesitated, as did Isabelle. This was delicate. "I think... I think I'm going to have to tell him about Ryan."

"Yeah... on one hand, it's always fun to see Jace riled up, but on the other..." Simon shrugged. "I'll be there for you if you'd like, Clary."

"I'm not exactly planning this out," she muttered.

Twelve hours earlier

It was dark. It was rainy. And it was the perfect night for the hunt.

Jace stalked the Oni demon quickly and quietly as it slithered behind a Dumpster. His watch indicated that the time was nearing one in the morning, but he wasn't done yet. He'd already bagged three kills in the course of four hours, hoping that with the release of ichor and hellish souls, his anger and confusion would be released as well.

So far, it wasn't working.

His seraph blade was dimmed and poised in his fingers, its point neatly lined up with the heart of the demon. He heard the crunch of styrofoam and snow as it stepped across the overflowing trash in its way and continued on toward a sewer on the opposite end of the alleyway. Jace was going to make sure it never got there.

The blade flew almost effortlessly from his hand and struck the Oni straight through its slimy chest. It howled in rage and pain as it whipped around to glare at Jace. He smiled grimly as he felt the Fearless rune start to burn on his shoulder and he drew another blade from his belt, whispering "Zuriel". It lit up beautifully, blinding the Oni and illuminating the way for Jace. He struck the demon again, this time managing to finish it off in a spray of black and green. Both seraph blades sank into the dirty banks of snow, covered in ichor and flickering out.

As if set to an alarm, his cell phone started to vibrate again.

Damn. He knew he shouldn't have gotten that worldwide service. No, the problem didn't even extend that far. He wished he'd never given out his contact information. He considered getting a new number before running into the same dilemma as before: people would ask questions about the change. Questions were the last thing he needed right now.

Hoping against all odds, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the number on the display.

"Drew Salinas calling."

Ah, crap. So it was her.

Present time

Her phone rang in the silence of her room, the soothing, familiar ringtone she'd had for over four years now managing to somewhat calm her frazzled nerves. She snatched up the cell and flipped it open, pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Clary?"

She relaxed even further as his warm British accent filtered through to her, working even more potently than the ringtone. "Yes. Um yeah, hi."

Brian laughed. "You sound nervous."

"Not really," she said, a little defensive. "It's just... there are a couple of problems on the home front right now."

He made a small sympathetic noise. "Anything I can do to help?"

And this was precisely why she liked Ryan. Through everything, he was simply there. He didn't change, didn't waver. He was a constant in her busy, scary, moving life. Sighing, she replied with a soft no. "Where are you?" she asked instead.

"At my university cafe. I'm going to go to Economics class in a few minutes, but I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing."

Clary gave a small laugh. "I'm not sick, Ryan. Everything's fine."

"Good. I'll see you for dinner tonight?"

"Um... maybe. I'm sorry, I know we planned this in advance, but I don't know if I can leave home tonight. Things are pretty bad." Clary really was sorry - it would have been so nice to get away and just be with Ryan for a few hours, suspended above responsibility and time. "I'll call you before five, okay?"

"Sure." Angel, he was sweet. It was effortless for him to adjust to her plans, to accept that she was sometimes unavailable. It made her feel... bad. But in a sort-of good way, since she knew that he really did understand. Their relationship was easy, as natural as breathing air.

Unlike the passion you had with Jace, her mind whispered quietly. She pushed that thought away - passion about the wrong thing was equivalent to stabbing a seraph blade into your own heart. It was fatal, and best avoided.

"I've got to go," he reminded her gently, accent softening for a moment. "I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Okay. See you."

"Soon, Clary." The line disconnected and she was left hearing nothing but the soft dial tone.

Well, the dial tone and a quiet scuff outside her door.

She placed her phone down and made her way over, yanking the door open. Jace was just standing there, not looking abashed in the least.

"Way to respect my privacy," she said dryly.

"I was going to knock, until I heard you talking."

"See, that's the moment you start walking away."

"Oh, but this is urgent." His smirk told her the very opposite. "Isabelle says that she'd like to cook the early dinner tonight, and I was wondering what you wanted to order from Taki's."

Clary scoffed. "Angel, you missed a lot. Everyone would rather eat Isabelle's cooking than Taki's, Jace. She's gotten extraordinarily good."

"Is that right?" He cocked an eyebrow. "And has the Devil finally installed an ice-skating rink?"

"If Dante is to be believed, then yes."

"Touché."

"What do you want, Jace?" she asked, cutting straight to the point. The smile slipped off his face.

"Do you really consider me to be that much of a nuisance?" he asked her, expression serious. "I mean, really. Canceling plans because of problems on the homefront?"

"You can't deny the fact that you're becoming a problem," she said. "You've been a problem ever since you got back."

His face was impassive. "How so?"

"You just are. Showing up again after such a long period of time, and then acting like nothing's wrong - you missed a lot, Jace. Like just right now, the cooking thing with Izzy. Everyone knows that, except you. You can't act like nothing's wrong, like you didn't miss anything."

"So what are you all angry about - the fact that I left, or that I'm not up to date with everything that went on?"

"Both."

She half-expected him to ask her, then, what exactly she wanted him to do about it. She expected him to whip out the sarcastic tone, the half-sneer, the old protective armor that he'd always donned, even in front of her. But the thing about Jace was that he liked to surprise you - even after four years, she still remembered that much. So when he opened his mouth again, she wasn't ready.

"Who's Ryan?" His tone was conversational, light. She could still detect the terse undertone, however; sense the awkwardness and the forced nature of the inquiry. She took a deep breath, wishing that something or someone would distract them right now from the static starting to spark in the air. She bit her lip and watched as his eyes flicked down, registering the movement and marking it as a sign of nervousness, a sign of weakness. He was nothing if not a predator, and even more so now.

"Clary." He'd shifted closer to warning now, prodding her to answer before his patience snapped. "Who's Ryan?"

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with something to say that would deflect his confusion, push away his anger, bottle it up until a later time when they were both ready to deal with it. It was too soon; it had only been a week! It was too, too soon. Her eyes were wide, her heart beating, her fingers curling into fists. How was he elicting these responses from her? One would think that time would decrease the strength of his stares, the weight of his words. Nope.

"God, Clary..." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, amber eyes shutting and gold curls falling into his face. "Angel Raziel..."

"Oh, Jace." She didn't know what was worse: her weary voice, or the fact that he'd grasped it all on his own. "You didn't think I'd sit around and wait, did you?"

And then she brushed past him, walking very slowly down the hall and around the corner.

It was strange - even though he hadn't officially trained in a gym for around four years now, the feel of his fists hitting the rough fabric of a punching bag felt as familiar as seeing his face in a mirror. Old habits died hard. His breath was steady and even as he went, his shoulders burning with the same-old, same-old pain of working out. The training room was almost exactly the same as when he'd left, making him feel like he'd been in here only yesterday. It was weird how a smelly, cluttered room could feel timeless, whereas the rest of the world emphasized the differences that each tick of the clock made.

The dusty, warm silence was broken when the door swung open and hit the wall behind it, making Jace look up in mild surprise to see Isabelle standing there. She didn't even deign to give him a glance, instead warming up on the mats in the corner. Jace kept working away at the punching bag, somewhat reluctant to enter the hostilities so early on.

When Izzy had finished, she dragged the mats to the middle of the room, setting them up in such a way that Jace immediately knew what she wanted. "I'm not going to spar you, Izzy," he said tiredly.

She didn't look up from her task. "I have some things to talk to you about, and I'd rather break your bones than some of the furniture."

That's when he knew that it was inevitable. He whipped the towel off his shoulders and sighed, stepping onto the squishy blue mats and taking up his usual ready stance. She straightened up and immediately launched a powerful high kick to his collarbone. He grabbed her ankle and twisted to the side, although he didn't push his advantage and let her slip away. There was no sound but their steps and soft breathing until Izzy finally spoke.

"Mom and Dad don't live here anymore. They're in Idris with Amatis."

"Why did they go?" Jace asked, acutely aware that he should have known, would have known if he had been here.

"Too many memories," she answered shortly, and he caught on. Max's room was in this Institute, and that was enough to make most anyone crack. He guessed that when he'd left, it had been the final thing to push them away. He didn't know how to feel about this.

"They know you're back," she added as she easily dodged his fist. "Or at least, they will. We sent them a fire note through Magnus. Amatis says that they're usually out traveling in the countryside though, so they haven't gotten the note yet. She says she'll give it to them the moment they return." A pause.

"Izzy - "

"We always loved you, you know that?" Her interruption startled him and he looked up, momentarily distracted from the spar. She refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing intensely on her offense. He effortlessly kept up with her, although he could tell that she'd gotten much better. "You'd always viewed yourself as this failure, someone who couldn't be trusted or loved. But we all did anyway. Trust and love you, I mean. And for that year and a half that we were fine in, you loosened up. You seemed to see yourself more positively. And although your head got even fatter because of it - " he gave a small grin at that - "it was a good change. A really good one."

Her words were punctuated with grunts and deep breaths of air, but her fighting had reached a furious peak. Sweat was dripping down both their temples, and Jace felt more droplets running down his back. Old Izzy was nothing compared to this new, matured Izzy, and the old Izzy had been pretty damn good. But then she dropped her fists and just abruptly stopped, staring up at him. "And then you left," she said, her tone wondering. It was like she was still not over that fact, like she still hadn't accepted it. "One day I wake up and wander to the library, fully expecting you to already be up, dressed, and armed with a sarcastic comment about my bedhead. But you weren't there. And you were always in the library before anyone woke up." Her eyes were strangely bright now, and Jace wanted to look away. He didn't, though, knowing that he should hear her out. "So I got a little worried, but I checked the greenhouse next. Of course you weren't there, but I checked. And then I got to the kitchen." She blinked and took a deep breath. "Oh, Jace. It was such a simple note."

"I didn't know what to say," he told her honestly, dreading the moment when Izzy would start to cry. "I didn't think you would've cared about me all that much."

"Not cared?" Isabelle laughed without humor. "Jace, for someone who thinks so fully of himself, you can be really self-deprecating sometimes."

"Self-deprecating?" he raised an eyebrow, his old cocky tone making a tiny comeback. "Been studying the dictionary I bought you for Christmas, now have we?"

She choked out another laugh, this one more genuine, and suddenly she was crying as he hugged her tightly. The familiar scent of vanilla hit his nose and he grinned, noting with pleasure that some things hadn't changed. Isabelle was still Isabelle, despite her changed attitude (and fighting skill), and she was still his sister. They were talking, relating, being open.

That gave him some hope.

Yes. So now you've gotten another piece of the plot between Clary and Jace. Don't hate on Ryan now, he's actually a good kid. If I could call a way older man a "kid".

Izzy had to have her say, and I guess this is the way it played out. Now you also know where Maryse and Robert are, although surprisingly no one asked about them. :O And yes, Izzy and Simon are still together in this. I can dream, all right? I like this pairing very muchly.

And as for fellow Magnus Bane fans, don't worry. ;] He's a-comin'.

Review? (I've found someone else who ends their ANs this way. It's the first I've seen, so it was pretty cool.)