Phew. Life is seriously kicking my butt these days. Sorry about the late updates - I hope that people are still hanging around and waiting...

This chapter really didn't want to come out. There's a lot going on in this story that's behind the scenes still, and I'm trying to orchestrate it correctly. I hope you all understand what's going on despite the confusion...?

Chapter Songs

Boston - Augustana

Church greeted them at the Institute when they walked out of the elevator, meowing before flicking his tail and disappearing. Shivering, Clary led the way to the library where a perpetual fire burned. They silently hung their jackets near the flames and paused a moment before Clary started to head for the door. Jace grabbed her arm and held her for a second, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Running away?"

She scowled, turning away from him immediately. "My clothes are damp, okay? I want to change. What, are you going to stalk me to my room now too?"

"It's not like I haven't seen you without clothes on before," he reminded her, voice low. She couldn't help but gasp at his words - stupid, cocky ass - and whirled around to confront him. But instead of the smirk and raised brows she was expecting, Jace's expression was blank and calm, almost impassive. It was like he was analyzing her and breaking the information down, taking note and biding his time. Uneasiness started to snake into her chest and she took a deep breath, pushing away the unwanted memories of his touch. She tore her eyes away from his, feeling the panic start to rise as the silence grew thicker.

Then her phone rang, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife through butter. Jace blinked and let go of her on his own accord, watching carefully as she dug her phone out of her pocket and pressed the talk button.

"Hello? Oh, Ryan, hi. Yeah, I felt a little sick so I went back home. No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? It's snowing like mad outside - "

"Don't worry about it. I got home safe."

"I feel awful about not following you to make sure you were all right - I thought you wanted space, Rissi, like before..."

Jace quirked an eyebrow at the nickname and she felt heat pool in her cheeks. It was a perfectly nice nickname, and he had no reason to be so degrading about it.

"No, it's fine. I'll still see you tomorrow, right?"

"Surely, provided we're not snowed in, of course."

"Hopefully not," she said, ever aware of Jace's stare. He was beginning to get impatient, she could tell.

"Feel better, Rissi. Good night, then."

"Good night, Ryan. See you tomorrow."

"See you then."

She hung up and crossed her arms. "What?"

"Rissi?" he asked her, voice slightly amused. "Really, what's wrong with Clary? It got old?"

The American tilt of Jace's voice, coupled with the all-too-familiar sarcasm laced through it, made for a seriously unwelcome shock to Clary's system after a year of Ryan's soft, English accent and understanding tone. "It's just a new nickname, okay? He uses it when he's worried. I happen to like it."

"Oh, definitely. What's next? Rye-bread instead of Ryan?"

"Just shut up. You have no right to be picking apart my relationship - "

"Tell me, Rissi, doesn't Ryan wonder why you never invited him to your "house"? Why you don't have a job, or why you don't go to college? Doesn't he wonder how you and Izzy met, why you're close with Alec, or who I really am? Please tell me he sees these rather obvious holes."

The sick thing was, Jace was hitting all of their issues right on the head. "Ryan understands, all right? He respects my privacy. Although that might be a foreign concept to you, some guys in this world actually know how to act like a gentleman."

"Really? Or are you just lying to the poor guy?" Clary wanted to bolt from the room then, but Jace was slowly advancing and she found herself backing into the side of the fireplace mantel to keep away. "Or even if you aren't, isn't he a little desperate to stick with someone who won't tell him anything?"

"I tell him everything!" Clary shot back, angry. "Everything that he can stand to know, everything that won't knock his world off its axis like you did to mine six and a half years ago!"

"That wasn't my fault! Magnus erased your memories and your mother hid your Sight - I just happened to be there that night! No one asked you to get involved in the hunt anyway!"

"What was I supposed to do, let you three kill a guy I thought to be an innocent bystander?"

Jace pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop. Just stop. This isn't why we're mad, and you know it."

"I'm mad because you're butting back into my life, after I've finally built a new one for myself!"

"Oh my God, are we really going to play the pity game? Oh, everyone pity Clary Fray, 'cause she has it so bad." His eyes were flashing and the sharp corner of the fireplace mantel was digging into her shoulder. "Her horrible boyfriend abandoned her for a few years to hunt down her psychotic brother since he wanted to drive the human race into extinction. And while he was gone for a few years, she moved on and found herself a new mate. Her life must be so hard."

She could hear the underlying hurt in his voice and they both needed him to stop. "There are so many things you don't know, Jace - "

"And I'm not the only one!" he shouted, slamming a fist against the wall by her head. Clary's eyes widened and she shrank back, almost frightened by the way the fire flung shadows and illumination across his face. He took a deep breath and withdrew his hand slowly, fingers trailing down the wallpaper. "What am I missing, Clary? What happened?"

"Four years happened," she whispered back, gauging their dangerous proximity. She didn't want to tell him anything, didn't want to open old scars and let the blood flow until it stopped hurting. She preferred to keep the bruises out of sight, hidden so well that even she forgot sometimes. She didn't want to see the white gravestones, smell the sterile air of hospitals and taste her bitter tears all over again.

Jace didn't seem to recognize her pensiveness. He scoffed and leaned in closer, eyes challenging. "I thought I was supposed to be the one with walls up."

"I learned from the best," she shot back, eyes scrunching shut.

"Are you going to run away, too? Remember what happened when I ran? Run, Clary. But know that I'm right behind you."

"I'm not going to encourage a chase, all right?" Her eyes popped open. "I don't want you here, and I don't want you looking for me!"

"Angel." His palms were pressed against the wall next to her head again. "What the hell do you want me to do? I thought you missed me. I thought that was why you were angry with me in the first place!"

"No, I'm angry because you left without a word. Do you know how many issues you left behind - "

"Then let them go!" He felt the old angst clawing at his chest again, spewing sticky feelings around and taking over his mouth so that unchecked words flew out. "Run away, Clary, run to Luke and your mom like you did before. Run back to the mundane world and stay with your parents - "

"My mom and Luke are dead!" she screamed, feeling the raw pain explode in her skull and flood her senses. She turned her face away and felt her shoulders rise and fall too quickly for comfort. Then her shoulders didn't go back up and she couldn't breathe, couldn't take control of her lungs and force air in. She was back in the tight hallway, surrounded by white and the smell of antibiotics, melted snow seeping into her jacket and guilt rolling off her in waves.

"Clary - "

A great gush of air somehow pushed into her lungs and she blindly shoved Jace away, making for the library doors. "Leave me alone, Jace, please!"

[You don't know me, you don't wear my chains]

He liked her because she listened. He liked her because she liked broken men, and he was shattered beyond recognition then. She got a kick out of fixing them up, loved taping them back together until they could pretend they'd never been broken in the first place. He knew that she was using him, and she knew that he was using her too. But strangely enough, both of them were okay with that.

At least, that's what he'd thought when he'd left Venezuela.

But now, his cell phone was ringing off the hook and practically dancing off the bedside table as it vibrated for the sixth time in a row. Despite the late hour (or early, if you thought about it), she just wasn't giving up. His head was full of Clary and questions and feelings.

He didn't know what had happened to Jocelyn and Luke; didn't know how to deal with Clary; didn't know how to stop hurting the girl he loved so much it scared him.

All he knew was that Drew Salinas really needed to stop calling him.

As the cell phone paused for a few blessed seconds, he swung out of bed and pulled on a black wifebeater and a pair of mesh shorts. The infuriating vibration started up again just as he stepped out of his room, making his way across the hall to Alec's door. He knocked lightly and hoped he was in there instead of bunking at Magnus's. Thank the Angel, Alec opened the door as he blinked sleep out his bright blue eyes.

"Ja - what's wrong?"

"What happened to Jocelyn and Luke?" he asked instead, pushing his way into the room and collapsing onto a chair in front of the desk. Alec swore quietly before shutting the door and flicking on a light, making both of them blink rapidly as their vision adjusted. He leaned against the opposite wall and stared at Jace, hands pressed to his thighs.

"It was a year after you left," he started quietly, looking away. "Clary was still hoping you'd come back, but she was going through some difficult times. She went to visit Luke and Jocelyn after a huge freezing rainstorm, and I think they tried to persuade her to let you go. They didn't feel too... hospitable toward you then. She left angry, and they felt bad or something because they tried to drive over here to talk to her again. But the freezing rain had frozen the roads, and they skidded on a patch of black ice..." Alec swallowed. "Jocelyn died instantly, and they found Luke barely alive. He died as soon as they were separated."

Jace groaned and tugged ferociously at his hair. "Hell. No wonder she's hurting."

Alec fidgeted. "I think you two should have a civil conversation soon. You have a lot to talk about, and she hasn't told you everything yet."

Jace sighed. "The way things are going now, I really doubt we're ever going to be able to talk."

Simon's fingers were cool as they slipped over Isabelle's spine. She took a deep breath and snuggled closer to him, saying, "I'm so glad the Mark of Cain lets you into the Institute."

"Mmm. We couldn't have these kinds of moments otherwise, huh?" A short silence fell as Izzy twisted around to kiss him fully, both their hands roaming as their eyes fluttered shut.

"I've never had this before," Izzy said thoughtfully. "This kind of sweet night. You're the first guy I've just... slept with. Nothing dirty or R-rated. Just sleep."

"I'm glad I can be first at something," Simon said dryly, giving her another peck on the cheek.

"I like it. The calm feeling, I mean." Then she bit her lip. "Do you think Jace and Clary will be okay? They always used to fool around like this."

His fingers tapped out a lazy beat on her ribcage. "I think that they'll work it out if they try. But I also think that they have a lot to talk about."

Izzy stared into his eyes. "Do you think she'll tell him about...?"

Simon blew out a sigh. "I hope so."

She reached the little knoll before sunrise, the world gray and dim in the predawn light. She knelt on the frozen ground, jeans immediately soaking through from the snow, and traced the letters carved on the granite. The wind whistled through the leafless tree above her head.

They said that the dead were just sleeping.

Clary wished they'd wake up.

It wasn't fair, how they'd died. They'd only had two and a half years of happiness together before one stupid mistake had ripped their lives apart. If Clary had just sat and listened, hadn't stormed out of the loft in self-righteous anger, had just paused and waited, maybe they'd be alive today.

The ironic thing was, they'd been right anyway. Jace hadn't come back for another three years, and three years was definitely too late. He hadn't been in time to see him. And the deaths had been what had told her to let Jace go.

"Oh, Mom," Clary whispered, pressing a hand flat against the granite. "I wish you were here. I wish I could talk to you. I wish you could tell me what to do." The familiar aching sting of tears started to rise in her throat and she swallowed, brushing hair away from her face as she turned to the other gravestone. "Luke. I miss you. I want you to come back and hug me and take me out for sweet buns and coffee again." She laughed a little. "I feel like a child, guys. God, I wish I was a child."

The tears were spilling out and dropping into the snow, melting little holes into the drifts and almost freezing over her lips. She bent over in silent pain and tasted salt, letting herself cry as hard as she needed to. The grief was raw again, fresh and new with his return.

"Mom," she cried, "Luke. Oh my God, oh my God..."

The sun broke the horizon and streamed across her shoulders, hitting each crystal of ice and lighting up the world around her beautifully. She would've used ink and paper to create a sketch of the scene.

Instead, she felt hollow inside.

"Hello?"

"Sir."

"Stricklander! Do you have an update?"

"Yes, Sir. He... doesn't seem to be doing anything. The most action we have seen so far is a demon hunt about four days ago."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Does he show the same amount of skill we saw previously?"

"Yes, Sir."

"... All right. Just keep watching. We'll make a move once we're completely sure."

"Yes, Sir. Good day, Sir."

"Yes, yes... have a good morning, Stricklander."

Click.

Whoo! A huge thanks to my beta, NixiexGrey :D She's awesome.

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