Okay guys. I wrote chapter 8 a few weeks ago. I was re-reading it today to get into the mood of the story to write a new chapter, and I realized something: That wasn't how I wanted the story to go. So, bye bye goes the old chapter 8 and in comes the new and improved chapter 8. With the last chapter, I feel like I made a joke of myself and the story. I'm ashamed. But, i'm hoping this will give me a chance to redeem myself.~Mermaid12108

Clary was aware of a beeping noise, and the rustling of fabric moving together, and curtains being drawn. She slowly peeled her eyes open, squeezing them shut against the fluorescent light. "Sorry." Said a voice, and the pink of her closed eyelids was replaced by black. She hesitantly opened her eyes slowly, and then faster when she was sure that god damn light was gone. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, or lined with sandpaper. More like a mix of the two. She cleared her throat and winced at the rawness in her throat. "Water," She said in a raspy voice. A plastic cup was brought to her chapped lips, and she gulped the water down gratefully. She tried to sit up, but her shoulders were pushed back down. "Oh no you don't." Simon was shaking his head at her. Once he was satisfied she wouldn't jump up and run, he sat back in the hospital chair with the ugliest pattern Clary had ever seen. "You don't want to rip your stiches." It was the that Clary noticed the absence of something. Something huge. Something she knew, deep in her soul, she should be concerned about. Her hands flew to her stomach, landing on a thick wrapping of gauze and she looked around franticly. "Where is she?"

"She's in the ICU." Her baby? In the ICU? Oh god. ICU stood for Intensive care unit. Why would her baby need to be in the intensive care unit?

"She's okay." Simon insured her, squeezing her hand. "She's just a little premature, that's all." It felt like a thousand ton weight was being lifted off of her chest, and she felt like she could breath again. Her little miracle was okay. She was okay.

She looked at Simon. He looked as tired as someone who never really slept could look. She reached out and tapped his nose with her index finger. The tubes and wires attached to her puled against her skin tightly, but she ignored it the best she could. "You need to get some sleep." She whispered, and Simon raised his eyebrows, pointing a finger at his chest after shooing her hand away. "Me? I think you mean this sorry bastard." He said, poking the sleeping form next to him, earning a slap. "Ow!" He said, crinkling his nose. Jace looked even more tired than Simon. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders seemed weighed down with exhaustion. Without opening his eyes, he said: "Poke me again, bloodsucker. See what happens. Why don't you and Isabelle go raid the snack machine or something?"

"It's not Iz I'm talking to."

She's never seen Jace's eyes open so quickly. Simon slipped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. "What happened?"

And then she remembered. The car crash. Being rushed into the ER. That dark nothingness, where her voice echoed...

"Never mind. I remember."

"You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"She's beautiful. We have a daughter, Clary. A daughter."

"What'd I tell you? Mothers instinct."

"Yeah. Do you want to see her?"

She nodded vigorously.

The machines and incubators beeped slow and steady, and the pumps the medicine was coming from made gurgling noises every so often. "Be careful, hold her like this." The doctor told Clary, placing one of Clary's arm's under the baby's neck, supporting her head,and the other under her legs and bottom. The baby made little noises as she was moved around, sort of an "Eh," Sound. When the doctor let go and assured Clary she was doing it right, Clary sat back in the wheelchair. She kind of hated the thing, but, hey, it got her here. Who was she to complain?The baby instantly curled up against Clarys chest and clutch the fabric of the hospital gown she was wearing with a tiny, pink fist. This brought tears to Clary's eyes. They slid down her cheeks, but this time they weren't sad. They were happy tears. Jace leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. "See? I told you everything'd turn out okay."

"Yeah. I guess it did." Clary said, playing with the top of their daughter's pink an white hat. It was the only thing she was wearing besides a dipper and Clary's arms. "Alice. Alice Bell Herondale, Ali for short. What do you think?"

"I love it."

And then, one of their baby's tiny fists gripped Clary's index finger, and then Jace's. For once, everything was okay.