Thanks go out to amaggiepie and sunshiiine23 for doing the beta work on this chapter. And pnai_87 deserves lots of hugs for continuing to discuss plot and character development with me. She keeps me in line. :)

Warnings: Mature themes including perceived incest, explicit sexual content, and strong language. Immature themes including excessive dash usage and copious amounts of unapologetic relationship angst. Proceed with caution.

Context: This story is set after a City of Glass in which Clary and Jace do NOT figure out that they aren't really brother and sister. They never got the Book of the White to Magnus, so Jocelyn is still comatose. (This ignores City of Fallen Angels entirely.)

Keep the Next Breath

PART FOUR

"So, who is he?"

Clary looks up from the yellowed pages of the demon anthology to find Isabelle—as immaculate and trendy as ever in a pair of leggings and lacy mini dress—perched gracefully on the edge of Hodge's old desk. Clary didn't even hear her enter the library, and she's wary of the girl's intentions. The knowing quirk of Isabelle's lips is as pointed as the spiked, six-inch heels of her boots.

"It's a Gracken demon," Clary responds, purposely obtuse.

"Don't play coy. You know who I'm talking about." At Clary's blank expression, Isabelle rolls her smoky eyes. "The guy you're seeing. I didn't hook you up with birth control so you could pursue a life of chastity. Who is he and how serious is it?"

Clary tries not to have an outward reaction, but Isabelle's widening smirk underlines her failure.

"I knew it!" she practically squeals. "What's his name? Have I met him? Well, I couldn't have met him because the only guys we've spent time with are…wait! It's not Meliorn, is it? I know he's cute and suave and everything, Clary, but he's got the Seelie Queen's scepter stuck so far up his ass he doesn't even—"

"I'm not interested in Meliorn, Isabelle. He's really not my type."

Isabelle scoots closer on the desk. "Then who is?"

Clary hesitates. She didn't really have a type before Jace, and saying she likes gorgeous blonde Shadowhunters with a sarcastic sense of humor and hidden insecurities about their self-worth might be pushing her luck. Isabelle clearly doesn't suspect her of something so unseemly.

"If you're worried about me telling Simon, that won't be a problem." Isabelle gives her blood red nails a cursorily glance. "He's been avoiding me."

Clary sidesteps the clear resentment accompanying the last part. "Why would I be worried about you telling Simon?" She's genuinely curious.

"Oh, maybe because he's still madly in love with you."

"Isabelle…"

"No, he gets it." Isabelle sighs as she hops to her feet. "He's been friend-zoned, and he's learned to deal. Hasn't done much to change his feelings though."

Since when did Isabelle know so much about what Simon was feeling? Since when did Clary not know what Simon was feeling? Since you've been avoiding him, she thinks automatically. In the past two weeks, she hasn't spent more than ten minutes with Simon in person—all by design, of course. But this is the first time she's actually thought about it long enough to miss him.

Isabelle is watching Clary closely. "Look, I'm not here to talk about Simon. I want to know about Hayden."

"Hayden?"

Isabelle grins. "A little hot pink-toed birdie told me that's the name of the guy you've been sneaking around with. And by 'hot pink-toed birdie' I mean Magnus."

Clary groans and puts her head in her hands. "Alec."

"Honestly, Clary, I'm offended you told him and not me," Isabelle says with a sniff and twirls a lock of hair between her fingers.

Clary looks at her from between her fingers. "I didn't tell Alec anything about Hayden."

"So there is a Hayden, and you did lose your virginity to him?"

"I really don't think—"

"I'm onto you, Fray." Isabelle gives her one last meaningful stare-down before sauntering toward the library doors, which she casually flings open. "Girls like you don't go around glowing like a witchlight unless they're getting properly fucked."

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

Jace doesn't quite catch all of Clary's rushed explanation in the elevator. She says something about Isabelle being the world's most relentless busy body and an unplanned encounter at her art class that nearly ended in disaster.

"…and she's there waiting outside of the building. Of course she just assumes Hayden and I are already seeing each other, and when she asks for his number, he actually gives it to her, which really isn't that much of a surprise considering she's Isabelle, but then when she texted him today and asked him to come along to Magnus's party…"

What Jace is able to surmise by the end of the 30 second rant is that Clary has a date. He steps out into the sanctuary,Isabelle theunfortunate recipient of his scowl.

She's leaning against one of the pews, the stretchy mesh of her outfit shining silver in the dim lighting. "What crawled up your ass and died?" she says while yanking off a loose thread from her skirt.

"What were you thinking inviting a mundane to Magnus's party?" Jace shoots back.

"Simon went when he was still human."

"Yes," Jace says dryly, "and by the end of the night he was a rat."

Isabelle tosses her hands in the air. "Well, he's fine now, isn't he?"

"He's a vampire."

It's the touch of Clary's hand on his back—fleeting but warm and familiar—that grounds him. She steps to his side, and suddenly the only urge he's fighting is to put his arm around her.

"Is Simon here yet?" she asks Isabelle, who immediately looks disinterested.

"I don't know. Didn't check."

Clary sighs the way she does when she's trying not to get angry, and Jace thinks he's not the only one with Isabelle on a shortlist of 'people to maim with a dull object.' Not giving Isabelle another glance, Clary starts off down the aisle towards the front door. As she goes, Jace's gaze falls to where her satin dress clings to the curve of her backside. He glances away quickly when Isabelle nudges him with her shoulder.

"Look. Magnus is a master of glamours," she says. "I mean, Clary still doesn't have all her childhood memories back. Hayden will probably just think he's at a really strange costume party where there's entirely too much recreational drug usage. So just relax, okay? And don't ruin this for Clary. She really likes him."

Jace snorts. "According to who?"

"My intuition."

"The same intuition you rely on while cooking?"

Isabelle flips him the bird before strutting away. Jace follows more slowly, hands in his coat pockets. Outside on the Institute steps Clary is standing close to a boy about Jace's height with an athletic build, dark eyes set in a dark face, and hair buzzed close to the scalp. He's smiling easily at Clary even with Simon hovering awkwardly a step above them. Something he says makes Clary laugh, and Jace can tell from the way she tilts her head that it's genuine. The guy looks more like a professional rock crusher than an art club regular.

It's harder than usual for Jace to maintain a passive facade when Hayden and Clary turn toward him.

"Guys, this is Hayden. We used to go to school together," Clary says. "Hayden, this is my friend Simon. You've already met Isabelle. And this is Jace." Her tongue darts anxiously out across her lip. "My brother."

When Hayden extends a hand, Jace takes it, squeezing harder than he should as they shake. Hayden raises an eyebrow but doesn't flinch. "I didn't know you had a brother, C."

"I imagine there's a good reason she doesn't talk about him," Simon says, looking amused. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

"Probably because she couldn't find the words to do me justice. My brilliance is something best experienced in person." Jace's eyes flicker to Hayden. "You know, I'm not sure girls like being referred to as large bodies of water. They're large."

"Ignore him," Clary quickly cuts in, a hand on Hayden's arm. "He's just being smart."

When Hayden smiles in response, Jace decides he doesn't like him. Not a single bit.

"Nah. It's cool." Hayden shrugs and then bumps Clary's shoulder with his. "But maybe I should save the nicknames for when we're alone, huh?"

"And when would that be?" Jace asks sharply, hand subconsciously moving to where a dagger is tucked in the waistband of his jeans (even though they haven't seen more than a trace of a demon in the past two weeks, he refuses to be careless).

"Never if we spend the rest of our lives standing here," Isabelle says, sounding bored. "We need to leave for the party now or we're going to go from being fashionably late to just regularly late."

"Shit, I forgot there were chick rules for this sort of thing," Hayden muses. "I'll tell you what, Isabelle. If it gets to be too late, we'll just start a party of our own. The five of us at my place. My dad's at a conference all weekend."

As they start down the street toward the subway, Simon falls in step beside Jace, just behind Clary, Hayden, and Isabelle. "My first invitation to an orgy," he says. "Someone take pictures so I can scrapbook this moment later."

Jace has to tear his gaze from where Hayden's fingers are curled into Clary's shoulder to look Simon up and down apathetically. "Your first, really? I'm shocked."

"I imagine you get them all the time."

"Only when I go out in public."

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

A bright green liquid sloshes over the top of the pitcher that Simon sets down on the paint-splattered tabletop, and Clary dives for her nachos to keep them from getting wet. Beside her, Jace laughs dryly.

"What? You didn't learn your lesson last time?

Simon slides into the seat next to Hayden, raising the dark bottle in his hand—which Clary knows contains animal blood—and gestures to the pitcher. "It's not for me. Magnus told me to bring it over." When they continue to look apprehensive, Simon adds, "He told me it was safe. Well, safe-ish."

Hayden doesn't need any more convincing and fills the glass tumbler in front of him. He shakes his head and laughs. "This party's pretty wild."

Clary silently agrees. Magnus has outdone himself this time. The entire loft is lit with black light which catches the neon paint that seems to have been splashed arbitrarily over the floors, walls, and furniture. The illuminated dance platform—something straight out of Saturday Night Fever (quite possibly the exact same one)—takes up most of the space, crowding the DJ booth and open bar to the sides wide, open room. Downworlders mingle in a loud, chaotic mass of bodies that seems to pulse in time with the music pouring from the speakers.

Magnus and Alec are standing next to a table where a large cake in the shape and likeness of Chairman Meow is being sliced into pieces and set on individual plates. Clary hasn't had a chance to talk to them yet, but it looks like they've gotten over whatever tiff they had the week before and seem to be having a good time mingling with guests.

At least some people are enjoying themselves, Clary thinks sullenly. Between Jace's passive aggressive attitude, Hayden's flirtatious advances, and Simon's poorly concealed amusement with it all, she's got a headache throbbing painfully at her temples. She sighs and takes a sip of her water.

Jace's hand settles on her bare knee.

"You two don't look anything alike." Hayden is watching them from across the table. His glass is empty again. He's been his usual laidback self all evening, though the food and drinks have added a shine to his eyes that isn't normally there. "I mean, I never would have guessed you're related."

"But they are," Simon says, taking a sip from his bottle of blood and scanning the crowd—probably looking for Isabelle, who had disappeared the moment after they arrived.

"You,"—Hayden points at Clary—"look just like your mom. So your brother must look—"

"Like our father," Jace finishes, voice cold. His touch, however, remains light on her skin as his hand slips up beneath the hem of her dress. Clary shoots him a startled look, but he doesn't so much as glance at her.

Hayden shakes his head and pours himself another glass. "I could've sworn you were an only child."

Clary instinctively parts her legs as Jace's hand slides between them. Still looking at Hayden, he shrugs one shoulder. "It's a recent development."

"We didn't know about each other until this past s-summer." Clary sucks in a sharp breath when Jace's fingers brushes her underwear. The teasing pressure against the dampening cotton has her hot and uncomfortable in her seat, and she quickly pushes his hand away beneath the table. From the corner of her eye she catches Jace's smirk—the first genuine smile she's seen from him all night.

Before she can change her mind, Clary lays her hand on his jean-clad thigh. His grin falters.

Across the table, Hayden raises an eyebrow. "That had to be something. Finding out all this time you've had sibling you didn't know about."

"Mmm." Clary's only half listening, too focused on tracing the inseam of Jace's pants to his crotch. She scrapes her nails along the denim.

Jace is out of the booth and on his feet in a flash of movement. His eyes catch Clary's for the briefest moment, just long enough for her to see the desire and frustration burning in them. Then he gives some excuse to Simon and Hayden before escaping through the crowd. Clary blushes into her drink, dizzy with the risk she took. She's so busy chastising herself that she doesn't see where Jace takes off to. She misses Simon's dry comment and subsequent disappearance. She sits there, arousal battling against mortification until Hayden is standing before her asking her to dance.

She has every reason to say 'yes,' and she does.

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

Jace is familiar with the urge to cause bodily harm. It's what makes him such a successful Shadowhunter. The means is just as enjoyable as the end. Killing is as liberating as knowing that there is one less demon in the world. He's like Valentine in that way. Maybe it's his father's influence or maybe it's his demon blood, but Jace can't help the desire to hurt that overcomes him as he watches Hayden and Clary dance from the bar.

Hayden's not doing anything wrong. He's showing interest in a girl that he likes, an available girl as far as he—or anyone else—knows. And if he were to disrespect her in some way, Clary would be able to handle him herself. She may be small, but she could handle a mundane like Hayden. A boy without training. Without runes.

No, Jace doesn't want to hurt Hayden. He wants to walk over to where he's standing with his hands on Clary's waist, take her into his own arms and kiss her there in front of everyone. He'd kiss her the way he does when they're alone—deeply and with all the honesty in his bones. But it would be different, too. There would be a simplicity to it, something that said he could kiss her again anytime he wanted, and no one would try stopping him.

But he can't. Instead he watches someone else act in his place. Do the things he wants to do. Hold her body against his. Whisper in her ear. Touch her hair without a reason. It's as if Jace is being punished. And maybe he deserves it, but Clary doesn't. She deserves every bit of happiness and certainty the world has to offer a person, and yet she has to hide and be ashamed of her own feelings. So when Jace yearns for a face to bury his fist in as he watches her move tentatively in the circle of Hayden's arms, it's because he's aware of the injustice they've been done. Someone ought to be held accountable.

"This needs to stop. Right now."

Isabelle has joined him at the bar, skin damp with sweat and hair beginning to go limp. She's spent the majority of the night dancing or exerting herself in other…physical activities. Her dark eyes are bright, and there's no doubting that this is Isabelle's natural environment.

"Me sitting?"

"No. This protective big brother routine. It was kinda cute when you puffed out your chest and gave Hayden the evil eye earlier, but it's getting obnoxious. Loosen up. Enjoy yourself. If Hayden and Clary are going to have hot, hot sex tonight, you being surly isn't going to stop them. Get something to drink, find a pretty vampire, and—"

Jace's fist slams onto the bar top, causing her to jump. "Stop it, Isabelle," he growls. "I don't need any of your bang up relationship advice."

Her eyes narrow into black slits. "Excuse me for not wanting to watch you sulk and ruin a perfectly good party."

Jace laughs darkly. "Is that it? I'm ruining the ambiance?" His gaze slides past her to where Clary and Hayden have been dancing for the past three songs. But there's no familiar flash of red hair and pale skin. Jace quickly scans the rest of the dance floor, but Clary and Hayden are gone.

A moment later Jace gets to his feet, but when he passes by Isabelle, her hand shoots out to grab his arm, tugging him around to face her. She stares him down there in a dark crowded room with trashed Downworlders dancing and laughing around them. If Jace were anyone else, he'd be intimidated by the unadulterated intensity in Isabelle's eyes.

"She's your sister," she says evenly, and Jace flinches at the word. "She's pretty, and nice, and powerful. Boys are going to notice her, and she's going to notice them. Sooner or later she's going to meet another Shadowhunter, and she's going to feel for him what she used to feel for you. They're going to date, and, just maybe, they'll fall in love. They'll get married, have lots of red-headed kids, make their own family. And she'll be happy. Like she deserves to be. And you know, Jace? You can be happy, too."

Jace moves to pull his arm away, but Isabelle's grip only tightens.

"And you won't have to worry about me giving you any more advice after this. I'm not going to keep babysitting you two. But our family is hanging together by a thread, and I swear by the angel, Jace,"—she leans in closer—"if you do anything to finish us off, I will personally hunt you down and beat you until you regret it."

Jaw clenched, Jace jerks free of Isabelle's lax hold. "Ironic, isn't it? You acting as the authority on lasting, happy relationships, when the longest you've ever been with someone is fifteen minutes in the Institute's tool shed."

Isabelle's wide, dark eyes follow Jace as he turns and walks away.

He's grateful for the deafening music and the accompanying roar of voices as he pushes his way through the crowd. The noise drowns out Isabelle's words as they play over in his mind, and all he has to focus on is the insistent need to find Clary. He covers the main room in under a minute, and the rest of the doors in the loft are locked. His desperation only grows, and Jace makes his way outside…and nearly collides with Hayden who's standing just on the other side of the apartment's back door. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jace's attention has already moved to Clary, who's leaning against the metal grating of the steps' landing. Her hands are wrapped around the railing in a white-knuckled grip, eyes wide and staring down into the back alley as her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

Jace has Hayden thrown back against the wall without a moment's hesitation.

The other boy is taken aback. "What's your problem!"

"What did you do to her?" Jace's hands clench in the material of Hayden's shirt, keeping him pinned to the front of the building. He's waiting for the asshole to say one word, give him one reason to put his fist through his face just like he's wanted to do all night.

"Man, I didn't do anything," Hayden says, voice low in warning. Jace's entire body tenses with anticipation at the unspoken threat. "Get off me."

"Jace, stop it." Clary moves to stand beside them, face white as she nervously bites at her lip. "He didn't do anything."

When he doesn't move right away, Hayden forcefully brushes Jace's hands away. Jace lets him, moving closer to Clary as he takes a step back. Blindly, he reaches for her hand and catches her wrist instead.

Hayden pushes off from the wall. "Look, we were just dancing when Clary saw something and started freaking out about it."

Jace looks to Clary, who still seems shaken.

"I thought—No, I know," she begins but then shakes her head. "I need to talk to Jace. Alone."

By the door Hayden sighs, and Jace hates the way his gaze softens when he talks to Clary. "You alright?"

Clary nods while nervously tugging at her dress. "I'm sorry about running out on you in there."

"Don't worry about it." Hayden waves off her apology. "I'll just be inside."

Jace returns the challenging look Hayden gives him before ducking through the door, and the moment he's gone Jace mutters, "As far as pretend boyfriends go, I don't like him one bit. I want to be included in the screening process for the next one. I'm thinking someone shorter, who doesn't look like he could successfully pole vault over the Statue of Liberty—"

"Jace." Clary's hands encircle his wrists, tugging him down toward her until he's face to face with her wide green eyes. The fear he sees there strikes him cold. "Inside, while we were dancing, I swear I saw…" She trails off shaking her head.

Jace takes her hips and pulls them against his, shivering when their bodies align. "What's got you spooked, huh?"

She licks her lips, takes a calming breath before looking him squarely in the eye. "I saw Sebastian."

Jace stares back at her, stomach twisting at the name but not truly comprehending. "Sebastian?"

"Yes. Sebastian Verlac."

He shakes his head sharply. "That's not…that's not possible."

"I know what I saw," she says. "It was him standing there in the crowd. Just watching me. I turned around and when I looked back I saw him walking out this way."

"Someone who looks like him," Jace insists, everything in his being rejecting the plausibility that that murderer, Valentine's lapdog, had made it out of Idris alive. Jace can still recall the satisfaction he had felt when he sunk a blade into the other boy's back. No kill had felt more justified. More final.

But Clary shakes her head. "I'll never forget his face," she admits. "And it was him. I know it. I wasn't imagining it, either."

Jace feels nauseous. "Clary…"

The back door opens, and Clary and Jace jump apart as a group of vampires exits. They laugh and stumble out onto the rusted stairwell in an inebriated mass. One of the men has red and orange streaked through his hair and whistles while eyeing Clary's legs as he goes by. "You know if those aren't busy later, I've got somewhere for them to be."

Jace rounds on him, but the lone female of the group snakes her way between them, a claw-like hand on Jace's chest. She smiles up at him with thin, red lips. "Of course, you're invited, too, gorgeous."

Jace dislodges her hand in disgust, causing the vampires to erupt in laughter as they continue on down the stairs. Their high-pitched voices peal through the night before getting lost in the roar of motorcycle engines. Jace curses under his breath and runs a hand angrily through his hair.

Beside him, Clary doesn't miss a beat. "We should check the club again, and make sure he's not still here. Maybe Magnus can do a spell to see—"

"Let's go." Jace grabs Clary's hand and begins leading her down the stairs.

Clary digs in her heels on the first step. "What? Where?"

'"Let's get out of here. Go somewhere we can be alone."

"Alone?" she echoes incredulously. "But…Sebastian. Jace, we can't just leave. What if he's still here? We need to tell the others."

Jace stops and turns. Clary's on the step above him, bringing her face level with his. Standing this close he can see her perfectly, even in the poor lighting. The makeup Isabelle had painstakingly applied at the start of the evening is now slightly smudged and worn from the heat inside. It's like her mask is slipping away just for him. He gets parts of her that no one else does. Parts that are only his.

"We will. I promise," he says, running his fingers over the hair at her temples. "But if Sebastian was here, he's gone now. I just tore apart Magnus's apartment looking for you. No Sebastian. Five minutes won't change that."

"But—"

He kisses her urgently, not pulling away until she relaxes against him, mouth parting and hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. "I need you," he mutters along her jaw. "I need to be us right now."

"Now?" Clary sighs and glances wearily at the door. " Jace…"

He can already hear her calling out his name for another reason. With some subtle maneuvering, he's gripping the backs of her thighs beneath her dress. He nuzzles his lips against her ear. "I'm tired of pretending I don't want to take you to the nearest dark corner and fuck the word 'sister' out of you."

Her breath hitches in a small gasp, and dull nails bite into his skin. Jace is rarely so blunt about his near-constant physical need for her, not because he thinks it would frighten her, but because it frightens him, himself. She's convinced herself of his goodness, and he wants to prove her right so badly that he tries to hide the darker things, like how he's the sort of person who gets off imagining his sister on her knees, mouth wrapped around him, and how he's stopped feeling the least bit guilty about it.

He can tell the moment she relents, the instant she forgets about everything but him. Her body falls into his, soft and giving. "Five minutes," she says, "and you better make it worth it."

"When have I not?"

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

Simon expects the worst when Jace and Clary stop by the table looking like they just trundled through an eighty mile per hour wind storm. They're both flushed, and while Jace's hair is its usual casually-tousled self (a style which Simon privately calls the douchedo), Clary's hair is hanging around her shoulders in a tangled mass of red waves that won't get straightened out until she washes it next. But Simon happens to know for a fact that there are no eighty mile per hour winds outside. In fact, there aren't even five mile per hour winds. So he knows it's something else. The something else. The something else which shouldn't be something at all anymore.

Clary has that anxious expression on her face as she opens her mouth, and Simon braces himself for the I'm sorry, but my brother is the one I want. So he's surprised and more than a little relieved when Clary wraps her small hand around his own and pulls him to his feet.

"Have you seen Isabelle?" she asks.

"I have. She growled at me." As much as Simon likes Isabelle, she's probably the most confusing female he's ever met. She's either hitting on him or just plain hitting him, and he's not really sure which is less terrifying.

"We need to find her. And Alec and Magnus."

"Oh no. Did Hayden get turned into a rat?" Simon looks around for the boy he'd known since middle school but had never talked to before tonight. Hayden might be in Clary's art club, but that was largely because his cheerleader ex-girlfriend made him join freshman year. After they broke up, he decided to stay and date his way through the surprising number of attractive female members (although he hadn't paid Clary much attention until recently). Needless to say, he and Simon didn't exactly run in the same circles. But aside from Hayden being one of the obnoxiously entitled seniors on the varsity basketball team, Simon really couldn't say anything bad about him. And he wouldn't wish rat-hood upon anyone.

Clary stops walking so quickly Simon almost runs into her. "What? No. Haven't you seen him?"

"Not since you two started dancing."

Clary opens her mouth to say something, but Jace cuts her off. "Over there," he says, motioning to the bar, where it's impossible to miss the glittering spikes of Magnus's hair and Alex's tall, hunched figure.

That determined glint is back in Clary's eyes, and she hauls Simon forward, Jace following more leisurely. It's the most relaxed he's looked at night, and it brings back Simon's anxiety. When Jace looks that careless, it usually means he's just had a secret rendezvous with an evil overlord or is calculating the best way to piss off a pack of beefy werewolves. He leans back against the bar top, ankles crossed, even as Clary pounces on an unsuspecting Alec.

"Where's Isabelle?" she asks, as soon as they're close enough to be heard over the music.

"Um. I think I saw her—"

"Isabelle? Pssssht." Magnus wobbles sideways on his stool, leaning across Alec to get closer to Clary. "How about that delicious hunk of man meat you brought with you? Tall, dark, and angular. The invitation didn't say anything about brining your own snack, cupcake. And you should know, because you wrote it."

Clary wrinkles her nose. "Are you drunk?"

"Absolutely not." Magnus sounds indignant as he tries to sit up straight in his seat. Alec keeps a hand on his arm to steady him. "High Warlocks of Brooklyn don't succumb to such base...things. We're above drunkenness."

Jace smirks. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Clary looks like she's either about to burst into tears or start shooting fireballs from her eyes—Simon's not quite sure which. "Jace, you could take this a little more seriously considering—"

"Finally, I see the family resemblance." Isabelle appears behind the group, a glass of something blue in her hand. "Apparently Morgensterns have a knack for sucking all of the fun out of social gatherings. It's Magnus's birthday party, Clary. He's supposed to get wasted."

"I'm not wasted," Magnus denies adamantly.

"Yes, you are," Alec says, shaking his head. "I told you those five o' clock cocktails were a bad idea."

"But they were so pink…"

"Can everyone just stop!"

Everyone looks at Clary, including Simon, who hasn't seen her this riled up since the time she tore a 12 foot hole in Valentine's metal ship. He's suddenly nervous for the stool she's gripping.

"I saw something," she continues. "Or, really, someone."

Magnus perks up. "Angelina Jolie?"

"No," she says impatiently. "I saw Sebastian."

There's a beat when no one says anything, when no one comprehends…

Then Isabelle goes stiff as a board. "Sebastian?" she hisses. "What kind of sick joke are you trying to make?"

"It's not a joke. I saw him when I was dancing."

With the flip of a switch Alec's gone from concerned boyfriend to focused hunter. "Where did he go?"

Isabelle scoffs. "She didn't actually see him."

"I followed him outside," Clary says over the top of her. "Out the back. But then he disappeared."

Alec gets to his feet. "But he couldn't have gotten far."

"You can't be serious, Alec." Isabelle bristles, and Simon wouldn't trade places with Alec for anything. "I saw Jace toast his ass. He's dead."

He only shrugs. "There's no harm in making sure."

"Actually," Clary begins reluctantly. "I saw him about ten minutes ago."

Simon blinks in surprise. "And you waited to tell us a sociopathic murderer was here because…"

He swears he can feel the temperature of her body increase even though they're barely touching. Her tongue darts out over her lips before she replies. "Well, Jace—"

"I didn't think she actually saw him," Jace says, pushing off from the bar. "I still don't."

Clary's mouth falls open in a small, disbelieving 'o,' and Simon lays a hand on her shoulder. "I really don't think that's something Clary would lie about."

"I don't think she's lying," Jace says easily. "I just think she saw something that wasn't there."

Simon isn't impressed. "So you think she's crazy."

Jace looks irritated. "Do I need to be here for this conversation, or are you going to talk for both of us?"

"I told you I know what I saw," Clary cuts in before Simon can respond—and it's probably for the best because Simon doesn't have a witty retort.

"Yes. But what you saw wasn't real." Jace states it like a fact, as if he's pointing out how the grass is green.

"He certainly looked real."

Magnus, who has been making drinks rapidly appear and disappear in front of him for the last minute, stops snapping his fingers long enough to comment. "You have faerie hallucinogens to thank for that."

"What?"

"I just had to kick out half a dozen Fey after I caught them putting a little something extra in the fog machine." He sighs and waves his hand dramatically. "Apparently my party wasn't fun enough on its own merit."

"I'm having fun," Alec assures him.

Clary puts her hands on her hips. "And it doesn't seem strange that I'm the only one hallucinating?"

Alec looks thoughtful. "You don't have the permanent runes that protect most Shadowhunters from the effects of something so low key."

"And," Magnus half-slurs, "you aren't the only one. A couple of elves were dancing near you, and now they're convinced that they're two hearty explorers who've discovered a den of giants, completely ignorant of the fact that they've been eight inches tall their entire lives."

Jace flashes a toothy grin. "You know what else is eight inches?"

Clary practically fumes in anger, which is better than her saying 'yes,' Simon supposes. But then she shrugs off his hand and moves away. "I think I'm going to go hallucinate somewhere else."

Simon doesn't spare the others a second glance before following after her. Their progress is slow, Clary struggling to shoulder her way through the enthusiastic crowd of dancers.

"Don't let them get to you. It's like a Shadowhunter thing to be socially handicapped when it comes to stuff like tact, sensitivity, and more general feelings of empathy." As they pass one of the speakers, he has to practically yell in order to be heard. "Or, you know, that could just be a Jace thing that I've subconsciously projected onto an entire race. In which case…my bad."

Clary stops in front of a wooden crate labeled 'acoustics' and steps up onto it. Simon reaches out to steady her. "I don't want to talk about it," she says. "Have you seen Hayden?"

"Tall, dark, and stared at your chest all evening? I may recall seeing someone of that description."

She scans the packed apartment for several moments. Simon doesn't bother pointing out that it would be a lot faster if he was the one standing on the box. "He did not stare at my chest."

"No. But he wanted to. I could tell."

She points towards the back of the room. "I see him. Back at the booth."

"I think that level of restraint qualifies him as dating material, right?" Simon helps her back to the ground where she wobbles on her heels before regaining her balance. "I mean, if you're interested in him being dating material that is."

"I'm not," she says without having to think about it.

Simon shakes his head, amused. "I didn't think so."

Clary doesn't take off right away for the booth and Hayden. Instead she looks at him, Simon, as intently as she studies a painting she's seeing for the first time. She has an uncanny eye for art, an ability to perceive just what an artist was attempting to express through his work. Simon feels her using that gift on him now, deciphering things he probably isn't even aware of himself.

"You know me better than anyone," she says finally, eyes soft. "I think you always will."

Simon understands. "It's my job to know you." He takes her hand. "Just in case you forget something important."

AN: Sorry for long-ish wait on this chapter. But hopefully it was worth taking the time to make the chapter better. I really appreciate everyone leaving me feedback. I get rediculously excited when you talk to me. xD