CHAPTER FOUR

The house was moderately sized, and the yard was plenty big. It was far too normal for the price that they had paid, but they were in New York. Not directly in the city. Houses weren't sold in the city, just apartments, and they wanted their own home. Had it not been for the fact that Tessa had had nearly a century to acquire her wealth, the price would have been out of the question.

They had moved in just a month after the baby shower, and had now been living in it for almost two months. Magnus had gathered Jace and Alec and Simon to move the furniture and larger items, and Jem had helped with it as well. Tessa, Isabelle, Clary, and Catarina had worked on decorating it—picking paint colors so Izzy, as she had asked Tessa to call her, could force one of the boys to do. They chose the couch pillows and ordered paintings, which Clary picked mostly, per her artistic ability. Catarina kept Tessa company most of the time, as everyone had sat her out of the process. She had wanted to argue, but her feet hurt and all she wanted to do was sit and eat chocolate. Which was strange, because she had always hated chocolate. Apparently, Ellie did not.

Tessa was surprised at how well the house had turned out. Everywhere she went, every corner she turned, she could see a little bit of all the people who were becoming her new family. She had not thought it possible, but it was happening.

Every day, little by little, she would find something about Isabelle and not compare her to Cecily. She would see Clary and find that she was not only a replica of people she once loved, but a person who had many differences as well. Jace was harder. It was difficult not to see the past that stretched out behind him and that she was so intertangled in. But she was starting to see the people who were trying so very hard to make her comfortable as new people—strangers instead of descendants—and she was getting to know them.

"Tessa?" Jem knocked lightly on the doorframe, leaning against it and looking at her with a happy smile.

And then there was their favorite room in the house. It was a room that they had furnished and decorated themselves—a mix between a library and a music room. Shelves lined the walls, books from over the ages that Tessa had collected, some that Will had collected, filling them. In the corner, there was a wooden music stand, and the bookshelf behind it was filled with music books. Tessa and Jem had picked out the paint, the furniture, the décor, and had placed all their most beloved items in the room. It had come out with a soft glow and the smell of memories. The Guarneri leaned up against the shelf, the bow beside it, having just been played, per Tessa's request.

They had gone to visit the Los Angeles Institute a month ago, and Emma had asked Jem if he was going to teach Ellie to play. When he had told her he would like to, the blonde had taken him, confused and wondering, to her room and dropped to the end of her bed on her knees, digging through the wooden trunk. When she had pulled out the 150-year-old violin, dusted and as beautiful as it had always been, his eyes had filled with tears and he had carefully taken the beloved instrument in his hands. Emma had told him that, though she had never learnt to play it, she knew how to tune it, and it was always in tune to keep the strings from wearing down. She gave him a jar of rosin and then told him that if he wanted it, he had to play it for her first.

His fingers were rusty at first—almost hundred years out of practice—but after a moment, thought ceased and his hands moved with memory, playing the first song his father had taught him when he was a boy.

"I remember that one," Emma had said, smiling softly. "My dad tried to teach me that once." She laughed at the memory. "We had had a problem with stray cats wandering up to the Institute. I fixed that."

Jem had laughed and asked her if she might like to try again, but she had consistently refused.

"Any more requests?" Jem asked, bringing Tessa back to the present. He was still leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his denim jeans.

"Do you remember the song you played for me that night in the music room?" she asked, and they both knew it wasn't a question that was answered in words.

The smile never left his face as he strode across the room and picked up the violin, hands as nimble and practiced as they were over a century ago. He brought the bow down softly, and the images that she had seen that night in the music room so long ago came back. But it was more than that now. Now there was added pictures—memories of soft eyes and silver hair, of light touches and collarbones too sharp, of nervous hands, pulling laces and interruptions by the church cat.

Tessa didn't cry often. Too many years had passed and too much heartbreak left a disconnect that she had learned to cope. But she could feel her eyes well with tears—the kind of tears that would fall weather or not you blinked.

Jem let the last note hold and then he lowered the bow.

"Did you like it?" he asked, a playful note in his voice.

Tessa laughed through the tears at the question he had asked her the first time he played it.

"Yes. Yes, I did, you—" Tessa broke off and gasped.

It scared her. She had only felt it twice before and it was so long ago that she hardly remembered the feeling.

"Tessa?" Jem asked, his dark eyebrows pinched and his face worried.

She sat up straighter as another wave hit her and tried to stifle the sound that was threatening to leave her lips.

The violin loosened in Jem's grip and fell, he awkwardly fumbled and caught it before it hit the ground, setting it down rather carelessly on the top of a table. He dropped to the side of where she was seated and took her hands in his larger ones. Tessa couldn't tell if it was hers or his hands that were shaking so hard. Perhaps it was both of theirs.

"Tessa?" Jem asked, and they both knew what the question was, even if it wasn't directly stated.

"Y—Yes," Tessa stuttered out. "I think so." She could see a cold sweat beginning to form on his brow. She took his face in her hands, and held him. His eyes were wide and startled. "T—Take me to the In—Institute," she said.

"The Institute?"

"Yes."

They could have gone to a hospital. It wasn't uncommon. The other option was to have a child at home or at an Institute with the women helping out. Silent Brothers rarely came to aid in childbirth unless it was deemed one needed to be there. They were the ones to place the protection on the child, but that was a few days later. Brother Enoch had been there when she had had James, as none of them knew what to expect with the half-warlock-shadowhunter woman, but with Lucie, it was just Charlotte, Sophie, and Bridget. Cecily had sat by her and calmed her while the other women ran about. She remembered wishing Will was there, but the men, even the father, could not come in.

"Do you want me to text someone to have a Silent Brother there and ready?" Jem asked. He still looked slightly ill, but composed at the same time. He knew she had delivered two other children.

Tessa thought about the people at the Institute. She knew that Jem could come in with her now. Modern propriety allowed it. But the other women there would be Maryse, Clary, and Isabelle. Jocelyn might have been there, as she liked to stay with her daughter. Maryse would have delivered children before as one of the heads of the New York Institute. Isabelle seemed competent enough about children and the process. She didn't know about Clary though, who seemed to know about as much about the topic as a celibate monk did.

Tessa laughed through the pain and Jem looked even more worried.

"Yes, yes," Tessa conceded. It would ease some of Jem's worries and probably hers as well, and it couldn't hurt anything.

Jem helped her out of the chair and half carried her, despite her protests that she could walk, to the car and put her in and buckled her, getting into the driver's seat himself.

She had never been more thankful for her teaching him how to drive.

He pulled out of their driveway with considerable composure. He pulled his phone out once they were on the road and began typing, sending a message of what she assumed to be a request for the Silent Brothers. Every time she would grip the panic bar and dig her teeth into her lips, his hands would tighten on the steering wheel and he would push the gas a bit farther down. He was white knuckling the wheel by the time they arrived.

He must have told them why he would need a Silent Brother, because just about all of the people from the Institute were on the front steps. Maryse stood looking determined and poised, as always. Isabelle was holding her own stomach, where a considerable bump was. She was almost six months herself. Her face was a mask of excitement and a mirror of her mother's, and her husband was at her side looking nervous but resolute. Jace stood like a guard with Clary at his side, who looked ill. Jocelyn and her husband Luke were there as well, and both looking poised.

Jace and Simon were at her door in an instant, helping her out of the car. Tessa leaned into them, tired and hurting and not caring at all.

"I just texted Alec," Jace informed her, pulling her up. "Him and Magnus will be here any minute."

"Already here, Blondie," Magnus said, running up to them. Alec was behind him, the blue shimmer of a portal closing in the distance.

"Alright, alright," Maryse said, ushering them in. "Help her into the infirmary, then you boys," she eyed them all, "out." Then as an after comment, she added, "except for Jem, of course. He can stay."

"We shall stand guard at the door and create soothing harmonious melodies whilst fending off any foreboding passersby," Jace declared as he helped her up the steps.

Tessa let out a choked laugh at the comment and the blonde looked pleased.

They walked her to the infirmary, sitting her down gently on the bed, not being able to utter a word before Maryse was pushing them out the doors. When they were gone, only Tessa, Jem, Maryse, Jocelyn, Isabelle, and Clary were left.

"I think," Clary cleared her throat, "that I'll just go out there with—"

"No," Jocelyn said. It was the sound of a mother who would not be argued with. "You're the female head of the New York Institute. You need to know how to help deliver a child."

Clary looked frightened. "Will I be doing a lot of that?" she asked.

Maryse chuckled as she coaxed Tessa back onto the bed, stuffing pillows and blankets where they needed to be. "It does happen occasionally. Many Nephilim women prefer to come to an Institute because there are more women to help with the delivery and Silent Brothers can be called on quicker in case anything goes wrong—oh, and Brother Enoch will be here soon," she directed the last part at Tessa and Jem.

Tessa wondered if Jem had asked specifically for Brother Enoch, but the faraway thought was quickly overshadowed with another pain that left her clutching at the hand she held, a hand she didn't even realize she had been holding.

Jem smiled down at her reassuringly, despite his now white hand from her brutal grip. It was perhaps the worst reassuring look Tessa had ever seen and she had to smile back.

"Alright," Maryse sat back and put her hands on her hips, looking thoughtful. "Clary, go over to the shelf in the corner and get a gown for Tessa. Everyone else," she sighed, "get comfortable."


"By the Angel. How long is this gonna take?" Jace groaned, throwing his elbow over his face and leaning back in the chair he sat in.

Magnus sighed at the comment that he had already heard at least a dozen times.

"I told you it takes a while," he said. "Tessa was hardly even in the beginning of labor when she went in."

"Yeah, but how long is a while Magnus?" Jace asked. "What is a while in warlock time—a few days, a week, a score—"

A couch pillow hit him in the face and blue sparks fell from Magnus's hand. The warlock smiled at the new silence, even if it was replaced by an angry stare.

"Hmm," he rubbed his chin with a black fingernail. "Usually about seven or eight hours, but it can last for a lot longer."

Jace groaned and threw his head back again.

"Ah, cheer up," Simon told him awkwardly. "it's already been four hours."

Jace's head popped up and he looked as if he were about to retort with something rude, but it was cut off by a startled red head coming down the hall in a fast walk.

"Clary!" Jace jumped up. "Is she—"

"No, no," she shook her head. "No, she's not—it's—I just needed to—I'm going to take a shower."

The whole room looked speechless as she left.

"Good luck getting kids, Jace," Simon murmured.

Jace threw a pillow at his face as Alec laughed.

"You," he glowered at his parabatai, "shut up too. It's not—"

A stifled scream broke him off and all the boys cringed at the sound, knowing exactly what is was from.

"I'm so glad I'm not a woman," Simon shivered. "I have so many disturbing images in my head right now."

Not even Jace had a comment to say about that one as another scream echoed through the halls.

Magnus made a split-second decision and decided he would take the lashing he got from Tessa later.


"Alright," Maryse instructed. "Keep going. You're getting there."

"I'm not—" Tessa gasped, "getting—any—where."

"Yes, you are. Come on."

Jem looked as bad as she did, that one might think they were both delivering a child. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his breath rose in intensity with hers. His hand was squeezing hers as hard as she was squeezing him, but she didn't mind. It was a minor distraction.

She kept thinking about when the baby got there, desperately trying to ignore the present. She wondered what she would look like, if she would be loud or quiet, if she would hold Jem's thumb and what he would look like holding her.

Another scream ripped from her throat.

"Tessa," Jem said softly, pushing her hair back with shaking hands. "Tessa," he repeated her name like a prayer. "It's okay. You're okay. Just hold onto my hand."

A shocked gasp echoed in the room, and the next moment Isabelle was screaming, "Magnus!"

Tessa eyes flew open and to the door, unfocused and blurry, but she could make out the shape of a tall dark figure with hands over its face. If she had been able to utter anything except another pained cry, she would have yelled at him.

"What are you—" Maryse was beginning to say.

Magnus held both hands up in surrender and then screamed when he realized nothing covered his eyes now and brought them back to hide behind.

"I come offering pain relieving spells and a soothing presence," he said loudly.

"Okay fine," Isabelle conceded, reaching for a large blanket on one of the other beds. She walked over to him and threw it over his head. It was thick enough that he couldn't see through. She pulled the front up so he could stick his hands out. "This way," she pushed him towards the bed.

She told him to stop when they reached Tessa's bed, and he kneeled beside her, tan hands reaching out from beneath a white quilt. He clasped the hand Jem wasn't holding between his hands.

"I'm gonna," Tessa gasped again, "kill you for this later. You k—know that, right?"

"I know," the response was muffled beneath the blanket.

Tessa laughed. She began to feel the pain-killing effects of his magic take place, numbing her body to what was happening to it. She still knew what was happening, could still feel it in a way, and knew when to push and when not to. Warlock magic, even if she wielded it herself, never ceased to seem strange.

"Thank you," she sighed, loosening her death grip on the two boys who held her.

"Time to start pushing again," Maryse said, and she did.


The pillow missed its target and hit Alec, who was in the midst of taking a drink of water, in the face.

The black-haired boy jumped up and tried, vainly, to knock the excess off of his chest, cursing at the two boys who still threw pillows at each other.

"By the Angel," he muttered. They had been sitting there for almost seven hours, and Jace was too high strung to stay seated the whole time. He would pick out little things that Simon would say and use them as excuses to throw pillows at him. Simon had gotten tired of it and began to throw them back. Clary was still nowhere to be found.

A throat cleared.

Isabelle stood, hands on her hips, looking fierce despite the bump of her stomach. Her face was a mask of disapproval as she stared at her brother and husband.

"You guys can continue to pillow fight like teenage girls at their first slumber party, or you can come see the baby."

Everyone perked up at that. Jace stumbled half up from his position behind the couch and began running to the room, but not before throwing another pillow that Simon easily ducked. The brown-haired boy didn't retaliate, he wouldn't have with Isabelle there, and waited to walk with his wife.

"So, what do you think?" Alec asked her as they began to walk towards the room.

Isabelle shrugged. "Kind of gross, to be honest." Then she smiled and added, "but still kind of adorable."


Jem had thought, perhaps, that knowing she was coming, and seeing her would feel the same. He was wrong.

In his mind, he had dozens of compilations of what she might look like, what she might be like. He had thought that no matter what, all the possible answers were found in his countless hours of wonderings—that he was prepared in every way possible. But nothing could have given him the picture that he saw as he stared down at daughter for the first time.

He had been so solely focused on Tessa for the majority of the night, he had hardly had time to think about the baby, though she was always present in his mind. It was only hard to ponder on too much while looking at Tessa in so much pain. He had half a mind to let go of Tessa's hand and hug Magnus when he had given her the painkilling spell. Seeing the load lift off of her own shoulders took the one off his too, and it had been so much easier on her.

They had been there for so long and the women at the end of the bed didn't let on to how close or far they were. The sheet over her legs prevented either of them from seeing anything, so when the cry of an infant had echoed throughout the room, it had taken him utterly by surprise.

Tessa had more light in her face than he could remember seeing in so long. It was the same light he had seen when he had come to her on Blackfriars as himself and not as Brother Zachariah, only now it was magnified—added to the already surrealness of even having him there.

Jocelyn had cleaned her off with a wash bowl and a rag, then wrapped her in a swaddle and sat her in her mother's arms with the gentleness and poise of a woman who knew how to handle a child.

The baby was still red and her face was slightly swollen, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. A small wisp of brown hair, too thin to correctly judge what shade, covered her head, and her eyes were still swollen shut. She curled into her mother's chest and quieted to small coos and baby noises.

And Tessa—Tessa was more beautiful than he thought he had ever remembered. Her hair was stuck to her forehead and sweat was still beaded at her temples. Her cheeks were red and her breath only just calming down to normal. She watched the infant in her arms, pulling her tighter when she would try to wiggle, a gesture that reminded him of the way Jocelyn had held her—the arms of a mother.

He almost felt as if he were invading a moment by standing so close.

Tessa looked up at him, and it was like looking into the eyes of her soul, and he thought, that even in the next life, his soul would find hers. He could find it anywhere. Its mark was seared into his own and kept there. He could see the love there in those gray eyes. Love for him, and love for Ellie, love that was shared with Will and James and Lucie, and love for her past friends and family and love for the new ones. But there was more than love, for love did not always come with other emotions like care, hope, and joy. You could feel love without feeling those—but she did, and he could see it.

"Jem," she whispered, and he bent down to push her hair back and kiss her forehead. He then repeated the action with his daughter, brushing his hand, large and scarred and foreboding looking next to her delicate face, back across her head, kissing her head as well. She squirmed and wriggled some more.

Tessa let out a tired laugh. "I think she likes you, Jem," her voice was thick and croaky.

"I should hope so," he murmured, fingers running over her small face in wonder.

He remembered when he was a boy, before Tessa. He had thought he could never be a part of the type of love his parents had shared, that he would never feel it and never have it felt in return. Then Tessa had come along and changed that, but he still knew that he could never have this—never be able to be a part of someone else, to create another person and be able to hold them in his arms. And with that knowing, came never hoping or dreaming about it. He had allowed himself, young and in love, to hope for Tessa, to dream for Tessa—but to hope for this was too unreal to ponder on. It made the experience seem like a dream.

"Hold her," Tessa told him.

He looked down at the small child, unsure. It wasn't that he had never held an infant before. He had held both Jamie and Lucie at just days old when he had put the protections on them, and he had done it with countless others, all of their children, and most of their children's children, until both families had nearly forgotten about him. Even still, he had held other children.

But somehow, it was different with his own. He didn't think he'd drop her. If either of them fell, he knew he'd hit the floor a thousand times before she even came close. He knew how to hold her, so it wasn't that. He just didn't know why he wasn't picking her up.

"Jem?" Tessa asked him, looking expectant.

He reached down, sliding his hands under her swaddle. She was small enough that if he wanted to, he could have balanced her on his forearm or created a perfect cradle with his hands, but he didn't. He picked her up gently, pulling her in and holding her to his chest, where she rested soundlessly in the crook of his arm.

She was wrapped tight in the blanket and it looked uncomfortable, so he pulled at it until it was loose and her tiny arms were free. She didn't do much with the newly gained freedom, only swung them around aimlessly. Her chubby pink fist hit him in the cheek and she opened it to grasp for something. He brought the arm up that she wasn't cradled in and put a single finger out for her told hold onto. She blindly clutched it, her hand not big enough to wrap all the way around, and despite knowing how newborns were, he was again stunned at her smallness.

A small crowd had formed around him as the others entered the room. Isabelle by his side, but not too close, Alec farther back with Magnus and they were holding hands, both had content smiles on their faces. Jace was nearly on Jem's shoulder as he looked down at the chubby-fisted baby with fascination. The older women were sitting back, looking pleased and happy.

Then she opened her eyes.

It was hardly a squint, bleary eyed and unfocused as she stared up at her father for the first time, but he could see the light catch in her eyes. They were nearly a mirror of his own, the same dark brown, but his own had gold, a result of the heavenly fire, but they did not have the long streaks of silver that cut through her own, pooling at her pupils and running out like paths of molten metal. It was the same color his own eyes had once been, but on a lesser scale.

Fear filled him—he trembled.

"Brother Enoch?" he asked, addressing the stone-like figure that had stood against the wall. The Brother had been there for the majority of it, to make sure all had gone well. Jem moved through the small circle around him and towards him, the child cradled carefully in his arms. "Her eyes," he began.

Fear not, James Carstairs, he said, his voice a stony whisper. All is well. It is merely the remainder of a demon's mark.

"But it should have been burnt out of her," Jem said, his voice low, though everyone was watching and could hear. Tessa looked tense and worried and the others unsure, but still worried. Jem knew how it was supposed to work. He had been a part of the Brotherhood, a society of doctors and researchers in their own ways. "Nephilim blood burns out the marks of demons."

And yet, Enoch said, it did not burn out the mark of James Herondale. The mark came from your blood, and had her mother been pure Nephilim, it most likely would have burnt the mark from her. But her mother shares her blood with the Angel and the Infernal. As does Elizabeth Carstairs. She is perfectly healthy.

The weight on his chest lessened, and he could see Tessa relax from his peripheral vision, so the Silent Brother had obviously spoken to both of them.

"Thank you, Brother Enoch," Jem said. He looked down at the child in his arms, whose eyes were wider now as she looked up at him. She seemed curious, like she was studying him. He smiled down at her and she reached up to grab his lips and he laughed and kissed her tiny hand.

"Hello there, Elizabeth," he whispered. She cooed and reached for him again.

"Alright," Maryse interrupted, and for the first time, she looked sorry that she had to. "Little Ellie is probably getting hungry, so you boys," she pointed to the door, "out. As for the rest of you, I'm sure we could all use a meal and some sleep. Tessa and Jem have it from here," she turned to address the mentioned. "Would you two like me to have some food sent up?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, that would be lovely," Tessa smiled at the woman and inclined her head. "Thank you Maryse, as well as the rest of you."

Everyone nodded and smiled, not getting to say much before Maryse ushered them out. Then it was just Tessa and Jem and Ellie.

Tessa smiled and held out her arm for the baby. Jem looked down at Ellie, who was, in turn, staring up at him with wide eyes. The redness was fading from her along with the swelling, and she was starting to look even cuter and more baby-like than before.

He sat her down in Tessa's arms, where her mother cradled her and kissed her head. When the baby was comfortably nursing, Tessa smoothed back her hair back.

Jem looked down at them in faux disappointment.

"She stole my spot," he said.

Tessa's eyes grew wide and her face turned dark red.

"You—" she began.

"Only teasing," Jem held up his hands in surrender and dropped to his knees beside the bed, watching the child. "We can share."


EXTRA

"Clary," Jace asked again, knocking lightly on the bathroom door. "Come on, Clary. It's over. You didn't even get to see the baby. You ran off like a madwoman before you could. It's over now. There's—"

The door flew open and Clary stood in the threshold, clutching the door handle brutally and looking paler than he could ever remember her being.

"Clary?" he asked worriedly.

"I," she started and then took a deep breath. "I can't do that," she pointed aimlessly.

"Can't do what?" he asked. She was acting so weird.

"That," her hands moved as she searched for the words, "baby."

"You can't do that baby? What are you—" he broke off with realization, feeling exasperated and disappointed at the same time. "You can't have a baby? By the Angel, Clary, I never asked you to have a baby with me. You know I'd love it, but it's not an expectation. Why are you getting so worked up about it now?"

"They sent me to meet Brother Enoch at the door," she blurted out. She was breathing harder now and tears were threatening to spill over.

He was looking at her like she was insane, and he was seriously questioning her sanity as it was.

"Okay, next time, just tell me, and I'll get the door," he told her.

"No, you big blonde idiot," she hissed. "He told me—" she slammed her mouth shut and took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. "He told me that we were expecting," she put a hand over her stomach, the eerie smile still on her face. "And I thought, 'oh great, I can't put a diaper on a baby, I can't feed one without scalding it, I can't even hold one without dropping it.' But then I thought, 'no problem, I'll learn. I'm sure I'll figure it out'. And then I went in there with Tessa and watched the most horrifying sight I've ever seen, and I—Can't—Do—That," she stressed, each syllable tighter than the last.

"By the Angel," Jace muttered. "You're pregnant."

Clary looked murderous. "Really?" she asked hotly. "I didn't notice!" Then she slammed the door shut.

For a moment, he only stood there, nose a hairsbreadth away from the wooden door. Then the stupidest smile spread over his face. He was going to have a baby. Him and Clary were going to have a baby. He was going to be a daddy.

"You get to tell my mom, too," she yelled.

His smile fell.

Hope you guys like it! Next chapter, I'm up for suggestions, ideas? Just leave them in a review.

Also (I'm advertising here), I'm writing a new story for the Mortal Instruments, Clace. It will be an actual story with a real plot and not just a lot of cute fluffy moments, which is why it's taking me a little longer. I'm planning and writing the first chapters. Here's the working summary,,,

He was a boy with no reason to live. She was a girl with no reason to die. He had nothing going for him. She had everything going for her. Can she teach him to learn to love life, and when she's gone, can he still do it?

I'm pretty sure the title is gonna be, 'But You Can Walk Through Clouds', which actually has a meaning in the story, lol.