I know that it's been a while, and I'm sorry. But here is your update. The reason it has been so long is science revision (those of you who know me, don't tell Georgie!) Whilst doing said revision, I was working on concave mirrors. It was a sign of how obsessed I am with the Mortal Instruments when I started writing note cards on 'conclave' mirrors instead. :p

On the downside, pre ordered TBC 10 and then it came up with some stupid mobipocket notice and wouldn't let me read it! Anyone else get that? I was not impressed and am fuming at Amazon. I need my Malec fix after what Cassie did in Lost Souls!

I hope you enjoy. Review and I update faster.

To Kelly - thanks. 1 word, mean a lot. Also, neat profile! All in for the Robert Pattinson ones!

To Alwayslivestributeandwhovian - glad it worked!

Alec stared at the object in his hands deliberating. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, and it wasn't like this was the worst situation he had done it in, but something somehow stopped him. A flutter in his chest, a warning that maybe this wasn't the right thing to do. Something that made it seem like he was making a mistake in doing this, proving himself too desperate to the world. What was wrong with him? He had been fine doing it just the other day! What could possibly have changed since then, in a few days? What could have turned him into this nervous, doubting wreck? Why couldn't he just damn get on with it like he wanted to? What was there to be scared of? Well, the terrifying thing was that his brain was telling him everything. Rejection. More pain. Losing himself. He couldn't trust himself to do this right, to not cause the wounds to run too deep, could he? He was so inexperienced, so new to this, and yet somehow it felt like a burden he had felt his whole life now that it had come to light. Or was it a burden? Maybe it was a way to be set free. Either way, it was filling his mind with concern. Damn it! He needed to get over this, because it would be better sooner than later and he knew it was inevitable. He brought his hand down slowly, carefully - and at the last moment backed out. Cursing, he slammed the phone down on the sheets beside him and fell backwards onto the pillows. Why was he finding it so hard to call Magnus?

It was Saturday afternoon, and the rain was falling steadily outside in a warm torrent. Fall was definitely here, the beautifully oranges and yellows hanging on the trees dampened literally by the gloomy weather. Alec had been, studying hard since just after the chaos that was breakfast, and he probably hadn't eaten anything that day except half a croissant that he had shared with Max, but he was too distracted to care. He had been distracted by the thought of Magnus. Something about him was special. He was so understanding and supportive but also carefree, like he knew how to live. He had proven both of those things to Alec the previous day, and it had made Alec want to trust him greatly, had made Alec trust him greatly and spill out all of the dark secrets and concerns filling him up. It was odd, and Alec had no idea about how he felt about him, so for now he just wanted to get to know him better. Of course, this was clearly going to be impossible because Alec couldn't even arrange to see him. What a douche.

He sighed with exasperation, giving up on the idea. He clearly wouldn't be seeing Magnus again today. Maybe it was for the best - he had been making the most of the quiet (Izzy and Max had gone out to the park) to crack down on his Latin. Yes, that was what he would do. He would go back to his Latin. He defeatedly pulled himself off of his bed and back to the highly polished black wood desk now scratched all over with the marks of words that had etched through the paper and the armchair like swivel chair. Almost as soon as he sat down the he found himself snoozing. God, his brain really hated him today. Confusion and now tiredness when he had finally decided what to do and was getting on with it? That was it. He was going to have to give in. As sleep took over Alec, his last thoughts were of how he desperately needed to get an uncomfortable chair so that he could actually study. Preferably one that also had a cage that locked away his phone. And possibly manacles to make him stay put. That would do.

Alec had always been fond of sleep, because sleep had been the time when he had been able to enjoy simple nothingness for hours on end before anything happened, anything disturbed, anything was anything. Philosophical yet true. And anyway, Alec loved philosophy, it was epic. Now though, it appeared his mind would not even let him have the peaceful release from the world that he wished to gain, instead irritating him yet further - if that was possible; why did he have to be so odd? - by giving him dreams. Alec didn't really like dreams, because they just reminded him of everything and anything, mostly the stuff he wanted to just let float away on the tide. This dream was weird, peculiar - basically all of the things Alec was, and yet all of the things he wasn't at the same time.

Lights flashed around him, glittering lights, lights of many colours. Lights that were so bright that they hurt his eyes, and lights that glowed low like the embers in a fire. Lights that blinked in and out of existence, and lights that stayed, steady and constant. He didn't know if the lights were up or down, or at the side, because he didn't know which was up and down were, where the sides were. He didn't even know if there were sides or a bottom, or a ceiling, because it was just light. It hurt his head, but made him feel secure and happy at the same time. He was falling, he knew that, but at the same time he was not falling. At some times it appeared that the web of light was slowing the descend, others it was speeding it up, and it even occasionally felt like it was lifting him in glory. But all at the same time as well as separate were these feelings. The only thing that remained consistent as time went by immeasurably was that Alec did not hit a floor, a bottom. As far as he descended, the web would never let him connect with the surface that was the ending and the beginning and everything in between all at once and shatter against it. It would not let him break. It was holding him together and pulling him in many unfamiliar emotional directions all at once, but it wasn't letting him fully fall apart. The pieces stayed interlocked and resolute in the protection of the web. The image fell in and out of focus as Alec's mind wandered into an increasingly deep sleep, until he slipped into a great blackness. The images fluttered even into this great void as the boy's eyes remained shut, so that he was guaranteed to remember them in all of their confusing glory. Stars flicked in and out of his mind, blue and green and gold bursting across his vision like fireworks as the dream faded out, the bursts ebbing away as it returned. It was spectacular and mystical and magical. It was familiar and new and different. Alec loved it, even though he hated it.

Alec's eyes remained shut tightly even as his sister slipped in through the minute gap between the door and its frame, desperate for once to stay forever in the memories and future and everything on the spectrum. All of his issues were lost in the precious moment and special hours that the dream encompassed, which was unusual, as dreams normally just made things worse. But this one - it had never heard of the dimension of time. It was a time free beauty, caught in a single second yet ever changing. Ever moving. He gradually peeled his bright blue orbs open, finally giving in to the reality was life and in particular his sister. They stared right back into very very very dark brown ones - the girl would strangle anyone who dared to call them grey. Izzy. God, what did she want now? Could he not get two seconds to himself, a single moment when he wasn't running around after her or Max whilst trying to juggle his own life in the mix as well? If this was what it was like being a parent, Alec was never having kids. Well, never adopting any.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood, are you aware that your phone has been ringing constantly for the last five minutes? Because it is getting bloody annoying!"

Once Jace had finished laughing at the mug, and Magnus had stopped laughing at his reaction (or maybe in relief that Jace had the capability to smile, he wasn't sure which) the conversation became serious. The previous night had touched upon things that had needed to be said, but now was the time for the full conversation about things, the time to decide what was going to happen, when it was going to happen, basically everything that needed clearing up. Jace wasn't sure what Magnus would want clarified, and so had decided to brace himself for whatever the boy could throw at him. That was what he had always been taught, and despite many of his father's misguided words, these ones made sense to Jace, so he stuck by them. There had to be at least some part of his personal philosophy that he could cling to, right?

"Okay, so why here Jace?" He blinked. He had not been expecting that question.

"What do you mean?" Magnus looked exasperated and slumped down onto the couch opposite, crossing his legs in what Jace assumed was his favourite position

"I mean why come to me? I have known you barely two days, you barely know me at all really, and for all you know I could be a murdering psychopath who wants to cut you up and feed you to the Chairman!"

"Do you? And also, who the hell is Chairman?"

"No. And my cat, Chairman Meow. But I rather think you are avoiding the point, Jonathan." Jace flinched when he used the name. He hated it. The memories... well, he just didn't want them.

"Well, I thought I could trust you." Magnus raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Um, see previous statement. Also, don't you have loads of mates you could crash with?"

"Yeh, but I don't trust them. They just like me for the girls I attract that they can nab. And I thought... call me stupid, I just thought you looked like the sort of person who wouldn't judge me and would understand me and help me out. You may look completely bonkers but you looked the kind of person who is permanent, reliable I guess." He hated saying that. Showing his vulnerability. But it had to be said. Magnus looked shocked. His eyebrows had disappeared into his hair. Actually, it looked kinda funny.

"I am honoured that you can trust me, Jace. I am going to help you, of course I am, why wouldn't I?. I won't let you face anything alone dear, because that is what happened to me and it is not nice. You have my word on that. The help, I mean." Jace nodded in gratitude.

"Thank you."

"Now, what the hell is going on between you and Alec? Because I am really confused about the whole thing. I have heard snippets but..." He trailed off. Jace breathed in deeply. He had known somehow that this was coming - well, Magnus and Alec already seemed to be best buds so it was unsurprising really.

"Well... a couple of nights ago we got into a fight because basically he thought I was going off with the jocks, and abandoning him, which is true, and I feel shit about it. We got over it yesterday morning, so yeh the morning after, but then..." He stopped, shuddering. Magnus was gazing at him with a soft intensity.

"But then what?"

"I collapsed when I got out of the truck on my ankle, I think, I think Iz must have pushed me or something. I can't remember the fine details, not after I passed out, but I just remember Alec being really concerned about me, as a friend would be, and I just shouted. I just basically told him to keep his nose out and that maybe there had been a reason that I had been avoiding him, and... and then he told me enough was enough, or something similar. Then I went inside and passed out. I don't know what Alec did."

Magnus stared for a moment, looking thoughtfully into nowhere. His elbows were resting just in front of his knees and he had his hands cupping his chin. Add that to the slightly magical colouring of his eyes (and the sheen of glitter that always seemed to be covering him) and he looked a bit like a frog that also happened to practice voodoo. I was rather peculiar, and a bit amusing, and in normal circumstances Jace would probably have laughed but the last few days had taken their toll on him. He seemed to be in a lot more serious mood, and not just due to the seriousness of the conversation they were having. It was like he had finally seen the truth of the situation he had been blind to all of these years, and was having to bear the full brunt of it all at once. Luckily, he had Magnus, who appeared to be promising to spread the load.

"Right. This needs fixing. You guys need to just trust each other again. Get to know each other a bit again, by the sounds of it. Kapeesh?"

"Who says kapeesh?"

"I do. Now I am going to ring Alec and get him over so that we can sort this out. And then you are going to hide in your room so I can chat to him alone." Jace smirked.

"Kinky." Magnus fake slapped him, and the resulting action caused both boys to fall on the floor in a massive heap.

"Not kinky. Private. If you care for Alec, which you obviously do or you wouldn't be in such a state..."

"I'm not in a state."

"You wouldn't be in such a state over the whole thing, you would keep your little nose out of it." Magnus untangled himself and stood up, brushing the dust from his trousers. He looked a bit disgruntled, and then looked at Jace. His mouth dropped open.

"Oh, shit sorry I forgot about your ankle shit is it okay after falling on it crap crap crap crap..."

"Magnus, stop, I am fine!" He pulled himself up on his crutches, wincing a tiny bit - it had hurt just a little, but he didn't really care. "I think I've broken it just about as much as I can, a little bit more of an impact is going to make no difference. I don't care that much anyway. It's just a broken ankle." Magnus looked at him with curiosity, coking his head to the side. He was still brushing off his jeans.

"I thought you were a jock? Surely that means that your life revolves around having the ability to play sport?" Jace sighed.

"Yeh, I'm fed up of just being defined by that. I think this will give me a chance for people to see Jace Herondale and not just number 15." Magnus nodded.

"Okay, makes sense."

"Finally, someone gets me! It is a miracle!" Magnus grinned a grin at him that was friendly but all sharp teeth. It was an unnerving yet warm gesture all at once.

"I get most things sweet pea." Jace raised an eyebrow. "You'll get used to my nicknames. In the mean time, I am going to call Alec and you are going to drink the coffee I made you." Jace looked around. The offending article was sat on the table, miraculously unscathed by the shenanigans of life and Magnus. It would probably be a good idea to take a sip

He turned around once when he was drinking to find Magnus on the phone and bouncing up and down so high that he was skimming the ceiling with his hair. It was quite possible that the effects of the caffeine he had obviously had a heap of hadn't quite worn off yet.

Simon sat at the small, rickety metal table in Taki's, drumming his fingers impatiently on the cheap surface. He was out with Jonathan, his brother, getting a coffee and just doing something normal for once. After what had happened recently, with his mom and now going to live with a dad he knew nothing about and a brother he hadn't known existed, it was nice to just have normalcy or the impression at least. Isabelle gave him normalcy too. Clary gave him everything but it, but he didn't blame her, and anyway, she was his sister and he loved her, so he supported her instead of getting fed up with her. Well, fed up at her. It was hard not to get fed up sometimes. Clary could have a habit for whining occasionally, as if she was the only one with problems and she should be the centre of attention because of these. He tried to put up with it, and he had managed so far, but it was most likely only a matter of time before he snapped. He supposed that it must be generic with younger siblings.

He was just beginning to wonder if Jonathan considered him annoying when the other boy came back with the coffee. It had been a shock to discover that Jonathan was actually very similar to himself in a lot of ways – they liked the same coffee (cappuccino no sugar), they liked the same games (Jonathan had an inner nerd with a fetish for D&D) and even the same music (rocking the 80's – and 70's, and 90's, and old stuff really). Okay, so to the masses Jonathan appeared a polar opposite to Simon, but they were fundamentally the same inside, which made him great conversation. Right now, he was sliding into the hard seat opposite Simon with a grimace having spilt a bit of coffee on his hand. He wiped if off vigorously, the pale skin pink at the scolding. Simon winced and sucked in his breath between his teeth.

"Nasty." Jonathan waved it off.

"Nah, it's nothing. I'm always clumsy, I've got used to little burns from coffee and occasionally pasta water." Simon laughed.

"I never thought I'd live to see a clumsy football player!" Jonathan stopped flapping his hand about and moved on to the cappuccino.

"The football player is only my outer shell. Inside, I am like you."

"A deep footballer! Even better!"

"Drink up Si." He laughed, trying to make his voice stern and failing miserably. Simon however did just that, and the name was thought about as well. After a moment or two he set down the cup, drumming his fingers against it in the same way he had done to the table – it was one of his things.

"You know, you're the first person to call me that. I've always been Simon. I like it actually." Jonathan nodded. "Maybe I should call you Jon. Could be our clichéd twin thing." Jonathan nodded again.

"I like the sound of that. I like that I'm your twin too, Si." He stressed jokingly, "You're just… epic. And, you are interesting rather than a meathead who is just obsessed with girls like every friend I've had in the past. You have something called a brain."

"They are helpful actually, aren't they? Are you obsessed with girls like them then Jon or are you just like whatever? Or do you swing the other way?" Jonathan took another sip of coffee.

"I dabble. It depends really if there are any nice girls or if they are all just sluts with way too much makeup and way too few clothes with no self respect. I prefer the former. I also like a girl to have at least one brain cell, that is nice. You? Have a girlfriend?"

"I do actually." Simon said without blushing. Somehow Jon just didn't make him feel embarrassed.

"Oh yes?"

"Yeh, Izzy. She's epic, funny and happy and good to talk to and not too clingy and… and perfect really. And, she is also really beautiful, and I have only ever seen her slutty for parties, which is acceptable really." Jonathan nodded along know;edgably, looking thoughtful.

"Damn, you seem to have the school catch! Smart and pretty! Raziel, Simon, you are more epic than I first thought. And that was immensely epic." Simon laughed.

"She is also not one to be messed with."

"Sass! This gets better! I have one awesome brother. On the topic of siblings and girls, what is our Clary like?" Simon sighed.

"Honestly? At the moment she is being a self-centred bitch determined that she is the only one affected by Mom's death. She is constantly moping about, wanting sympathy, and not letting anyone move on. When I tried to, she suggested that I never loved Mom, when actually I was doing what Mom would want and living." Simon gulped. He had finally said it, finally let it all out. "Apart from that, she is funny, interesting and clever if a little shy."

"How did… how did Mom die, Si? Dad didn't say and I… I just wanted to know I guess." Simon gulped a lot this time. "If you can't say that's fine, it's just…" He added hastily. Simon brought a hand up quickly, silencing him.

"It's fine. You have a right to know. Basically… from what the police have been able to work out, Mom was walking home from the store she ran a bit later one night – she had been working on something or other – and… and she was walking past an alleyway when she was attacked. They reckon at least a couple of men. Seven stab wounds, one in each shoulder, one in each hand and foot and then the fatal one through the heart. Pronounced dead at the scene. Said it looked a bit like a morbid crucifixion-type stabbing, from like a cult. Haven't caught the men yet, but they reckon they're pretty close now." Jon set down his coffee again – he had taken another sip.

"I hope they catch the bastards. That's… by the angel, that's awful Si. Awful…" He trailed off.

"I am just glad that they are close to getting them. I don't want them to be free on the streets when they could do the same to someone else."

"What was she like? Dad never told me that either. Barely mentioned her unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Bohemian artist. She looked shockingly similar to Clary, deep emerald eyes and wild red hair – though hers was probably a shade or so darker. Always wearing paint splattered clothes, hair jabbed through with paintbrushes. Always smiling and laughing but serious when she needed to be, comforting you when you were down and proud when you did something good. She loved Luke, she loved us, and I think she must have loved you. She was that sort of person. She would only have kept you a secret from us because she wanted the best for us, and not because she was disappointed in you."

"She sounds like the mom I always dreamed of when it was just me and dad alone in our apartments in the cities and that. Stability. And love. She sounds like a stable, loving mom. The perfect mom." He sounded wistful. It made Simon's heart tug a bit.

"She was. And cities? You mean you've lived around?" Jon nodded.

"Yeh. Madrid, New York, London, Paris. Even Lima for a bit. That one was definitely my favourite."

"Peru? Nice."

"Yeh. The best bits are the llamas. And the Nazca lines."

Bit longer for you cus its been a while.. Lifesabitchandthenyoureundead, like the Frog Voodoo reference? Amsterdam 2013 – bikes, the Donkey and magic mushroom tea. Brilliant. (Don't worry, we didn't actually drink the tea, just found it.). Also, notice the hint at the end? Slightly different but the gist is there. All I can say is migrating llamas. And charangos.

Lu xxx