(( Disclaimer: As stated in the previous two chapters, I do not own the Mortal Instruments universe or any of the characters indigenous to it. The creator, Cassandra Clare, owns all those things. Only the plot lines, the writing itself, and any original characters inserted into the Mortal Instruments universe belong to me. Please do review if you enjoy! I love feedback, it keeps me going! Enjoy. ))

"And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!"

- Two Gentlmen of Verona ( I, i, 171-174)

Jace stood over the open sketchpad, his face unreadable, as Isabelle hovered behind him, herself lost in thought. The two of them had heard Clary scream and instantly ran towards the source of the sound. He had just finished getting dressed after a shower, and Isabelle had been rifling through an old book she asked to borrow from Magnus Bane. Jace had been briefly startled by Isabelle's fervor, though he hadn't shown it. She had changed so much while he had been trapped inside his own body, being controlled by Sebastian. She was angrier and more invested than Jace could ever remember her being. Jace had not spent much time with anyone besides Clary ever since he returned to his true self; everything else felt so foreign.

Especially at that moment, when he came upon Clary's deserted sketchpad. She was an artist but she was not a terribly messy artist, nor was she specifically an absent-minded one. She would not have just left her belongings strewn about a random corridor, unless she was forced or she had been ambushed. Jace could feel the air around him run dry, and his throat started to contract, battling the onslaught of unknowns as it became quite clear that Clary had been kidnapped. He turned to look at Isabelle and saw that she, too, was trying to hold back a volcanic emotion; they locked eyes and for a moment Jace considered how much more tired Isabelle seemed to him now, but before he could ask her to stay behind she was drawing up a plan of action.

"We can go to the Silent Brothers. Brother Zachariah still comes here frequently, even Brother Enoch. There may be someone around here right now. This was the last thing she touched, I'm sure of it. That should help them find her."

"Isabelle." Jace interrupted her, his voice even.

But she continued, raising her pitch. "We are not going to wait for anyone else if we don't have to. We just need a location and then we are going. I know you will go. I am coming with you. Don't try to talk me out of it."

"Isabelle," Jace's caustic drawl interjected, "It might be smarter to take a closer look at this sketchpad, considering there's a drawing of Clary in the lower corner, there."

He had been studying the sketchpad while Isabelle had been ranting on about what to do. Jace had a penchant for acting alone until he was sure of himself—something that Sebastian clearly could not take away from him, nor could the sword of Michael when it vanquished all the evil inside him.

Stepping closer to Isabelle, he nodded his head towards the sketchpad at their feet and glanced about the corridor to make sure they were alone.

"Why are you doing that?" She regarded him skeptically, in a whisper.

"I'm not a big fan of anybody I don't know for sure will die for me, so if you don't mind I'd like to make this rescue mission both swift and under the radar. Jocelyn will murder me, and I've only just reunited with my one true love. That would be a bit cruel, don't you think? I may have the Heavenly Fire running through my veins but I still have needs." Jace deadpanned.

Isabelle slapped his arm. "Jace Lightwood you don't get to act like that anymore. You don't have to hide your pain."

Jace's brows shot up, in the gentle manner they always did when he chose to leak his true feelings, at the name he called her. "You still consider me a Lightwood?"

"Is that even a question? Can we please look for your girlfriend? I'm surprised you have time to talk about anything else." Isabelle threw her hands up, but before she could say another word Jace had scooped up the sketchpad, and Isabelle's wrist, and pulled them down the corridor with the speed and grace even a Shadowhunter could not replicate. There was a small courtyard attached to the stone hallway, filled with thin trees whose branches split out like a cluster of V's, effectively shrouding the sky from view.

Jace tossed the sketchpad on the sun-starved grass. "Look. Do you see her?"

Isabelle dropped to her knees; using her palms to support herself she leaned into the painting, close enough to smudge her nose with the lead on the paper. The proximity did not reveal anything to her, however, and Isabelle whispered harshly, "Are you trying to play some sort of prank? Did Sebastian get in your head and change your sense of humor?"

She instantly regretted saying it, the words deflating as they finished from her lips. "Jace…"

"Look again." He was staring at the lower right corner of the sketchpad. Isabelle's eyes slowly followed his gaze, her lids lowered in guilt. Something seemed to move on the smooth surface, and Isabelle felt her eyes slip out of focus. When they refocused, she was staring at a very distinct picture of Clary, holding on to the rail of a balcony with one hand, drawn with calm expression. Jace made a strangled noise. Isabelle snapped her head up at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just sick of this kind of stuff. When will it end, you know? I'm willing to bet Church on the obvious caveat in this situation—in every situation involving me. Someone wants something from me, from us, from Shadowhunters, from the squiggly Peeping Tom in the sky, from whatever they think we have. And so they've trapped Clary in this painting until we give them what they want." He seemed resolute, stuffing his hands in his pocket, a gesture that seemed so cavalier given the situation. His eyes, however, were dark with concentration.

"That's a lot to surmise from an abandoned sketchpad and a suspicious picture the size of a human palm." Isabelle's face was the same unreadable shade that often graced Jace's features.

"Isabelle, look."

"I already saw it, Jace. I already—."

"No. Isabelle, look."

She gave a lazy side-glance at the sketchpad again, and what she saw pulled her gaze forward and pushed her body back in surprise. She stood, stepping away from the pad as her hands flew towards it, grabbing the corner and running across the small drawing of Clary on the balcony. It had come to life.

"Jace," Isabelle breathed, pulling her hand away from the drawing. "I think you can go inside it. I think…" Her eyes narrowed. For a moment it appeared as if she had just lost a very important thought, but then a smooth detachment washed over her face. "I think it's a Portal."

Jace did not wait to hear anything more. He thrust his hand out towards the drawing, seizing it up in his fist, and within moments his body was sucked into the paper, gone from sight with a quick pop.