Author's Note: This chapter contains mentions of torture and mentions of captivity.

Chapter Fourteen

Like all of mother nature is forceful, the rain came down with no regards to those it affected. The pattering of water on nylon woke Isabelle from a hot and fevered rest. She sat up, mumbling and still dizzy with sleep, a thin blanket slipping off her shoulders. She was on the hard forest floor on a thin, rolled out yoga mat, a crackling fire burning steadily next to her, and a small tent above her to keep her dry. She concluded that it was some sort of charmed tent, likely Magnus' work, because the fire smoke easily slipped through the solid roof while the rain bounced off the outer surface, a single directional permeable wall.

"Hey, you."

It was Alec, sitting on a little stool on the side of the tent, his hands knotted together in his lap. She opened her mouth to speak, unsure whether it was a greeting or an insult on the tip of her tongue, but before she could, Alec stopped her. "I'm sorry," he said wearily, looking up with those big, blue, tired eyes, and she suddenly remembered why she could never stay upset with him for long.

It reminded her of when they were children, and he had borrowed and broken one of her favorite training weapons. She'd stayed mad at him for nearly two weeks, until he'd presented her a makeshift replacement of the blade, a crappily rune-welded throwing knife with a jewel he had removed from one of his own treasured blades pressed into the hilt. The thing wasn't functional as an actual weapon, but she'd kept it in her room ever since. It was the longest she'd ever managed to stay mad at him—now it never lasted more than a day. Alec's apologies may be few and far between, but when they came, they were genuine to his core, and she couldn't help but to instantly forgive any transgressions.

"I was just so scared. Of losing someone else. And I shouldn't have yelled at everyone, and I shouldn't have pushed you away because of it, and—"

"Yeah. You were quite the asshole," she cut in, but there was no real weight behind the words, and Alec stopped with a light grin. "I'm really glad you're okay," he said, and she returned his smile, looking down to examine herself.

She felt sore, but all in all she looked mostly unharmed. Sticky white bandages encircled her bare stomach, a small splotch of blood staining the left side. She gingerly pressed her hand to it, expecting a throbbing pain to bloom beneath her fingertips, but there was nothing more than a twinge of dull discomfort.

"I suppose I have Magnus to thank for this?" she asked, and Alec nodded as he gestured to the general space around them. "And for the tents, and fire, and…well, everything," Alec said, and Izzy thought she caught a hint of sadness, or maybe guilt, in his voice, but before she could ask what was wrong, a tall shadow moved across the outside of the tent and stopped by the opening. The person by the entrance hesitated, then paced back along the side of the tent.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at the pacing figure and Alec sighed deeply. "It's Simon," he said in a whisper. "He's been really worried about you, too."

Izzy scoffed under her breath, and now it was Alec's turn to raise a brow questioningly. "Did…you two have a fight?"

"Yeah. You could say that," she replied, dropping her voice to Alec's level, even though she doubted it would make a difference in whether or not Simon could hear them, with his vampire hearing and all.

"Want me to stake him?" Alec offered, and though his tone was teasing, his expression was deadly serious, as if to let her know he really would kill Simon if she requested it. She couldn't help but laugh, only wincing a bit as the motion tensed her wound.

Simon's shadow continued pacing back and forth along the tent's edge.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but you should go easy on him. He did protect you the whole time you were unconscious. Carried you through the whole rest of the fight—didn't let a single demon lay a hand on you," Alec said, almost sounding proud, and Isabelle felt her chest tighten as she imagined Simon frantically defending her.

"I'll go, let you two have some space," Alec said when Izzy failed to reply, and she snapped out of her thoughts, nodding quickly. "Yeah, of course. You should be with Magnus. Tell him I say thanks?"

"Of course," he said as he stood, and he bent and pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head before parting the flaps of the tent.

Simon's pacing immediately stopped as he backed away from the door to let Alec exit, and Izzy heard her brother whisper something that she couldn't quite catch before Simon was stepping into the tent. He wore a thin rain poncho, which he shook off as he came inside, and was holding a small metal bowl, the contents of which sent tendrils of steam upward to mingle with the fire smoke before slipping together through the low ceiling.

He had to duck slightly so his head wasn't hitting the nylon, and he looked a bit silly with his neck cocked to the side as he looked over her, his eyes soft with relief. But as soon as she met his gaze, she found she couldn't hold it, and sighed as she quickly looked away, letting her eyes unfocus across the dancing flames that warmed her face.

"It's chicken noodle," Simon started, coming over to the mat and sitting beside her. He handed her the bowl and a spoon, and she accepted without looking away from the fire.

"Alec couldn't bring me my dinner? I know you didn't want to." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to be short with him—perhaps due to some old habit she'd formed, needing to hurt those that hurt her—but she didn't feel any better when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Simon flinch at the remark. But his voice remained low and calm when he replied.

"Actually, it's breakfast. Maia only just finished making it, and Alec hasn't moved from your bedside since we arrived. Magnus is asleep—has been since we camped—and Jace is out sulking in the rain. So…I thought I would bring you some."

Izzy hummed in response, her mouth full of hot soup, savoring the way the warmth of it flowed down her throat and seeped into her chest. But then, she realized what—or who—was missing from what Simon just told her, and her stomach dropped. She had completely forgotten to ask Alec to recount the rest of the mission after she had passed out.

"You…didn't mention what Clary's doing," she said slowly, and had to brace herself as she saw Simon's face fall. "...What happened?"

Simon sighed heavily, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. "Sebastian got away. With Clary."

"Oh…oh, God. Jace must be…." Izzy stopped herself. Jace must be what? Worried? Angry? Terrified? Hopeless?

No. No, it had to be so, so much worse than she could even put into words. Knowing that he was rescued and Clary wasn't…well, if she knew her brother, the guilt would eat him alive. Isabelle couldn't even begin to imagine.

"And…" Simon continued hesitantly, "Magnus and I had already headed for the exit with you, so we weren't there when…we didn't see what happened—and Jace won't talk about it—but Alec said…he said Sebastian had Clary drink from the cup…like, the cup."

Isabelle was stunned into silence. Her jaw dropped in a mix of horror, confusion, and disbelief, and as hard as she tried to string together words, a question, something, she couldn't get anything out. Simon seemed to understand her expression—he'd probably had the same exact look on his face when Alec had told him what he was telling her now—and so he kept speaking.

"...Once Sebastian and Clary portalled out, we left the mansion as soon as possible. What few Endarkened were remaining left when Sebastian did, and a few of the demons followed until we got to the woods, but they stopped there. We've been camping here for two days."

"I've been asleep for two days?" she exclaimed, and the metal spoon clicked loudly against the ceramic as she looked up at Simon in shock. Unsure what to say or do, she went to awkwardly take another bite, spooning the soup to the back of the bowl—a stupid, polite rule of etiquette her mother had enforced since she was a child—but the utensil's shaking revealed the worried trembling in her fingers as she thought about Clary, and she abandoned the spoon in favor of raising the lip of the bowl to her mouth.

"Yeah. You and Magnus both. He didn't have enough strength to portal us back to the Institute yet, so we figured it was best to camp for a bit while everyone healed. We…weren't in great shape when we left that house…" Simon said, trailing off, but at the concerned look on Izzy's face he quickly continued. "But you look a lot better! We weren't worried about the wound itself as much as the effects of it. Magnus said it was some sort of demon venom in you. You had a really high fever."

He pulled his knees to his chest as he spoke, looking a bit childish, and she thought he might start rocking back and forth as concern crept across his face at the recollection of her fever. Izzy set down her now empty bowl, after having scarfed it down, and turned to Simon fully. "I feel okay now. The wound barely even hurts," she said quietly, but Simon's only response was a small nod before the only sound in the tent was the crackling of the fire.

"Were you worried about me?" Isabelle asked, and then instantly regretted doing so. It was selfish of her to ask such a thing, when Clary was still in danger. It was selfish to be concerned with whether or not Simon still cared for her, whether or not he worried over her, when his childhood friend was being tortured in some unfindable hell. But Simon didn't hesitate even a second before he answered.

"Of course. Even though I know you can pull through anything," he laughed, but the smile didn't reach his eyes and Izzy could tell by his voice that at the mansion he was worried she wouldn't pull through. She again thought of him carrying her, somehow fighting off hordes of demons and guarding her at the same time.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Simon said suddenly, and the little ball of tension that had been curled in her gut for the past week instantly started to untangle itself. It was the second apology she'd received since she'd woken up here, in the middle of the woods, the rain a constant, soothing white noise, and just as with Alec, when she looked into Simon's eyes, she found she could no longer be upset with him.

"I was a bit melodramatic, I know. It was stupid. I was stupid," he said, and she stifled a laugh, nodding her head in agreement. "You were a tad dramatic, weren't you?" she said consideringly, and he smiled, big and bright and open, in that goofy way that only Simon could make look charming.

After a moment of quietly basking in the warmth of his smile, and forgiveness, and the snapping flames, Isabelle exhaled, half a sigh of relief and half a sigh of apprehension.

Where did they go from here?

"I missed you," she started cautiously, her fingers nervously plucking at a loose thread in the blanket, "but things are crazy right now. With Clary gone…it's hard to know what's going to happen next. Jace is distraught, I'm sure. And even though Sebastian managed to get away, I'm sure we haven't seen the last of him. I just—I have a bad feeling, Simon. About what comes next. I need to be focused, I need to be there for my family, I need to—we can't just let her be gone. We have to get her back. That can't just be it." It was like the flood gates had been thrown open, and all of her anxieties rushed out of her at once.

"It won't be. We'll get her back," Simon assured, and despite how sure of himself he managed to look as he said it, Izzy frowned.

The last thing she needed to be doing right now was making up with Simon. She would function without him fine, as she always had before. She needed to focus on what was important: supporting Jace and Alec, regaining strength, a plan to strike again.

But….

"But, you know what's crazy? What's absolutely by-the-angel-insane?"

"Hmm?"

"That despite everything that's going on, I can't get you out of my head."

It was as close to an I love you as she thought she could give in this moment, and she couldn't keep the nervousness from her voice as she said it. But before she had the chance to regret saying it, Simon was already cupping her face and pulling her into him. She didn't object, and as soon as their lips pressed together Izzy sighed in relief, any doubt or question melting with Simon's breath on hers. She really had missed him, hadn't she?

She pressed forward, tilting her head to the side to better slot their lips together, and he slid his hands gently around her sides, across bandages and behind her back, one landing on her shoulder, the other at the nape of her neck. In return, Isabelle ran her fingers through his messy hair, gripping a little too tightly, scared he might slink away at any moment.

His thumb brushed over the barely visible marks on her neck, and then he was breaking the kiss off. She thought he might apologize again, or run out of the tent at the reminder of his feeding on her, but instead, he dipped his head and kissed her neck, open mouthed and gentle.

"I can be soft," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and making goosebumps rise over her neck, and it felt more like he was saying it to convince himself than her, guilt still lingering in his tone.

"I know. I trust you," she exhaled, lifting her chin, and he took the invitation, kissing up and down her neck, his lips and teeth moving not quite hard enough to leave any hickies.

Simon pulled away after a minute, both of his hands coming to rest on either of her cheeks, making sure to look her in the eyes as he said, "I'm never going to hurt you again, okay?"

Isabelle nodded, another smile tugging at her lips. "As long as you don't run away from me like that again," she said, and he quickly nodded before letting go of her face and brushing some of her hair back behind her ears. He looked so much better than just a few days ago, his skin less pale and his eyes less hard with the fresh blood in his system, and he seemed to glow in the firelight. She elbowed him jokingly before adding, "Just don't be too soft. You know I like it rough every once in a while."

His cheeks flushed and his eyes widened, before he broke into laughter—good, deep, full laughter, like he hadn't heard a good joke in years. Izzy couldn't help but to laugh with him, before he stood and pulled her slowly to her feet alongside him.

"It's a deal," he said, and gave her another quick kiss on the lips. "We should probably check on Magnus."

Hand in hand, Simon threw the rain poncho over their heads, lifted the flap of the tent, and led them to Magnus.

His clothes clung to him and his hair ran into his face as he trudged through the underbrush. The spare white shirt Alec had given him was beginning to turn pink as the crusted blood in his hair and on his torso began to run with the rain water, dripping down his face and soaking into his clothes. His jeans were a brownish-black color with all the blood they held. He wanted nothing more than a shower.

Well, expect Sebastian's gruesome death. He'd take that over a shower.

The ground was soaked and mushy, making footsteps difficult to hear, especially over the rain pelting the foliage. Nonetheless, Jace heard the approaching figure behind him and swung around, tense and ready to fight, still jumpy from the mansion, only to find Maia calmly walking towards him. As her claws retracted into her hands, Jace realized she must have wanted him to hear her coming—he'd seen her move as soundlessly as a shadowhunter bearing the soundless rune, but now her feet shuffled loudly through the leaves and sticks, and he cringed at the thought of her not wanting to spook him, as if he were some frightened horse.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, stopping a few feet away from where he stood. For a moment, Jace didn't respond, and so the persistent beating of the rain spoke for him.

"Thinking," he finally said, and Maia huffed a small laugh, a response he wasn't expecting. "Ah. You know, sometimes it's best not to do that."

"Why are you here?" Jace asked, not particularly in a joking mood. Maia shrugged. "Went for a run. Anyway, there's time for small talk later. Everyone's waking up at camp. We're leaving soon."

Jace nodded slowly and ran his hand up his arm, slicking water droplets away and then watching them build back up. His skin felt rougher than usual, still more scab and scar than soft tissue. He shifted and moved his hand over the tree next to him, the bark feeling just as coarse. A smaller, darker hand gently laid over top of his and pulled him away from his thoughts. "C'mon, Jace. Let's go home," Maia said, her voice quiet and barely audible beneath the sound of the rain, the pitying tone underlying it almost—but not quite—drowned out. She pulled him towards the direction of the tents and he followed with little resistance, trudging behind her, his face down cast.

When they arrived back to camp and stepped into the tent, warmth rushed over them and a cozy crackling replaced the sound of rain. Magnus, who was pacing in the doorway, tssk-ed at their soggy appearances and snapped his fingers, instantly drying their clothes and hair. Maia grinned in amazement, pulling at her shirt in disbelief, no evidence of it having been soaked only seconds earlier. Jace simply felt crusted again, all of the dirt and grit and blood on him hardening over a second time, leaving him feel as stiff as a wooden drawing mannequin.

"Is everyone ready to leave?" Magnus asked, stopping by the door as the group gathered into a circle around him. Jace noticed Izzy was awake now, her bandages freshly changed and her hair mused with sleep. She looked exhausted still, wearing just her sports bra, bandages, and tight, tactical pants, her skin perhaps a shade paler than usual, but despite this, she was standing tall next to Simon, their fingers intertwined.

Alec appeared just as worn down, his posture and hair worse for wear after remaining glued by Izzy's bed until she awoke. He stood just to the side of Magnus', a hand resting on the warlock's lower back, and looked as though his head might drop onto his boyfriend's shoulder at any moment, his eyelids fluttering close. Magnus appeared to be the only one of them that looked better for the nearly two days of sleep he'd gotten, the shadows under his eyes having faded and the cut over his face cleaned and dressed.

Jace's stomach twisted seeing the two other couples leaning on each other, and he looked down at his feet, feeling numb and out of place. His back still ached, but overall the pain was bearable—Magnus having healed him of the worst of it—but now Jace missed the physical distraction of it. At least when he was bleeding and wounded, he couldn't feel how knotted and torn his heart felt.

"Are we just leaving the tents here?" Simon asked, and Magnus sighed at the question. "They're produced by my magic. As soon as I leave, it will leave with me. Now, are we all ready?"

Izzy picked her tattered shirt off the floor and slipped it over herself. Maia shrugged, then nodded, and looked to Simon, who nodded as well. Alec moved his hand up Magnus' back to rest on his shoulder, before whispering something in his ear, making the warlock frown. He muttered something in reply, and then suddenly the portal was appearing on the tent wall. One by one, they each stepped through, Simon and Isabelle, then Maia and Alec. When only Jace and Magnus were left, Magnus turned to him, his yellow cat eyes bright and soft.

Since they'd escaped, everyone that looked at Jace had those eyes. Pitying, like someone had died. Like Clary had died. Like she was never coming back. Like Jace couldn't still save her. It made him want to shout and cry and hit something all at once. But something about the way Magnus looked at him now was different—those ancient, glittering eyes told Jace he wasn't alone. That he was understood. That Magnus well and truly had been there before, not just an offering of some hollow sympathy, and for the first time since Jace was pulled from his cell, he felt just the slightest bit comforted.

"We're not giving up on her," Magnus affirmed, and Jace felt his chest clench painfully. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever jumble of words his brain drew up got caught in his throat, and so instead, he simply nodded. Magnus gripped his arm tightly, reassuringly, and Jace closed his eyes as he stepped through the portal, letting the light and coolness wash over him, slowly fading his mind to black.