Chapter Eight

"You look like crap," Simon said by way of greeting the next morning as Jace entered the kitchen.

Jace scowled, heading straight for the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug, drained half of it in one go, and went back for a top-up. "At least that's not just the way my face looks on a daily basis," he retorted.

"Rude," said Simon, jabbing a finger at him. "And believe it or not, I actually wasn't trying to insult you. Did you sleep at all last night?"

Jace shrugged, swallowing another large gulp of coffee. In fact, he hadn't slept; after Clary's nightmare, he had stayed up all night, watching her carefully. He had had to shake her awake twice—she had been twitching and moaning—but she fell back asleep relatively quickly and calmly.

"How's Clary?" Simon asked.

"Better, I think," said Jace. "She got a little sleep, at least."

Simon was quiet for a moment, staring into his coffee. Then, abruptly, he spoke. "Something else happened last night," he said, locking eyes with Jace. "Clary said there was another demon attack."

Jace set his mug down. "Yeah," he said slowly.

"I heard the demon screech, so I came out to the entrance hall to see what was going on..." He stirred his coffee agitatedly. "I found Clary passed out on the floor. She said it was nothing, but then she had that nightmare..." He let the spoon slide through his fingers, clattering against the edge of his mug. "I think he got to her. The demon in the Pyxis, I mean."

Jace stared at him, absorbing the information. "What do you mean, got to her?" he said after a long moment.

Simon shook his head. "I don't know. Made her pass out somehow. She wouldn't tell me. But she seemed really unnerved." He lapsed into silence, gazing down at his mug. Finally, he said quietly, "She's keeping something from me."

"From me too," Jace said, remembering her vehement tone when she had made him promise not to blame himself. "Last night, before the attack, she was acting...strange."

"Strange how?"

Before Jace could answer, Isabelle entered the kitchen, stretching widely. "Morning," she yawned, heading for the far cabinet. She opened it, took down a bowl, and poured cereal into it from the box sitting on the counter. "What were you two talking about?" she said, reaching past Jace to open the fridge and pull out the carton of milk. She went to pour some into her cereal; nothing came out. "Really?" she grumbled, tossing it at Jace. He caught it easily.

"Sorry," he said, throwing the empty carton away. "The grocery shipment should be coming in soon."

Isabelle frowned, plopping herself at the table and taking a bite of the dry cereal. "How's Clary?" she asked through a mouthful of cornflakes, accidentally spraying Simon. He winced.

"I'm fine," said a voice from the doorway. Jace looked up; Clary stood there, smiling tiredly. She made her way over to him.

"You weren't there when I woke up," she said in an undertone.

"I wanted to give you some space," he said, a little stiffly. He remembered the way she had flinched away from his touch, sobbing heartbrokenly. He didn't want to be the cause of more pain for her.

She shook her head, as if she could read his thoughts. "I don't want space from you," she said softly, grazing his cheek with her fingers. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face; it looked somewhere between sorrow and guilt. "I'm sorry about last night. I was just jumpy. I know you only wanted to help."

He laid his hand over hers. She stretched up and brushed her lips against his, and he closed his eyes, pressing into her.

"Don't mind us," said Simon loudly from behind them. "We'll just blend into the furniture."

Jace made a rude gesture behind Clary's back. She pulled away, flushing slightly.

"I guess I should apologize to you, too," she said a little sheepishly. "Sorry I woke you both up with my shrieking."

Neither of them smiled. "Clary, are you sure you're okay?" said Isabelle. "You seemed really shaken up."

"Terrified, more like," Simon said.

She shook her head, giving them both a smile. It looked very pasted-on. "Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine."

Isabelle opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the doorbell chimed.

"I'll get it," said Clary, and, still smiling, she left the kitchen.

"Is it just me, or is she acting really weird?" said Isabelle. Neither Jace nor Simon replied. Jace set about making another pot of coffee.

A minute later, Clary came back in, her parents trailing behind her.

"Morning," said Luke, waving at the rest of them.

"Did everyone get enough sleep?" Jocelyn said. She glanced around at them, pursing her lips at the sight of their weary faces.

Before Jace could answer, Clary's eyes lit up with delight. "Ooh, is that fresh coffee?" she said. She made a beeline for the coffee pot and poured herself a mug, dumping sugar in it before taking a long sip. "Ahhh," she said, closing her eyes. "That's the stuff."

"If you're going to drink coffee, you have to eat something, too," Jace said, tugging the mug out of her hands. She pouted. "Food first, then coffee."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said, reaching for the cereal.

"There's no milk," Isabelle said irritably.

"None?" Clary opened the fridge and stuck her head in. "I thought we had another carton." She dug around for a moment before straightening triumphantly, with a carton of milk clutched in her hand. "Aha!" She unscrewed the top. "Here we—nope."

Jace wrinkled his nose as the pungent odor of spoiled milk drifted across the kitchen.

"Crap," Clary said, clapping a hand over her mouth. She shoved the carton into Jace's hands and bolted out of the room.

"Oh, dear," said Jocelyn, staring after her daughter worriedly. "How long has that been going on?"

"A week or so," Jace sighed, dumping the spoiled milk into the sink. "I should go make sure she's okay."

"No, I'll do it," said Jocelyn briskly, and she followed Clary out of the room.

There was a long silence. Jace rubbed his temples, leaning back against the counter.

"Are you eating dry cereal?" Luke asked Isabelle abruptly.

She glanced at her bowl. "Uh...yeah."

Luke sighed. "All right. I'm making all of you a proper breakfast. Pass me the eggs."

A quarter of an hour later, breakfast was well underway. Luke had thrown together a haphazard meal of toast and scrambled eggs, churning out more than enough for everyone. Simon and Izzy had already wolfed theirs down and gone back for seconds. Jace picked at his, prodding the eggs with his fork.

"I'm fine, Mom." Jace heard Clary's voice growing louder. "It's just morning sickness. I'll live."

"I'm just saying you should take it a little easy today," came Jocelyn's voice, sounding harried.

"I was pregnant yesterday, and I'll be pregnant tomorrow," said Clary, entering the kitchen with Jocelyn close on her heels. "Morning sickness is just part of the gig. I'll deal with it. I'm not going to be able to 'take it easy' every day until the baby comes."

"But—"

"Mom," said Clary, sounding exasperated as she headed for the counter, on which sat two more plates of eggs and toast. "You're starting to sound like Maryse. Just let it go, okay? Right now, I just want to eat without you breathing down my neck." She sniffed the eggs and wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. On second thought, I'll eat later."

"What's wrong with the eggs?" said Luke, his mouth half full.

"Nothing," Clary sighed, plopping down next to Jace. "In fact, they smell great. To me. The baby, on the other hand, seems to think they're the most disgusting thing on the planet." She put her head down on the table. "Pregnancy is fun," she said, her voice muffled.

"What happened to dealing with it?" said Jocelyn, sounding amused as she grabbed her own plate. She kissed the top of Luke's head before sitting down beside him and popping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"I'm dealing," came Clary's voice through the tablecloth. Jace reached over and stroked her hair. She pulled her hand out from under the table and patted his arm clumsily.

"I hate to break it to you, but it only gets worse from here," said Jocelyn cheerfully. "As soon as the morning sickness ends, you get heartburn and stretch marks and—"

"Okay, that's it," said Clary wearily, lifting her head up. "I'm inventing a rune for male pregnancy."

"Please don't," said Jace and Simon together. Their respective wives scowled at them.

"I, for one, agree with Clary," said Isabelle, tipping her chair back so it balanced on two legs. "Why do women have to bear the brunt of it all? I'm just glad I'm not doing it anytime soon."

Simon glanced at her sideways. "Wait..."

Jace shoved the rest of his eggs into his mouth and stood up abruptly. He swallowed with some difficulty. "Well," he said, "this has been fun, but I think we should get back to work."

"Agreed," said Jocelyn, finishing her eggs with much more dignity. The others began to get up, ferrying their plates to the sink with choruses of "See you in the library" as they filed out.

Clary pushed her chair back and stood up. She swayed, clutching the back of her chair for support. "Oh, wow, that's not a good feeling."

Jace went over to her. "When's the last time you ate?" he said in an undertone.

"Uh," she said. "I think I ate dinner last night?"

"No, you didn't," Jace said, folding his arms. "You had two bites of pizza before you started feeling nauseous again. And then you threw up after—"

"Shh," Clary hissed. "Don't let my parents hear." Jocelyn and Luke, having dropped off their dishes, followed Simon and Izzy out of the kitchen. Clary watched them for a moment, waiting until they were out of sight before turning back to Jace. "I'm fine," she said, giving Jace a thoroughly unconvincing smile.

Jace shook his head, took her arm, and lowered her back into her chair. "You have to eat something."

"Jace," she sighed, "I'm telling you, I can't keep anything down."

Jace plucked his uneaten toast off his plate and set it in front of Clary. "You can handle some toast."

She rolled her eyes, but picked up one of the pieces of toast and began to nibble at it. The kitchen was now empty, except for the two of them. Jace left Clary at the table, headed over to the sink, and began to wash the dishes.

"I can do that later, if you want to head over to the library," Clary said, taking another small bite of toast.

"It's fine," said Jace, scrubbing at one of the plates. "I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Uh-oh," said Clary jokingly. "What did I do?"

"I'm being serious," Jace said, flicking the tap off and turning to face her. "I think we need to talk about last night."

She stopped chewing. "Well...I don't really want to talk about it," she said, her voice a little stiff.

"I didn't mean your dream," Jace said. He dried his hands on the dishtowel and came over to sit next to her. "Simon said you passed out last night."

"Oh. That." She began to tear the crust off the toast. "It's like you said. I hadn't eaten anything in a while."

"So it's true, then," said Jace, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "You passed out and didn't tell me about it."

"Because I knew you'd start worrying!" Clary said exasperatedly, abandoning the toast. "You worry if I get so much as a papercut—"

"This is more than just a papercut!" Jace snapped. "A demon is attacking you—"

"That's not what it was!"

"Sure sounds like it," Jace retorted. "That, along with the way you've been acting—"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Clary demanded.

"You're keeping something from me!" said Jace. "Me, and everyone else—Simon—you're trying to downplay how bad it is—"

"I'm fine—"

"—when you know it's only going to end up hurting you!" Jace shouted, drowning her out. He couldn't stand it anymore—he shoved himself back from the table, turning away from her. He was breathing hard. Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to slow his heartrate. Behind him, Clary was silent.

Finally, he turned around. She was staring down at the tablecloth. "We promised each other," he said, his voice rough. "When we got married, we promised we wouldn't put up any defenses. We promised we'd be honest with each other."

There was another long, taut silence.

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered. A tear splashed into her lap.

Jace felt broken. He went over to the table and sat down beside her. "No, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to start a fight. I'm just—" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm worried about you. As long as the demon is here, I'm going to keep worrying about you. And we both know that trying to protect each other, putting up walls, keeping secrets—it doesn't work."

"I know," Clary said. She put her head in her hands. "I know you're worried. If it was you, I'd be worried, too."

"Exactly." Jace reached out tentatively and laid a hand on her arm. He took it as a good sign that she didn't immediately retract it. "You and I both know that talking about this stuff helps. Remember when Lilith was sending me dreams?"

"Vividly," she said in a thick voice.

"Trying to keep them a secret from you didn't help. It just made everything worse." He rubbed his thumb across her arm. "We're better as a team. You know that."

She exhaled. "I know." Slowly, she lifted her head out of her hands and looked at him with steely determination, despite her red-rimmed eyes. "Okay. Ask me what you want to know."

"Did you pass out last night because of the demon?" he said without preamble.

"Yes." She stared down at her hands. "I thought it was just a headache at first. It got worse when I came into the entrance hall. Eventually, it got so bad I just passed out."

"And what happened?" Jace said. "Did you have a dream?"

She shook her head. "I might have if Simon hadn't woken me up. But no, nothing happened."

"Okay," said Jace, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. "What was your dream about last night?"

She closed her eyes. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I know," he said gently. "It's just...you were screaming for me. Screaming my name."

Clary exhaled slowly. "I...I dreamed you got hurt," she said, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "And I couldn't save you."

"That's it?"

"It felt..." Her voice was shaking. A tear slipped down her cheek. "It felt really real. I thought..."

Jace stroked her hand. "But it wasn't." He brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "I'm not dying anytime soon, Clary."

She nodded, blinking hard and brushing at her eyes. "What else do you want to know?" she said, in a more level voice.

He kept rubbing her hand. "What was your first dream about?" he asked gently.

"I told you already." She sounded weary. "And anyway, I don't remember a lot of it. All I remember is getting burned."

"Are you sure?"

She met his gaze. "Yes."

"Okay," he said, not quite believing her, but not willing to push the subject. He took a deep breath. "Why did you tell me not to blame myself last night?"

Her eyes were shining again. "Because I knew you would," she said softly. "You always do. No matter what happens, you find a way to blame yourself. And I hate seeing you do that to yourself." She took his hand in both of hers. "None of this is your fault. I know you feel like it is, but it isn't, okay?"

"Do you think he's attacking you to get back at me for trapping him?" Jace said, dreading the answer.

"No," she said fiercely. "He's a demon, Jace. This is what they do for enjoyment. The only reason he's attacking me is because I'm an easy target right now. It has nothing to do with you."

"If I hadn't trapped him—"

"Magnus would be dead," Clary said forcefully. "We talked about this, remember?" She squeezed his hand. "You did the right thing. So no more feeling guilty, all right?"

He nodded, letting out a long breath. He hadn't realized how much the question of whether he was responsible for Clary's suffering had been weighing on him.

Clary gave him a soft smile. "He'll give up, eventually," she said gently. "He'll get bored, and he'll stop attacking me. I promise. This will all be over soon."

"Shouldn't I be the one reassuring you?" Jace said, smiling a little.

"We're a team, remember?" Clary said. She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," he murmured, leaning into her kiss. It was a long moment before they finally drew away from each other. "Okay, now finish your toast," said Jace.

Clary gave a surprised little huff of laughter. "Whatever you say."

The day seemed to pass by in a flash; one moment, Clary was sitting down at the long table in the library with everyone else, the next, night had fallen outside the window and the others were hunched over their books, stifling yawns. Sighing, Clary leaned back in her chair and closed her book with a soft snap.

"I think we should call it a night," she said.

"Oh, thank the Angel," Izzy mumbled, laying her head on her book. Simon closed his and reached over to stroke her hair. "Clary, you know I love you, but there isn't enough coffee in the world for this."

"I can't believe we haven't found anything," Jace said, snapping his own book closed. "We must have read through half the library by now."

"Not even a quarter," Clary said, patting his arm.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Clary sighed. "We'll find something. And if we don't, Magnus and Alec will. Or Tessa and Jem." She leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We have a whole army behind us."

"Usually, you have to provide food to the army," Isabelle pointed out. Clary rolled her eyes and went over to her parents, who were sitting on the couch, heads bent together in conversation.

Jocelyn looked up as Clary approached. "Hi, honey," she said. "Feeling okay?"

Clary smiled despite herself. "I'm fine, Mom," she said patiently. "Do you guys want to stay here tonight?"

"Actually, that would be nice," Jocelyn sighed. "This is hard work enough without the commute. Oh," she said, looking at Clary suddenly. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," said Clary reassuringly. "I know it's not exactly a walk in the park."

"But we're happy to do it," Luke said. "If it'll help you, we're glad to do our part."

"I know," said Clary, smiling. Her parents stood, stretching widely before taking turns to hug her. "Love you," she said, her voice muffled in Luke's shoulder.

"Love you, too," they chorused, before heading out of the library. Clary made her way back to the table.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Simon was saying as she approached.

"What do you mean?" Clary said.

He looked at her. "I think we'll probably have to take it in shifts to keep watch over you. Jace can't stay up forever—"

"That's what Wakefulness runes are for," said Jace, sounding weary. "I can handle it myself. You two should sleep."

"Oh, stop being such a hero," said Isabelle irritably. "Simon's right, we should take it in shifts—"

"No one's watching over me!" Clary interjected. "I'll be fine. Now everyone needs to get some sleep if we're going to keep at this tomorrow."

"Clary's right," said Jace, looking at Simon and Isabelle. "You should both get to bed."

Clary smacked his shoulder lightly. "I'm talking about you, too. No staying up tonight."

"Clary," said Jace in a low voice, "if you have another nightmare—"

"I'll be fine," she said. "They're just nightmares. Last night...it caught me off guard, that's all. I'll be prepared this time."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's how nightmares work," he said.

Clary fixed him with a stare. "Look, if I wake everyone up with my screaming, I'll concede defeat. Until then, everyone—" She looked pointedly at Jace— "is going to bed. Got it?"

Isabelle muttered something that sounded like, "Bossy," but she took Simon's hand and trudged away, leading him out through the door.

"You, too," said Clary, slipping her hand into Jace's. "Bedtime."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Jace said quietly. "You know I don't mind staying up."

"You can't stay up every night," Clary said decisively. "Now come on. Let's go to bed."

He sighed and let her lead him out of the library.

"Jace," said Clary, without turning around to look at him, "go to sleep."

She was tucked up against Jace in bed. He felt rigid against her, as if he were holding himself very stiffly. She felt him sigh against her neck.

"I'm trying," he said, entirely unconvincingly.

She let out an exasperated huff and rolled over. He gazed at her with luminous gold eyes. "No, you're not," she said. "You're trying to keep yourself awake."

"Fine," he said irritably. "So what?"

Letting out a long breath, Clary reached up and brushed his hair back. "Go to sleep. Please," she added in a softer voice. "This isn't helping either of us."

"If I can wake you up from a nightmare—"

"Then what?" she said wearily. "You'll stay up every night?"

"If I have to," he said determinedly.

She sighed. "What good will that do?" she said softly. "You're just going to burn yourself out."

"I'll sleep during the day tomorrow," he said. "I promise."

She shook her head. "Please just go to sleep, Jace." She gazed into his eyes. "I don't want to be the reason for your suffering," she whispered.

Something in him seemed to soften. "I...okay," he said finally. Clary kissed his cheek gently before rolling back over and curling up against him. "Good night, Clary."

"Good night," she said.

The minutes ticked by slowly. Gradually, Clary felt Jace relax against her, his breathing growing slower and more even. Experimentally, Clary shifted slightly away from him. He didn't move.

Carefully, Clary began to extricate herself from under his arm, trying hard not to jostle the bed. Eventually, she managed to slip out of the bed, leaving Jace sound asleep. Exhaling in relief, she quickly set about gathering things. She quietly grabbed her stele and witchlight stone from the bedside drawer, caught up a blanket from the closet, and slid her feet into slippers. Finally, she tiptoed over to the door, opened it extremely cautiously, and slipped out of the room.

Five minutes later, she had made her way back into the library by the light of the runestone. She unfurled the blanket and spread it out on the sofa, kicking off her slippers. Taking up her stele, she deftly carved a silencing rune into her wrist. Then she doused her light, curled up beneath the blanket, and stared into the darkness.

She was surprised, actually, at how well her plan was working thus far. Jace, with any luck, would stay asleep until morning without ever having known she was gone. She would have to get a few hours of sleep, she knew—but once she inevitably had a nightmare, she would awaken and try to stay awake until it was late enough in the morning to go back upstairs and get back into bed before Jace woke up. Jace wouldn't have to keep himself awake, he'd never know she was still having nightmares, and everyone could go on with their lives.

She burrowed deeper under her blanket, shivering slightly. Half of her hoped the cold would keep her awake; the other, exhausted half longed to fall asleep, despite knowing she would awaken in terror. She shifted, pressing herself into the corner of the sofa.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock felt as if it were putting her into a trance. She felt her eyelids grow heavier...

Clary jerked awake, her heart pounding. She sat up quickly, the blanket falling off her; it was as if someone had pulled a plunger and sucked her into her body. She took a long breath, trying to slow her heartbeat; the room was silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock. She tried to focus her mind, struggling to remember if she had had a nightmare, but it was like trying to catch smoke; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp any memory.

"Clary?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She scrambled off the couch, the blanket sliding to the floor. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway. "What are you doing down here?" it said.

Clary let out a breath of relief. "Simon. You scared me."

The person moved, flicking on the lights; Clary squinted in the sudden brightness, barely able to make out Simon's rumpled figure.

"Were you sleeping down here?" he said, his voice rough, as if he had just woken up.

"I was researching, actually," Clary said, lying easily. "I couldn't fall asleep, so I came down here. But then I got tired, and I didn't want to go back upstairs, so...yeah, I slept down here." She moved toward the door. "But now that I'm awake, I might as well go back up," she finished hurriedly. "Night, Simon." She tried to move past him; he grabbed her arm.

"Clary," he said quietly. "Please don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"Don't," he said again. He loosened his grip on her arm, sliding his hand down to wrap around hers. "You can trust me," he said.

"I know..."

He was too close; Clary tried to take a step back, but he followed. His nose was an inch from hers. "Simon," she said, her voice catching. "What are you doing?"

"I love you, Clary," he said, smiling. She swallowed; it was as if a drop of ice water were sliding down her spine. "Let me love you."

He was gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt. She took another step away—and he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers.

Bile rose in her throat. She wrenched herself away from him, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She barely had a moment to gasp out, "What the hell—" before he seized her arms and slammed her against the wall. All the air rushed out of her lungs.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking upset. "I thought you loved me too."

She struggled, but his grip on her was too tight. "Get off me! Simon!"

"Don't fight me," he breathed. "You want this, I know you do." He fit his body against hers, pressing her into the wall. She felt like she might vomit.

"Si," she whispered, "this isn't you..."

The realization came to her in a sharp stroke. This is a dream.

He nipped at her lower lip—and she slammed her head against his as hard as she could.

His grip loosened as he cried out, and she shoved him away, stumbling into the middle of the room. Before he could move, she seized a sword from the table and pointed it at him.

He only laughed. "Come on, Clary," he said, sounding so much like Simon that doubt flooded Clary's body. "What are you going to do, kill me? I'm your best friend. Your parabatai."

"It's not real," Clary said. "It's not, I know it's not."

"So wake up, then," Simon said. "Go on."

It's not Simon, said a firm voice in her mind. But there was another voice, a tiny whisper: but what if it is? What if this time, you really kill him?

Jace's bloodstained body flashed through her mind's eye. She swallowed a sob.

"It's not real, it's not real," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Simon laughed softly.

Kill him, said a harsh whisper in her mind.

She opened her eyes, lifting the sword; but he only stood there and looked at her, a little sadly. Her heart contracted.

She threw the sword down. Simon grinned. "I knew you'd come around," he said, advancing on her.

"Don't!" she cried. He only laughed. Her mind was racing. I have to wake up, she thought. How do I wake up?

"Come here," he said, reaching for her again. She stumbled backwards, her heart hammering in her chest. Think, she thought desperately. What can pull you out of a dream?

Shock, she realized. Something had to startle her enough to jerk her out of the dream. She looked wildly around the room—there.

Simon reached out—Clary flung herself past him and snatched up a heavy lamp in her right hand.

"NO!" Simon shouted, lunging forward just as she slammed the lamp onto her other arm.

There was a blinding, sickening pain that made her vision go white, wiping out all conscious thought—

She sat bolt upright, screaming out before she could catch herself. She was glad she had had the foresight to put on a silencing rune; all that escaped her was a silent puff of breath. Her left arm was throbbing painfully; sobbing silently, she cradled it to her chest, curling into a ball.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Isabelle's voice: Deep breath. She drew in a hiccupping breath, tears sliding down her face. Another one. She inhaled slowly, exhaling with a shuddering sob. Keep going.

Gradually, her pulse began to slow. Her left arm was still throbbing, so hard that she could feel the vibration in her shoulder. Focus on what you can fix, said Isabelle's soothing voice. She nodded automatically. Sniffling, she wiped away her tears with her uninjured hand and reached over, grabbing her stele and witchlight. With some difficulty, she managed to wedge the witchlight into her left hand, wincing as her arm jolted with pain. The light flickered on.

The skin of her forearm was dominated by a massive bruise, purpling before her eyes. She took another deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Assess the situation, said Isabelle. This is just like any other injury.

Moving with efficiency, Clary swiped her thumb across the witchlight, increasing its brightness. She leaned forward and examined her arm clinically, carefully turning it over, attempting to stretch her fingers; it didn't appear to be broken. She flexed her wrist experimentally, wincing as pain shot up the length of her arm. Taking up the stele, she inked an iratze into the crook of her elbow. It sank in, vanishing almost immediately. Her arm continued to throb.

She sighed, setting the stele aside and extinguishing the runestone. She hadn't really expected the iratze to work, though how she was going to hide the enormous bruise from everyone, she wasn't quite sure. She supposed she would just have to wear long sleeves and hope no one accidentally brushed up against her arm.

Exhaling slowly, she leaned back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. The dream replayed like a video above her; she couldn't get the image of Simon's smile out of her head. Swallowing hard, she rolled onto her side, trying to think about anything else.

At least she had woken up. She had woken herself up. And now that she knew how to do it, she could do it again. As soon as she could figure out she was dreaming, she could wake herself up. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She stared at the back of the couch, her left arm draped across her body; her fingers brushed against her stomach. Slowly, she moved her fingers down, letting them splay out across her lower belly.

All at once, and for the first time, she truly considered what her mother had said. She didn't have to do this; she could choose to walk away, choose to have an abortion to save herself. She knew it was the logical thing to do; and when the time was right and the danger had passed, she and Jace could have another baby.

It wasn't as if they had planned it. If Clary was honest with herself, she wasn't even sure she was ready for this. Ready to be a mother. But, oh, how much she wanted it...maybe she wouldn't have chosen this path if she had known what laid ahead, but now that she was on it, she didn't want anything more.

That was what it came down to, really—her choice. Hers. Not Jocelyn's, not the Clave's, and, most importantly, not Beelzebub's. He didn't get to force her to make this choice. It was hers, and hers alone.

Tentatively, she rubbed her fingers across her stomach, barely even registering the pain in her arm anymore. I choose you, she thought fiercely. I'm fighting for you. And no one gets to take you away.

She rolled onto her back, letting out a long breath as a tear slid down the side of her face. I'm fighting for you, she thought again, the words a whisper in her mind. I will never stop fighting for you.

A/N: If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thank you so much for reading!

~4L