Hello again- okay, so I'm still stuck in bed because I'm still sick... But I decided to attempt a bit of writing while I was lying here staring at my ceiling and feeling sorry for myself =P This is the result. Not my best, I'm afraid- but it effectively passed some of my time for me and was a nice yet challenging distraction! Let me know what you think =]

Disclaimer- I own nothing... Nothing except a horrible cold and a laptop!!!

Clary was sitting patiently in Isabelle's sparkly room as the raven-haired Shadowhunter used her as her own personal, life-sized doll. Neither of the girls had ever really had any female friends- especially the dark haired Nephilim who had grown up surrounded by men in a predominantly male dominated world- so Clary had decided that pretending to be a Barbie doll in order to bond with Isabelle was somewhat worth it. The splodges of gold paint on the backdrop of black glimmered under the ceiling light. Clary was plonked in front of a mirror rimmed with pink fur. It had always surprised her that Isabelle- the fearless Shadowhunter who could slice monsters through without any qualms- could be so be so girly. It was a funny trait that made Clary smirk, before a puff of powder assaulted her face and she burst into fits of coughing.

Isabelle never apologised, merely flitted about wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip. Something, clearly, was up. Clary quirked a freshly plucked eyebrow while the other girl made nervous noise as she fumbled with various jars and bottles on the cluttered vanity table.

"Izzy?" Clary asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" she mumbled sounding flustered. "Yes, yes of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be alright? I'm great!" Her voice was distant and full of fake cheeriness.

Clary felt a sharp tug at her mane of red hair as it was attacked by a fine-toothed comb and a large can of hairspray. The artificial, choking odour from the aerosol made her start hacking and spluttering once more. Perhaps this was how Isabelle killed some of her enemy demons- surely a chemical gas this toxic should be kept in the weapons room? Her hair was yanked back again, pulling her roots from her scalp. Before her head was irreparably damaged, Clary clearly had to intervene.

"Isabelle, you can tell me you know. I won't… judge you or anything. I mean- this is what girls do, isn't it? Talk about stuff and have secrets that guys couldn't understand?" Or at least, that was how she had always viewed friendships between other girls. Then again, she could be wrong- she was certainly no expert.

"I… I- Ehhh," Isabelle's voiced faltered spectacularly. Flinging her arms out in a hopeless, aggravated gesture, she threw down the comb and can with a clatter and dropped onto the edge of her black bed. With a sigh, she looked Clary in the eye. "I just wish I could be a straight-talking as you."

"Me?" The redhead echoed incredulously.

"Yeah- you know, the day we were getting ready for Magnus's party and you just came out with it. The question about Alec. You just said it like it didn't matter. You were able to talk about the serious stuff without beating around the bush or dodging the issue. I can't do that- I mean, look at me today! I've a made a right mess of trying to talk to you."

Isabelle groaned and collapsed on the bed, her hands instantly burying in her long, shiny tresses. It a strange comparison to the fiery, strong, determined girl that Isabelle usually was with her intimating ways and killer confidence. Clary, who had been watching all this from the mirror, pushed back from the table and perched on the edge of the bed beside her new friend.

"Just talk, don't think about what you are saying or how it sounds- just talk," Clary advised simply. Silence enveloped them for a few minutes and Isabelle just lay prone on the bed with her slender arms hiding her flawless face.

"Do you love him?" came the muffled sound of a usually clear-cut voice.

At those words, Clary's heartbeat sped up considerably and she had to fight to keep her breathing regulated and under control. "Who?" she asked calmly, although the high pitch of her voice might have betrayed her slightly.

Isabelle removed her hands from her face so that she could look at the other girl. "Jace. Do you love him?"

"I- yeah. Of course I do, he's my brother." The words cut the petite Shadowhunter into pieces, just like they always did.

"Not like that," Isabelle said pointedly. "Like- well, I don't know…"

Clary crashed back on the bed and groaned in a manner similar to that of the other Shadowhunter only moments before. "He's my brother, Izzy. Like you and Alec." Glittered eyelids clenched shut over emerald irises as Clary tried to ignore the horrible mix of emotions stirring in the pit of her stomach.

"But you aren't, you aren't like me and Alec."

"We should be." Came the whispered reply. "It isn't right to feel anything other then sibling love for each other."

"Maybe what other people think is right, isn't always right for everyone," Isabelle said philosophically. "I mean, just look at Alec. What our parents think is right, what our people think is right… it's the opposite of what's right for him. Yet he can't help it."

Both girls stared up at the ceiling as they lay side by side on the rumpled black covers. Time slid by, dissolving into nothingness as each considered the struggle and strife of everyday living. Clary had started to feel a newfound respect for Isabelle and for some reason she was shocked yet relieved that the beautiful warrior didn't disapprove of her… or her terrible feelings. It was an outcome she had never expected but that she very gladly welcomed. Yet when she thought about it, was it really that surprising? Isabelle was one of the very few female Shadowhunters- she was very much part of the minority in her world. She had a brother who was gay- something that his own parents could disown him for, not to mention the Clave. Izzy had troubles too, and it all came down to the expectations of society and their standards and views of what was right.

"I see the way you look at each other," Isabelle whispered from Clary's side. "I'm not blind. You both kind of stare really intensely at each other and then look away quickly like you are afraid of being caught, or like one of you just got burned with a red-hot poker."

"Sometimes that's what it feels like," murmured Clarissa. "Why… why did you ask me? What was the reason?"

Twirling a lock of deep black hair around a long finger, Isabelle considered her answer long and hard before she replied. "You're the only one he looks at like that. The only one he ever looked at like that. Jace doesn't let people in that easily, he usually doesn't let anyone in at all… but he looks at you like you are the only thing of importance to him. Like he is ready to jump to your defence at any minute and do anything to keep you safe. You give him hope. You're good for him, Clary, and yet every time I see you in the same room together, you both get this expression like you are being torn in half or something. I wanted to know why, I wanted to know if it was love."

Clary could feel tears prick her eyes caustically and she blinked rapidly as she stared at the ceiling to get rid of them. "It's pain," she said softly. "When I look into his eyes I get this a feeling of being broken over and over. That look is seeing the only thing that you want right in front of you- so close that if you just reached out your fingers you could touch him- but knowing that you can't. A horrible feeling of wrongdoing and heartbreak."

"I'm sorry."

Clary gave a deep sigh. "It isn't your fault. It isn't anyone's fault really."

Silence returned once more to shroud the room in a comfortable void of speech. They never attempted to get up, merely lying on the bed staring at Isabelle's hand painted ceiling. Like the rest of the room it was black with gold flecks of paint, but from Clary's vantage point it made her think that she was lying under midnight stars. She could be anywhere- under foreign stars a million miles away where no one could see her. It could be Jace at her side, and not Isabelle. If he held her hand it wouldn't matter because nobody would know who they were.

"We could keep it a secret," his husky voice echoed in her head laced with desperation. The temptation to just run away with him was an overpowering longing in Clary's heart, but reality always seemed to win out.

"I'll just be your brother from now on. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

And as those words replayed in her head, Clary wanted to jump up an race down the corridor. Run into a room that didn't have a ceiling like the night-time sky. Run in an grab Jace's hand to drag him off to some distant land. A different country, a different place where they could be two people- just two people that nobody noticed.

"No," she would say, "It's not what I want Jace. I want what you wanted, what we both wanted all along. I want to run away from here and let our lives be different. I want to keep it a secret. I want to be able to let you keep it a secret with me. A perfectly happy secret that would make us both smile when no one else knows why."

But reality always won. Clary had said that treating him like her brother was what she wanted. She had said no, she had gone back home to Luke and Simon. She had visited her mother and pretended that Jace had been right. She masked all her feelings as well as she could- but it was harder than she had ever thought it would be. Perhaps the Seelie Queen had been right- love made you a liar.

"I think we could be good at this girl talk thing," Isabelle mused.

"I have to say I agree with you, I think we did a very good job," Clary said giving a wry smile. Perhaps this was something she could get used to with Isabelle.

"Can I finish your hair now?"

"Do you have to?" Thinking of the dreaded comb and asphyxiating hairspray, Clarissa could barely contain a groan.

"Well, I could always teach you how to make a really nice lasagne if you want instead?"

Clary scrambled to her feet and threw herself back into the chair. "You know, I always wondered what my hair would look like straightened," she beamed brightly.

In the mirror, Isabelle stood scowling with one hand on her hip resting beside her trusty coiled leather whip. "My cooking isn't that bad!" she exclaimed, picking up a round hairbrush. "I think I could get used to this, Fray. I always knew there was too much testosterone in this Institute."

The corners of Clary's mouth turned up, tugging her lips into a grin that barely reached her usually sparkling eyes. "Don't worry about it," Isabelle told her quietly. "It will all work itself out. Trust me- Jace fights for everything. Even if people think it's wrong somehow, he is going to fight for you."

Clary plastered a grateful smile on her face for Isabelle's sake. If only the Shadowhunter knew the truth. Jace had already made his intentions clear. He had already packed in the fight. The pain just wasn't worth it, not even girl talk could make Clarissa Fray feel hope for a hopeless situation. Not when her heart was on the line. It wasn't love, she told herself, it was merely pain. And who could blame Jace for refusing to bear with that burden- especially when he thought that he was doing it for her sake.

It was pain. And that was no secret.