Isabelle sat up off her bed, moving her hair out of her face and glancing around her bedroom. Maybe she should get all that caked mud off of her boots that she had been meaning to clean. If all else failed, she could just take a shower and go to bed. But for some reason, tonight, Isabelle was feeling more restless than usual.

It wasn't just the fact that Alec and Jace were away and she had absolutely no one to talk to or do much of anything with. It was how quiet the Institute was, with her mother being the only other one in the building. She could always call Clary, see what she was up to tonight. Isabelle quickly pushed that idea away. She didn't have a problem with Clary, and she never really had, but it wasn't like they were good friends or anything. They didn't talk to each other about things, and Clary didn't have the same tastes that she did.

Isabelle took three long strides over to her closet and put on a black dress that came mid-thigh. It took her a moment to sift through her many pairs of shoes, but eventually she found the boots she had been looking for and laced them up to her knees before checking her hair in the mirror. Good enough, she thought with a smile, and she grabbed her whip.

She would have to be quiet. Isabelle had only seen her mother a few times in the past couple of days, because she hardly ever came out of the study. She was researching some new sort of weapon the Iron Sisters were creating, one that would make it even easier to kill Downworlders. Isabelle couldn't stand to be around her mother for very long. Every time she thought of the new weapon, she thought of Simon. She pictured herself wielding it through his heart. Every time she did, she shuddered and had to remind herself that that would never happen. She would never hurt Simon, even if it meant going against her mother and the Clave. Even if it meant going against her own race. She would never hurt him. Would she?

Isabelle crept out of her bedroom and into the hall. She knew there really was not need. Her mother was probably engrossed in writing some sort of report or letter to the Clave and wouldn't be paying enough attention to hear her leave anyway.

When Isabelle reached the door, she knew what she had to do. She knew exactly who she wanted to see. But how could she reach him? She hadn't memorized his cell phone number when she should have. Now that there were new laws against any sort of friendliness between Downworlders and Shadowhunters, every bit of evidence that Simon had been in her life had been washed away by her mother.

He's a vampire, Isabelle thought, stepping out into the cool night air. He has to be around somewhere. She knew it was a long shot. The chances of finding Simon were nearly impossible. She wasn't even sure he was still in New York. And where would she start, anyway? It wasn't like she could walk into a Downworlder bar and start asking questions. Unless...

It would be dangerous. The idea made Isabelle feel feverish with adrenaline and fierce excitement. Unless she was there on official business.

She knew right where to go and was glad now that she had thought to bring her whip.

Three Wrongs was a small bar on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Isabelle had been in here a few times before, but Jace and Alec had been with her. It was dangerous enough to walk in to a Downworlder bar now-a-days with a group of Shadowhunters, but to be alone was something different. There were two men standing outside the door, and Isabelle's heart jumped when her eyes met with one of them. For a glorious moment, she thought it was Magnus Bane. As she neared the doors, however, she saw that it wasn't and her hope deflated like a balloon. He had the same, tall build and spiky hair. But he certainly wasn't Magnus.

Shame, Isabelle thought. Magnus had been keeping secret contact with Alec and would have surely let her in.

The warlock smiled at Isabelle, a smile full of razor sharp teeth that almost seemed to glow in the dark. The other man was a werewolf by the look of him, eyes red and hair matted to one side. Neither spoke, just gazed at her expectantly.

"I'm here on official business of the Clave," Isabelle declared, her head high.

"Explain your case," the warlock replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

Isabelle glared at him. "It's confidential, Downworlder. Now step aside." Her hand had moved to her whip at her belt, subconsciously. Both of the men noticed this subtle move and took a small step away from her.

"You have no business here," the werewolf spat at her, his accent thick and difficult to understand. Was it Russian?

"We take our business anywhere we please," Isabelle snapped, thinking this was rather fun. "Move aside." The two Downworlders stepped around to let her pass, their eyes lingering on the whip at her side.

Isabelle wasted no time and pushed the door open to reveal a hazy room filled with so many different smells it made her nose itch. The bar was darkly lit, but there were people everywhere. Isabelle let the door shut behind her, and when it had faces started to turn her way. Isabelle searched the room for a vampire. They were usually the most normal looking of the Downworlders, aside from the werewolves.

The room hushed to a low hum of whispers, and all around people stared. With a deep breath, Isabelle pushed forward, determined to keep to her plan and make it look as if she knew what she was doing. What had she gotten herself in to? All of this just to see Simon? Was it even worth it?

Yes. To her it was worth it. She would have done worse than this if it meant seeing Simon.

Isabelle strode over to the bar, and made eye contact with a faerie who was washing out a glass that was filled with thick, red liquid. Blood. "I'm looking for the Daylighter," Isabelle explained the the bartender, as quietly as she could. She knew people were trying to listen in. "Can you tell me where I might find him?"

The faerie man looked at her blankly as he cleaned the glass, silent. Wearily, Isabelle remembered what awful company faeries could be. She had dated one, once upon a time. Although it was strange that he was even refusing to talk to her. Leaning over the counter threateningly, Isabelle said, "I'm on official business, so if you have any idea where he might be, I suggest you answer me."

The whole place had suddenly gone silent. The bartender served another glass of blood to a man that was seated beside where Isabelle stood. She turned her gaze to him. "This one seems to be tongue tied," she said to him, her voice dripping with warning. "Perhaps you could tell me where the whereabouts of the Daylighter are."

The vampire looked up at Isabelle slowly, his lips curling hatefully. "I wouldn't tell you where to find him even if I knew." Isabelle, who had never been a patient person, rounded on the crowd who had all turned to look at her now.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. She was making a scene, causing a stir. Her mother would most certainly hear about this. But she was too far gone now. When you make a mess, normally the right thing to do would be to clean it up. Leave now, Isabelle told herself. Leave now before you do anything more to get yourself and Simon into trouble.

"Well?" Isabelle shouted across the room. She knew, if they wanted to, they could take her down. They wouldn't, because of the law. She had the power here now, not they. The license to kill. But if they really wanted to, it wasn't like she could really do anything to stop them.

A figure moved out of the crowd. Isabelle recognized her at once. Camille Belcourt. But what was she doing in such a dingy place like this? Everything about her was poised, elegant. It was odd to see her in front of such a greasy backdrop.

"Camille?" Isabelle murmured. The other Downworlders seemed as shocked as she was that Camille was there, as if none of them had noticed her before that moment. Camille made eye contact with Isabelle and made a small gesture for her to follow. Camille started towards a back door of the bar, and grudgingly, Isabelle followed. She wasn't too fond of Camille, not after the way she had tried to bond Simon to herself a few years before. Camille was selfish, Isabelle knew. She only wanted Simon because he was a Daylighter. Everyone seemed to want Simon.

The back door opened to a dark alley behind the bar. "Isabelle Lightwood," Camille mused. "You search for the Daylighter?"

"Simon Lewis. It's strictly Clave business."

Camille smiled, as if she knew something Isabelle did not. "You lie," she replied.

Isabelle swallowed. Was it obvious? Was it obvious to everyone that she was lying?

The vampire began to laugh, a long, drawn out sort of laugh that sent chills up Isabelle's spine. She was annoyed now, and she snapped her fingers in front of Camille's face.

"Hey," she snapped. "I'm looking for Simon. Can you help me, or not?"

Camille's laughing subsided almost at once and she stared at Isabelle peculiarly. "I can, and I will. If you tell me the truth."

Damn the consequences! Isabelle was fed up with the night, fed up with Downworlders and vampires and the games they played. So what if she was playing a game of her own? All she wanted to do was find Simon.

"Fine. I just want to see him. That's all." Isabelle's voice was quiet, even to her own ears. She looked away from Camille, a bit embarrassed. "I haven't seen him for months. I want to make sure... to make sure he's all right."

"Well, I can tell you that," Camille said with a smile. It wasn't kind, or understanding, but devious. And Isabelle didn't like it. "He's perfectly fine. Alive-" she laughed, "-well, maybe not alive. But certainly all right.

"Get to the point," Isabelle said harshly. "Where is he?"

"Not far from here," Camille said vaguely, staring at Isabelle with icy eyes. "East Broadway."

"Where on East Broadway?"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Isabelle couldn't believe she was about to let herself in Camille Belcourt's apartment. Moreover, she couldn't believe that Simon would be there. Or maybe it was that she didn't want to believe it.

On her walk there, Isabelle had wondered if perhaps Camille was just setting a trap for her, an ambush of sorts. Were there other vampires inside the apartment, none of them Simon, waiting to tear her throat open? Isabelle had her whip in her left hand, the key in her right. Quickly, she turned it and let herself inside, closing the door behind her.

It was completely dark inside. The only light came from the vast floor to ceiling window on her right giving the room an eery moonlight glow. Isabelle stood absolutely frozen for a moment, and then decided it would be smart to take off her boots. She did so as quietly as possible, planning to check the place out. There didn't seem to be anyone in the apartment. Maybe Simon had gone out. Isabelle's heart sank with disappointment. All this trouble, and he wasn't even here.

With her boots lying untied on the floor, Isabelle crept forward barefooted. At least she could snoop around the Camille's apartment. That was something to do. Maybe Simon would come back, and she would be there waiting for him when he did.

The kitchen was right off the entry, and Isabelle went right in. Her hand automatically went to the pendent around her neck, but it was still. No demon activity. Flicking the light switch on, Isabelle planned to treat herself to something to drink. It wasn't until she opened the fridge and saw nothing but blood bags inside that she wondered how stupid she could get. Of course they didn't have any normal beverages.

Isabelle filled a glass up with water from the tap, and pulled herself up onto the counter. Camille's apartment was nothing like she thought it would be. She had expected grand rugs and antique furniture, trunks full of victorian dresses and silk pillows with golden tassels on every couch. Really, there was hardly any furniture in the place at all. Nothing more than what was needed. The walls were bare and there wasn't a picture to be seen.

Suddenly, she heard something coming from down the hall. Dammit, Isabelle thought. It would have been smart to check the whole house before deciding to turn on any lights or faucets.

Isabelle moved fast. In a moment, she was off the counter. With one swift movement, she flicked off the lights and went to the corner of the room with her whip in one hand.

And then the lights came back on. And Simon stood in the kitchen. And Isabelle felt like her heart was going to explode right out of her chest.

"Simon!" She cried, and he turned towards her, obviously startled. She was already there, and she flung her arms around him, holding him close. She waited for him to hug her back, but... he didn't.

Isabelle slowly pulled away. The look Simon was giving her made her want to kiss him, to keep him close. It was an odd expression, the one he wore. Like he was conflicted and confused and elated and breathless and angry all at the same time.

"Iz-what are you doing here?" He said, and Isabelle drank in the sound of his voice like music. His hair was longer, tousled from a nap he had just woken up from, perhaps?

"I didn't know if you were here or not... I mean, I was going to wait for you," Isabelle said, and it sounded pathetic to her own ears. This version of herself, the one that melted into a boy's arms and said pathetic, girly things was not one she was familiar with.

"But," Simon began, taking a step away from her. "How did you know I was here?"

Isabelle tried to look cheerful, even though Simon's coldness towards her wasn't exactly warming her heart. Why wasn't he happy to see her? "Camille told me you had been staying with here," Isabelle answered him. "Which, by the way, is completely crazy. Why would you want to live with Camille?"

"She isn't all bad," Simon said, a bit defensively, and then his eyes seemed to soften a little. "So you went looking for me?"

Isabelle smiled at him. "Yeah, I did. Aren't you glad to see me?"

Simon nodded, leaning up against the counter. He was silent.

Isabelle frowned, moving closer to him, so she would touch his arm. Quietly, she said, "Well you don't seem like you are."

Simon moved out of her grasp and walked out of the kitchen into the living room. He stood at the window, staring blankly out, expressionless. The sight scared Isabelle. It occurred to her that she had never seen Simon look so hopeless, so drained.

"I think you should leave, Isabelle."

She wasn't sure she had heard him right. He had spoken to quietly. "What? You want me to leave?"

It was a moment before Simon answered. "Yes."

Isabelle walked around him, so he was forced to meet her gaze. "Why, Simon?" she demanded. She had done this for him, after all. Or had it been for her? Had she been so selfish that she had only been thinking of her own feelings? She knew that she wanted to see Simon, but she hadn't thought that he might not want to see her. "What is it?" Isabelle nearly shouted at him.

Simon ran a hand over his face and walked away from her. She was so tired of him walking away from her. "Because," Simon mumbled.

"That's not an answer!"

"Because," Simon began, louder this time. "I was just starting to get used to not having you in my life, Iz! Not having any of you in my life. I need to move on now, okay? It can't be like this. We can't be friends anymore. We just can't." He sat down on the couch, head in his hands. Isabelle wondered for a moment if he was crying.

Isabelle's heart contracted in her chest. She felt the need to go to him, and she didn't fight it. She wasn't the comforting type, she hadn't even really been that way with Max. But for the last year there had been something about Simon that just made Isabelle feel... weak. When he was in pain, it was almost as if she wanted to take it upon herself. She would do anything to take it away from him. It was a new feeling to her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Still, she couldn't control it. Simon brought out a side to her no one else could.

She sat down beside him, careful not to touch him. She was sure he wouldn't want her to. "What if I need you, Simon?" she said quietly.

"You don't need me," he answered, clenching his hands into fists and pressing them against his eyelids. "You have Alec and Jace and Clary. You have other people, other friends. You don't need me."

Isabelle reached for Simon's hand before she could think better of it. She grabbed one of them, pulling it away from his eyes, and then took the other. He didn't pull away from her like she had expected him to. He gazed at her openly now, so rawly it made something inside of her ache.

And then she kissed him.

She pulled him close, until she was nearly sitting on top of him and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't pull away. Simon sighed against her lips, and she held the back of his head to her with one hand. I could do this forever, Isabelle thought dizzily. Sitting on Camille Belcourt's couch, kissing Simon. It struck her that this was all she had wanted. To to be near him and to be able to touch him. To know that it was okay, that they were still okay.

Simon pulled away first, slowly. He pressed his forehead to her own, but he was still so close and Isabelle couldn't help but continue to kiss his lips. After a moment, Simon put a hand out, gently resting it on Isabelle's neck.

"All right," he breathed. "So, you need me." He laughed, his eyes still close, forehead still pressed against Isabelle's. She laughed too, knowing she was ridiculous, that they both were, that this was so so wrong by society, by law. "What now?"

Simon let himself fall back on the couch, not before lacing his fingers with Isabelle's. She grinned at him. "I don't know," Isabelle replied honestly, and almost excitedly. Then, her smile faded. "I did make... well, um, sort of a scene at Three Wrongs."

Simon gave her a scolding look. "Iz-"

"But I said it was Clave business..." She trailed off realizing she didn't have an excuse for her behavior. Simon was looking at her so seriously it unnerved her.

"That only makes it a lie. That only makes it worse." He squeezed her hand lightly.

"I know," she replied dully, leaning into him. Then her eyes went to their hands, intertwined on Simon's lap. The ghost of a smile spread across her face as she began to play with his fingers, smoothing his hand with her own.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with all the night had brought. What she had done, perhaps to both of them. "Simon," she began, very urgently. "If this is going to happen-" she smiled at him, "-then we need to come up with a way to communicate with one another. No more repeats of tonight. We need to be subtle-"

Simon got up from the couch. "Being subtle should be easy," he said. "You know, me being a vampire that can go out during the day and all."

"It's not like they can hurt you," Isabelle argued. She couldn't see the mark on his forehead, because his hair was covering it up. Simon's hand flew up to it almost subconsciously, moving his hair aside.

Quietly, he replied, "But they can hurt you."

"What choice do we have, Simon?" Isabelle said softly, getting to her feet and crossing the room to where he stood.

"We'll be risking it all, Iz." Simon brought her close to him, kissing the side of her face.

A/N: Whoa, wrote this this morning and I am fully aware it isn't any good. I just finished City of Fallen Angels and NEEDED to write something Simon/Isabelle. Anyway, it's just a romantic one shot set in a time where it's against the law for Shadowhunters and Downworlders to be allies, friends, lovers, anything.