Hi guys! So, um, here you go. It's taken me awhile to write this, but I've had this idea stuck in my mind for a long, long time, so yeah. I'd like to thank maxwaylandgrey for everything, and Reni Readiris for reading this over and for being patient. :D I hope you guys enjoy this, though many of you will want to probably stab me repeatedly, like maxwaylandgrey, but…this doesn't MATTER. Details, details! :P

I'm gonna start recommending songs! I love music. So, right now, I'm recommending "Everything I Ask For," by The Maine, and any song by Trading Yesterday.

Enjoy! REVIEW!

Telling someone you're leaving is harder than it's supposed to be.
For Jace, it meant telling Clary goodbye, but not in the way she'd expect. It meant telling her he was sorry, that he loved her, and that he wished he didn't have to do this. But he did. He knew it. If he didn't, they'd get Max, Alec, Isabelle, Maryse, Clary's parents, and Simon. Not that Jace cared about the last one, but Clary did. And, God, Jace loved her. He loved her more than he could say.
Which is why he had to do this.

He was told two months ago that it was either everyone else's life or Clary's. Jace thought it was a sick joke. Someone had to be messing with him, he decided. It was too much.
But here he stood, at Clary's house, waiting until she got out of the shower. He would make him hers.
And then he would kill her.
A single tear fell out of his eyes. He cursed. He never let himself cry. Why was he crying now, in his girlfriend's house?

He rolled his eyes to himself as Clary emerged from her room. Her hair was wet, and she looked amazing to him. She walked over to where he was.

"Jace," she said. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not," he said, but the thick voice gave it away.

"Jace." She held his hand. "Look at me."

But he wouldn't look at her. "You don't understand," he said. "You don't. And if I tell you, you'll hate me, because I hate myself and I don't want you to hate me. God, I really don't."

"I could never hate you," Clary replied firmly.

He turned around. "You know nothing."

"Yes, I do." She sounded stubborn. Jace suppressed a smile. "I love you, Jace. You know it."

He let out a shaky breath. "I love you, too, which is why I can't tell you. I want to—God, I need to—but I can't. You'll hate me, and I don't want you to, and considering what'll happen this is me being selfish when I shouldn't be, but I am. I love you, Clary, and I don't want to lose you. If telling you the truth means losing you, then I'll shut up."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled her close to him. "Tell me," she whispered in his ear. Neither of them made a move. They were either too scared to move and break the moment, or too scared to face the truth.

Finally, Jace said, "I just wanted one night with you—one normal night."

"What?" Clary asked, confused. She didn't understand, Jace knew that, but he was trying to make it easier for both of them and she wasn't helping.

He told her to sit down. She did as told. It was all simple, like it would've been in a story. Jace told her everything—from the first to the last threat—and he watched as she slumped in her seat, hid her head between her knees, and her shoulders shook for a long, long time. Then, her head snapped up. It was sudden. Her face was red and puffy, and she looked cute, cuter than ever, Jace thought. She walked up to him.

"Jace," she said. "I understand why you'd think I'd hate you—considering you're about to kill me in front of people and all. If I were you, I'd hate myself, too. But, Jace, it's what you have to do. And if it'll save everyone else, then I'm willing to die."

"Die for who?" he asked.

"For you—for all of you," she said. She sat down next to him and took his hand in his. Their fingers interlaced, both were lost deep in thought.

"You came here to have sex, didn't you?" Clary blurted out.

"No," he lied. "I came here to ask you if you wanted to. It's okay if you don't, really."

He was talking too quickly. He was aware of how utterly ridiculous it all sounded. Clary, however, didn't seem to mind. She seemed to be enjoying the show and, when Jace was done rambling, she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard.

"Yes," she said, sitting on his lap. "I want to, Jace. God, I do. But first, I need to tell you that I love you. Even if you kill me and the world ends and everyone hates you, I love you. So you need to live, okay? For me."

"For you," Jace said, and then he kissed her again. Their kiss became stronger and stronger. He felt her weight, though she wasn't that heavy. He pulled her closer to his waist and then stood. She yelped, terrified for a moment. Then she heard his chuckle.

"We'll be fine," he told her with a smile. "Just going to my room."

Then he closed the door and pressed her back up against the wall. She bit her lip. This was it. The moment she'd dreamt of since meeting him, or, at least, since getting together with him. They were both thinking the same thing. She thought he wasn't nervous, though. Jace knew it, and it made him laugh. Of course he was nervous. This was the moment—the special moment, the one they were supposed to relieve over and over again.

Jace lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and began kissing her everywhere. He couldn't get enough of her. The single thought of losing her made him want to die, and so he couldn't let her leave. He needed to feel her. It was never like this. He always said no every time Clary suggested sex. But now the circumstances were different. There was a new urgency to the situation.

She took his shirt off, way more confident than she'd thought possible. He took her shirt off, at the same pace she had taken his off. It felt like a dance to them, a rhythm they had to follow. Breaking it would risk ending the moment. It was compelling: keep dancing, a voice in their mind said. They were staring at each other, not making a sound. The music had stopped, but they weren't stopping.

She laughed, even though she was nervous. Jace wasn't a virgin, but this made him more nervous than he'd like to admit. This was Clary, the girl he loved more than he loved his life. He never thought he would care about something as much as he cared about her, but he was proven wrong—by the most beautiful, amazing redhead he'd ever met.

His hands ran up and down her legs, and, when they went up this time, off came her panties. He didn't see anything. He just carried her to the bed. She took his pants off, hands shaking this time, then his boxers, and he undid her bra. For moments, they didn't look at each other. Clary wanted to cry—the thought of this being her last happy moment with him made her want to die already, but she was also overcome by this amazing feeling of happiness. Jace was too nervous to look, and, even though he knew she'd like the view, he was also nervous about her looking. But then, they looked at each other. Jace turned around first, and then Clary felt his stare. They just stared at each other, taking everything in.

"Beautiful," they murmured in unison.

He kissed her lips again, softly for a minute, and then harder. She ran her hands up and down his body, all around, like nothing matter. There was no limit. There was just the two of them, alone for the last time. They kissed each other everywhere and promised each other they wouldn't forget. They were both crying by the time the sun rose.

And they were asleep shortly after that.

###

"I love you, Clary." Jace looked at his girlfriend, the one peering at him from the other side of the bed. She smiled.

"I love you, too." She stood up, his too-big t-shirt's sleeves dangling loosely from her hands and onward. Her face changed. "Today's the day," she blurted out.

"Yeah." He stood up, too, wearing only pants. "Are you nervous?"

She pressed her body against his. "No," she said. She was lying, of course.

"Yes," he said, kissing the top of her head. "It's normal. I—I'm dying here, Clary. And I love you."

"I love you too. I'll never get tired of saying it, because I know you'll forget. Jace," she said, and that's when he actually turned around, "don't ever forget."

He didn't plan on it.

###

It was midnight. The darkness of the night surrounded them as they gathered in the forest, all of them, to witness what Jace would do to his girlfriend. It was his girlfriend, the one he loved, the one he truly cared about.

The one whose breathing was about to stop because of him.

They were in the forest. She had a knife pressed against her neck, and the presser was Jace. His hands were trembling.

"I need to keep you alive," Jace said. He couldn't give up.

"No. Choice." She gasped for air.

"I have a choice," he said. He didn't know what the choice was yet, but he'd find that.

"No," she said. "You don't." He could tell that talking hurt her more than the truth, the fact that she was going to die in a few minutes.

People were watching them, though they were being very secretive about it. They hid in the shadows, somewhere Clary couldn't see them. There was Sebastian—the son of a bitch. He saw Clary that one day with Jace, and then later on told him to kill her.

"She's precious," Sebastian had told Jace. "I want her gone."

Then there was Valentine. He was Clary's dad, though she didn't know it.

"I want her gone as well," he had said. "Maybe I can get her mother back like that. She's nothing special, just a small girl from nowhere—"

He never got to finish that sentence, because Jace had punched him. Blood trickled out of his mouth and nose. Sebastian had to separate them. It struck Jace as funny how Sebastian separated them and didn't let Valentine beat him to death. He would've done it.

Jace wanted to kill them for making him do this. He would get back at them, he swore.

"Jace," Clary pleaded. "Just do it—do it quick."

"No."

"NOW!" she yelled. She knew people were watching. Shit.

Their heads snapped up at the yelling. Jace knew now that there was no going back. Any plan he had was ruined now. He wanted to be mad at Clary, because he ruined any chance of them being together, but he just reminded himself that he was the one who dragged her into this. She had nothing to do with anything. She just wanted it to be over with.

"Be right back," he said. "Stay." She nodded. Jace ran up to Valentine and Sebastian.

"What the hell?" Sebastian was outraged.

"Give me a gun," Jace commanded.

"Why?"

"Because I need it!" Jace snapped. "No questions. A gun. Now."

"Fine," Valentine said. He reached into a suitcase of his, the only one he brought that night, and handed Jace a gun. "Use it."

Jace nodded. "I will."

Clary was waiting for him at the center of the circle he'd formed. He'd told her not to step out of it before and, so far, she'd been following instructions.

He wished he didn't have to do this. But you don't understand. What he was going to do may seem cruel and heartless, but those were the people he loved—if he didn't kill her, more, including her, would be killed. What was one person compared to a dozen?

A whole lot.

"Jace," she said, bottom lip quivering. She couldn't take it, and neither could he.

So he shot her. It was simple. He didn't think about it. He pulled the trigger and aimed straight for her head. His eyes were closed.

Because, seconds after, he shot himself in the head as well.