Jace pov

He can't take his eyes off of her.

It's been two days. Two days since Jace's world had fallen apart. Two days since he thought the one last thing holding his feet down on earth had simply let him go and watched him float away. Two of the worst days of his life.

They had barely made it to the hospital in time according to the doctors, and they had taken her into surgery immediately. Everybody from Clary's parents to his own to even Magnus, Alec, Simon and Isabelle had been at the hospital within the hour, yet he didn't bother speaking to any of them. They all came and went, ducking into the private room he had gotten for her and telling Jace to go home, to shower and sleep and eat and come back. But Jace doesn't leave her.

Where could he even go? The penthouse had been blown up by what the police said seemed to be a small bomb, and though the repairs wouldn't take too long, he refuses to go back there, or ever live in that dreaded place again. Because that's where Jace lost her.

1 hour. He had left for 1 hour, and the thing they ran from all the way to Italy and back still found them. Still found her.

Digging his fingers deep into his hair, Jace can't help but groan to himself. He's been thinking the same thing ever since he realized she's missing. "I'm sorry." He whispers, his voice swallowed by the steady beat of the heart monitor. "I'm so sorry."

Jace looks up at her, wishing for a reply that still hasn't come. She's alive for now, and the doctors had spent hours re assuring him the surgery went well and she would wake from the medical induced coma on her own accordance, but he refuse to believe them. Not until she opens her eyes and makes a snarky comment that made him roll his eyes in exapseration, Clary isn't here.

The sight of her hooked up to all those tubes and wires, skin paler than usual and oblivious to the world breaks his heart, over and over again every single time he glances up. She's cleaned up now, but the image of her covered in her own blood and shreds of cloth, glassy eyes looking up at his tear streaked face as they ran out of that house is burned into his memory, is present every time Jace closes his eyes. The smell of smoke and blood and the taste of terror is there every time he takes a breath, gun smoke lining his throat. Those moments surround him, engulfing him until he wants to scratch his own skin raw just for some relief. Jace always assumed he knew pain, always assumed he knew fear, until he felt just what it's like to lose someone.

"Jace?"

He know's it isn't Clary's voice, but the pang of disappointment still comes as Isabelle walks into view. "Hey," her voice is quiet as she seats herself in the chair near the foot of Clary's bed. "Is anything new with her?"

For once, Isabelle isn't glamorous. She's dressed simply in leggings and what seems like the same shirt Simon once visited Jace and Clary in, the soft blue cotton engulfing her slender form and serving as a reminder of their new relationship. Isabelle's hair is drawn back, her bare skin revealing just how young she really is. The puffs underneath her coffee brown eyes send a pang of guilt through Jace- in the throws of his own grief, he'd forgotten just how close Isabelle is with Clary.

"All her vitals are steady according to the nurses, but nothing yet."

Momentarily, Isabelle looks relieved. Until something else crosses her mind, and that uneasy expression is back. "Jace," her voice is soft, almost like she's afraid of overstepping a boundary. "Did you tell the nurses Clary may be pregnant?" Luke had explained all the details to everybody in the waiting room, and it came as no surprise that Isabelle is concerned.

Jace's voice sounds hollow. "She was. But she's so damaged internally that a pregnancy would almost definitely cause massive internal bleeding, and both her and the baby could die in labor or even before. They had to abort it."

The look of horror on Isabelles face would have incited guilt if he didn't feel infinitely worse. "That's awful. But-" she concedes, "that's right thing to do if it saved Clary's life. I just wish she never had to hurt herself like that."

Jace can't help the sharp wince at the reminder of the incident. Isabelle notices, guilt twisting her face. "Oh Jace, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't." his voice is tight, the urge to punch something, possibly himself, washing over like a wave. "It's not your fault. You didn't mean to."

She nods slowly, and they settle into silence again, Jace's mind still lost in the memory. He's no stranger to terrible things, to terrible memories he wants wash out of his mind with bleach. But they all took a backseat to watching Clary hurt herself like that.

Why she did it is painful, but evident. If she hadn't driven that knife into her side, Jonathan would have put it straight through her heart, and wouldn't have hesitated to kill Luke and Jace and take down as many other people as he could. Nevertheless, it hadn't been easy to take him down. An entire SWAT team had invaded that house, and yet all their shields and bullets hadn't stopped Clary from almost losing her life. Jace had tried to muster up the strength to scream at them, scream at the FBI officials who had helped get to her and scream at Luke and the nurses and everybody else he could scream at before losing his voice. But despite it all, Jace knows there's no one he can blame but himself.

He shouldn't have left her. He should have had the apartment sweeped. He should have thrown Clary over his shoulder and get right back on a plane to Italy and buy that damned beachouse. He shouldn't have let her get hurt.

Jace's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Isabelle rustling inside her tote, digging out a set of clothes. "I picked up some clothes for you from your parents house, I'm pretty sure you haven't changed." She thrusts the clothes out at him, concern deep in her eyes. Jace's heart can't help but soften a little bit. She really is the sister he never had.

"Thanks Izzy." Accepting the clothes, Jace stands up and steps over to the thin partition in the corner of the room. He pulls on the fresh jeans and thin hoodie, absentmindedly registering how good clean clothes feel. Thank god for Isabelle.

She's made herself busy in the past minute, fussing around in the same matter of a mother caring for her child with a fever. She does everything from adjusting the paper thin sheets to smoothing down her hair, the only bright splash of color in the drab hospital room even the flowers Luke had brought in dimming in comparison. Isabelles' hand freezes near her ear, slowly pushing her hair aside. Her fingers are shaking.

A full minute of silence passes between them before she speaks, her voice shaking and fragile. "It's so scary to see her like this." She whispers, glancing up at Jace. Her eyes are shining. "It's like she's sleeping."

"Hardly. She talks in her sleep." No amusement colors Jace's voice, but he can't help think back to the nights his light sleep had been woken by the sound of her drabbling. Sometimes it was full sentences that made no sense, sometimes gibberish, occasionally a harry potter spell if she had fallen asleep during a Tuesday night marathon, and sometimes just his name.

He never told her about the times, some early on in their arrangement and some months deep, when he would wake up to his name on her lips. He'd just stare up at the dark ceiling, heart beating fast at the realization somewhere in her dreamland, he was there. It was always just a whisper. Some sad, some happy, some wanting. And though Jace knows that she's too deep of a sleeper to ever wake up to his own random whispers, he knows she would hear the sound of her own name.

"What are you thinking about?" Isabelle asks, eyes not leaving Clary's still face. Jace looks down as well, feeling another ache throb his heart.

"Her."

Isabelle walks around the hospital bed, moving to block his view of Clary. She looks angry, and though her eyes are narrowed, Jace can still make out those tears threatening to fall. "You're not." Her voice is wavering violently. "I can see it in your face. Tell me you don't blame yourself for what happened to her."

Jace doesn't bother denying it. "It's the truth." His voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. "I'm the reason she almost died Isabelle. You can't deny it."

She does the last thing he ever expects Isabelle to do to him. She slaps Jace straight across the face.

The resounding crack startles him out of the half zombie like state he's been in, quickly followed by a flowering pain against his left cheek. Blinking wide, he straightens up, staring at Isabelle with more shock than anger. "What the hell Izzy?" He grumbles reproachfully, pressing a cold hand to the stinging cheek. She packs some power.

"Don't you dare Jace." Her voice comes in a hiss, but tears are now silently streaming down her cheeks. "Don't you dare do this to yourself. I refuse to let you do this, and if Clary was here she would have punched you." Isabelle is tall for a girl, but she still has to crane her neck to see Jace properly. "This is not your fault."

The sting has faded to a dull throb, but Jace still winces as he lowers his hand. Everything seems a bit clearer now, a bit louder, as if Isabelle has slapped him out of a stupor. "She almost died Iz." The waver in his own voice surprises him, but he presses on. "She was beaten to a pulp and lost her baby and forced to drive a knife through herself because of me." Jace's voice breaks with the effort to keep from screaming, each word scraping and tearing at his throat worse than glass. "This is all my fault." He whispers, eyes glassing over as he stumbles into a chair, retracting in on himself. "It's all my fucking fault."

For a minute all he hears is his own labored breathing at the effort not to scream and the still steady beat of the heart monitor, then the soft sound of Isabelle sinking to her knees in front of the chair. Her hand seems so small, yet it still grips his with a fierce strength.

"It isn't easy to watch someone so close to you in pain. It's not easy to deal with the fact there's nothing you could do." Her voice doesn't hold any more anger. Just an aching sadness. "But what is easy? Turning into yourself and beating yourself up so much you don't feel like you have the choice to be strong."

Jace's eyes finally met hers. The tears still fall silently down her cheeks, but she carries on, forever a stubborn Lightwood. "Jace, look at her. Please."

He does. He really takes her in, takes in the small silhouette outlined by the hospital sheets, the bruises and cuts peppering her face and tattooing her arms in so much purple and blue she looks like just another one of her own canvases, colored and painted in aches and throbs. She seems so small.

His eyes are locked on her, but Isabelle's words are still clear and strong. "She had to be so, so incredibly strong Jace. She had to deal with the fact her brother, someone meant to love her and protect her, wanted her either dead or his. She had to fight a fight nobody should. She had the strength to risk her own death by stabbing herself rather than making you watch Jonathan kill her and then kill you. She's had to hold more weight than any human should have to."

Jace looks down at Isabelle now, his own tears blurring her image. She's still speaking, a new, desperate light in her face. "She can't be strong anymore. She shouldn't have to be. It's your turn now Jace. You couldn't have stopped what had happened. You couldn't have saved her from the truth. And I know you would give your own soul to have been the person in that apartment instead, but you can't. All you can do now is swallow the truth and be there. You have to be there for her Jace. You have to."

The lump in his throat is hard to breathe around, but he fights down the urge to scream. Jace just grasps her hand, nodding slowly. "Thank you." It's barely a whisper, but for Isabelle it's enough.

She nods back, slowly straightening up. "I promised I'd pick up Simon and bring him over to see her. I'll be back soon." She presses a soft kiss to his forehead, ruffling his hair like he always did to her when she was annoyed with him. Jace squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing. By the time he opens them, Isabelle's gone, leaving him to his thoughts and stinging cheek.

His eyes drift back to Clary, remembering Isabelles' words. And for the first time in years, Jace bent his head and began to pray.

He doesn't believe in religion. He isn't even sure if he believes in a god. But if there is anything out there, he needed them. Jace's lips move soundlessly, repeating the words that had been filling his head for far too long now. You can take anything from me. Take my fame, take my fortune, take every part of who I am. I don't care if I never do another movie or earn another dollar. Take everything from me. But oh god, not her. Please not her.

Clary's Pov

My dreams are filled with angels.

They make no sense at all. Everything from blood to liquid gold to even a feathery wing appears to me, but I forget it all. Because the pain is getting worse.

It starts in my side, this dull ache slowly growing into a fire that I can't ignore. I want to twist away from it, to scream at the top of my lungs and douse it, but I can't move. Why can't I move?
Soon my entire body aches, the little air I draw in sending pulses down my spine. Why does everything hurt so much?

The incessant beating of my own heart gets louder, sharper, until it turns into a sharp beep, played over and over again. And the black behind my own eyes is brighter now, turning reddish in hue. Slowly, I feel myself coming back to life again, as if my body is slowly breaking the surface of foggy water. And before I know it, my eyes open.

It feels as if my eyes had been stitched shut, each thread coming apart one by one as I let in the blinding light of wherever I am. The beeping is louder now, a steady, never ending thrum. White light fades into white walls and a white ceiling, fluorescent lights blinking steadily down at me. Even the air I gasp in feels clear, tasting eerily of nothing. All it takes is another deep breath and noticing the thin tube in my arm to realize where I am. A hospital.

Letting my sore head settle back into the pillows, I don't speak. The memories are returning back to me, everything from Jonathan's apartment to the shootout it had ended in. Part of me wishes it was a dream. Part of me wishes that it had been an insufferably long nightmare that had felt so damn real, but instead of a hospital bed I would wake up next to Jace in that beautiful Italian beach house, and he would remind me with a soft kiss what reality was. But as the onslaught of ache from the bruises riddling my skin and the no doubt raw wound in my side settle in, I know that every single terrible memory is real.

I clench my fingers experimentally, only to feel someone else's hand. Looking over to my right, I see Jace, his chair pulled close to my bed, his head resting his outstretched arm, fingers loosely intertwined with mine. My heart contracts at the sight of him, curly hair ruffled and disheveled. He's sleeping.

"Jace?" I whisper, wincing at the roughness of my own voice. I can barely raise it above a whisper, but I grasp his fingers a bit harder for good measure. He groans lightly, raising his face and blinking groggily.

"Izzy?" He asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes hard with the sleeve of his thin blue hoodie. I'm silent, waiting for him to drop his arm. Finally he looks at me, and the sight of my awake drops his jaw.

"Clary?!" Voice still weak, I don't miss the break in my name. Deep purple circles underneath his eyes and the sallow tint to his skin gives away just how tired he is, but those eyes are always as they had been. Bright and warm. "You're awake!"

I manage a smile back at him, the disbelief and awe in his voice somehow comforting. "Yeah, it appears so."

His jaw is slightly dropped, and he doesn't even breathe for a moment. But when he does, the most relieved expression I had ever seen him wear crosses his face. His shoulder slump as he buries his face his hands. "You're awake." Jace whispers to himself, sounding on the verge of collapsing. "Oh thank god. You're awake."

I'm silent for a moment, letting him regain his composure. When he finally drops his hands and looks back at me, he seems a bit more alive than before. "Hi." I whisper meekly, not sure what else to say.

"Hi." His voice is small, fragile. Two words I had never associated with Jace before.

I try to sit up, but the bruised muscles in my arms tremble violently after the effort. Jace is up in an instant, immediately fiddling with the bed. "Don't you dare try anything." He orders. "I'll adjust the bed. Lay back down."

Resting back on the pillow obediently, I feel the mechanical whirring as the bed adjusts itself so I'm sitting up slightly. I wince at the pain in my side, biting back a groan of pain. That would probably send Jace into a frenzy.

He settles back into his chair, watching me carefully. "So," I ask, my voice slowly regaining strength. "What happened?"

I know he realizes what I'm referring to, his jaw clenching as he leans forward, hands buried in his hair. "I got you in an ambulance, they put you into surgery for several hours. Iz and Simon came over once they heard, so did our parents. Even Magnus and Alec stopped by."

My heart sinks as I think of my mom. "Is my mom okay?" I ask tentatively, afraid of the answer.

"She cried. A lot. So did Luke." He's blunt in his answer, and though I wince, I expected that. Jocelyn, the overbearing helicopter of a parent that she is, had practically had a stroke the one time I broke my arm on the monkey bars. I had to have known this would have happened.

I just nod, watching Jace. Now that the joy of me waking up had passed, I truly realize just how much of a wreck he is. Even short, stubbly bronze hairs line his set jaw, a phenomenon I had never seen before. Jace had never even gone a day without showering since we've lived together.

"Jace, are you okay?" I know it's the most stupid question I could ask. But I had to.

A disbelieving breath leaves his chest in a gasp, as if I had punched him square in the gut. He looks up at me through the curls that have fallen in his face, the most wretched expression he'd ever worn boring into me. "Am I okay? I thought you were going to die Clary." His whisper is louder than the heart monitor, louder than the throbbing of my own body, louder than my own heart. "I thought you were going to die when I saw you fall to the ground. I thought you were going to die when I carried you out of there and you stopped responding. I thought you were going to die in those hours of surgery, that a doctor would come out and tell me I was too late. I thought you were you going to die."

Jonathan had beaten me to a pulp. He had thrown glass and punches and cruel, cruel words at me. But all of his weapons didn't hurt as much as the heartbreak in Jace's tone.

"I'm sorry," my strangled voice is barely audible, scrapes my throat, but I press on. "I'm so sorry you had to see that Jace. But I didn't see any other choice." And it's the truth. In that moment, it was risk my own life or guarantee my death and risk Jace and Lukes'. It was a choice I hadn't hesitate in making. And if I had to relive it a hundred times over, I would still make the same choice.

"You didn't have another choice. And that's the horrible part. I should have never have put you in the position where you had to risk your own life." Jace spoke with so much conviction in his voice, no part of me doubts this is what he's convinced himself of in the past few days.

"Jace. Listen to me." My hand is still engulfed in his, and I squeeze a little harder. He looks up at me, heartbreak in those eyes. He's so beautiful. So damn beautiful. "Jonathan is the only person to blame. He's the reason I'm in this bed right now. Not you, not me, Jonathan. All that matters is that you found me." I know my eyes are shining and my voice is breaking, but I press on. "Jace, I wanted to die. There was a point where I thought he may just kill me. But I never, not even once, doubted you. I knew you'd find me. And you did."

My tears still threaten to fall, but I refuse to blink them away. I just stare at Jace, begging him to hear me. I can't have him blaming himself for that. I just can't

"I'm sorry, Clary." He sounds so defeated. "I'm so sorry."

"You found me." I repeat. "That's all that matters."

He leans in, hesitating before pressing the softest of kisses to my cheek. I close my eyes, reveling in the only true warmth I've felt in days. Settling back into his chair, I'm relieving to see some of that heartbreak gone. But I know it still pains him. I know part of him is going to take a while to come to terms. And that he wouldn't truly start ti forgive himself until the last bruise faded from my skin. Though I know despite it all, there's nothing I can do to fix it. Jace is Jace, and even though he keeps it shielded, his heart is too big, too raw for his own good. And no amount of reassurance will stop that. He's self sacrificing, he's forever waiting to be a martyr for absolutely nothing. He would fling himself off of a building if it meant he could protect someone he cares about. But in this situation, he just couldn't. And I know he'll always carry that invisible wound with him.

For a minute we just sit in silence, taking each other in, before another question bubbles in my throat. "Since we're on the subject, how did you find me?"

"Ah, that." Jace lightly clears his throat, and I narrow my eyes at him. Shooting me a quick glance, he reaches over to the stand next to my bed. Flowers are sitting there, beautiful dusted pink roses. Sparing a small smile, I look down again as Jace untangles what seems to be the small locket I always wear around my neck, and my engagement ring.

Jace picks up the ring, holding it between two fingers as he studies the emeralds embedded into the band. "I love that ring." I whisper, the memory of that night on the beach drifting through my mind. He looks up at me, smiling as he fiddles with it, and I hear the faintest click possible as the emeralds unlatch like the worlds tiniest,, most expensive doors. Handing it to me, I bring my shaking fingers to my face and study the tiny, barely imperceptible latch that has opened to reveal a small bundle of wires and mechanics. Looking at Jace, I know what it is before he even speaks.

"Once we learned about Jonathan, I thought putting a gps on you 24/7 would be a good idea." He speaks easily, absolutely no shame coloring his voice.

"And you didn't think to tell me?!" I ask, exasperated. Jace narrows his eyes as he takes the ring back, smoothly locking the hidden door.

"Clary, are you really going to pretend your stubborn ass wouldn't have gotten mad if you thought I was trying to track every step you made?"

"I guess." I grumble, undoubtedly a little miffed at the thought now. Jace chuckles lightly, putting the ring back on the nightstand. "Hey," I say softly, and he looks back at me expectantly. "Thank you."

He swallows, nodding lightly. "It shouldn't have been necessary." He says again, and I probably would have punched him if it wasn't a struggle to just lift my arm.

I don't bother protesting. I know it won't do any good. Instead I ask him something I've been wanting to ask him. Wanting to ask him ever since my very, very last memories of that night came back to me. "Jace?" My voice is soft, unsure. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." His voice is solid, comforting. This is Jace. My Jace.

Looking down at the fingers I tug at nervously, I force myself to speak. "In the ambulance. I think I heard you say something. Maybe I dreamed it, but-"

"I love you Clary."

My head swings up so fast that my bruised neck screams at me, but I don't care. I just stare at him in shock, my entire mind freezing as I look up at him. Jace seems so sure of himself, so sure that he reminds me of that cocky, arrogant boy I first met. But he isn't a boy any more. He's just a man, face open and vulnerable, those curls he didn't bother brushing away falling into those eyes that burn brighter than anything else I've ever seen in my life. He's so beautiful.

"I'm in love with you Clary Fray." The conviction in his voice shakes me, but he presses on, voice steady. "I love you more than I have ever loved anything else on this goddamn earth, and I love you so much that I can't even wrap my head around the idea. And I have loved you for so much longer than I've ever known. There's a part of me that I never knew was empty until you filled it, and I love you for it, and I will continue to love you until the day I die and if there is anything after that, I'll love you then as well. And as long as I continue to dream, I will always dream of you. Because I always dream of the things I want, the life I want to live, but there's nothing else. Nothing but you matters anymore, and I will spend every last day I have with you proving that to you. Because I'm in love with you."

I'm speechless.

Unable to do anything but stare as I process his words, I wait for him to bolt. I wait for him to realize what he just blurted out, clap his hands over his mouth in horror and bolt. But he doesn't. He just matches my gaze, nothing but conviction. He's an idiot. He's an absolute idiot. And I'm in love with him. I'm absolutely, insanely, head over heels in love with him.

"Can you hand me my necklace?"

Jace raises a brow at my question, uneasiness settling into his gaze. Clearly not the response he was expecting. I just look at him impatiently, until he finally concedes and hands me the white gold chain. I run it through my fingers lightly, thinking about the day I moved out of my childhood home.

I had fingered the same locket, and thought to myself what I say out loud now. "You know, my mother gave me this as a christmas present." I whisper, turning it so the engraved rose faces up. "And I always thought I would put a picture of the man I fell in love with inside. And when I found out we were going to be married, I thought it would stay empty forever." My eyes are shining as I look up Jace and the mesmerized expression on his face. "Little did I know…"

My fingers deftly unlock the tiny hinge, and I let it dangle in front of Jace's face. I don't bother looking at it, I already know what causes the slight hitch in his breath. The the engraved silver hands on the left side I had memorized for years, and the black and white photo of Jace smiling that I had taken in Italy I pasted into the other side just a few weeks ago.

I don't bother looking inside. I just watch Jace carefully as he takes it all in, a light silence falling over us as he slowly takes the necklace from my fingers and sets in on the side table. And though I know he understands exactly what that necklace meant, I still say it anyways. "I love you, idiot." I choke out, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Don't you dare ever doubt it."

He kisses me.

It's so soft, so barely there. I feel his fear of hurting me even more than I already am, and I feel his relief at my words. "I won't." He whispers, face still so close all i can do is close my eyes and savor the fact that after everything, he's here.

"Good," I whisper against his lips. "Otherwise it'll be you in the hospital."

His resounding laugh is warm, and I can't help but smile. "I don't doubt your ability."

Jace seats himself again, but his hand doesn't leave mine. He tells me of Jonathons death, and despite it all, I feel a pang. The same pang I felt at the news of Valentine's fate. Not for them. But for the father war took from me, and the brother I could have had. Them, I might have loved. Them I might have called family.

Isabelle and Simon arrive shortly, Isabelle almost dropping the coffee she brought in shock at seeing me awake. Both embracing me gingerly, Jace and I had no more time for conversation as both of our parents were called, along with Magnus and Alec. Soon the once drab, silent hospital room is filled with so many tears, so much life, that my overwhelmed body begs me to pass out from exhaustion. But I keep my eyes wide open, cherishing every single person and even every single tear on their faces. My body is bruised and broken, but my heart isn't. So even as the nurse barges in and immediately starts yelling at the sheer amount of people in my room and Magnus yells back with everybody else supporting him, I smile. It's over. The fear, the terror that had run Jocelyn's life for almost 30 years and mine for months is gone. And all I have left is the bruises on my body and the insane, loud mess that is Jace and I's family. And of course, Jace himself.

And as the nurse threatens to call security on Magnus and Celine threatens to call a lawyer, while Jace attempts to restrain her, I still smile. They're mine. They're all mine. And Jace is mine. Forever.

The man that I thought I hated, the man that made me question every single part of my being, the man that I'm in love with. Even those words sound foreign my mouth, but I know my heart gave up that resistance long ago.

I guess love isn't optional.

Hello!

So this is both the longest chapter I've ever put up, and the last chapter of love isn't optional.

********Also quick note. The abortion was necessary in the context, otherwise both Clary and the child would have died. I don't want anybody against abortion PM'ing me in an outrage. Your opinion is your opinion, but this was medically necessary to save her life.

I'm so wowed at the thought this story is actually almost over. Of course, I do have an epilogue. I've also only decided to do one epilogue, because I don't want to try to keep this story alive just for the sake of it. But there will be an epilogue.

I hope you all enjoyed this. I put a lot of effort into this chapter, i spent two full nights working on it. I really, really wanted to make this good.

Also yes, the love scene was fucking cheesy. But hey I've been holding out on you guys for what, 23 chapters? I had tooooooo.

I really hope you all loved that little insight into Jace's mind. I know you have all been hounding me for a Jace POV, and I've been planning this for a while so it's nice to finally be able to give that to you guys!

This chapter honestly made me very emotional, but I honestly love it. I think this is my favorite chapter that I've ever put up? Idk. I love it.

Again, I'll put my long ass emotional paragraph up on the epilogue, so be prepared xxx

Wow. second to last update ever. Of course I'll be going through and rewriting the first chapters because it's been two years since I wrote those and obviously my writing has gotten better. Don't worry I won't change anything, just rewrite some parts. I also have a terrible habit of literally never writing drafts or editing and since I don't have a beta, I'm pretty sure there's tons of grammar mistakes for me to fix. But I love you all, so so much. I'll see you in a few days.

SHITTY LIFE ADVICE OF THE DAY- understand the fact that you can't understand everything in life. There is so much you will simply never be able to truly comprehend, based on your culture, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, or simply your life and who you are. There are things that you can't understand. And that's honestly ok. All you can do is accept it and not form bigoted opinions on a topic you truly don't have an understanding on. This applies to cultural appropriation, sexism, ableism, racism, or honestly just random situations. Also LISTEN UP BITCHES. ATTRACTIVENESS IS SUBJECTIVE. ATTRACTIVENESS IS SUBJECTIVE, ATTRACTIVENESS IS SUBJECTIVE. DON'T EVER BRING YOURSELF DOWN IF A PERSON DOESN'T FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE AND DON'T FUCKING BLAME THEM. IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT OR THEIRS IF A PERSON DOESN'T FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO TO BE PRETTY OR HOT, THAT'S YOUR CHOICE. BUT IF A PERSON IS ATTRACTED TO YOU, THEY GOTTA LIKE YOU AS A PERSON AS WELL NOT JUST FOR YA TITTIES. NEVER SHIT ON YOURSELF IF A PERSON DOESN'T FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING BEAUTIFUL CUPCAKE AND JUST BECAUSE A PERSON DOESN'T LIKE THE FLAVOR OF YOUR ICING DOESN'T MAKE IT A BAD FLAVOR. YOU ARE A PIECE OF CLASSICAL ART AND JUST BECAUSE A PERSON PREFERS MODERN ART DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT YOU'RE PRICELESS. I LOVE YOU YOU FUCKING CUPCAKE.

Also baking brownies is always more fun at midnight. Especially when there's weed in them. (lmao I hate myself)

With Love, Em xx