I think it's safe to say that I'm a terrible, terrible updater. I'm awfully inconsistant, aren't I? Ah, well, we are what are, yeah?

So, I've been rereading Cassandra Clare's novels the past week or so and I'm on a major Infernal Devices rampage. This here is merely a fraction of only one of the plot bunnies I have for this fandom. The bigger story is in the works, along with a crossover with MI(which also has a prequal ficlet). However, please don't count on updates anytime soon lol. I feel that Gabriel has been poorly neglected in terms of having fanfiction written for him and so I had to rectify this predicament. Also, if anyone would like a visual of Annabel(and Gabriel, please check my profile for the link.

I would like to thank Team Jem Carstairs, for being my beta and a lovely friend with whom I have discussed so many different angles and ideas for Infernal Devices. She is my soulmate (:

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood or the INfernal Devices series. They belong to Miss Clare. I do, however, own Annabel Kingsley, Jonathan, and Abigail. By the way, Jonathan and Abigail are to the Lightwoods as Thomas and Sophie are to the Branwells.

Enjoy.

Annabel let out another frustrated sigh.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was half past one o'clock in the morning. Her stomach churned with worry. She swallowed thickly. Her eyes closed and she counted slowly to ten before opening them again. She continued to pace her room, pausing every so often to look out of the window. All she could see, though, were the dark, wet streets of London. The lamps along the street emanated a soft glow and she tried to draw comfort from it. Any other night, it would have worked. But not tonight.

Stop it, she scolded herself. He's a Shadowhunter, for Angel's sake. It's only a Shax demon. He'll be all right.

But truthfully, she wasn't certain. There was an awful feeling, roiling in her belly, tugging at the back of her mind. Her heart beat a little faster. What if he wasn't all right? What if he was hurt? There was a tension in the night air; thick and nearly tangible. It was beginning to drive her mad. Something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut again and began to pace frantically.

Abigail, one of the maids, stood in the far corner of the room, watching Annabel with growing concern. "Miss, p'rhaps you ought to sit for a while?"

Annabel did not cease her restless movements. "No, no. No, Abby, I cannot. If I sit, I'll only grow ever more anxious."

Abigail gave her a despairing look, but held her tongue.

Annabel grew more and more restless and fearful as the time passed. Seconds turned to minutes, and it was not until the clock struck two that she heard the manor gates slam open, making way for a speeding carriage and shouting men.

Annabel wasted no time. Not bothering with slippers or a dressing gown, she threw the door of her room open with a loud bang and raced through the halls, ignoring Abigail's shouting. She turned the corner and flew into the foyer, just as the main door opened and Gideon staggered in, covered in blood and smelling of metal. His strong face was drenched in sweat, plastering his blonde hair to his head and his eyes were weary.

"Miss Kingsley," he said, looking a bit startled to see her there. "What are you-?"

"Are you all right?" she interrupted, taking his arm and looking him over. "You're covered in blood! Are you hurt?" She cursed herself. In her haste to meet the boys, she had forgotten her stele.

Gideon's eyes softened somewhat. "I'm all right, miss. Only tired. It isn't my blood."

Annabel looked up at him. "Then whose. . .?" She broke off, dread settling in the pit of her stomach like a heavy stone. Gideon was staring at her intensely. She knew. She knew.

"Gabriel." she choked on his name. Gideon's countenance confirmed it. "Where is he? Where is he?"

"He's right outside, miss, but you should not-" he broke off as she darted around him, making to get out through the door. "Annabel!"

She ignored him. She raced down the steps and when she caught sight of Gabriel, she nearly screamed. He looked so terrible. His sharp, handsome face was deathly pale and drawn tight with pain; the fair skin painted with a smattering of scarlet blood. The same thick fluid coated nearly all of his body. His breathing was harsh and irregular and he walked with a staggering gate; unsteady enough that Jonathan, one of the servants, had to throw his arms out to steady him.

"Gabriel!" she half-shrieked, panic welling up in her chest. Gabriel's head snapped up, his dark emeralds immediately locking on to her. "Annabel?"

"By the Angel, Gabriel," she choked out in a harsh whisper, putting her hands to his face, paying no mind to the coat of blood. She touched his arms, raking her eyes over him feverishly, terror bubbling up inside her throat. "Oh God, what happened to you?" she bit back the sob that threatened to escape her lips and looked up at him with shimmering, horrified eyes.

"Annabel," he murmured, reaching up to touch her face, brushing the back of his hand across her soft cheek. He let out a slow, pained breath. "Automatons. Those dreadful clockwork creatures. Nearly seven of them, in Hyde Park."

Annabel sucked in a sharp breath. Something akin to guilt flooded her completely, filling up her body as though it were her own blood. She felt the tears burn at the back of her eyes. "Why didn't you let me go with you? I'm a Shadowhunter, as well, I could have helped you!"

Gabriel gave her a ghost of a smile. "You are most skilled, Annabel, but these creatures are dangerous, neither demonic nor heavenly in origin. You could have just as easily been hurt, like me, or worse. I wouldn't have that."

"Or I would have succeeded and neither of us would be harmed." she said, glaring at him reproachfully. "Where were you hurt?"

Gabriel sighed. "My back. One of the automatons slashed me while my focus was on another. I think it may be the worst injury I've yet to sustain."

"God, Gabriel. Come on, then." she took hold of him arm, gently, leading him into the manor. She lead him down the corridor to her own room and helped to ease him down on the bed. He was silent the entire time, watching her intently. Annabel turned to Abigail, sending her off to fetch hot water and clean rags. That done, she turned to Gabriel, who was still looking at her.

"Get your gauntlets and that filthy shirt off, so I can look at your wound." she ordered, pulling her hair back on her head with a few pins and a strip of ribbon. She rolled back the sleeves of her nightgown and, when Abigail returned, took the water and rags before dismissing her once more. She placed them on her night table and turned back to Gabriel, who had managed to wrestle off his bloody garments, and tossed them in a pile on the opposite end of the room.

"Sit on the hope chest here, darling." she said, motioning for him to move. She placed the bowl of water on the chest beside him and then crawled onto her bed to perch on her knees behind him. She picked up a clean rag and dipped it in the water, ringing it out before bringing it to the skin of his blood-stained back and scrubbing it all away, gently, careful not to hurt him anymore. Once she had scrubbed away every last drop, she tossed the bloody rag with the rest of his clothes and reached for her stele.

"Be still," she murmured, pressing the tip of the instrument to his skin and carefully etching an iratze. She moved slowly, striving painstakingly for a perfect rune. Iratzes had never been a strong point of hers. Once she was satisfied with her work, she lay the stele back on her night table and stood from the bed. She picked up another clean rag, soaked it, and moved to sit at Gabriel's right side, next to him on the hope chest. She brought the cloth up and gently wiped away the splattered blood.

The stuff spread out from his hair line, creeping out over his left eye completely, running tracts down his perfect face like scarlet tears. It was gruesome and terrifying and he looked more handsome in that moment than she had ever seen him. The mix of candle light and the witchlight sconces upon the walls cast an eerie, almost romantic glow on the room; cast shadows over his angular face, sharpening it, and lending his peridot eyes a mysterious gleam as he gazed at her intensely. Her breath hitched fractionally and she had to force herself to focus on cleaning his blood away.

"Why are you up so late?" he asked, his silken voice-though soft-had startled her in the quiet of the room. His stare never lessened as he awaited her reply.

She met his gaze briefly, looking back at the blood stain a moment later. She swallowed thickly. "I was worried. More than worried, I was utterly terrified for you."

The corners of his beautiful eyes tightened in guilt. "I'm sorry. I do not intend to make you worry over me."

"It isn't your fault, Gabriel. You-we are Shadowhunters. This is our life and these things sometimes happen." her voice caught a bit. She could see in her mind how he had looked when he returned home and it felt like a swift blow to her stomach. She could have sworn her heart had stopped beating entirely.

"I know." he breathed the words out, like a weary sigh. "I know. But I hate to see what these things do to you. Tonight, for instance, you've had no sleep, no peace, because I was out fighting and you did not know if I would return."

Annabel flinched at his words. "Do not say that. Please, do not say that. Do not put such a thought into my head." She stared at him, her large amber eyes shining with such a sadness that he felt his heart constrict painfully within his chest. "I cannot bear to think you might leave me one night and not return."

His intense gaze lessened some as his eyes softened. His lips pulled up into a gentle smile. "My love, I will always come back to you."

Amber met emerald and she searched his eyes for any hint that he felt otherwise, but she could find none. She knew he believed in his heart that he would always come back. He would fight to come back. The very notion made her heart pick up a painful rhythm in her chest. She dropped the wet cloth on the floor and placed her hands on either side of his face.

"Do you promise?" she asked, feeling strangely breathless.

"I swear it to you." he whispered, his voice uneven. She looked at him a moment longer and when she saw him tilt his face toward her, she met him halfway and pressed her lips to his.

A spark of wild electricity shot through her, jolting her senses into awareness. Her lips parted, sighing into his mouth and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She moaned quietly and pressed her body closer to his, relishing the taste and feel of his lips and his tongue caressing hers and his arms coiling around her trim waist to cinch them together. She slid her tiny hands up from his shoulders, past his neck, face, and tangled in his tousled dark locks, clasping him tighter to her. His mouth was hot on hers in a way that made something tighten in her lower belly; a tendril of sensation that wound tighter and tighter until she half-feared she might burst and unravel.

Gabriel's fingers freed her long hair from its bindings and buried themselves in it, winding the strands around them and gripping her firmly as he melded his mouth impossibly even closer to hers. Annabel shuddered in pleasure. Her heart had broken into an unchecked gallop and her mind was raging, caught in the midst of a whirlwind of emotion and sensuality. He was so good. Gabriel tasted of dark spices, mixed with the coppery tang of blood and something else that was distinctly him. She could smell the sharp scent of metal on his skin. He was dark and sensual and burning hot and he was hers.

Finally, probably realizing that they both needed to breathe, Gabriel pulled away, slowly. He kissed her once, twice, three times more; each kiss lingering longer than the one before. He rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closed and breathing hard. Annabel herself was struggling to breathe with short, panting gasps. Her heart was still pounding beneath her chest. Her mind was clouded with the sensation of their kiss; her vision clouded with it. Slowly, she lifted her heavy eyelids and peered up at him from under her lashes.

"Annabel," he murmured, opening his jewel-bright eyes to give her a half-lidded stare. She could see that his green irises had darkened several shades and pupil were largely dilated. His full lips were parted slight, his breath coming in out in deep, slow blows as he began to calm down. "Annabel, my Annabel."

He brushed his lips across hers; a soft, feather-light caress. She sighed softly, content. She kissed the corner of his mouth and drew him to her in a tender embrace. The feel of his arms around her brought on a bout of security and she reveled in it. He was hers. He was hers and he was here and he was safe.

"Gabriel," she whispered. She turned her face into him, burying it in his neck and breathing deeply. "I was so afraid, Gabriel, so terrified. I could feel it in my very core that you had been hurt and I-I . . ." she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. The fear and heartache she had experienced, and the utter shock and disbelief when she had seen him there outside, cut open and soaked in blood, were all fresh in her mind and very close to the surface. And the guilt . . .

"Shh, Annabel, no. No," he crooned, stroking her soft hair. "You have no need to fear for me. Yes, I had been hurt, but I survived, did I not? I am here with you now, am I not? Do not fret, beloved. It will take so much more than a mere scratch to part me from you."

She heaved choked laugh that sounded more like a sob. "A mere scratch? Gabriel, your back had been sliced open completely and your blood was everywhere."

"And still I am here with you, now." he said, firmly, tightening his hold on her. She relaxed into him, helpless to keep from believing in his words, he had spoken them so surely. She was just so relieved and happy. She released a long, quiet sigh and loosened her hold on him, sitting back slightly. She held his dark gaze with her own for what felt an eternity before she spoke.

"I love you."

Gabriel's face broke into a slow smile that slowly grew, creeping across his face as his eyes glowed warmly. He slid his hands around her waist until he found her hands, twining her fingers with his own. He leaned in a pressed a long, sweet kiss to her mouth, which had just begun to swell. He pulled back and when he looked at her his eyes sparkled and his smile lit up his entire face.

"I know you do." he said, squeezing her hands lightly. "I love you, too, more than anything anyone could ever love."

She gave him a soft smile as faint, pink hues stained her cheeks. "More than squabbling with Will Herondale?"

He gave a breathy chuckle and lifted one hand to stroke her still blushing cheek. "It could never hope to compare."

Her flush darkened adorably and, grinning much like the Cheshire Cat, he pulled her in for another kiss.

Well, what did you think? This is the first bit of written work I've completed for this fandom, so I'd appreciate any ideas or constructive criticism. Please, no flames. If there is something you feel could use improvement, tell me in a polite and civilized manner. Do not trash me or my work. If you don't like this, you don't have to read it.

So, don't be shy. Leave a review and tell me your thoughts on this.

Until next time, my dear readers.

~Anna.