A/N: So, basically, I was having some writer's block on my other story, and I decided to write this. Tell me if you like it :)

Jace awoke with a start, Clary's name on his lips in an unspoken shout. Panting, sweat pouring down his face, he ran a hand through his golden hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Something was wrong. He felt it, but he didn't know what it was.

The twin sized bed creaked as he stood, making his way hazily to the door of his bedroom. The handle clicked deafeningly in the silence of the room.

Clary, Jace thought suddenly, Something's wrong with Clary.

He stumbled out of the room and down the long dark hallway of the Institute.

Clary's name was the only thought running through Jace's mind. He had to get to her, had to figure out what was making his stomach churn, and sweat break out on his palms. Something was wrong, and he had to find her.

The light of the bathroom across from the room Clary was staying in was on, and soft yellow light streamed out between the thinly carpeted floor and the bottom edge of the door.

Clary was in there. Jace knew it; he felt it, felt her presence. His gut clenched at the thought of how he would find her.

She was crouched over the toilet seat, her small shoulders shaking. Her fingers clutched the edge of the seat so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She trembled, dry heaving, then she whimpered, a high-pitched pained sound.

Jace gave a short gasp, rushing to her side and falling to his knees next to her. "Clary," his voice sounded frantic, not the way he had intended for it to be, but the way he felt right then. "Clary, what happened?" He laid his hand carefully on her shoulder. He felt as though if he touched her she might break. When the only response she gave him was another barely audible whimper, he laid a hand on her forehead, letting his other arm snake around her waist. She fell back against his chest and began coughing, her tiny hands gripping at his t-shirt. Jace pulled her shivering body tighter against him, "Clary, look at me," the frantic tone of his voice had unintentionally turned to pure panic. He didn't know what was happening to her, why she was pale and clammy, quaking in his arms. This had never happened to him or Alec or Isabelle before. Why wouldn't she say something, anything, which would let him know what this was?

Jace pushed a stray red curl away from her damp forehead. "Clary," he begged, "please, look at me." The only time he had ever seen someone feverish and coughing like this was as a result of demon poisoning. But there was no way she could have been hurt…

Clary glanced up at him, her green eyes momentarily meeting his golden ones. He whispered her name, over and over, until her eyelids fluttered closed and she fell limp in his embrace.

An image of Alec laying half dead in the infirmary flashed trough Jace's mind. And then an alternate image where not Alec, but Clary lay in the same position. The sound of her screaming filled his ears, even though she was unconscious in his arms. Jace's heart raced, his chest contracting painfully at the thought of her in so much pain. He leaned back against the bathroom wall, still holding her, flinching when she did.

Her eyelids fluttered again. "Clary," Jace whispered, "What's going on?" He stroked her cheek, desperate for an answer, desperate to know what he could so to ease the pain she was in, pain he didn't even know what the cause was.

She coughed, struggling to sit up in his lap, but he clutched her to him so she couldn't move. "Jace," she questioned softly, her voice scratchy and weak, "I – I'm okay – " she began coughing again, doubling over and clutching her stomach. Jace wanted to cry, watching her. He couldn't stand seeing her in pain, but he didn't know what he could do. He could only hold her and rub her back, whispering soothingly in her ear.

Then she jumped out of his arms and leaned back over the toilet seat, and threw up. Then she was dry heaving again; whimpering and miserable. It was all Jace could do not to grab her by her shoulders and scream at her, beg her to tell him what was wrong, what he could do to end her pain. He stood on his knees behind her, rubbing her back and pressing short kisses to her bare shoulders.

"Clary," he tried again, "Please, please tell me what's going on."

Her body stopped convulsing long enough for her to whisper, "Jace," before she threw up again. She winced, and wiped her mouth on a towel that hung on the rack by the toilet. Then she turned around and leaned into Jace's chest, her breathing erratic. He brushed his hands over her cheeks, holding her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him.

"Tell me," he ordered gently, "Talk to me, Clary," his voice broke.

"Jace," she whispered again, her green eyes unable to focus completely on him, "I – I'm just sick," she leaned her head on his shoulder, forcing his hands to fall away from her. She pressed her face between his neck and his collar and coughed, once. Her skin burned against his. "It hurts," she whispered. "Jace, please, make it stop."

Jace let out a moan he had been holding in since he first saw her in the bathroom. He didn't know how to make it stop! He couldn't help her, because he didn't know what was going on. She was hurting, and there was nothing he could do.

Clary twisted her fingers tighter into his t-shirt, shivering.

"What's going on in there?" Jocelyn's voice sounded outside the bathroom door. "Is everything alright?" Slowly the mahogany door creaked open, and Clary's mother stood in a pool of yellow light in front of them.

A/N: Cliffanger, I know. I was thinking it would only be a oneshot, but then I couldn't decide what should happen next. There might possibly be a chapter two. Not sure yet.

Sorry if it sucked, but, Review? :)