It pains me to watch this story end. I'd like to thank everyone that's stuck with me through the long waits and the poor updates. I'd like to express my love for all you loyal readers, and those who've taken the time to connect with this story like I have. I have big projects coming, but this will forever be the hardest story to end. Thank you all. Much love. 3

The penthouse looked just as it had when she'd first arrived—devoid of color, of knickknacks and photographs. The bag hanging over her shoulder felt like a lead weight as she swept her gaze once more across the skyline. It cracked her heart a little to be leaving this all behind, the old life she lived soon to be a memory. "You ready, honey?" a smooth voice inquired, slipping the bag from her shoulder to his.

"Jace!" Clary gasped, trying to take the object back, "The doctors said you shouldn't be lifting anything heavy for at least three weeks!" Jace laughed lightly, hitching the bag higher onto his shoulder.

"You have a very different definition of heavy." She slapped his arm lightly, relishing in the way his eyes trailed her movements, like they didn't want to miss a single thing. His smile shone like a million stars as he took up her hand. "Besides, you have an extra fifteen pounds to haul around—" His eyes widened as Clary's narrowed. "I didn't mean—I know—You look hot—" he sputtered, backtracking his words as Clary burst out in laughter.

"That's right. Keep 'em coming," she told him as he fumbled through another set of strange compliments, ranging from you've got very slim pinkie toes to your hair doesn't even look like a bird's nest today. She'd landed quite the charmer. "I'm going to miss this place," she finally interjected, giving him a reprise from humiliating himself further.

It wasn't so much that she'd miss the physical apartment, with its modernized décor and high end appliances. She'd miss the view of the sunrise over her coffee mug, the way she could hear Jace breathing from any room in the apartment. She'd miss the feeling it gave her. Protection. Freedom. Love. Then she realized that regardless of where she lived, she'd always have that feeling. Jace was home to her. As long as she could be in the circle of his arms, she'd be alright.

"It will still be here, Clary. It's not like they are destroying it." She hadn't realized tears were falling until Jace used his thumb to push one away. Damn pregnancy hormones. "Have you changed your mind? Do you want to stay?" She shook her head, laughing at herself. "Then why are you crying?"

"I have no clue." That drew a chuckle from Jace's mouth as he slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in to kiss her temple.

"I think the new tenants will let us visit anyway." No sooner than those words left his mouth did two people tumble through the opened doorway, bags and boxes in hand. Magnus and Alec poked their heads around the piles in their arms, smiling at the couple as they were greeted. "Right, Alec? You'll let Clary visit?" Alec's brows furrowed, but Jace jerked his head in Clary's teary direction.

"Oh, yes, of course," he stammered, unable to get his words out fast enough.

"Great!" Clary brightened, finally having her emotions in check as she slithered from Jace's embrace, taking up his hand instead. Nodding at the pair, Jace led them from their previous home, closing the door one last time behind them.

Had you told her a year ago if she would be moving out of Jace's penthouse apartment, she'd have believed you. Had you insisted that she'd be moving out with Jace, she'd have had you committed for mental insanity. The man clutching her hand smiled sideways at her as he helped her into the elevator, his hand dropping hers to fall to their growing child. Her heart fluttered at the radiance in his eyes, her chest constricting at the idea that she might have never seen that look on his face, that all-consuming, never-ending love.

A chime rang out, and Jace helped her forward into the car, closing the door behind her. Her eyes followed him as he deposited her bag in the back, skipping around to the driver's seat to slide in beside her. "You like the view?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Keep looking at me like that, and I might go into labor." Jace shook his head, shifting the car into reverse. She was still two weeks out, but she could tell Jace was terrified. Hell, she was terrified and had nine months to prepare. Jace was kind of thrown in right at the end, making all the whirlwind preparations she couldn't do alone. "Home, Jeeves," she tells him finally, clutching his hand as he maneuvers the New York traffic, leaving the city and the past behind for what lay beyond.

X.O.X.O.X

Nightmares still wracked her body every night, but in the indigo midnight, she found strong arms to chase them away. Jace didn't even have to be awake to drive out her fears, a mere brush of his skin against hers was enough to undo the terrors of sleep and calm her frenzied heart. She cradled her stomach, blowing a curl from her forehead as the ceiling fan twirled endlessly above her. "What's wrong?" Jace asked, his voice muffled by the pillow and husky with sleep.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered into the darkness between them, feeling Jace's hand reach out for hers. Waking him up from the depths of sleep always made her feel like a terrible person to live with. She knew that she was a troll if she was awoken too early, but Jace was always calm, reassuring her that he was fine with it.

"Did you have another bad dream?" She nodded softly, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck as he shifted to hold her. Her therapist had insisted discussing her bad dreams was the only way to deal with them, but the idea of reliving what happened was worse than watching it play out the first time. Knowing this, Jace never asked her to disclose what had happened in the privacy of her mind, choosing instead to remind her of happy moments in her life.

"Remember that time at the movies when you made me laugh so hard my soda came through my nose?" She giggled into his skin, his fingers tracing shapes onto the skin of her back. "What about that time Alec came over and caught us in a very interesting position?"

"We were playing Twister, Jace," she huffed. "And I was totally winning."

"Clary, I do believe that is the first lie I've ever heard you tell!" he gasped in mock horror. Clary slapped his cheek, his rumbling chest strumming her body like a guitar, sending a pulsating humming down to her toes. All his words died in his throat as she moved her lips against his neck, trailing a path to his mouth. There was an almost feral noise in the back of his mouth as he pushed her onto her back, hovering above her with dark, lusty eyes. She always felt desired under his hooded gaze, each bat of those thick lashes like a jolt of energy to her insides. Even in this continual swollen state, Jace always seemed to want her, to undress her with his eyes as well as his hands.

His lips had found her pulse point as her hands slid beneath his shirt, relishing in the mapping of scars and muscles she found below. Jace had finally come to terms with the bullet wound in his chest, allowing only Clary to touch it and comment on how badass she found it. It actually really does it for me, Jace, she'd told him in various states of undress, hating how shyly he moved after her fingertips brushed against it.

I'm glad my valiant heroics are your aphrodisiac, he'd quipped, though his humor was uncharacteristically dry. She'd kissed it then, using the little bit of strength she possessed to stop him from stepping away. After that, she was free to roam his naked flesh, undeterred by the unnatural raises and dips in his skin.

She threw her head back against the pillows as Jace shimmied her nightgown up over her belly, splaying his fingers across her skin. "How can you even want me right now?" she asked breathlessly, gesturing toward the large stomach wedged between them. Sometimes she seemed almost disconnected from it, like it wasn't quite a part of her. Her therapist assured her this was normal for women suffering from her condition, but it wasn't right. This was her child. She should feel wholly and eternally linked to it, yet right now, as Jace peered down with wonder, she found herself shrinking into the background, overtaken by the life inside her.

"I want you every second of every day, my beautiful Clary. Yeah, your body has changed, but your soul hasn't." She hated that his words brought tears to her eyes, that he had to stop his ministrations to brush them from her cheeks, but she loved him for being the man that put his own needs second, that cared for her whether he received anything in return. He smiled at her, but it was washed from his face as quickly as it had come, filled with fear as she gasped out in surprise.

"I think…I think my water broke."

X.O.X.O.X

Jace didn't know his hand could be in so much pain and not be broken. He'd hit mafia members, brick walls, and even moving cars, but nothing hurt as much as Clary's hand squeezing his, her eyes screwed shut as moans of agony rippled through the hot room. He felt useless as she lay there screaming profanities at the nurses the way only his Clary could.

But the pain dissipated as he lay eyes on his first child, the nurses placing the squirming wrinkle in Clary's open arms. "Stephen Alexander," she mumbled, brushing a lock of golden hair from the baby's forehead. He'd never thought that babies fresh from the womb were much to look at, with red, puffy skin and clenched fists, but looking down at his child, he was perfect. Of course, he was biased. Stephen had a full head of golden hair, Clary's button nose, and a dimple in his left cheek.

"Do you want to hold him, dad?" the nurse addressed Jace then as Clary extended the child to him. His heart squeezed in his chest like a million hands had reached in and grabbed it. He never thought he would make it to this moment, where someone wholly and entirely depended on him, where he could love anything more than the girl on the hospital bed. He was taken aback by the fierce, undying love and protectiveness he felt toward the child he'd only just laid eyes on.

As Stephen was placed in his arms, though, he knew no other way to feel. His joy overwhelmed him, and for the first time in a long time, tears fell like rain, splashing softly onto the floor below as the baby wriggled in his arms. "I love you," he murmured like he couldn't say it enough, like it would never be enough.

He glanced upward to see the nurses wiping the sweat from Clary's face, but her green eyes were cut to him, the purest shade of jade he'd ever seen. If he ever saw a gemstone the exact color of those eyes, he'd gladly trade his soul for it. This feeling of love was eternal. This family they'd created would stand the test of time. Clary had already showed him nothing could tear them apart, not heaven nor hell, not death nor life. They were together through the thick, the thin, and everything in between.

His previous life had ensured that he'd never fall victim to this supposed trap, to be ensnared and ultimately killed by love, that compassion was a weakness never to be discussed. But Clary made him strong. He could have effortlessly lost his fight in the hospital, had her voice and hand not tethered him to his body. He could have just as easily skipped past her in the auction, lived his wistful days none the wiser, never having met this child in his arms.

He wouldn't trade this life for all the riches in the world. The love of the woman with untamable red curls and the boy with her stubby toes was all the wealth he would ever need.

X.O.X.O.X

Clary kicked off her high heels, falling backward onto the bed as Jace returned from laying a slumbering Stephen in his bassinette. "My feet are killing me," she whined as Jace tugged his shirt over his head, loving the way it made Clary bite her lip, her eyes trailing his rippling abs. After swapping his dress pants for a pair of pajamas, he settled himself on the bed beside her, folding his hands behind his head and watching the ceiling fan spin in circles. Two months post-partum, their life had become a whirlwind of introducing their child to friends and simultaneously disinfecting everything anyone has ever touched. Soon, Clary's feet were looming before his face, her voice inquiring if they were permanently dented from those 'crafted by the devil himself' shoes.

"You're feet are perfect as ever, love," he told her, scrubbing a hand down his face as the pale moonlight caught her creamy skin. He always thought she was the most beautiful in that silver circle of light. It was so raw, capturing every sparkle in her emerald eyes, every red freckle dotting her nose. Her hair was twisted into braids at the back of her head, forming a sort of crown Isabelle had insisted of all her bridesmaids. The wedding had been the event of the century, seemingly cursed by those witches from Hocus Pocus as Isabelle commanded everyone to dance for the entire reception. Not that Jace particularly minded when the woman he loved was in his arms.

"My, my, Jace Herondale…do you have a foot fetish?" Jace rolled his eyes, pushing her feet away from his face, thankful that the night could hide the extent of his excitement. He had been thinking a bit to vividly of the way her body bounced when she swayed, of how she reacted to his touch and everything he wanted to do to her in that damned blue dress.

"I was just thinking about all the things I could do to you in that dress. How much access it would grant me in public spaces. How I could just—" he dissolved into laughter, her brilliant blush like a beacon in the night. At his momentary distraction, she began scrabbling up the bed, snatching the good pillow from his side. "Oh no, you don't." He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling her back down beside him. The pillow still clasped tightly in her arms, she stuck her tongue out at him, not moving an inch.

He tickled her ribs in an attempt to regain control of the pillow.

Squirming under his touch, she managed to catch her breath to sputter, "If this is how…life is…I want…a…DIVORCE." Her laughter ceased as his fingers froze, the weight of her words landing on them both. They both knew it was a joke, but it was one that shocked them both to silence.

"We aren't married, Clary. We can't possibly go through a divorce."

"Well, maybe I want to."

"You want to marry me just to have a divorce?" he asks incredulously.

"No…I'm just saying that if you asked me…I wouldn't be opposed."

"Clary, will you marry me and then instantly divorce me?" he deadpanned.

"Omigod, Jace, just forget it," she huffed, stealing the pillow from beneath his head and curling herself under the blankets. Jace just shook out his curls, kissing the spot behind her ear and dragging her back against his chest. The little box in his nightstand waited unopened as she settled into him.

"I love you," he told her, but her soft snores were already filling the room, a gentle music he was grateful to fall asleep to every night. "Forever and ever."

X.O.X.O.X

"Mamama," Stephen mumbled as Clary held the green mush in front of his face, his dimpled fist pounding against the highchair. "Mamama!"

"Jace!" Clary bellowed, her voice echoing in the high ceilings of their home. Pounding footsteps raced down the stairs, followed by the appearance of the man who could still take her breath away. He wore a tight black t-shirt, sweat clinging to the edges of his curls, his muscles still flexed from his workout.

"What? Is Stephen alright?" he asked breathlessly as he slowed to a stop in front of the child who was obviously not in any imminent danger. "What happened?"

"He's talking!" she squealed, accidentally flinging the goop onto her child's face. She swiped it away with her thumb, thinking nothing of wiping it down the front of her paint-splattered jeans. "Come on, baby, say Mama." Jace set down the iPod he was holding and stood beside Clary.

"No, say Dada."

"Mama."

"Dada." The parents stared each other down with narrowed eyes, challenging the other to continue with the useless contest.

"Mamama," Stephen giggled, breaking up the tension as both sets of eyes turned on him. He gave them a gummy smile, blowing bubbles with his spit.

"It's official. I'm his favorite," Clary announced, taking a bow like she'd just won the most prestigious of awards. Jace rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"Don't be jealous, Jace. Nobody likes the green-eyed monster."

"Your words. Not mine." Clary huffed, cursing the recessive genes that colored her hair and eyes. His phone chimed, and he tapped the screen. "Izzy and Christine will be here any minute." His words fell on deaf ears as Clary and Stephen murmured Mama back and forth to each other like some horror film.

As Isabelle blew through the door, Jace drifted down the hall, shaking his head and muttering to himself that D's are harder to say than M's.

X.O.X.O.X

"Are you sure he's okay? I mean, I could just call Izzy real quick and check—" Jace put his hand over Clary's phone and pushed it down, out of her line of vision.

"Stephen is fine, Clary," he insisted, taking up her hand so she couldn't use the buttons on her phone. She sighed, leaning into his side as the night drew a shiver up her spine. They were strolling through Central Park, the autumn leaves floating to the ground like slow-motion raindrops.

"What if he loses his pacifier? Isabelle doesn't know where the spares are, and he can't sleep if—" He kissed her then, just to end the nervous chatter spilling from her mouth. It was their first time leaving their son in the care of someone else.

"Izzy hasn't killed Christine yet, so I think we're good."

"Not. Funny." Her face betrayed her words just a bit, so he released a laugh.

"Come on, love. Enjoy the night." It was a nice night, with the sun just barely visible over the horizon and a warm cup of cocoa in her hand.

"Maybe we should just go home…" she suggested, but Jace pulled her up short.

"Oh, for Angel's sake," he sighed, exasperated, dropping to the ground.

"Jace, are you alright?" She was panicked, worrying they might be making another trip to the hospital.

"Yes, Clary, I'm just fine," he assured her, digging around in his pocket. "I'm just worried that I won't get to do what I planned tonight." She was about to inquire what more he had planned when a velvet box stunned her to silence. Her hand fluttered to her throat as her jaw fell slack.

"I love the way you never let things happen as planned," he laughed, jerking his head toward where lights were strung up through the trees. She couldn't speak through the hands covering her mouth. "I love everything that make you who you are. And I had a whole speech written in my head, but I can't remember any of it because I was so nervous this wouldn't happen tonight—"

"Yes!" Clary blurted, finally finding her voice. Jace stopped abruptly, furrowing his brow.

"Yes…what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you." Jace laughed once, shaking his head as he popped open the ring box. Nestled in silk was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen. The diamonds were twisted and woven with emeralds in a golden setting, a perfect representation of the twists and turns the pair took to reach this moment.

"I didn't even ask yet."

"Go on then," she nodded, her eyes wide with excitement, sparkling in the dying light. Jace smiled at her, one that reached his eyes.

"Marry me."

"That's not a question."

"But a demand is much more Jace Herondale."

"Your name is an adjective now?"

"And a verb." She rolled her eyes.

"Just put the ring on, you fool."

He bit his lip as he slid the circle onto her finger, watching her move it so it caught the light. "I love you," he told her, standing up so he could envelop her in his arms. She fell into him, her sturdy rock for the rest of her life.

"I know."

"You just Jace Herondaled that."

"Your name is not a verb, Jace."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Herondale." His words brought unexpected tears to her eyes as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she managed, her hair brushing her damp cheeks as she shook her head. "I just…I have a last name again." Jace kissed her then, slow but building, like the love they shared. He cupped the back of her neck as he pulled their foreheads together, his eyes fading into hers like there was no distance between them.

"This one will be yours forever." Happy endings were reserved for fairytales so long. She'd never expected that beneath the water colored sky, she might find the missing piece of her soul. That she might finally be happy.

That's it. Clace is finally happy. I hope you all are, too.

All My Love,

~BallinBlonde21