This is it. I know you guys are excited, but mostly anxious, so you probably won't read this anyways. So, all I'll say is read it to the end for it to make sense.

Clary was six years old when she watched her grandmother die. She could remember the hospital, with its bright lights and uncomfortable chairs. Jonathan had fallen asleep beside her and their parents were too busy huddled together to notice that her crayon broke. With a snap of a red Crayola, so snapped her distraction. She was short for her age which made it easier for her to slip away unnoticed amidst the flurry of rushing legs and gurneys. Somehow, she managed to slip in the room her grandmother was in unnoticed. Briefly, her attention was caught by the slowly beeping box, but at six her attention was fleeting. It quickly returned to the form of her grandmother, who was quiet. Clary padded up to her bed, peeking up at her.

"Grandma," she prodded, "I drew a picture for you."

She waited a moment, maybe two, before shaking her. The woman grunted slightly. A good sign, Clary thought with a smile. Eventually, the woman's eyes weakly flickered open. Clary grinned brightly, proudly holding up her drawing.

"Sorry my crayon broke, but they said you were sick so I wanted to make you better."

Her grandmother smiled gently, though her eyes looked sad. Clary focused on the smile, proud of her work that was good enough to heal her grandma. And Jonathan wanted to make her a card, she scoffed.

"I hope you don't lose your smile," the woman spoke faintly, with much effort. Clary had to strain to hear her. Once more, her grandma's eyes closed shut. For a moment, everything was quiet. All Clary could hear was the sound of her own breath. That was interrupted by the beeping box letting out a long screech. Clary jumped, turning back to her sleeping Grandma.

"I'm sorry Grandma, I didn't do it, I swear."

Yet, the woman didn't stir. How could she not hear the scream?

When the doctors and her parents swarmed into the room, they found Clary continuing to try waking her grandmother. In the chaos, her parents would sit her down and tell her through tearstained eyes about death. One day they would all die. Even her parents, even her brother, and even Clary. If they were lucky, they would die in their sleep, surrounded by their loved ones. Like her grandma just had, right in front of her. No one really knows what lies after death, though many pretend to. But most people believe that when you are a good person, you and your family are reunited once again. One day, hopefully, they would all be together again.

"But," they supplied, "that won't happen for a very long time."

Years later, in what was most definitely not the very long time she had been promised, all she knew was death. Her mother. Her father. Simon. Jonathan. The family she let Jonathan kill. Max. The countless others she had watched die, reaching out to her for help which she could not give. It only made sense that she would have to watch Jace die too.

He fell and for a minute, Clary no longer saw him. In his place were the countless others she had loved who had been taken from her. The vision filled her with so much terror that at first, she hadn't even realized he was still breathing. But he was. Quiet and rough, but breathing. Alive. He wasn't dead…something had just been done to him. Or someone, Clary thought as Valentine's shoes entered her line of sight.

"What did you do to him?" She growled, looking up at the only true monster she had ever known. Valentine didn't glance at her, his attention focused on the seizing boy in her arms.

"No matter what he may think, he is still family. I wouldn't harm him," he stooped down, moving to discard Jace's shirt. Clary pulled Jace's body away protectively. Valentine paused, regarding the girl with varied levels of disinterest, before continuing against her protests. Clary's fighting and efforts to push him off only halted when Jace's arm was bare. She fell back, scrambling from the man she had been fighting to protect only moments beforehand. Valentine paused too, taking in the familiar crescent shaped bite wound that marked his skin. There was no surprise in his gaze, but disappointment.

"He's been bitten," Valentine remarked. "Judging by the bite, I would say it occurred roughly three to four days ago. He doesn't have long."

Of course, Clary knew this too. She had seen enough people bitten to recognize the stages. And if she hadn't been so blinded by happiness when she saw him, she may have put the pieces together earlier. With a shaking breath, she forced herself to look at him. A flash of gold around his neck immediately caught her eye. She angled herself to get a better look when a crash sounded, followed by the ever distinct groaning of zombies. The herd had arrived.

"We have to move to safety. The bite won't kill us but they can still feast and feast they shall," Valentine grabbed her forearm, pulling her up. She skidded her feet, forcing him to stop. Her heart pounded as loudly and violently as a whitewater rapid.

"What did you do to me?"

"Little girl, we hardly have the time to—"

"What did you do to me!" She screeched. He paused, seeming to debate his options.

After a few moments, he drawled, "If you come with me without fighting, I will tell you."

She hesitated, her gaze drawn to the man still lying unconscious and bare chested on the floor. Valentine shook his head.

"As hard as this may be, he's as good as gone. If we bring him with us then we will just have to kill him ourselves or be eaten. He'll be with his kind momentarily."

She forced away the images Valentine supplied. Jace, with deadened eyes and rotting skin. Blood dripping down his mouth. Hovering over her, lunging for the kill. Not recognizing her as anything but a meal. She wasn't ready for those yet. There was never a way to be ready. At the moment, he was alive. To her, that's all that mattered.

"I'm not a child," Clary hissed. "I know how this ends. But I'm not leaving him."

There was another crash, followed by a woman's scream. She crossed her arms, looking to Valentine with a hint of smugness. His jaw was tight as he wordlessly urged her to collect Jace and follow. She was quick to hoist his weight onto her own, gathering him by the waist and levering his arm across her shoulder. His head bobbed, so close to her neck. She swallowed. As they moved, Clary's gaze was once more caught upon a flash of gold around Jace's neck. Her breath caught.

She hadn't seen the Clockwork Angel since before the apocalypse, the last time she had seen Tessa. It was the only one in existence, as far as she knew. Which meant either that after Tessa died, it had been passed from one pickpocket to another until somehow Jace had picked it up or…

She ripped the chain from Jace's neck, pocketing the angel. It would prove important if she was able to survive the night. Of course, her survival wasn't what she was most worried about at the moment. She continued to avoid looking at Jace. What if she saw his skin fading to a yellowish green? What if he opened his eyes and they were no longer his? What if she looked at him and it suddenly became real? It was all too great of a risk. Better to avoid those thoughts, she figured. While she still could.

Valentine turned, practically pushing the two into a dark windowless room covered in screens. He locked the heavy iron door behind him, sealing the three inside for whatever may come. Clary lowered Jace onto the floor before stepping away from him. Valentine smirked at the action.

"What a touching display of young love."

She crossed her arms defensively, not looking at Jace or Valentine, but the room itself. Screens were mounted along the wall, showing the entirety of The Institute. Zombies were now beginning to roam in packs, flooding in through now broken doors and windows. But while Clary could see the zombies and the chaos they sought to inflict, there was very little in terms of victims. Or even the blood soaked remains of victims.

"Where is everyone?" She murmured, remembering hours earlier the amount she had encountered just going through the halls. How had they so easily vanished?

"Your friend Alec is behind that. Him, his sister, my lead scientist, and Jace concocted a plan to gather our community's people into an underground bunker and blow up The Institute, including you and I."

Clary remembered how frantic Jace had been when they had reunited. This is what he had been warning her of. And now, they were trapped in a metal tin can awaiting either the herd or a fiery death.

"I'm assuming you knew this entire time?"

Valentine beamed with pride, saying, "Nothing happens here that I am not privy to. I knew Alec would betray me after he left you, I knew when Jace and Isabelle arrived. And the only reason they escaped to that bunker is that I allowed it."

Valentine leaned down, moving to collect something from Jace's pocket. It was black and circular, unassuming in appearance and topped with a red button.

"There were many flaws with their plan. One of the largest being how they intended to escape when the rubble from this building would cage them in the bunker forever. However, they chose to give their trigger for detonation to a dead man. One whom I knew would never leave your side, at that."

Clary wanted to worry about the fate of her friends, but she imagined where they were was a much safer position than the one she faced. Locked in a room with a mad man and her boyfriend who would eventually turn into a monster. Her eyes remained on the screens, finding the room she had been trapped in with the herd. Bodies and blood coated the walls and floors. A true massacre. She remembered the look in Jace's eyes when he had asked her about what happened in there. A chill ran down her spine.

"Did you do to me what you did to Kaelie?"

She didn't move, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Valentine smiled, satisfied.

"Kaelie was a mistake, a failure that cost me more than I gained," his eyes rested on Jace. "She was among other prototypes and tests."

"Others like Jem?" It was a long shot, Clary figured. But she had a hunch and if it proved correct, it could change everything. Valentine looked at Clary in genuine surprise.

"Now how did you hear about Jem?"

Clary shrugged cheekily, making it clear she wouldn't give up her info unless he gave her the answers she so desperately desired.

"Jem was a special case who I found in the woods, nearly dead. He had been stealing medicine from his group, addicted to the stuff, and had been strung up and left for dead. When I came across him, he had been bitten twice."

Clary found herself brought back to the group of old people who had mentioned a Jem and tied her up with similar intentions. She doubted it was any coincidence.

"I was in need of a new test subject and was curious whether my experiment could be successful on those who have already been bitten. Unfortunately, I was informed by my scientist that he was a failure."

But that wasn't true. Clary's hand brushed over the wooden box Jace had given to her. Alec had thought it important to tell her Jem had been a success, not to simply boast about pulling the wool over Valentine's eyes, but for something else. Something important.

If I choose, there can be another.

It hit her now what was in that box and what Alec had been implying. Jace could be saved. She could choose to save him, just as Jem had secretly lived. But what were the costs?

"Did you or did you not turn me into one of your experiments?"

Clary wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer, but she had to know all the same. She couldn't get her hopes up.

Valentine studied her, before smiling knowingly.

"You want to know whether or not it's safe to use on my nephew in an attempt to spare his life," Valentine put a hand to his chin, gears visibly turning within his mind. "And, as I have already told you what happened to Jem, I'm assuming you know something I don't. Perhaps my scientist was able to slip something by me after all in an attempt to delay my progress."

"Of course," he went on, "even if Jem had lived, there's no way to tell for sure if the effects were permanent or if they eventually began to wear off. Or, whether he eventually exhibited side effects like the others."

"There would be if you told me the truth," Clary growled.

Valentine sat down, appraising her cruelly.

"My dear girl, haven't you been paying attention at all? Only the strongest can survive the blood. Even if you remained true to yourself, it doesn't mean my nephew would. Nothing I say to you can make this choice easier. You said you would rather die than risk losing what makes you human, but would you allow Jace to do the same when you can save him?"

He laughed in a mocking tombre that made Clary flinch. She clutched the wooden box tighter, as if the closer she was to the choice, the easier the decision. But it wasn't easy. She held Jace's life in her hands, but more than that, she held the fate of her own. She knew if it were up to Jace, he wouldn't risk it. He would rather die than lose his humanity and be the very monster he tried to destroy. She would ask the same of him if the situation were reversed. But, her heart screamed to her, then Jace will be dead. Forever. And Clary would be alone, back to where she started. Except this time would be worse. She didn't know if she could recover this time.

But what if Jace could live? What if the two of them could beat death together and escape from this hell? They could take back the future they were meant to have and create a better world. Hope could live again. Instead of living in only befores there could be afters. Could she survive knowing that there had been a chance and she had given it up?

Her hands shook as she opened the box, revealing the small syringe that would either save Jace's life or destroy whatever was left of it. She knew she was giving Valentine exactly what he wanted, but she didn't care. They could deal with Valentine later. But first, Jace would live. Taking a breath, she prepped the syringe. He would…

A hand shot up, stopping her. For a moment—a brief, awful moment—she feared the worst had happened and she had been too late. But no, Jace was looking up at her with those beautiful golden eyes of his. How could she ever have considered living without seeing those eyes again?

"Jace, I—"

"Please Clary," his voice had never been so soft, so vulnerable. "Don't do it. Please don't."

It was like her world came crashing down around her.

"But…I can save you. You don't have to become one of those things. We can be together."

"Not like this." Jace shook his head. "I wouldn't really be alive if I have to lose myself. I could breathe and feel, but you would be taking away the important things. Joy, Grief, Laughter, Love. I've seen what the effects of this do, and I would rather die than let a monster wear my face."

Clary shook her head, tears finally allowed to shed. She was able to keep herself under control before because she was able to pretend it wasn't real. That there was still a way out. And for a moment, there had been a brief flicker of hope. A chance. But even that turned out to be fantasy. Who was she to think that now could be any different when she knew better. It all ends the same.

But she shook her head because it wasn't fair. Because she had known not to open herself up to this hurt again, but had fallen all the same. Because the very act of motion was a partial distraction to the pain that would soon be unleashed.

"I need you, Jace. I just got you back."

His hand moved to cup her face gently.

"Ever since I was bitten, all I've thought about is seeing you. Getting to say goodbye. Now I realize that was selfish of me, for putting you through this again. But I can die knowing you'll be okay. You're strong, stronger than anyone. And now, you know how to cook more than berries, so that's extra points in your favor."

A small laugh escaped her at the reminder of their first meeting. But that laugh soon turned into more tears at the reminder that soon all they would have were memories. And though she had predicted then that he would die, even told him that to his face, she never could have imagined how much it would hurt.

"I love you." She couldn't remember ever loving anyone as much as she loved Jace. They had needed an apocalypse to be brought together. It had been naive to think that the apocalypse couldn't just as easily tear them apart.

"If you love me, promise you won't turn me into that. Promise that you won't let me become a monster. And that you'll survive, but more than that, you can't let the apocalypse win. You can't let it destroy you." His eyes grew softer if that were possible. He chose his words carefully, knowing each one could be his final.

"No matter what happens, I know that doing a favor to the human race by not letting a pretty girl starve to death was the best choice I've ever made."

Clary hadn't even realized she was still holding the syringe to Jace's neck. He had removed his hand from her wrist, sending a silent message. There's nothing stopping you, except for his trust. In the end, he couldn't overpower her. Not in this state. His only defense was the way he looked at her, with love and vulnerability and also fear. For Jace, this would be a worse fate than turning. Yet, his eyes told her, he would still love her if she chose to keep him alive. He couldn't blame her. But could she live with herself?

"This has always been the cost of survival," Valentine's voice echoed across the silent room, reminding her that the two weren't alone. "It doesn't matter how we survive, just that we survive. He's always had too much idealism to understand the depth of the world we live in, but you and I know what's best for him, even if he is willing to give up."

But Clary knew the true cost of survival wasn't about scrambling to hold onto life and what one is willing to do for it. It is the pain one bears knowing those they loved are gone while they live on alone.

Clary looked away from Valentine, back to Jace. His eyes had shut once again. With a deep breath and a quiet sob, she threw the syringe at the wall, just barely missing Valentine's head. It shattered, and in that instant, Clary felt a part of herself shatter as well. But though it had gotten harder to breathe and her chest felt like it was being crushed, she leaned down next to Jace's ear and in a choked whisper said, "I promise."

Clary could have sworn she saw him smile faintly. But that would be impossible. Jace had already stopped breathing.

"Jace?" She felt like she was already dead. "Can you hear me? Are you still there? Jace!"

Clary began to shake him and suddenly she was the six year old girl shaking her grandmother. She was the college freshman begging her boyfriend to remember her. She was the little sister being shielded from her brother putting their parents down. She was the nineteen year old pretending her brother wasn't going to die. She was the survivor watching a little boy die after just opening her heart up again. She was Clarissa Fray.

But the one she was shaking was no longer Jace Herondale. It opened its eyes, startling her. Then came the groan. It was neither a growl nor a moan, but rather something inbetween. Something that had its own flavor, its own distinct pierce as it rang and groaned like the choking of a faulty engine, the churning of gravel and glass, and the desperate squeals of those trying desperately to hang on to life.

It was the sound of death; it was the sound of a life that was taken, just as they too could be taken at any given moment. It was the sound that they would one day hear, suspended above their tired, broken bodies just before they are ripped into and torn apart.

It was the sound of Clary's heart breaking as she looked upon the form of what was once the man she loved and knew she had allowed this to happen. This was what she chose. This was the cost of survival. But maybe it wouldn't be for much longer. Now that she was trapped in a room with a live zombie, it occurred to her that the only one with an active weapon was Valentine. She would be killed by the one she loved.

And despite the effort Clary had put into being a survivor, she was ready. She braced herself for the first bite as the fledgling monster struggled against her hold. The pain never came. Slowly, Clary opened her eyes. It was looking at her, but not really at her. Like she was invisible or…

Her eyes went to the blood and guts still coating her. Just like in that room, the zombie couldn't sense her. But, as she looked in the direction that the thing underneath her was thrashing, she knew one the zombie could sense. And though she had promised Jace she wouldn't let him hurt anyone, she had a feeling he would agree to make one exception. She let him go.

The zombie pounced before Valentine had a chance to reach for his gun. Clary got up from the ground when she heard the first scream. Wordlessly, she avoided the massacre, stooping to collect both Valentine's gun and the detonator from his body. Valentine screamed once more, but this time his eyes were on Clary. Despite being ripped to shreds, Valentine laughed.

"I'm proud of you, Clarissa," he cackled with a twisted gleam. "I always knew you were a survivor. Even without my experiment, you'll go far."

Clary clenched her jaw. A part of her wanted to leave, told her that she didn't need to see this. But she had to stay. She had to watch him die. And when he released his last desperate breath, Clary smiled and took pleasure in shooting him in the head. There was no way she would ever see him again.

The sound of the bullet startled the zombie, who turned towards her. The sight of Jace with blood dripping down his mouth and entrails leaking down his shirt made her dizzy. But it wasn't Jace. It was a promise she had yet to keep.

Clary raised the gun, pointing it at his head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, more tears than she knew how to shed running down her cheeks. "Good night, sleep tight."

We'll both be dead by morning.

She pulled the trigger.

Everything else was a blur. Stumbling out of the room, marching undetected by the other traipsing zombie herd until she was far enough away, and then finally triggering the detonator. She watched the building burn for days. Not that there was much better for her to do. Once again, Clary found herself a lone survivor of the apocalypse. But in spite of everything, Clary had hope. Hope that one day this would all end and better days could come again. Hope that when her time came, she would be reunited with those she had loved and lost. After all she had been through, there had to be someplace better.

But in the meantime, Clary walked alone with only the company of The Clockwork Angel.

"This Angel has never steered me wrong," Tessa had told her once. "Whenever I feel lost, I trust the Angel to help me find what I'm looking for."

Whether Clary would find Tessa or something else, she didn't know. Clary was walking towards hope, no matter how long the journey took.

Years later, an old woman lay in a hospital bed listening to the steady beating of her own heartbeat. Which beat would be her last, she wondered? It was a question she no longer feared because she had done it. She had survived the apocalypse.

"Gran," she smiled at the familiar voice. "I made you a drawing. I know how you don't like cards."

She shifted so she could see the young girl. Little Clarissa grinned up at her toothily, her bright blue eyes and dark hair vivid even in the dim lighting. Though Clarissa wasn't her own grandchild, Clary loved her like her own just as she had loved her mother and grandmother. It had been nearly a year after Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus had been trapped in the bunker that they were reunited. It had been both wonderful and terrible, bringing up painful memories of why Jace wasn't with her while also filling her with love for the ones she had missed.

"That's beautiful sweetheart," Clary smiled warmly, beckoning her closer. The drawing was actually hideous—Little Clarissa had certainly gained her grandmother's art 'skills'—but what she lacked in talent she made up for in adorableness. The seven year old trodded over to her excitedly, though her face fell at the introduction of a new voice.

"Clarissa my dad told you not to bother Granny Clary!" Clary couldn't help but roll her eyes at the know it all tone of Alec and Magnus's youngest grandchild.

"It's fine, Gabriel. She's not hurting anybody."

Clarissa stuck her tongue out at her cousin, a smug grin fixed upon her features. The twelve year old blushed, coming hesitantly closer to Clary.

"I made you a card!" He announced, holding it toward her proudly. Clary and Clarissa exchanged a secret smile and a roll of her eyes before thanking Gabe. He was so much like Alec. He would've been proud of his grandchild.

Alec was the first to go, followed by Magnus the day after by a broken heart. It had been just before the last zombie died. She wished they had been able to see the post apocalyptic world, but knew nevertheless they had been happy.

"Gran, what was it like? Fighting the…zumbas?"

Clary chucked at the little girl who would never know fear, or hunger, or survival.

"They're called zombies, not zumbas," Gabe corrected snottily. "Right, Gran?"

She nodded with a slight roll of her eyes.

"It was hard, but the stars were beautiful."

Clary was the last survivor. She had been to the funerals of Alec, Magnus, Will, Tessa, and most recently, Isabelle. And though Clary was never able to have children of her own due to something Valentine had done to her, she was proud to be part of their families. It had been hell, but because of them, new generations could exist who had never known fear. Jace would be proud.

Because of them, there was an after. And now, it was time for Clary to have her after.

"Gran, what's wrong?" A small voice asked, but Clary couldn't answer.

She awoke to bright sunlight and tender flesh. Her own. Clary jumped up from the street she had no idea how she had come upon but recognized all the same. Her own. From before. Just as her skin and body were young, the age she was in her freshman year of college. Clary's heart beat quickly. Was this a dream or a nightmare? She could never tell, as she had had both frequently that would always begin on this street.

And in front of her, there would always be the same door. The one she had come knocking upon when she had initially fled from Simon. She had never been able to go inside in her dreams, no matter how much she wanted to. But this time felt different. Real.

Slowly, she made her way to the blue door and knocked even though she was afraid. Clary had survived the apocalypse. She could survive whatever was on the other side.

"I was wondering when you would come, little sister," Jonathan stood at the doorway, looking just as he had before. He was beaming as he looked at her. "I've missed you."

"Jonathan!" The words had barely left her lips before she flung herself at him in a hug. He returned it gratefully, holding tight with the promise of never letting go.

"Not just me, sis," he whispered in her ear.

"What do you mean?"

Clary looked up in confusion and saw them. She released Jonathan, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

"Mom, Dad," her voice choked while she continued to take in the room. "Simon…Izzy…Alec…Magnus…Max…Tessa…"

"I think you're forgetting someone here, as much as I do love dramatic suspense."

Clary's breath caught and she spun. Jace was standing behind her, waiting with crossed arms and a wicked smirk she had missed.

"Jace," her voice shook. "You're here."

"I've been here all along. I've just been waiting for you."

She had dreamed of seeing him again every night. Now that he was finally there, it was like her heart was finally full. No longer did she feel like half a person.

"This isn't a dream, is it?" Clary asked. How many times had Isabelle comforted her after she had woken up crying from how real seeing him had felt?

Jace shook his head, eyes sparkling from tears of his own.

"No, this is real. I'm real, you're real, we are all real. But if you need me to prove it…"

Clary was already grinning when he brought her towards him and kissed her. His lips tasted like home, gentle and soft, passionate and in love. They were both crying and smiling and together. Nothing could tear them apart now.

"Are you two just going to be making out in public all the time now or…?"

"Shut up Jonathan!" Clary groaned, glaring at her brother behind her. He rolled his eyes.

"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm not your brother. And just because the two of you are dead doesn't mean I can't hurt anyone that mistreats you."

Ignoring him, she turned back to Jace and grinned, leaning in—

"Yeah, so I'm a bit uncomfortable with this scenario, considering our history and all."

"Shut it, Ratface," Jace snarled. Clary sighed at the profanities Simon was muttering under his breath. She cocked an eyebrow at Jace.

"Is it always this…crowded?" She asked.

Jace smirked back at her, his arms still wrapped around her. She imagined it would be a long time before the two would separate. "Joke all you want, but you love it."

It was true. After a lifetime spent surviving, she felt whole for the first time surrounded by everyone she loved. It was the only after she had ever dreamed of. Clary had survived. Now she had a chance to live.

This story has always been about Clary. Jace's role was in waking her up, showing her that she could still love. As such, an important aspect of this story is humanity. I really considered letting Jace be cured, but it would have gone against the very essence of the story's themes and all Jace has fought for if he took Valentine's 'cure' and everything was fine. And so, I thought more about how this story could have a happy ending and knew it involved Clary having everyone back.

Hopefully, you understood why the ending had to be written this way and felt it did justice to the story's entirety. And, I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart who have chosen to support this story.

-Anika