Hi there! slurpster here. :) This fic is my first in these fandoms-and my first ever crossover! I'm usually a 39 Clues fic author but since I got addicted to TMI and TID, I figured I should give this story a shot. I know it's pretty corny and that Jace is pretty OOC towards the end but I'd like to think that you enjoyed my story :D so please RNR!

She was fascinated by the beauty of New York. Of course, she had seen the splendor of London in the classic Victorian era but to actually witness the huge changes her old home had metamorphosed into over the years always left her breathless and enchanted. For example: those buildings haven't always been there but now, they seemed to own the sky and reach for the clouds to call their own. They were like temples of the sky god: tall and majestic and magical.

And then, there was her.

Tessa firmly gripped the hand of her beloved Jem when their carriage passed by the art shop called Jules' when she was shocked by the familiarity of the girl's startling red hair. Tessa had only seen hair that vibrant and bright on someone else's head; someone she knew over a century ago. Tessa was ready to call it coincidence, and say that it was impossible that someone she knew could be on a different continent in a different era.

Then Tessa saw who she was with.

The redhead was side-by-side with a gorgeous black headed girl, tall and curvy, with a glossy dark mane that suited her personality. They seemed to be arguing over something; it seemed to be a stick about the length of an arm. Immediately, Tessa recognized it and it was then that she noticed the black curlicues that adorned both of the girls' necks and arms.

They were Shadowhunters. And they were passing a stele back and forth.

Jem calmly placed his hand over Tessa's to calm her down. She looked at him with obvious desperation in her eyes. He halted the driver and instructed him to wait as the couple went down to "check on some things". Jem handed the driver a bill then gracefully went down the carriage, offering his hand up so Tessa may take it. Jem obviously saw Tessa's subject of distress, and being the gentleman he was, he went to try and calm her down. But as they approached the two girls, the black headed one turned around and something red pulsed at her throat: a ruby pendant.

Tessa had only seen a pendant that big and beautiful on someone else's neck. And again, she was from another era, another continent. But that shape of the face was unmistakable, as well as the blue that captivated her the moment they locked eyes.

Unconsciously, Tessa walked towards the black haired girl. Her arms were outstretched by then, her mind drifting through the streets of dark and cold London. Her thoughts were on two beautiful baby boys with hair the color of night and eyes the color of violets as they had inherited from their mother.

And the next thing she knew, the black haired beauty was looking at her with wide, round eyes, as well as a mouth formed in the shape of an O. Tessa fully knew the abilities of Shadowhunters and that they could identify the race of a certain individual almost immediately. Tessa had gotten weird looks from people all her life. She was half-mundane, quarter-angel, and quarter-demon; she was a warlock yet she was also a Shadowhunter.

"May I help you?" the black haired girl asked. Her stance was immediately tense. Her right arm was poised near her hip where a gold whip was wrapped at the ready. The redhead girl was behind her, holding the stele in one hand and the other on something by her belt: a seraph blade.

Immediately, Tessa awoke from her reverie. She smiled faintly. "I-I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else."

But of course, Jem stepped forward and he seemed to have noticed the resemblances already.

"Cecily?" he muttered incredulously.

The black-haired girl scrunched her eyebrows and shook her head. Upon looking at Jem though, she visibly relaxed (he was a Shadowhunter, after all) but not all the way; she must have noticed the scars on Jem's cheeks.

"I'm sorry but we are not who you're looking for," the redhead apologized.

Tessa laced her fingers through Jem's and he was then called back to her. The memories must be painful for him since he was, after all, the one who administered Cecily's farewell, along with all of their other friends. Magnus had told Tessa so since she didn't want to be there to witness all of their deaths herself. Jem looked awful; his slightly tanned skin was pale, and his hand was sweating.

"Forgive us," Tessa said. "You both remind us of friends we have not seen for…ah, a very long time indeed. Have a good day."

Tessa pulled Jem as she marched back to the carriage. As promised, the cart was still there, with the driver alertly observing the New York traffic. They climbed up, and they then began to rattle on. Tessa was rubbing circles on the back of Jem's hand as he pushed a fist into his temple. He was frustrated, but of course, who wouldn't be? They just thought they saw the ghosts of their old friends.

-o-

"We just had the weirdest day," Clary announced as she plopped on Magnus' sofa in his loft.

Alec was sitting by the window ledge and looking out the window when he said, "I'll be the first to ask: Why?"

Simon scooted closer to Isabelle, no doubt interested in their story.

"Well," Clary began. "We were outside Jules' and it was closed. Isabelle was pissed because we travelled three hours to get there—"

"You had to go to that art store. You couldn't get your supplies at the local supermarket, could you?" Isabelle retorted.

"She was pissed then and so," Clary continued. "She insisted that we break in. She was bringing her stele out by then."

"So why didn't you?" Simon asked.

Isabelle's eyebrows were again furrowed, no doubt deciding on something. "This girl came up to us."

"Ooh,…" Simon cooed. "Is she hot?"

Isabelle nudged him with her elbow but Clary trudged on. "She had her arms out like she wanted to hug Izzy or something. And yes, she's hot."

Simon brought his fist down in a yes manner. Isabelle glared at him. "The weird part was, I could feel a demonic presence about her but she also had a light about her aura, you know?"

"No. Not really," Simon replied.

"It was like she was angelic yet demonic at the same time."

At that, even Alec was interested and moved to sit on the sofa across from Clary. "A faerie?"

"No. I'd know a faerie. But this one, she was like a mundane at first but then…I don't know." Clary groaned in frustration. "This is so upsetting! I mean, she's most definitely a demon."

"I agree. Taylor Swift is a demon," Magnus announced as he emerged from his room. He then sat down beside Clary. "What're we talking about again?"

"Weird hot girl outside Jules'." Simon supplied.

"Weird how?"

"Well, they said that they met this angelic demon who was not a faerie," Alec said.

"Angelic demon…" Magnus pondered.

"Could be demonic angel." Clary smirked.

"And then, this guy came up from behind her," Isabelle added.

The image of the brown haired Asian man appeared in Clary's mind. She recognized him to be a Shadowhunter right away. But the marks on his arms were somewhat foreign. They spoke to her of serenity, peace, and discipline.

"And he called me Cecily," Isabelle said.

At the name, Magnus froze as if a pail of cold water had just been poured on him. His cat eyes glowed and his fingertips gently sparked blue. Everyone looked at the warlock in surprise as an eerie silence enveloped their little group. Alec then stood and placed his hand on the warlock's shoulder.

"Tell us," Alec demanded in a soft but firm voice.

Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose, all air of humor gone. His aura was replaced with a kind of sadness and that was only when Clary realized that Magnus was more than seven hundred years old. He must have known friends and lost them within that time span. Too much loss was painful, even for an immortal being.

"The man," he finally uttered. "Did he have scars on both his cheeks?"

Electricity coursed through Clary's whole being. Such news like that was frightening, even though she knew it to be true. The man was a mystery. His aura felt like something ancient and old even though he seemed to only be about twenty. There was something odd about him, and Clary felt that the secrets lied behind the pair of scars across his cheeks.

"The man is James Carstairs," the warlock answered. "And the woman is Tessa." He paused. Swallowed. Stared each of his companions in the eyes. "Tessa Herondale. Jace's great-great-grandmother."

-o-

Go buy snacks. We're sleeping over at Magnus'. Buy LOTS.

Jace sighed. Being bossed around by Isabelle was bad enough; he even had to be bossed by her to buy food for a sleepover. Fortunately, it was only about things as simple as buying food. He remembered six months ago of when he had been under Sebastian's demonic influence. Sebastian would ask him to do something and not only would Jace do it, but he would also be glad to do so.

Growing up, Jace was an independent boy. He was raised by Valentine, the ruthless and heartless Shadowhunter-gone-rogue who wanted the Underworld gone. Jace grew up thinking that life was about competition; you either killed or you got killed. And so, he was taught to do the former. He forgot to love. And then, he was adopted by the Lightwoods who were a normal enough family—ignoring the fact that they were Shadowhunters, of course. He had a sister and two brothers, as well as a pair of parents. He could speak to someone his own age and go out with them to kill demons for fun. He was the leader of their merry band if Alec didn't feel like fighting him for the position. And leading was a role Jace had begun to love.

Outside Taki's, he was about to push the door when his phone vibrated.

Get clothes from Institute after.

Isabelle with another errand. Why did she have to get him to do all these chores? Couldn't they do these themselves? Jace groaned. Typical of Isabelle.

Stepping into Taki's, he sat down by the booth at the corner. There were not much people there that time. He looked around and spotted only two werewolves by the bar and an eccentric couple leaning into each other at the opposite end of the diner.

As a waitress—a new one. What was her name again? Judith? Julie?—came to take his order, he could feel an annoying nagging tug at the pit of his stomach. Distracted, Jace ordered one of everything—so even the vampire could eat. Thoughtful of him, no?

Jace then noticed the couple. There was definitely something eerie about them. Jace tried to ignore them but somehow, it was as if something about them was pulling his attention. The man was lean and muscular, with a light blue t-shirt and jeans ripped at the knees. His complexion was fair, as if he had only been touched by sunlight a few days in his whole life. Jace could only see the side of the man's face but he could clearly make out the light scars that ran down his cheeks. The Marks on his neck and arms shouted Shadowhunter.

The woman across from him was rather lovely. Her hair fell in waves across her back, shiny and brown under the fluorescence. She was rather tall, as compared to other women—like Isabelle. There was also a tenderness about her that reminded him of timelessness, which led him to wonder: How old was she? She looked young, about twenty but the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and her smile got crooked at a tip suggested a tired stance. She could have been someone who had seen too much and pitied the people around her, who knew so little; who saw so little.

He could tell she was a Shadowhunter; but then, his consciousness seemed to scold him for classifying her as a mere Nephilim when there was clearly something exceptional about her. He could also somehow detect some kind of magic surrounding her; it was the same aura that enveloped Magnus.

"That'll be 132 bucks," the waitress said as she placed Jace's orders infront of him.

Absentmindedly, Jace pulled out 200 from his pocket and placed them into her waiting hand. Then, he gestured for her to lean in so his lips could almost touch her ear. "The change is yours if you tell me who those two are."

He pointed to the couple at the corner. Her head followed his finger. Her gaze fell on the man and a slight flush decorated her cheeks. Weeks before, Jace had that effect on women but after the Mortal War, the majority of them seemed to respect him now, no longer attracted to him. They feared him now.

"Well, our cook said that those two come from London." she shrugged and pocketed the bills. "That's all."

She then sashayed away, perhaps to escape with the money before Jace could take a refund due to her insatiable information. Jace sighed then picked the plastic bags—he really bought quite a lot.

-o-

"This information is not to leak, okay?" Magnus assured each one of them. When they all had nodded, he then sat back and faced the ceiling. "As far as anyone is concerned, Tessa Herondale disappeared after her husband died."

"She's Jace's great-great-grandmother," Alec repeated.

"She's Jace's great-great-grandmother," Simon echoed. "And she's hot."

Three heads—Clary's, Isabelle's, and Alec's—turned to shoot daggers at Simon. The vampire held both of his hands up in mock surrender. "Just keepin' it real."

Meanwhile, memories surged through Magnus' mind. Picture after picture appeared and disappeared, taking back with them feelings he had buried deep inside. When he first met them, the members of the London Institute in 1879, he had thought they would just be another establishment he passed through on his road of immortality. He thought their faces would be forgotten; their stories lost after a few months. Unexpectedly, they all had reeled him in and sewed themselves onto his heart that a century later, he could still recall their faces vividly. William with his beautiful dark hair and piercing blue eyes; James with his ethereal look that made Magnus think he was an angel; Charlotte, the small but strong head of the Institute; Henry, the man who buried his face in his inventions more than he did in the Institute's businesses; and finally, Tessa. Tessa Gray—as she was back then—was a lovely young girl with a smart disposition. At first glance, you could tell that she analyzed everything with her clever brown eyes. There was a time in Paris, after Will's death, when Magnus thought he had fallen for her as she cried in his arms. His hands stroked her soft hair as she inconsolably cried into his collar, wetting and ruining his Italian jacket.

He had found that he did not care at the time. That girl lost someone whom she loved so dearly. And that that someone held half her heart.

The first time is always the hardest, he had told her.

She had looked at him with bloodshot eyes. The…the first…?

The first time you watch someone you love die. It'll go away. Eventually.

Half through the night, Tessa had held onto him like a viper onto its prey, refusing to let go. Magnus hadn't complained; he simply listened to her sobs, and stroked her hair. Finally, when she did calm down, her face was ashen and still tear-stained. He had then laid her onto his spare mattress, pulling the quilt up to her chin. She reached for the pillow at the edge of her bed and then muttered, Will.

He thought to himself that he did love that girl, but not in the romantic way. He loved her in the way that one loved his little sister. He cared for her and wanted to protect her throughout her immortal life, knowing full well that she couldn't handle it by herself.

But she did. She managed to. She was a strong woman, after all. She had once summoned the spirit of the angel Ithuriel into her being. She survived then when the Silent Brothers said that it was impossible. She survived when Will kept on pushing her away. She survived when she found out that Jem, her fiancé then, had died. She survived when she discovered that he was a Silent Brother.

She survived when Will died.

"Tessa is an immortal being," he began. The memory still hurt, even after not having thought of it in centuries. "She is a Shadowhunter but also a warlock."

And so he told them of the story of the misfortune that was Tessa Gray. He told them of her aunt's death and her journey to London, and her horrid training under the Dark Sisters. He told them of the fateful encounter of Tessa and Will, and of when Tessa had hit the boy with a pitcher—Clary smiled to herself at this part. He told them of when Tessa had followed the music and found herself in the presence of Jem, the boy not meant to live three years but saw six more. He told them of Tessa's frantic search for her brother and the contempt that Jessamine held towards her. He told them of the mission to the Lightwoods' mansion—Isabelle's and Alec's heads perked up. He told them of a device malfunctioning and of Will biting a vampire but not of holy water and blood. He told them of the betrayal of Tessa's brother and the pain she felt afterward.

He told them of the lives of three people so tightly interwoven that when something happened to one, it greatly affected their whole story. He told them of the love Jem and Will, parabatais, had for Tessa, and her to them. He told them of Will's curse and the reason that he kept his only love away. Magnus told them so much: of the mission to Ravenscar manor; of the automatons and the Magister and his motives; of the spoils; of Ragnor Fell and Woolsey Scott; of yin fen and of dens; of a violin snapping; of Jessamine's betrayal and about a masquerade ball and of a broken pearl necklace; of a blue demon and the relief that followed the disproving of a curse; the proposal; of a deliberate burn caused by a heated poker.

Just when he was running out of breath, Magnus realized that his audience was growing so engrossed in his story that he hadn't the heart to stop then. He then proceeded to the story of the father who had turned into a giant worm; of the sister who tried to pull her brother home with her; of an empty box and a barely teaspoonful of yin fen. It took him all his strength when it got to this part but Magnus merely continued. He then told them of the carriages; of Jem running despite his lack of drugs; of him collapsing and of Jessamine dying in Will's arms. He told them of Tessa's disappearance and of how it affected Will and Jem and nearly killed them both. Of how Jem found out about the love his parabatai harbored for his fiancée and of how he had given them his blessings.

Of how he had sent him away after her. Of how he had called off the search for a cure for his ailment.

He told them of the war between Consul Wayland and the Council, of how much he opposed the idea of having Charlotte Branwell as the new Consul. He told them of the love that developed between Gideon Lightwood and Sophie as well as between Gabriel Lightwood and Cecily Herondale. Magnus told them of Tessa and Will's night at Cadair Idris when they thought Jem was dead. Finally, he told them about the fight that happened the next day. And of how they won.

He told them of Jem not being dead after all, but of being Brother Zachariah. He told them of the Blackfriars Bridge. He told them of Sophie's Ascension. He told them of when little Charles Fairchild enjoyed his first Christmas. He told them of Cortana and of Church and of New York before he moved to Paris.

He then told them of Will's death.

The group was silent. Obviously, that was a lot of information to take in. Magnus had meant to only tell them of Tessa's nature—of how she came to be. But Magnus got carried away by the memories. He felt that the lives had to be told to another generation so it may continue to exist; but where would they go if they were safely in his mind? And was he immortal, or not?

Isabelle was the one who broke the silence. "So Cecily is our great-great-grandmother?"

Magnus nodded. Alec was dumbfounded. He was gaping at the floor with his mouth open. It was interesting to see him let his guard down even if it was just once.

Isabelle took her pendant in her fist. "You bought this," she told Magnus.

Magnus nodded.

"And you gave it to Camille." Nod. "But she gave it back to you when you broke up." Nod. "But you gave it to Will who gave it to Cecily who passed it down to her kids until it reached me."

This time, Clary nodded along with Magnus. "So we all can trace our lineage back to England. Back to the London Institute."

Clary gripped Simon's arm as she felt tears well in her eyes. She crumpled his jacket sleeve and tried hard to restrain her sobs. She could tell that Isabelle was doing the same thing, without the vise grip.

Magnus had just told them a story. One that explained everything very well. Clary could remember Brother Zachariah when she first arrived at the Institute. He had come to help in her healing and recovery after the demon ambush. He had two lines running down his cheeks then. And that was what still bothered her: How did Brother Zachariah revert his being a Silent Brother?

She was about to ask Magnus when the door burst open with such an earsplitting sound that it was a miracle the object didn't snap in half.

At the door, Jace was standing with two bags slung over his shoulders and both of his hands carrying three plastic bags of takeout each. He was pretty furious, judging by the intense look that his eyes had as he swept them around the room. Everyone then tried to fix themselves by patting their cheeks and standing straight.

A look of confusion flitted through Jace's face but he must've thought better than to ask. Instead, he calmly walked over to the counter and placed everything there. Then, he faced the group, both his arms crossed infront of him.

"Okay. I've just been out to get all your needs for you," he announced. "Can we eat? I'm starving."

Magnus cleared his throat and waved his hands around. Immediately, the coffee table was laden with the food Jace bought earlier, steaming and ready.

Clary decided to save her question for later. She had a lot of questions more: I thought demons and Shadowhunters couldn't procreate? What is it about Tessa that the Magister so wanted her for himself? What helped cure Jem's dependence on the drugs? Do I look like my great-great-grandmother like Isabelle does hers?

Why is Tessa still in love with a mortal when she knows that he'll still die before her?

Breaking out of her reverie, she saw Alec scoop Chairman Meow into his arms then stroke his fur. The cat seemed pretty smug and content at the attention.

"You, little guy, have come a long way," Alec muttered. "Church."

In spite of herself, Clary smiled.

-o-

Jem traced lines down Tessa's arm. Her skin was still as soft as he could remember, back in the 19th century. When he was a Silent Brother, he had missed her so much. She was all he thought about, even if he tried so hard not to. It was unpleasant, having the other Brothers reading his thoughts all the time. Eventually, he was able to learn how to shield his dreams from them. He was also able to not think of her a few days at a time, something he considered a feat.

"Did you ever miss your violin?" she asked into his shirt.

Jem nodded. Tessa's eyes flitted to his and he looked down at her. The light in them was gone, reminding him that his parabatai was also gone. Will was a puzzle piece in both of their lives, and a hole no one could ever fill. She used to have a light about her, a childishness and youth that he thought no one could take away.

Will had taken it with him. And it could not be brought back.

"My hands always ached for my violin," Jem confessed. He then pretended to press chords into her skin, as if she was his beloved instrument. "I've always lived with music. It was a very big change for me when I could hear no melody."

"I always wanted to learn to play," Tessa told him. She took his face in her hand and leaned in closer. "So I could play for Will. So I could play for you."

He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. She grinned then. These were the moments that he missed most when he was a Brother: the feeling that someone out there loved him and wanted to hold him in their arms; that someone wanted his warmth as much as he wanted theirs.

"But you learned the piano," he reminded her.

She licked her lips. "It's beautiful, I admit. But the violin always had an elegance about it that I couldn't decipher. The piano is very straightforward but the violin…its strings are as sensitive as the player."

He chuckled. "I am not sensitive."

Her smile grew wider. "Oh really?"

Then, she pressed her lips to his collarbone, trailing kisses up to his neck, under his jaw, his chin, on the scars on his cheeks, and to his eyes. She clambered on top of him then kissed his temples. She inserted her hands into his hair and tangled them, enjoying the softness of his once silver hair. Then, she could feel his hands on her bare skin; they had gone under her nightdress and were then grasping on her thighs, up her belly, and finally settling on her hips.

"I love you," she muttered into his ear.

He gasped as she finally pressed her lips to his, setting both their bodies on fire. He sat up then, and she wrapped both her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Both her legs then went around his waist and his hands continued to go up, up, and up. She gasped and that gave him an opening. Their tongues then were caught in a wild dance, exploring each other thoroughly but it was never enough.

They then broke away. Both were gasping and when they looked into each other's eyes, there was fire there that simply needed to be satiated. Jem then pulled Tessa's dress over her head and dropped it beside their bed. He kissed her neck, down her shoulder.

"Wo ai ni, Tessa."

She trapped his face in both her hands. "Do you remember the second time you told me that?"

He nodded. "You truly are beautiful. No piece could ever define you; no star could trump your light; no flower could best your scent; no silk could defeat the softness of your skin." He kissed her, long on the lips. "I love you. So much."

She then traced his lower lip with her thumb. "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again."

He leaned his forehead down on hers. "One day I'll have to."

She then unbuttoned his shirt. "I don't know if I'll be able to live through it."

"You lived through Will's. You'll live through mine."

She then pulled his shirt off him and cast it aside. She gently traced the silver marks on his chest that used to symbolize his link to Will. The parabatai rune was one she had memorized by heart for every night she had been with Will, she had traced the marks. Such lines portrayed trust and friendship: a friendship that could not be broken; a trust that went deeper than brotherhood.

"You'll live. For me," he said, tilting her face up to meet his.

A tear skidded down her cheek. She was actually young, as compared to other warlocks. She seen only a few things and gone through so little. She had only witnessed the death of one beloved, and escaped the others to refrain from the pain they could bring.

Seeing the ghosts of Cecily and Henry opened the floodgates and her once calm heart was again surfing on a tsunami of regrets and memories.

Jem kissed her again, and she let him take over her. He had always been there for her, even though he knew that she chased after him that day because she couldn't bear being alone again. Magnus had always been there for her but they had to part ways sometime; Magnus was an independent party after all. Sharing the next decades with this man—the man who held the other half of her heart—seemed to open another door of opportunity for her. And so she let herself love again. For the sake of love itself, and for immortality.

"Make me live," she muttered against his lips. "Convince me to live."

He stared at her with sad eyes. She knew that he was remembering that night at the Institute when he came to bid her farewell. He was a Brother then, though not yet fully pledged. She had cried so much, knowing that he was there but not truly living. She knew that he knew about what happened between her and Will and that it killed him deep inside. Yet he gave them his blessing.

They knew each other so well. They were both misunderstood people, both orphaned children whose parents were killed by demons. They were left in the care of another. And so they understood each other perfectly. The loneliness, the pain, the feeling that you didn't belong anywhere.

They both shared it.

And so, Jem laid her back on the pillows and kissed her into oblivion.

-o-

Tessa awoke to the sound of a child sitting by himself in a corner, whimpering silently.

She reached over to Jem's side of the bed and found it empty, only to realize that he was playing the violin. She blinked her still drowsy eyes and stared at her beau.

His lean figure caught the moonlight, giving him a rather peaceful yet unsettling demeanor. His chiseled shoulders gave way to his sculpted back as she trailed his body downwards. She never could get tired of staring at him like this. He was truly beautiful, in his own fragile way.

He no longer needed the yin fen to live. He could live on his own terms and live his life the way he wanted.

"The night is so peaceful," he muttered, pausing his piece.

She bit her lip. "New York is beautiful. I never did appreciate it during the night."

Jem then replaced his violin in its case—they bought a new one earlier, since his instrument was a valuable property at the London Institute. Then, he slowly walked towards the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. He placed his palm on the glass. They rented a penthouse suite simply because they wanted to live as pleasantly as possible. And also because they wanted to spend Tessa and Jem's money to the fullest.

Tessa sat up then wrapped the quilt around her bare self. "What are you so captivated with?"

Jem's eyes were shining, she noticed. "Night in London is this beautiful. With the different lights underneath the dark blue sky." He inhaled. Exhaled. "The first night Will and I became parabatai, he took me up to the roof to look at the landscape."

Next thing she knew, Jem was already leaning his whole body on the window. It was like he wanted to make his body pass through the glass and fall down the 35 floors. He had been extremely sad these past few days, Tessa noticed. Perhaps it was because New York really reminded him of London.

Holding the quilt around her tightly, Tessa then padded towards Jem until she was standing beside him. "You needn't torture yourself like this, Jem."

He looked at her with pained eyes. "Everything about this place reminds me of him. Everything."

Tessa placed her palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes then leaned his head into her hand. "Let everything remind you of him. What's worse than losing someone is forgetting them." She pushed her forehead against his. "He loves you. He wouldn't want to see you badgering yourself."

"When I was a Brother, I got over his death," he told her. "Why are these feelings bothering me now?"

"Because you are not allowed to feel when you're a Brother," she explained. She rubbed his high cheekbones with her thumb. "You're Jem now. You're my Jem. And my Jem is a sensitive man."

He kissed her then, long and deep. His breathing was shallow, and his sweat cold. He held onto her like a falling man onto his harness. She opened her quilt to him, and he embraced her then. He relished in the feel of skin on skin, thinking that there were no longer secrets nor boundaries between them. They could be together now, and no one could say otherwise.

"Magnus sent me a fire message," he muttered in her ear.

"Hm?"

He kissed her neck. "He said that he'll fetch us tomorrow. Seems we're going on a party."

Tessa smiled. "Let's get some sleep then."

Pulling his hand, she led him back to bed.

-o-

Magnus cleared his throat.

Tessa shot up, almost forgetting to cover herself with the covers. She gasped at the sight of the ever fabulous warlock at the foot of her bed.

"Jesus, Magnus!" she exclaimed.

"A pleasure to see you too, Tessa, dear," Magnus replied sarcastically. "I know that you have a lovely body and all but we have got to stop greeting each other like this."

Tessa smacked her palm on her forehead. "Great. What a great way to start the day."

She then grabbed for the robe hanging on the bedside chair. Trying so hard to conceal herself, she shrugged it on, staring all the while at Jem's calm face as he slept on amidst the chaos that was Magnus.

As Tessa clambered off the bed and slipped on her slippers to go to the bathroom to freshen up, Magnus took her place beside Jem's sleeping form. She washed her face on the sink then tried to assess the situation. Magnus had seen her naked several times already so why was she still acting so flustered? She was grateful for the fact that he was bisexual and thus didn't care at all but…

She looked at the mirror and saw that Magnus was slowly pulling the duvet down.

She ran and smacked Magnus' hand away. "What are you doing?"

Magnus shrugged. "I guessed that he was feeling hot and so,…"

"Magnus! He's—" she mouthed 'naked' "—under there!"

Magnus tilted his head and his cat eyes glowed. "Really?" His smile was wicked.

Tessa groaned.

"Tessa?" Jem called sleepily from behind her.

"Jem, I'm sorry I—"

When she turned around, she saw that he had stood up, both eyes still hooded from sleep. He was obviously still drunk from sleep and couldn't see clearly. Tessa's eyes widened and she jumped on the bed, ran over to him, and wrapped her hands around his waist to shield him from Magnus' view.

"Magnus!" she yelled. "At least turn around as I get him his robe!"

Chuckling, Magnus did as she ordered.

-o-

"I didn't know there were any balls like this here anymore," Clary muttered.

She and Jace were slow dancing at the Le Francois Hall. Magnus had ordered a ball be organized in honor of their visitors: Tessa and Jem. Of course, they didn't know, and neither did Jace. All they told him was that Magnus felt like having a party, and so he arranged one. Jace had only shrugged and told them that he didn't want to wear a necktie.

He didn't. He wore a ribbon. Apparently, the ball had the theme "Victorian London". Jace looked very dazzling in his dark blue suit and long-tailed coat. Magnus had it "conjured" especially for him. The blue perfectly complimented his gold hair and bronze skin.

"They're supposed to be out-of-date," he replied.

He twirled her then, and her green silk gown sparkled as the glitters reflected the lights. Her hair was elegantly curled so it fell to her shoulder blades in the olden English style. Magnus assured her that that style was what Queen Victoria had, except for the shockingly red hair.

Magnus' antics had no end. He had given her a green dress that perfectly matched Simon. Jace had a dark blue coat which complimented Isabelle's aqua one. He was purposely trying to anger them.

"You're so beautiful," he told her.

She felt her cheeks warm. "I believe that's the case only because you're beside me."

"That too."

They both grinned. As the song came to its dramatic end, Jace scooped her into a very low dip that her hair swept the floor. She was laughing then, as she desperately gripped onto his lapels for support. Jace then pressed his lips to hers as he stood themselves up. She tangled her fingers in his silky hair and his arms went around her.

An abrupt clearing of the throat broke them off. Smiling at each other, they then directed their attention towards the top of the grand staircase, to where Magnus was standing with a beautifully-clad couple.

"Ladies and gentlemen, introducing our guests of honor for tonight," Magnus announced in a loud, clear voice. There was something in his tone that somehow resembled pride and at the same time, mystery. "Lady Theresa Herondale and Lord James Carstairs."

They both nodded. The other party guests applauded and the couple gracefully climbed down the stairs. They were both truly elegant, as if they had been doing that all their lives. It was not a masquerade ball but they both wore masks. The girl was wearing a flowing gown of pearls and silver, the neckline shaped a V and her sleeves ended where black gloves began. Her gown flattered her body, narrowing at her hips then bunching out at the skirts. They seemed thick but when she moved, the fabric floated. She was very beautiful, with her hair flowing down to the small of her back in thick brown ringlets. Some pearls were stuck in her hair and a tiara sat atop her head.

The man, however, took Clary's breath away. He was very tall, perhaps even taller than Jace. His coat and suit were also made of silver but shone with a slight greenish tint. His ruffled hair waved in the wind and his skin was very pale. He had an air of maturity but of youth; of sadness but of serenity.

Together, they made the most beautiful couple Clary had ever seen.

"Huh," Jace said from beside her. "What're you all gaping at? I'm right here!"

-o-

"I feel so self-conscious all of a sudden," Tessa told Jem as they sat at a vacant table.

The hall was very impressive but was nowhere near the halls in London. Magnus had outdone himself. There was an orchestra, as well as magnificent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The space itself was vast, and there were several people—Tessa estimated for there to be around 200 people in attendance. The banquet tables ran across the hall and were laden with food, fountains, ice sculptures, and glass pyramids. Waiters carried trays of bubbling champagnes and immediately, Tessa remembered the lemonade she had had at the Lightwoods' party.

"This is quite an event," Jem remarked.

He was very beautiful in his silver and mint outfit. Magnus truly had a fantastic fashion sense. What she didn't understand, though, was why they had to wear masks when no one else needed to.

"May I have this dance?"

Tessa looked up and she saw a dazzling young man wearing a stark black suit. He had tanned skin and hair the color of night. What she first noticed about him was his eyes: they were the color of violets.

Tessa looked at Jem and she saw that a lovely woman had also asked for his hand.

Out of impulse, Tessa muttered, "Cecily."

The girl winced.

The boy then went to stand beside the girl. They looked so much like each other that Tessa then deduced that they were siblings.

"My name is Alec," the boy said, pointing to himself. "And this is Isabelle."

The girl curtseyed. "We are siblings. Alec and Isabelle Lightwood."

Tessa sucked in her breath. Jem then stood and bowed. "My name is James Carstairs. Please call me Jem. And this is my beau, Tessa Herondale."

Jem offered Isabelle his arm and she graciously took it. Tessa curtseyed then, remembering her etiquette. She offered her hand to Alec and he unflinchingly took it then kissed her knuckles. Tessa looked to her beloved with questioning eyes. He nodded.

Tessa then let Alec pull her into the dance floor. She watched as Jem did the same with Isabelle Lightwood. She watched Alec and noticed that in the way his shoulders tensed and froze, he resembled Gabriel.

As a new piece began, she laid her hand on his shoulders and held onto his hand. He was surprisingly graceful and agile. His steps were proper and measured, as if he had lived in the 19th century where gentlemen must learn how to dance.

"I know who you are, Tessa Herondale," Alec said.

Tessa guessed that much. "Magnus told you?"

He nodded. "I am very sorry about your misfortune."

She shrugged. The music was surprisingly apt for where their conversation was headed. Beethoven. The song was about his losing his sense of hearing, and about his sadness and lamentation at the loss. It was also his inquiry of what will happen next; of what will then happen to him.

"Does my sister truly look like her?" he then asked her. "Like Cecily?"

Tessa nodded. "Cecily was a very strong-willed woman. She never let anyone get in her way, nor change her mind."

He chuckled. "Like my sister then."

"But you," Tessa added. "You remind me of your ancestor, Gabriel Lightwood. Though not physically, that's all in your Herondale side—"

"I'm a Herondale?" he was quite shocked.

"Yes," Tessa answered. "Cecily was my husband's sister."

He surprised her with his expression. She chuckled then. "Don't worry, though. You take after the Lightwood side. It's just something in your posture, that's all."

Then, he seemed to relax.

Tessa remembered her own wedding, of when Gabriel had asked her to dance, much to Will's dismay. The way he swayed and spinned her around the dance floor left her breathless and tired afterwhich. He was a remarkable and graceful dancer indeed, a trait she recognized in the young man infront of her.

"Tell me about them," Alec shyly said. "About Cecily and Gabriel."

Tessa was all too glad to comply.

-o-

Tessa met a lot of new friends that night. She had a very interesting conversation with Alec Lightwood. Then, she danced with the very charismatic vampire, Simon Lewis, who never had a shortage of jokes to tell. She also danced with Magnus who never ran out of mockeries to tell her.

When the dance was over, they were four feet above the ground.

She managed to steal a dance from Jem. His eyes were surprisingly alight. It was no doubt because of the joy nostalgia brought him, along with the beauty of the music and the night sky above them. He told her that Isabelle was as fiery as Cecily, and that a couple of faeries invited him to dance. Surprisingly though, he wasn't caught by their magic.

When the music ended, Isabelle snatched him from her again and she waved them away. She walked over to their table and sat, glad for the rest.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She was very relaxed, indeed, even if she had been dancing the night away. The familiarity sent her back to the times when Will would literally sweep her off her feet while she was dancing. She saw him everywhere that night: his eyes in the sky; his "secret talent" conducting infront of the orchestra; him standing by the champagne bottles and snatching a few; him waving the waiters over to his table to get their trays of food.

She saw him beside her every single time. He was there, smiling at her, as young as he was the first time she met him.

"Hi."

Tessa opened her eyes and met a slight young girl in an emerald gown. She was lovely.

"May I sit with you?"

Tessa smiled and nodded. It was the redhead girl she saw with Isabelle the day before. She reminded Tessa of Henry even more as she looked closer. Across her pale nose was a splatter of freckles that were painfully familiar with that of Henry's.

"I'm Clarissa," she introduced herself.

"I'm—"

"You're Tessa Herondale," Clarissa finished. "Yes. I know about you."

Tessa smiled in spite of herself. Then, she asked "By any chance, is your last name Fairchild?"

The child seemed taken aback. "Y-yes. How did you—"

"My dear, I met Cecily Lightwood's descendants earlier." Tessa smiled. "I concluded that you are Henry and Charlotte Branwell's."

"Branwell—"

Tessa nodded. "Branwell was supposed to be your last name. But Charlotte decided that Fairchild—her maiden name—suited her child more." Tessa then cleared her throat. "Forgive me. Consul Branwell thought so."

Clarissa's mouth was agape. "My great-great-grandmother was Consul?"

Tessa laughed. "Yes. Slight and slender as she was, her heart was bigger and firmer than anyone else's."

Clarissa sat across from Tessa and held her hands awkwardly in her lap. She was looking down, as if shy. Tessa smiled. Her every movement reminded her of Henry.

"Your hair is as vibrant as that of Henry's," Tessa remarked. "It looks like fire when you move quickly."

Clarissa smiled. "What else reminds you of my ancestors?"

Tessa reached across the table then gently touched Clarissa's chin. "Your eyes shine with the same energy as Charlotte. She was a very jovial woman you see; she had an atmosphere that never got dampened by the rain."

The child's smile was sad. Tessa felt an immediate pity towards her; she inherited Charlotte's joy and delight in everything but when she smiled, she looked like Henry during those nights that he cried over his legs; the legs that were never meant to walk again.

"May I have this dance?" a man asked Clarissa.

He was rather handsome, Tessa noted. He had pale yellow hair and unusually gold eyes set in a toned body clad in the most beautiful shade of royal blue.

"Can't you see I'm talking to someone?" Clarissa scolded him.

Tessa nodded them off. "Don't worry, my dear. Go ahead and have fun. The Victorian era never waited for anyone. And it was such a pity that it ended."

Clarissa then cast her an apologetic smile, as did the man who fetched her. Clarissa looped her hand through the man's arm in an intimacy that Tessa recognized only people in love did. The way they moved in synch with each other, and the way their heads bent towards each other when they talked confirmed Tessa's suspicions.

From out of nowhere, Magnus then held his diamond-studded gloved hand towards her. He was wearing an expectant smile, not an unfamiliar look.

"I don't want to ask you the phrase," he said indignantly. "The offering of the hand implicates as much."

Tessa rolled her eyes but laid her hand on Magnus'. Soon, they were twirling along to Bach, one of Tessa's favorite pieces. It spoke to her strangely of fragility, as if something could break if simply touched. The cello's intense solos spoke to her: they told her to jump; to fly; to run; to break herself.

They dared her to break herself.

"You're the star of the night," he whispered.

Tessa leaned her cheek on his shoulder. "Only because of your magnificent choice in clothes."

She felt Magnus nod. "Of course." Pause. "Are you bothered?"

"By what?"

"The memories."

Tessa breathed Magnus' scent in. He smelled of sandalwood, a familiar smell. She could smell it all the time during her stay at his place in Paris. He had provided her a home and safety back then; sandalwood reminded her of home and safety.

But in Paris, she had cried. She had cried through the night and nightmares dominated her every waking thought. She saw Will in everything; she remembered her children when she saw books; she worried about her grandchildren when she heard the sounds of tykes.

The sound of the tolling bell accused her of being a coward: of running away from her friends and for not being there with them during their time of need.

She nodded. She felt tears well in her eyes. "I just miss him. Why did you have to bring him alive tonight? I see him everywhere."

"Because a part of him is here."

Tessa pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Don't kid me, Magnus. I know Jem and I are here."

"Not in the figurative sense, Tessa," he said. "I mean, you've seen Cecily and Gabriel. You've seen Henry and Charlotte. The only one missing is—"

"Gideon and Sophie."

"Will and you," he corrected.

She felt weak then. Her legs went limp from under her but Magnus' hold on her kept her upright. She saw stars, and knew that these weren't those from the skylight above. These were stars induced by dizziness; a symptom of deliriousness.

"Please don't add another scar to my conscience," she pleaded.

"I'm not," his cat eyes held hers in a gaze so firm and serious that all doubtfulness left her mind entirely. "You haven't met him but he's here."

Magnus gripped her hand tighter in a reassuring squeeze. "His name is Jace. His father was Stephen Herondale. His grandfather Edwardion Herondale."

Tessa shook her head briskly. Edwardion. Edwardion was her eldest son's youngest and only son. Ed was only seven when she left him; still a young child. He was the child who was most fond of her. He inherited his father's blue eyes as well as his raven black hair. He had adorable dimples that showed whenever he smiled, laughed, or simply pursed his lips. He was very pale, so pale that the rosiness in his cheeks stood out. He was very playful; he would always pull Tessa to play hide-and-seek and tag with him and his siblings and cousins. At night, when James would be out with his wife, and the task fell to Tessa to tuck the little ones to bed, he would always ask her to tell him stories: stories of Shadowhunters, of Silent Brothers, of automatons, and of angels.

She could remember Magnus telling her that when she left, Ed had begun engaging himself in athletic events to get rid of his horrible asthma. She had cried then, yelling that his attacks were so fatal that even the doctor said that there was no cure to it. She had begged Magnus to tell Ed to stop his plan. He was perfect just the way he was.

"He's not playing just because he wants to," Magnus told her. "He's playing because he says he wants to find you."

"I paid Edwardion a visit when he was in his last living minutes," Magnus told her then. "He said that he wanted me to tell you something."

Trying and failing to prevent her tears from falling, Tessa leaned in as Magnus made a gesture for her to do so. He said, "'I love you.'"

Magnus then broke away from her then bowed to an incoming couple. They were leaning into each other so intimately that Tessa would have felt bad to interrupt them if she didn't feel so troubled at the moment. Remembering her manners, she curtseyed as well: low and graceful, as she had been taught. When she looked up, it was Clarissa with the blond man.

Magnus took Tessa's hand and pulled her forward. "Clarissa, you have met Tessa. Tessa Herondale, this is Jace. Jace, Tessa."

At the name, Tessa looked at the man closer. He was very tall and stood stick straight. His blue suit complemented his yellow looks and gave him an aura rather like that of a heavenly being—well, he was a Shadowhunter, was he not? The man smiled at her—

And Tessa felt a great weight barge into her chest. Jace looked just like Will, with different colorings. They had the same high cheekbones, eye shapes, lip shape, face shape, even the same chin and eyelash length. These traits she made a quick inventory of.

She felt like crying then but he looked at her with pure respect. He must not know it then. And then, Magnus had asked for Clarissa's hand for the next dance. She took it, looked at Tessa, then smiled. As they twirled away—Magnus really overdid it at times—Jace held his hand out to her.

"May I have this dance, Miss Herondale?" he asked.

She smiled then nodded. As she laid her hand atop his, she quickly observed that his hands felt just like Will's, as well his height as she had danced with Will a lot of times.

Will was everywhere that night.

Tessa swallowed. "I heard your name is Herondale."

Jace shrugged. The orchestra was then playing a foxtrot but the two maintained their slow movements. They seemed to have been enveloped in some kind of a somber veil. "I go by Lightwood."

Her head snapped up to his and, surprising her, he twirled her around. He had a smile that achingly resembled that of her late husband's that it took all she had to not run away and hide from all that. Her heart was nearly bursting with regret and guilt that she was thinking twice about attending the ball despite her having fun earlier that night. Her great-great-grandchild's innocent look made her want to take him in her arms and hug him until the feeling crushing her heart so would go away.

"I was adopted by the Lightwoods when the man who pretended to be my father pretended to have killed himself," he spat in a bitter tone. "They have taken care of me since then."

On his lips was a genuine smile. One, she realized, he didn't give away often. Tessa then thought that she was very comfortable with this boy. With the others who have asked her to dance, she felt awkward and somehow out-of-place with their dancing techniques but with Jace, she could go along with him perfectly. She felt as if she was at home.

His moves were like those of Will's.

"How about your real father?" she asked then.

His head hung down. "He died before I was born," he said in a rather sad tone. Then, he recovered himself and chuckled. "He ran away from the responsibilities of being a father, I guess."

And that did it.

Tessa removed her hands from him and curtseyed. "Forgive me, Jace, but I must retire now." Then, she stepped forward and, slowly, she placed her palm against his cheek. A tear streamed its way down her face then. "I—I'm sorry."

She bowed again and ran away towards the table she and Jem had inhabited. Magnus and Clary were seated there then. Magnus stood and he and Tessa were then engaged in a heated conversation. The man she was with earlier appeared then—was his name John? Jeremy? Clary then looked at him and they locked eyes. In her green gaze was sympathy, he realized. But why would she pity him?

Tessa then shook her head and bowed again, with the man following her lead. They marched out of the hall, up the stairs, and soon, out of sight.

Jace approached the table where Clary and Magnus were still standing dumbfounded. Alec and Isabelle had joined them then, and basing on their faces, they must have noticed the scene as well. They were all looking at Jace then, with expressions of accusation and empathy. Magnus, though, was looking at his hands.

"I knew you looked like him," Magnus muttered. "But I didn't know that you acted like him too."

"What?" Jace inquired. "What're you talking about?"

Clary laid her hand on his and squeezed. "That woman is Tessa Herondale, Jace. She came from London. She was born in the 1800s."

"What—"

Magnus shot him a look then. It was partly anger, and partly relief. "That woman is your great-great-grandmother, Jonathan Christopher."

"You look exactly like her late husband," Clary continued. "She ran away from his children and grandchildren when he died. You know why she walked out. It was something you said."

Jace smacked his palm against his forehead then. He felt disbelief, as well as anger. They knew all along, so why didn't they tell him? And that was when he realized that this whole ball was held so he may meet her; so he may meet his only living family, no matter how wrong it was.

Magnus walked towards him and held both his shoulders. "Go after her. She's the only living flesh and blood you have on this planet. Go."

Jace nodded. Then, casting a backward glance at his friends, he ran. He ran as if his life depended on it.

He ran.

I know it's pretty long but I wanted to sneak them all into a oneshot since I'm so lazy that I haven't even updated my The Aftermath in the 39 Clues section in about seven months...hopefully, I'll be publishing three stories-this, a new The Aftermath chap, and First Blood (also a 39 Clues fic)-today. So please keep on reading, and don't forget to leave your comments! :)))

~ .dauntsthercian warlock.