1} Unexpected

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Warning: There are SPOILERS in this fanfiction. Do not read if you have not yet read the Mortal Instruments series, specifically the City of Heavenly Fire. If you haven't read it, you totally should.

Disclaimer: I do not own the settings, characters or any of the sort. This is merely a fanfiction, as I could not bare to completely part from the beautiful journey Cassandra Clare had took us on. I can not hope to ever have my writing live up to her standards, but I will try to write the best I can.

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June 2008

Isabelle was striding down one of the many halls of the Institute, her high-heeled leather boots making muffled clicking noises on the hard oak floor. She had woken up early and visited Maia at her request, picking up the clothes Simon had left in the the apartment. It was the place he used to share with Praetor Jordan Kyle, the room now belonged to the leader of the New York pack.

Since it had warmed up considerably, she had on beige colored tights, a flowing royal blue mid-thigh skirt, a black sleeveless cardigan with a satin tank top underneath. She had effortlessly combed her waist-length hair into a side braid. As always, the ruby pendent adorned her neck- a device made to warn her of any signs of danger. Though, since the dark war there have been less demon attacks, considering one of the nine demon realms were cut off from earth. She had personally saw to that.

The result?

Isabelle had less time to taste the thrill of decapitating a demon and more time than preferred to sulk in her own thoughts of her mundane, used-to-be boyfriend. If she was alone, she would find herself remembering Simon, annoying and intimate moments alike, pouring into her head. The more she tried to cut off the tidal wave of images, the faster they flowed. She tried to not let the blossom of hope grow, unlike Clary- the petite girl was nothing short of estatic. On the other hand, it takes a while for Isabelle to warm up to a person, and when Simon had finally broken her barriers, he was ripped away from her. She had no intention to bleed anymore. Therefore, she tried to distract herself by being around others.

Jace and Clary were constantly together, though Clary shared her sorrow and loss and also her hopefulness, Jace was not much help. Even though Isabelle loved them both, she was not inclined to be the third wheel, no matter how much pain she was in.

Her parents were still separated, Maryse was usually in the office of the institute, infact, she barely came out. Isabelle knew that her mother was trying to bury her own grief and gratefulness, blessed that her remaining children were still alive, distracting herself with her work. Isabelle had talked to her own mother less than a dozen times in the past half-a-year.

Robert Lightwood, of course was still in Idris, fulfilling his duty of being the Inquisitor. As much as Isabelle wanted to see her parents together, she knew that it was probably better for her father to stay as far away as possible. She still hadn't found it in her heart to forgive him fully, for destroying her family from the inside out.

Isabelle had found herself spending more time with Alec, slowly pushing herself into her brother's relationship. He was grateful at first, yet now she knew that her brother was getting annoyed with her advice, though she had left a considerable amount of space for him and Magnus.

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Today happened to be Chairman Meow's birthday, how old the cat was, she wasn't sure. Like Warlocks, cats have a remarkably long life span. Still, she had a suspicion that Magnus had enchanted his cat to live triple the lifetime of the regular feline.

On her way back from the apartment, she had ran into Alec, still in the process of transferring his last few items over to Magnus's loft. He had wanted to pick out what he wanted to bring over, not just have Magnus instantaneously ship the contents of her brother's room into his loft.

In Isabelle's enchanted handbag, she held Simon's clothes. She wasn't sure exactly how to get the clothes to Simon, as he had not completely regained all his memories yet and the others rarely saw him. Magnus had weekly sessions with Simon, casting spells and such to help him on his journey. Still, it has only been a month since he was introduced to their world again, on the day of Jocelyn's wedding.

Alec had started to dress much more confidently after he had moved in with his boyfriend. Isabelle respected the Warlock, yet his sense of style was quite remarkable, even with her standards. Now, she was in the process of arguing with her brother, trying in vain to convince him that he should get a present for Chairman Meow.

"Boyfriends get presents for their partner's pets, Alec." She informed her brother. He sighed irritably in response.

"Izzy, I know you miss Simon, but could you please butt out of my relationship?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Not this again, she was just trying to help. Besides, she knew that she could have almost any male- human or downworlder, no matter if they were free or not- she desired. She tried once more.

"I'm just saying, you should get Chairman Meow a present, Magnus cares a lot about that feline of his."

They were standing outside of Alec's room now, she saw him put his hand on the brass knob. He opened the door and stepped inside, showing the basically empty room, almost nothing but a small pile of books on the windowsill and the bed, stripped bare. He turned to face her.

"Izzy, that's such a girly thing to do." He spoke matter-of-factly and slammed the door in her face.

She huffed, turning on her heel towards the direction of her own room, just a few doors down. She opened her door, muttering something about how boys could never seem to realize when a girl was genuinely trying to help, and slammed it shut as well. Still annoyed by the recent argument, it took her a few moments to comprehend the fact that she wasn't alone in the room.

Among the mess of all the garments; pastel colors bright and dull, laced silk and patterned velvet, shimmering sequins and clear-cut gems, was a slim, lanky figure sitting shyly on her windowsill.

The mob of chocolate brown hair, slightly styled was unmistakable, as was the glasses she had not yet gotten used to him wearing. She blinked once to make sure he was actually there, just sitting in her room. He must have been real, since the figure of him stayed.

Simon Lewis had been waiting for her.

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