My phone is ringing, but I don't want to answer it. The constant, trilling tone pierces my aching head until I am sure the hideous, evil sounds will split my skull into a million, trillion pieces.

*Go away!* I shout at the phone, my face buried in my pillow.

It stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief (except not really because my throat is clogged up with phlegm) and close my eyes, attempting to fall back into my blissful oblivion that had just been within my reach when –

*I. Am. SICK! Leave. Me. ALONE!*

The stupid phone begins to ring again.

And I nearly die from a mixture of fury and sore throat/headache/blocked sinuses.

Aline is suddenly in our room, flipping my phone open and pressing it against her ear.


She says it politely and I see her forehead crease when the person on the other end speaks, and then smooth out once again in amusement.

"Oh. Hello, Jaaace."

Despite the teasing way she stretches out the name, my arm jerks out from beneath the nest of blankets, grasping fingers demanding blindly for the mobile.

*Gimme the phone, Aline. Please?*

Apparently, she has a soft spot for sickies because she thrusts the phone in my hand with barely a protest.


I am too sick to analyse his tone, as I usually would have done, so I reply with a simple:

"I'm sick."

"How sick?"

"Very sick."

He gives a breathy laugh that turns into static by the time it reaches my ear and I wince, lifting my head only to wipe my nose.

"I suppose you probably don't feel like talking then?"

He's mocking me a little, but I think I can detect a trace amount of concern and/or sympathy. It's ridiculous how fuzzy the thought of him worrying about me makes me feel. I think I have issues.

"But you're the exception, right? I like talking to you."

I tell myself that if I weren't so doped up on ibuprofen I wouldn't have admitted such a thing.

"What has Aline been giving you, Clary?"

Apparently, Jace is thinking the same thing.

"I'm not quite sure, but it hasn't helped the headache any, I can assure you."

Again the soft breathy laugh, and even though it's a burst of static in my ear by the end of it, I smile.

Because I think I really, really, really like that laugh.

"Poor you."

"Poor me."

I can't help but say it and he laughs again.

"Well, guess what?"

He sounds kind of excited, although he masks it well.


"You're supposed to guess."

I just decided I do not like guessing games.

"Um…one of your feet is bigger than the other?"

There is a moment of silence, filled with incredulous breathing.

"What kind of guess was that?"

He demands it in a petulant tone and I crack a smile.

"Be nice to me, I'm sick. So, what is it?"

"Well, what would you say if I told you I was standing outside your door, right now?"

Surprise and warmth and incredulity fill my tummy at his words.

"I would say you're a complete arse-wipe."


"Because I am sick. We have established this."

"Ok, what if I were to say that I am standing outside your door with a box of extra soft tissues, and soup. Lots of soup."

"I would say get in here or I'll sneeze on you."

Seconds later, the door opens and as I peek out the corner of my nest of blankets, I see the gold eyes I have longed for since the night of that wonderful wedding one month ago.

And he has soup.

Hello dearies! I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! School and homework and the Hamster Wheel have all distracted me from my stories (woops) so please forgive me hahahahaha

You guys are probably hating on me for the lack of face-to-face interaction in this chapter, considering where I left it but I'm fairly sure i'll have the next chapter continue on from this. (Fairly sure.)

Anyway, review, please?

Blue :)

And thank you to:


she lives in a daydream





for your wonderful reviews!

And everybody who favourited or alerted this story!

I love you all! :D

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Mortal Instruments Series, but I do own the Plot to this particular FanFiction.