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Isabelle peers through the lens of the microscope, not really seeing what she’s looking at. What was it? Ichor? Blood? No, it’s saliva. She’s pretty sure it’s saliva.
Silently berating herself, Isabelle pulls back from the microscope. She pulls off her gloves and pushes her goggles up. Rubbing at the indents the goggles left in the skin around her eyes, she looks around the lab. It’s completely empty. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t even noticed everyone was taking their lunchbreak.
Lately, Isabelle’s thoughts have mostly been bent towards one thing, or rather person: Clary. Even when she’s not actively thinking about Clary, the other girl always there, in the background, waiting for Isabelle’s mind to quiet and step forward again.
Isabelle dates, has hook-ups, with both boys and girls, but she’s never felt this want for anyone before. She wants to do everything with Clary: watch the sunset, watch movies, go shopping, stay in bed and mapping out every inch of each other’s body, curl up on the couch in their pyjamas and do nothing, have dinner, have breakfast, talk, dance, sing, laugh, even cry, and whenever Clary is close, Isabelle feels the need for all those things wash over her, making her feel like she’s drowning. It takes her breath away. And that scares her.
She’s been scared plenty of times in her life. She used to be scared for Alec, that he wouldn’t let himself be happy, wouldn’t let himself be himself. She’s scared every time Jace comes up with a plan, because he always puts himself in the most dangerous position. She’s scared for Max, for when he’ll become a full-fledged Shadowhunter, because she’s his big sister and doesn’t want him to even get a scraped knee. She used to be scared for Simon and Clary, that they’d get themselves hurt in this world that was still so new to them, then. Now though, Isabelle is scared for herself.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, trying to dispel the ache in her chest. Falling in love always seems so beautiful in songs and stories. They made her think it would be like finding a home in a person. It is, in a way, but it’s a home built on the edge of a cliff, terrifying and safe at the same time.
A knock at the door pulls Isabelle out of her thoughts. When she looks up, she finds Clary standing in the doorway to the lab. She’s so beautiful, long red hair flowing down her back, bright green eyes, her frame slight, but powerful. Clary’s Marks stand out starkly against her pale skin. There are so many already, even though she’s only been with them for a short while.
‘Hey, Izzy.’
‘Hey,’ Isabelle can’t help smiling back. ‘What are you doing here?’ She pulls the goggles off completely and unclips her hair, letting it tumble down her back. A little smugly, she watches Clary track the movement.
‘Looking for you actually. Can I come in, or are you working on some super sensitive, top secret, highly contaminating thing that I should stay far away from?’
‘It’s safe,’ Isabelle laughs. She pats the chair next to her.
Clary grins and quickly sits down. She’s fidgeting, twining and untwining her fingers, her leg jiggling.
‘Everything okay?’ Isabelle asks. It’s not like Clary to be this nervous around her.
‘Yes, it’s just… This is a bit of a, uhm, important question.’
Isabelle’s heart swells with hope.
‘I was wondering if—‘
Isabelle stops breathing.
‘—you would consider becoming my parabatai?’
Isabelle’s heart freezes. Her hope shatters into a million pieces. She does her best to keep her composure, to smile ruefully, like she regrets having to say no. Maintaining control and to keep thinking clearly under stress is one of the first, and most important, lessons you learn as a Shadowhunter. She never thought she would have to use for anything other than missions.
‘I can’t,’ Isabelle says.
Clary’s shoulders slump. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s not because I don’t think we work great together, or that I don’t like working with you,’ Isabelle assures her friend. She places a hand on Clary’s hands, folding them in her own. ‘Parabatai have to train together. For years. And the parabatai bond has to be created before either is eighteen. We’re both too old.’
‘Well, that sucks,’ Clary pouts, seemingly relieved that it’s not Isabelle rejecting her, but the law.
Isabelle can’t help laughing, even if her heart is still breaking. ‘Yes, it does. And we don’t need to be parabatai to be a good team.’
‘True. We’re a pretty good team already,’ Clary says, with only a lingering trace of disappointment left in her voice.
‘And don’t you forget it.’
Clary smiles her cutest smile, the one that makes her pull up her nose a little, in answer. She squeezes Isabelle’s hand and gets up. At the door she turns. ‘You’re still going to model for me tomorrow, right?’
‘Of course,’ Isabelle assures her.
Clary gives a happy nod, then leaves.
Isabelle turns back to her microscope, but doesn’t look into the lens. She stares at the wall in front of her, rapidly blinking, trying to force her tears back down. She hadn’t known if Clary was in love with her, too, if Clary even thought about her romantically at all, but she’d hoped. She’d even been pretty content with not knowing for the moment, to let herself adjust to feelings that are so new to her.
Enough. She and Clary are friends. They have been from the start and they will continue to be so.
Isabelle yanks a new pair of gloves out of the little box and puts them on, pretending the tear sliding down her cheek is from the sting of the latex snapping against her wrist.
~
Something’s wrong with Isabelle. Or, something’s wrong between her and Isabelle. Clary’s sure of it. They don’t really talk anymore, all their conversations are about missions, demons, and her mom and Luke’s upcoming wedding. They still train together, go on mission together, but something feels off, like they’re out of sync, not enough to be dangerous, but enough to be noticeable.
Clary misses her friend. She misses Izzy trying to cook for her, while enthusiastically talking about a new dress or a possible breakthrough in some theory she’s testing. She misses teasing the boys together. She misses Izzy muttering about how reckless Clary can be, while always being the first to compliment her on the reckless plans if Clary pulls them of. She misses Izzy so much it makes her chest ache.
Which is why she’s going to Alec for advice. She tried Simon first, but he was extremely unhelpful, saying that Isabelle probably wasn’t sleeping well. Jace was only slightly more helpful, telling her he had an idea about what it might be, but if anyone knew what was up, it would be Alec. So here she is, standing in Magnus’ living room, since Alec is all but living at Magnus’ place now.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Magnus greets her with a smile. He hugs her, then gestures for her to take a seat on the couch.
‘Actually, I was hoping I could talk to Alec about something,’ Clary says.
‘I’ll go get him. Here.’ Magnus snaps his fingers and a cup of hot cocoa appears in Clary’s hands. It’s warm and comforting. ‘You look like you need it.’
Clary smiles gratefully, then sits down and looks around the apartment as she waits for Alec. Magnus redecorated again. The place reminds her of the houses you see in British costume dramas, creamy walls with beautiful paintings depicting scenes from mythology, expensive looking vases with bright bouquets, elegantly fragile looking furniture, and where there aren’t paintings on the walls there are large mirrors, making the room look twice as big.
‘Magnus said you wanted to talk to me?’ Alec says as he steps into the living room. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair is plastered to his forehead. She either interrupted his training or a shower. When Alec sits down she smells something rich that always hangs around Magnus. A shower then.
‘It’s about Isabelle.’
Alec stiffens. Yeah, he definitely knows what’s going on. ‘You should talk to her about this.’
‘She won’t talk to me,’ Clary exclaims. ‘At least not about this. It’s all “demons this” and “mission that” and “oh, I just remembered I have to ask Lydia something”.’
Alec chews on his lip, and Clary can almost see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out how far he can go without betraying his sister’s trust.
‘You remember when this started?’
‘About two weeks ago. I think.’
‘Okay, well, do you remember anything that happened then?’
Clary thinks back. There’d been very little demon activity and she’d spent most of her time either training or drawing. And she’d asked Izzy to be her parabatai. Was Isabelle upset they couldn’t bond? That seems a little odd, because Isabelle was the one who’d assured her they don’t need the bond to still be awesome together.
‘The only thing that sticks out is when I asked her to be my parabatai, which she said no to.’
‘You know why?’
‘Because we’re too old.’
‘The age limit is to ensure that parabatai work together as well as possible. The Marks can still be drawn on people over eighteen. The first parabatai were both older.’
Clary frowns in confusion and Alec sighs. She can tell he’s having a hard time with this. Subtlety with words isn’t exactly his specialty.
‘Look, there’s only one reason… one thing that can never happen between parabatai. And, you should ask yourself why exactly you wanted to be Izzy’s parabatai.’ With that Alec gets up.
‘That is not helpful,’ Clary says.
Alec shrugs. ‘I’m not good at making riddles. And Izzy will have my balls if I tell you.’
‘Thanks anyway,’ she says. She puts her cup down on the coffee table. She’s a little scared of leaving a ring on the beautifully painted table, but then remembers Magnus can just magic it away. She gives Alec’s hand a squeeze, yells goodbye to Magnus, wherever he is in the apartment, and goes back to the institute.
Deactivating her invisibility rune, Clary decides to take the subway instead of the fifteen minute walk. It’s not too busy this time of day and the sounds always calm her down, the screeching of the breaks, people talking amongst themselves or on the phone, music blaring through someone’s headphones, the rumbling of the wheels on the tracks echoing through the tunnels, the hush of the doors opening and closing, the cart briefly filling with the sounds of the city before the doors shut and it’s just the sounds of the subway again. Plus, aside from portalling, it’s the quickest ways to get around the city.
Why did she want Isabelle to be her parabatai? Clary asks herself. She trusts Izzy. She loves spending time with Izzy, and gets excited by the idea of spending even more time with her. She wants to get to know Izzy in every possible way. She likes the idea of being bound to Izzy. She would always go on missions with Izzy, keeping her safe, keeping her close.
Clary stops breathing, eyes widening, fingers twitching in shock. When she unfreezes, she ducks inside her jacket, hoping nobody sees the way her cheeks suddenly match her hair as she blushes furiously. Oh god, she has a crush on Isabelle. And she hadn’t even noticed!
Thank god, Izzy had said no when she’d asked about being parabatai.
Izzy had said no to being her parabatai.
There is only one thing that can never happen between parabatai: romance.
And Izzy had said no.
Suddenly, the subway isn’t going fast enough anymore and Clary furiously wishes she could just portal herself into the Institute. Thankfully, her stop is next.
Clary jumps out of the train before the doors are fully open. Grateful for her small frame, she winds her way through the crowd on the platform to the exit. Rush hour is starting soon and the platform is filling up with people who think they can beat it. From the station, it’s only a short run to the Institute.
People look up with raised eyebrows from their screens and papers when she storms in, slamming the door open against the wall, probably scared Clarissa Fairchild is once again the bringer of doom.
‘Clary, is everything okay?’ Jace asks, striding toward her, brow contracted in concern.
‘I need to talk to Izzy,’ Clary explains.
‘I think she’s in the kitchen.’
Clary thinks there’s a knowing smirk on his mouth, but she ignores it in favour of getting to Izzy as soon as possible. The rest of the Shadowhunters present relax when Jace doesn’t spring into action, and they clear a path for Clary as she races to the kitchen.
She finds Isabelle furiously mixing what looks like pancake batter, frowning in concentration. There’s flour in Izzy’s hair and several drops of batter that escaped the bowl, on her arm. Clary’s heart jumps at the sight. How could she have missed that she’s completely gone on this adorably messy, but somehow always perfect looking girl?
She clears her throat, and Isabelle almost drops her bowl in her surprise.
‘I didn’t hear you approach,’ Isabelle says. ‘Your step must be getting quieter. Good job.’
Clary smiles and shakes her head. She wasn’t being quiet at all.
‘Or you were distracted by your pancakes,’ Clary says, nodding at the bowl.
Izzy pouts. ‘It’s supposed to be a cake.’
Clary laughs fondly, and steps forward to take the bowl from Izzy’s hands. Guilt for her obliviousness sweeps through her when Izzy flinches, almost imperceptibly, when their fingers brush.
‘I talked to Alec,’ Clary says.
Isabelle pales a little, but she still mutters: ‘I’m going to kill him.’
‘Or, I can help you bake him a thank-you-cake,’ Clary counters, brushing some of the flour out of Izzy’s hair. A lock of hair falls out of the bun Isabelle had pulled it in, and Clary tucks it behind Izzy’s ear. ‘If you still want to.’
Izzy’s eyes roam over Clary’s face, a happy, knowing smile slowly forming on her lips.
‘You’re not talking about the cake anymore, are you?’ Izzy asks. She steps closer and traps Clary against the kitchen counter.
While they’re technically the same height, Izzy is a little a taller in her heals, so Clary has to tilt her head up to reach Izzy’s lips.
‘No, I’m not,’ she whispers against them.