Isaac didn't know what to think. He didn't know whether or not to believe that this man before them was Jace's father. Apparently, Jace seemed to think so – but his father was supposed to be dead. He said it himself! "I thought you were dead!" Yet, here he was. Was Isaac supposed to believe that Valentine kept prisoners. No, he was apprehensive, and knew that he could not trust this man – no matter how humble he seemed.

"Dad?" Jace asked, and it looked like he was about to cry. Isaac sniffed the air, smelling the relief that came from Jace and the surprise from Clary. How could they not see? How could they not think like him? Not see a foe disguised as a friend.

No, he sniffed the air again, smelling for Jace's father's emotions, and he smelt something he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't happiness, relief, or any emotion that Isaac could think a father would have after finding his son after years apart. It was as if he didn't care – or he didn't care enough.

"Son," the man said as he stood up, hugging his son, which Jace returned. They were so happy – they seemed so happy, but Isaac still stood stiff. "I can't believe it."

After letting go of the embrace, the man continued to look at Jace. "Son, you're hurt," he said, "How did you find me?"

"You're dead. Valentine killed you," Jace said, not looking away from his father, "Valentine's...Valentine's here."

"No, Jace. It's me," the man said, reassuring the blond Shadowhunter. "I'm Michael Wayland. I'm Jace's father," a likely story, "Look, I know what Jace told you, but I've been here for ten years. Valentine took off and left me."

"And Jocelyn Fairchild?" Clary asked, hopeful of the answer yet pessimistic, knowing that the answer would not be in her favor.

"He took her with him," Jace answered, deflating Clary's mood, "You two are?"

"I'm Clary, her daughter," the redhead introduced herself, then the man looked at the werewolf.

"Isaac...Isaac Lahey," it was a lie. It was all a lie. He had told a lie his whole life – most of the time without knowledge. He didn't know, he told himself, he didn't know that he wasn't born in Beacon Hills, that Camden Lahey wasn't his father, and his mother never died and his dad didn't lock him in a freezer. No, it was a lie.

But at the same time, how could he tell the truth? How could he tell them that he was Isaac Fairchild – Isaac Morgenstern. He had continued to lie to them, even after finding the truth, because he was selfish. He told Clary that she was, but in truth, Isaac was the one who kept the secret. Isaac was the one who didn't tell her because he was scared of what the response would be. He was the one who kept it from his sister – who let her believe that both her brothers were dead. Just because he didn't want to tell the truth – because he was selfish.

And he knew he was a hypocrite. He knew that telling Clary off for it, even though he knew he was the same, was being hypocritical. But he wished that she would be better, he wished that she wouldn't be like him – or that's what he told himself.

"Meliorn, the Seelie, told me that he was here with her," Clary told him, again hoping that Michael was wrong and Jocelyn was still there.

Then, Jace fell. "Jace, no!" Clary and Michael went to catch him, Isaac only standing where he was. "It's Ravener venom. He kept telling me he was all right."

Jace panted, "We have to find your father, not my father."

"His stele. Where is it?" Michael asked, searching through Jace's pockets, pulling out the tarot card with the Mortal Cup, which Clary was quick to take – and for good reason, Isaac thought.

"Back pocket. Back pocket," Clary repeated, holding him up as Isaac finally went to help. "What's wrong?" she asked when the rune didn't work.

"The rune is weak," Michael announced, looking at his son with sorrow, but with one sniff, Isaac knew it was fake, that it wasn't real.

"Ravener venom must be spreading," Clary thought, "We have to get him help. We...we closed the Portal."

"Valentine's got a standing Portal," Michael told them. And while Clary and Jace didn't object, Isaac thought it weird that the man would know such a thing. He was a prisoner, when was he let out to see the Portal? Or was he lying?

They began to walk then. "Hey, Jace, stay with me. Hey. Do you remember our first demon fight? We were way out past the Institute, way up at Kinshasa. You were only eight, but you were so brave. Do you remember what you said?"

Jace panted, answering, "'I'm ready to die.'"

"And then I said, 'Sometimes it's as brave to live as it is to die.' Do you remember?"

"I do," Jace said as they stopped. His breathing was heavy as he struggled to remain conscious, "It's true. It's you."

Even after that, Isaac still didn't believe him. He still didn't trust the man who felt virtually nothing after returning with his son – who didn't feel relief or happiness, hope, or anything. But he said nothing, knowing that it wasn't smart to speak in front of Michael, but also that he knew the others wouldn't believe anything he said – thinking it lies.

"Let's go," Michael spoke before leading them to the Portal. They went through it quickly, Clary thinking of the only people she knew could help them – the wolves. Luke was their ally, he would help them when the Clave wouldn't.

Quickly, Isaac kicked open the door before the four of them walked in, Clary calling, "We need help!"

"Clary, what happened?" Simon said, getting up quickly to meet his friend.

"We thought we found Valentine, but he was already gone," Clary explained, placing Jace down on one of the booths.

"Michael Wayland?" Luke asked, confused, as Jace groaned again. Isaac knew that he too was skeptical, an ally that believed he wasn't who he said he was.

"Valentine took my mother with him, but we found Jace's father," Clary continued.

"What? I thought Valentine killed Jace's father," Simon said, looking at Isaac, who shrugged. Not wanting to go over the details, Isaac moved away from Simon and sat down in the booth, not caring enough to help Jace when the blond would easily leave him for dead if it came to it.

"He tried," Michael answered, looking at his old friend with pain, "Hello, Lucian."

Isaac smelt betrayal and jealously from Michael, and his interest was piqued from it. He wondered why exactly Michael would be jealous of Luke. He had nothing of a rivalry between the two 'friends'.

"This can't be," Luke said in disbelief, a feeling that him and Isaac shared. But Isaac also held suspicion, not shock of happiness, which was what Luke was feeling. No, they were very different, and Isaac knew that he was alone with his distrust for the man. "I thought I'd never see you again," Luke stammered the last part out.

"I never thought I'd see anyone again," Michael countered, looking between Luke and his 'son'.

"What happened?" Luke asked, never taking his eyes off of Michael. Isaac wasn't either, but he knew that Luke was looking at the man to make sure he wouldn't disappear.

"Demon got him," Clary answered, "He can't fight the poison. His runes are too weak and he needs blood, but we can't go back to the Institute." She then saw her vampire friend, "Simon. Simon, there's gotta be some kind of blood at Hotel DuMort. Could you call Raphael?"

Someone else said something behind Isaac, but his attention was on the conversation that Simon and Clary were having, and he didn't care to listen.

"Calling won't work," Simon replied, "We have to do this in person. My van is in the garage. You drive, I'll hide under a blanket to stay out of the sun, and...there's underground parking in the hotel."

Clary nodded before looking at Isaac, "Are you coming with us?" She hoped the answer was yes, their trip to the alternate universe had done something good for them; it had started the road into mending their relationship. She hoped to continue that by venturing with him more, but her hopes were crushed when he shook his head no, causing her to sigh.

She felt so foolish after that. He never wanted to spend time with her anymore, and the only reason he went with her to the other universe was to protect her – to live up to the promise Jocelyn made him keep. Or so, she thought. The real answer was much worse, and she wouldn't want it.

"I have to do something else," Isaac said, not looking at her anymore as his eyes burned holes in Michael's head. He didn't trust the man, but he had other problems besides him and he didn't need to worry about the man much. The wolves there would deal with him if there was a problem.

He got up after that, walking out when he realized that he had no vehicle and didn't know exactly where to go from there. Isaac brought up his phone, glad that it still had some charge as he went off to the apartment that belonged to the great warlock he had come to call his best friend.

€

The minute he knocked on the door, it opened to the sight of an unhappy warlock. Isaac smiled, only gaining an eye roll and an entrance to the apartment. He barked some laughter, walking in and making himself a cocktail, knowing that he was going to need it. Magnus then, took the drink from his hand and gulped it down.

"Hey! That was mine!" Isaac snapped before seeing the uninterested look on his face, "What's got your panties in a twist."

"I am now the lawyer for Isabelle Lightwood against the Clave – who do you think will win?" Magnus asked, flopping down on his couch with a groan.

At the mention of Isabelle, his heart skipped, and he cursed it for happening, hating that she did that to him and that he let it continue to happen. Then, when he realized that he was her lawyer, and panic was struck in Isaac.

"Wait – why are you her lawyer? What happened while we were gone?" Isaac asked, not skipping beat when he fired the questions as quick as he could.

"Well," Magnus grumbled, "While you were off doing whatever the hell you were, the Clave decided that they needed the Cup and what better way to do that than create a trial against Isabelle for her involvement in the ambush at the City of Bones?"

Isaac looked down with guilt, knowing that he too helped out in that, that he was there that night and that he left Isabelle. It was at her request, maybe, but he left her only to have her arrested. Yet another reason for Isaac to hate himself.

"Do you think you could win?" Isaac asked, foolish hope in his eyes as he wished so deeply that it could happen.

But Magnus shook his head, looking at Isaac with sadness. "There's no way. The Clave makes the rules and they had make it to win the trial."

"But she could be stripped of her runes! Banished!" Isaac stressed, but it seemed that Magnus didn't care as he moved to another topic.

"And to add to that, Alec is getting married to some wench when they don't even love each other," Magnus spat out bitterly, "All for family, he said."

"Who cares about th – wait, did you just say that Alec's getting married?" Isaac stopped himself, shocked by the new information.

Magnus nodded, and it was evident that he wished to never speak of the topic. But, even though Isaac sympathized with him and would have left the topic alone normally, curiosity consumed him and he had to ask.

The warlock ran his fingers through his hair, continuing, "To Lydia Branwell. She's taking over as leader of the Institute. Alec proposed to help save his family and uphold the Lightwood name, even though he doesn't love her."

"Are you only bitter because you like him as well?" Isaac asked, but he was calling bullshit on Alec for the reason.

Magnus shook his head, disagreeing with the statement, "No, I'd be fine if he was marrying someone he loved – even if it wasn't me. But this – this is wrong, this is going back in time centuries ago with arranged marriages. She doesn't even love him."

Isaac nodded, not going any farther with the topic at hand. Instead, he changed it to talk of his adventure to the alternate universe, knowing that it would be much lighter than that one they were currently talking about.

"We went to an alternate universe," Isaac began, "Clary and I had a family with J-Jocelyn and Valentine. We were actual siblings who were happy and I-I liked it."

Magnus sat up at this, "That's why you have to tell her the truth. You have to let her know this for you two to have the relationship you had in the other universe."

Isaac shook his head, "And I wasn't a werewolf. I was dating Isabelle and we were fine. She liked me and I liked her. There was a point where I just looked at her for a while and I knew that I wanted to stay in that universe forever. I want to be there so I could be happy with Isabelle and there wouldn't be any threat – where we could be happy and nothing would stop us from being a couple."

"Nothing's stopping you know," Magnus spoke, and Isaac was about to say something before the warlock stopped him, "I know that you like Isabelle – it was kinda obvious. And anyways, you deserve to be with her."

He shook his head defiantly, "But I don't. I'm a monster, Magnus. I'm a werewolf but my own choice and I want to kill people sometimes. Still, after all the training I've had, I have anger issues which cause me to be dangerous and I'm not good for her. I'll only hurt her, and I never want to hurt her."

"You won't hurt her," Magnus disagreed, "And yes, you deserve her. Maybe you won't be with her because you'll hurt her, but what if not being with Isabelle hurts her as well? What if she likes you as well and rejecting her would make her feel worse?"

Isaac laughed; the idea was foolish. Isabelle liking him. Him, with all his flaws and self-hatred and problems that amounted to the sky. No, she didn't like him, she would never like him, and that hurt even more.

Magnus knew not to continue the conversation by the look on Isaac's face. He was beating himself up, lying to himself, and Magnus knew that his words would do nothing. All the warlock did was get up and make the two of them another drink, making sure that Isaac's was extra strong.

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It was the next morning when Isaac got a call from Clary. He liked that he had the night off, able to spend the time bitching to his best friend and being bitched to in return. It was nice, leaving the overbearing drama outside and only dealing with the pettiness that seemed to wedge itself in everyone. Isaac liked it, talking to Magnus without trying to get any information out of him. He felt as nice as his last talk with Isabelle, with understanding Isabelle who cared for him.

They talked about the wedding between Alec and Lydia, and the werewolf had also gotten information about the bride (a wench as Magnus called her.) They had also discussed many ways to win Isabelle's trial, but Isaac couldn't help but still feel like it was a lost cause. The Clave would bend any rule it had to, even if it meant harming an innocent one of their own. It was another reason for Isaac to hate the Clave, not that he wanted the council dead already. This just seemed to be the cherry on top.

But his hate for the Clave did not surpass his growing hatred for his sister. No hate, no, he could never hate Clary, but he could be very annoyed at her – and for good reason. When she called, she spoke of her adventure to the Hotel DuMort, how she had gotten blood from Raphael, telling the werewolf how she had threatened him into giving them the blood. Clary seemed so proud of herself, and expected a large amount of praise from her brother, but she had received none. Isaac said that it was great that Jace was healing and asked another question, he could hear the sadness in Clary's voice after that.

But Isaac couldn't feel proud of her, couldn't think of any reason why he should be happy he treated a Downworlder just like other Shadowhunters did. She claimed to be different, a new generation, but she fell into the traditions that made Isaac hate the Clave.

Nonetheless, when he heard what they were planning, to go and find Valentine again, Isaac agreed. It was not for Isabelle that time, not even for Jocelyn, but for himself. He needed to make sure that his sister – his sister – was alright. No longer was it weird for him to mentally call Clary that, she was becoming more comfortable with it, wanting to rebuild their bond, slowly, but when she learned to be true to her words and not threaten people when she saw fit. If she continued on that path, threatening and using Downworlders to her advantage, Isaac would have no choice but to turn away from his sister. He was a Downworlder himself, and he never wanted to think of the possibility of Clary thinking she was better than him.

Slowly, he walked the way to Jade Wolf, taking all the time in the world to reach there, not really caring for the place anymore. When he walked inside, the first words he heard were, "What about Renwick's?"

"Who's Renwick?" Clary asked as Isaac walked over to them, turning stiff at the sight of Michael Wayland.

"I'd like to know that as well," Isaac spoke, alerting them of his presence. He took a chair from another table and sat down by them.

"It's not a who. It's a deserted smallpox hospital on one of the islands of the East River," Luke explained to them.

Clary sighed, shaking her head slightly at the new information, "Under our noses is right. And we can't track over water."

"He left me to die in that cage," Michael spoke bitterly, but with one smell, Isaac knew that there was no bitterness in him.

"Valentine never wasted time on compassion," Luke shook his head.

"He won't get any from me when the time comes," Jace said before getting up.

Stopping his son, Michael spoke, "Before it does, you need a strategy. Waiting a day could mean the difference between failure and success."

"Okay," Jace agreed, continuing with, "Clary and I will scout Renwick's tonight."

Clary then stood up to block his path, "Jace, don't. Your runes are still weak. Luke and I will go. Just take this extra time to rest and..."

"I'll be fine, Clary," Jace said to her, cutting off whatever the girl was going to say next. There was a tension between, not of budding hatred like Isaac's and Clary's, but sexual. It disgusted Isaac, to say the least.

"Jace, please," Clary spoke softly to him, hoping that he would listen and rest.

Jace looked around, trying not to give in before finally letting go, sighing, he told Luke, "Don't let her get you into trouble."

Then, he sat down again. And Isaacstared at Michael, warry of him as he thought of what could happen at Renwick –if they actually went there. And as he did, he was filled with a type of dreadthat could only be described as the thought on impending doom.