This prologue takes place two months after the actual story plot. Basically, the entire story will be a sort of flashback. The prologue is in the PRESENT.

This entire story has been edited, including a change in POV, and reuploaded

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments characters.

PROLOGUE

Jace sits patiently in the interrogation room of a police station in a small town of Colorado called Brookside. He waits for a long time. Jace sees a lot of different officers, but no one really talks to him. All they utter are words like "wait here" and "don't move", and "do you understand", and telling him what was going to happen next. He is dizzy, and feels the need to spew his guts. His throat is dry, but he refuses to give in to the water they are offering him.

The room he sits in is small, almost like the size of a storage unit. There is only the seat Jace sits in and the small table in front of him; the walls are bare, with the exception of a CCTV camera in the corner and a giant glass window. Jace knows it's a window because he was able to see into the room before he was placed inside, whereas on the inside, it was a mirror. He has the feeling they are trying to make him feel uncomfortable, but Jace doesn't buy it. He sits there, still as a stone. He's learned to cloud his emotions. And he's learned that if a human is tired, but needs to stay awake they must keep their mind occupied. So that's what Jace does; he sings songs in his head, daydreams, counts up to one hundred in different languages (English, French, Latin, Welsh).

After sitting in the room for what seems like hours, the door finally creaks open. A short, fat police officer whose nametag reads "Officer Crowley" stands in the doorway. Jace sees another officer, a taller dark-skinned man whose nametag reads "Officer DeWitt" stands behind him.

"Good morning, Jace," the stubby police officer says. Jace notices a hairy mole on the man's cheek. He shudders. "she's Officer Crowley and this is her partner, Officer DeWitt."

Jace only stares at the two of them. They stop to stand in front of him.

"You know, Jace," Crowley says, "you've become quite the celebrity over the past couple of months. You realize how much trouble you're in?"

Jace nods. Crowley continues: "You know why you're in trouble?"

"I suppose."

"You understand that this is serious?"

Jace smirks. "It's a lot less serious than you're making it seem."

Chubby slams his hands down on the table and looks Jace right in the eye. He doesn't even flinch. "Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and cigars were found in the truck of a minor, who is thousands of miles away from home. Explain that."

Jace stretches his arms behind his head. "She's a teenager who ran away from home. What else do you want me to say?"

"You're underage, kid. How did you buy all of these illegal things?" He doesn't give Jace time to answer. "That's right. You stole them, with that girl."

Jace struggles to remain calm. "Don't call her that."

"Excuse me?"

"Her name's Clary."

"Are you gonna answer me or not?"

"Fake IDs, buddy. Have you ever been a teenager?"

Crowley scoffs. "Of course I have."

"Lemme rephrase that. Have you ever been a fun teenager?"

The officer's face turns purple with rage. DeWitt steps in. "Alright, enough." He looks at Jace. "Can you tell me why the two of you ran off?"

Jace doesn't answer. He and Clary had discussed this; they swore if one of them—or both—ever get caught by authority, lie. The two of them had come up with an identical story if something like this had ever happened to them and Jace was grateful for thinking ahead. He just wishes he wouldn't have to tell the fake story at all.

His silence causes DeWitt to sigh. He looks over at Crowley, who is standing in the corner with his arms across his chest and nods. The two of them leave the room. Jace sighs and rolls his shoulders. He leans back in his chair. He tries to relax, but he still feels anxious.

DeWitt walks back in the room, Crowley isn't with him.

He says, "My partner's had a bad day. Everyone has been looking for the both of you for two months and when Crowley finally does, he doesn't get praise for it. And to add to his misery, you're being difficult. We're bringing in a special friend of ours if you still refuse to answer our questions. she's going to ask one more time—why did you run away?"

"I'll answer your question." Jace rests his forearms on the table in front of him, his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped together. "But first, you have to answer mine. Why does it matter? she's going back home—that much is obvious. Thousands of kids run away from home all the time and they get away with it. They never see their families anymore. So why am I different? Why do I matter?"

"The Lightwoods asked us to find you. They care about you."

"What are you not telling me?"

"Answer her question now."

"What are you not telling me?" He asks again, his teeth clenched.

DeWitt sighs. "You know your own family, Jace. You know well why they want you back."

"So that I don't ruin their reputation? Is that it? Daddy Lightwood is a really good lawyer and Momher Lightwood hosts charity events; Big Brother Lightwood went to Yale for Law School to follow his father's footsteps and Little Sister Lightwood has her own clothes line for teen girls. All that's left is Baby Brother Lightwood, who's a star at everything he does. I don't get it. she's not even their blood. she's a foster kid they felt bad for. They pitied me. Why do they care? Because it would look bad? Adopt a kid, he runs away; it's because it would look bad on their part, right? Because they couldn't fix him—me, after seven years."

The officer is stunned into silence. Jace curses himself silently. He didn't meant to say all of that. He let them get to him.

DeWitt clears his throat. "My question."

"We haven't lived the best of lives; you probably know that. We aren't—weren't—runaways," Jace pauses. "We're throwaways." This wasn't particularly true; the Lightwoods had taken him in when he was ten years old and they had cared for him and given him a nice home. But it was the other half he was talking about; his birth parents.

DeWitt is silent for a while. "You expect me to believe that?"

"What else are you going to believe? It's the truth."

The officer doesn't say another word. He stares at Jace and Jace stares back, unfazed. Then he leaves without another word. Jace sits back in his chair. He waits in the room for a long time, and the camera in the corner means he is being recorded. He will not let them see how worried he is. He makes his face completely devoid of any emotion.

He decides to count to two hundred while he waits.

Eventually, the two police officers return. Jace stops counting at one hundred and thirty-eight in Latin when the door swings open. Someone trails behind the two officers. Jace tenses up; he stands quickly, his chair falling behind him. His voice is dry and tense. "Alec."

His foster brother, Alec, smiles tightly and nods once. "Jace." He motions for Jace to sit. He does. "We've been looking for you for a while, Jace."

Jace's eyes widen. "We? Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Alec speaks over him. "I need you to tell me why you did what you did and where you went."

"Are you serious?" He looks over at the two cops. "Is he serious?"

Crowley smirks. "Deadly."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Very much, yes."

Alec clears his throat. "Jace."

"she's not answering shit with these guys here."

Alec looks at the officers and they nod in understanding. He shut the door behind the cops and paces the room for a bit. He stops. His eyes lazily land on Jace.

"Because you are underage, you'll be staying under control of juvenile until trial."

"Right down to business, huh?"

"she's glad you didn't physically resist the police when they found you, Jace. That would have made this situation a lot worse. You're friend though, she's sure regrets it." Jace clenches his jaw. Alec can see his muscles tensing. "she's going to try and make things easier for you and get you outta here fast."

"Yeah? And how the fuck are you gonna do that?"

Alec smiles. "By reasoning with them. she's gonna have the court provide services to you, such as counseling. Also have them place restrictions on you, including curfews and drug testing."

"Alec—"

"I'll see you in court, Jace." Alec walks swiftly out the door without another word, leaving Jace in silence.

Not long after, two security guards haul Jace away and into a patrol car where he is taken to a juvenile prison.

July 14th, 2013

It has been days—weeks? I don't remember. But today is the day of her trial. she's not a bad person. I know a lot of prisoners—sorry, "inmates"— use this excuse, but honestly, I am just a 17-year-old-kid who did what any other 17-year-old-kid-with-daddy-issues would have done. I ran away. With a girl. And I maybe sorta fell in love with this girl. And we maybe sorta had illegal things with us, including beer and cigarettes. But like I said—any other 17-year-old-kid.

Anyway. I don't really understand why they've given me this book to write in. They told me "Think of it as therapy," as if I have ever gone to therapy before. So I asked around about it. A kid who had stabbed his father with a fork—never underestimate eating utensils ever again— who also looked way too young to be in juvie told me they give them out to inmates to regularly send in reflections on their life and prison experience. I can tell you this: prison is not that bad. I mean, you've got a toilet and a sink in your room and your food gets cooked for you.

I don't have an ending for this entry. I don't even know why I wrote anything in the first place. I gotta go.

July 15th, 2013

Trial went O.K. Alec, who is supposed to be her brother but is suddenly her lawyer, did a pretty good job defending me. she's free to go after today, with the exception of counseling and drug tests. Can't say she's too happy with him though. See, she's not the only one with daddy issues in the Lightwood family. Our conversation kinda went like this:

ALEC: You're angry.

ME: Obviously I'm angry. I mean what the hell, man? You told me you were going to confront Robert and not go through with finishing Law School. That you wanted to do your own thing, be your own person!

ALEC: I did this for you!

ME: Well next time, don't worry about me.

ALEC: I came here because you're her brother, Jace. I was going to tell Dad off, okay? I was going to, and . . . and then you just—disappeared. What else was I supposed to do? You followed that girl. If it was anybody else, I would have been fine with it and let you do your own thing, but she was the biggest mistake of your life!

I was pretty fucking pissed at this point.

ME: You're saying she's a mistake because she didn't come from money, is that it? I didn't come from money either, Alec. So are you saying that she's the mistake and you're here to clean it up for the sake of your

The door of Jace's cell bursts open. Crowley marches into the cell, DeWitt marches in behind him. Alec is there too. He smiles at Jace; the smile is not returned.

"C'mon, pretty boy." Crowley says. "You get to go home to Mommy and Daddy."

Jace scowls, but he doesn't say anything. He subtly takes the journal; it is small enough to fit up the sleeve of his jumpsuit. They take him to a place where he can change into a set of clothes that Alec bought him. Finally, Jace returns the jumpsuit, gathers all of his court papers and hides the journal in his bag; he's supposed to leave it for professionals to search for any sign of depression or further investigation. There are only two pages written in it, but for some reason he's gotten attached to it and can't leave it behind.

Alec walks over to a silver Porsche and Jace whistles. "Being a lawyer did you good, huh?"

Alec ignores him. "Get in."

Jace shrugs and opens the door. He wonders what happened to his own rusty truck. He didn't really like the old thing, but over the two months with Clary, it really grew on him. So he asks, "Do you know where they took her truck?"

"Junkyard. You won't need it anymore."

"What the fuck, man? I actually liked her truck."

Alec smirks. "You didn't two months ago. We're doing you a favor."

"You're doing me the exact opposite." Jace was struggling to remain calm. "Can't you guys understand that I was actually happy out there? I felt like I was wanted and loved for the first time. But the sake of keeping your family's name is more important than some kid's happiness, right? I mean, do you guys even care?"

"If we didn't care, you'd still be out there."

"If you did care, you mean."

"We're done talking about this."

"No, Alec. We're not. Do you even know why I left?"

Alec glances at Jace. He doesn't have an answer.

"Exactly. Because you're all too busy with your own time than to ask how I'm doing. If my nightmares have gone away—which, they haven't."

"You have nightmares?"

Jace sighs and looks straight ahead. "See what I mean? It was better for me out there. She knew a lot about nightmares. She had some of her own and she would help me through the night. She knows more about me than you and your family ever will. And she and I have only known each other for two months, whereas you and your family have known me for seven fucking years. Can you see now that I belong with her out there they not here with you?"

Alec clears his throat. His voice is soft. "Yeah, man. I get it now. But you know that they could never let you just live on the streets, even if you were happy or not."

Jace nods solemnly. "So it's about responsibility, huh?" Alec opens his mouth to say something but Jace cuts him off. "Before we fly back to New York, can I at least see her one last time?"

Alec visibly swallows and quickly masks his face to show no emotion. "We're five minutes from the airport; she's not turning around now. And besides, I think that would be a bad idea."

"What? Why?"

Alec shrugs. "It might just be harder for you to leave, that's all."

Jace scoffs and mumbles under his breath. "'That's all.'"

At the airport, people recognize him. Jace doesn't like that they recognize him. All of their piercing eyes and whispers about the boy who ran away from a wealthy home. Who would do that? He had everything he could possibly need. Jace wants to throw up. These people don't know what life was like inside the walls of the Lightwood's mansion. It wasn't bad like it was with his father, but it wasn't good either. All types of people asked him questions—reporters, kids, teens with blogs who so happened to be there at the time of his departure, but Alec manages to keep them away.

On the plane, Alec grumbles, "You had to go and get yourself famous, huh?"

Jace smirks, remembering something Clary had told him. "It's not her fault reporters have some sort of weird boner for these kinds of things."

Alec grunts in agreement and the flight is silent the rest of the way home.

Officer Crowley shuffles through the files on Jace Herondale-Lightwood and Clarissa Morgenstern. "Wonder where they were headed off to. They didn't get very far."

"They drove from New York to Colorado in a little over two months in a rusty old pickup while stopping to go sight seeing and sleeping in old, musty motels. Of course they didn't get very far."

"Fair enough," Crowley sniffs. "Now, we gotta discuss the real problem at hand. What about the girl?

"Keep looking."

"But they couldn't find her—"

"Keep looking." Crowley freezes at DeWitt's tone, but he obeys and leaves. DeWitt sighs and rubs his forehead.

Lemme know what you think in the box below, or don't. Like I said, suggestions are always welcome.

Until next time.