Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

Clary went back to making breakfast for Valentine and Jonathon, who was now sitting beside her father at the table. The room was silent besides the sizzle of the bacon in its skillet for a long time before the silence was eventually broken.

''You have practice today, Jonathon?''

Jonathon glanced over at their father. ''Yeah,'' he said. ''Coach said I would start as defense as usual though.''

Clary looked up to see a red flush of anger gather of Valentine's cheeks. ''I haven't been spending shitloads of money on physical therapy for your arm for you to play defense. You were the star quarterback in junior high.''

''That was before Herondale-''

''No excuses,'' her father snapped, causing Jonathon to fall immediately silent, though Clary saw a defiant flash of anger in his eyes. ''The new physical therapist guaranteed that your arm would be back to normal by the beginning of the season. You must not be trying hard enough.''

''Yes, Father,'' Jonathon mumbled.

Clary used to feel sympathy toward her brother when her father would terrorize him about his failing football career. After the attack, it was brought to light that Herondale had purposefully gone for his throwing arm, to ruin his future and punish her father for something that Clary was not privy to. But once he had joined Valentine in his physical abuse of her, because he needed something small and weak to take out his frustrations on, she had lost any empathy she felt toward him.

The room returned to its former silence, and after Clary served breakfast and they ate their fill, Jonathon and Clary left for school.

Clary covered up the mark that had formed on her cheek from her father's strike to the best of her ability on the car ride over, but she still saw Simon's eyes drift to it when she joined him in front of the school.

He didn't comment, though she could see how much it pained him not to. Her best friend knew about the bruises on her arms, too, but had learned a lesson from her father about opening his mouth about it. It is impossible to accuse the Chief of Police of abusing his daughter without repercussions, and there was more than one scar on his body to prove it.

''Are you doing okay?'' he asked, making sure to keep the question neutral. Jonathan always seemed to be close by, ready to rat him out if he stepped a hair out of line. He didn't approve of her being friends with a boy, or her having friends in general.

''I'm nervous,'' she admitted quietly, leaning against the cool brick at her back. ''He's coming back today.''

Simon nodded in understanding, leaning against the wall beside her, but he turned his body so that only his shoulder pressed against the brick and he was still facing her. ''You don't think he'll do anything, do you?'' he asked her. ''I mean, it's his first day out of juvy, I doubt the first thing on his mind is going back.''

Clary nodded absently, her eyes moving slowly over the crowd.

''You think you will recognize him? It's been four years,'' he asked her.

But his question was answered a few seconds later as he watched her face blanch of color and her eyes widen at what she saw over his shoulder.

''It's going to be okay, Clary,'' he said, reaching down and giving her hand a quick squeeze before dropping it. He silently hoped that no one saw the gesture. ''He only saw you that once. I doubt he will even remember you.''

Clary heard him, but his words seemed like they were spoken through a fog, her attention so heavily tuned to the person walking such a short distance away that she was barely aware of anything else.

She'd forgotten how beautiful he was. Even as she thought it now, she knew that she was crazy not to have remembered.

His eyes were the color of pure gold, and though he looked like an angel in the early morning light, she knew better. Hair a few shades lighter than his eyes was smoothed back from his face, shining brightly even through the dark shadows his hood cast over it.

He wore a sleeveless hoodie over a normal black tee that accentuated the perfect definition of his body and showcased the toned muscles of his arms. His equally toned legs were encased in tight black jeans that disappeared into a pair of steel-toed leather boots. His expression was guarded and tense, even as he carried on a conversation with the two people flanking him as he walked.

The girl on his right was beautiful, with hair that tumbled all the way down to her ass. Her black slip of a dress was dark, and bared a fair amount of her pale skin to the eye. Her own eyes were dark, with smokey makeup that made her look like she belonged in an old gothic movie.

The boy on his left was dressed casually in a black dress shirt and jeans, his dark hair cropped short and styled to perfection. His striking features betrayed his relation to the girl, with the exception of his cold blue eyes.

Clary swallowed hard as they walked past, and averted her gaze to the ground.

Simon was less subtle, staring openly after them, though Clary suspected it was the girl he was watching after and not the golden boy from her nightmares.

Clary let out a sigh of relief after they had passed a fair distance away, and smacked Simon on the arm to return his attention from the girl's ass. Simon smiled shamelessly back at her, and just as Clary let herself smile back, thinking she was in the clear, she heard a voice call out after the newcomers.

''Look who's back.''

Clary sucked in a sharp breath at the voice, and Simon's shocked expression when he looked over her shoulder confirmed that her dread was warranted.

She turned and looked to find Jonathon standing in front of the three, his arms crossed over his chest and a few of his fellow football teammates at his back.

Clary was moving before she could stop herself, and shook Simon's hand off when he reached to stop her.

''Jonathan Herondale,'' her brother said, a predatory smile forming on his face. ''I thought you would be smarter than to show your face here again.''

''I go by Jace now,'' the golden boy corrected with a smirk, pulling down his hood with both hands. The action brought attention to his arms, as well as the detail there that Clary had missed during her initial inspection of him.

All along his arms were various tattoos, nonsensical patterns of pure black that traced the lengths of his arms and disappeared into the sleeves of his shirt.

''I wasn't particularly thrilled to share the same name as the son of a murderer,'' Jace continued casually, and the expression on Jonathon's face made her catch her breath.

His hands were on Jace in a flash, and Jace snapped at the two beside him to stay back when they moved to intervene. He kept his hands out to the sides, making sure it was clear that he was not participating in the violence.

''Go ahead,'' he taunted, his voice calm and controlled. ''Follow in daddy's footsteps. You're already an accomplice, why not take the final step?''

Jonathon's face flushed and he raised his right arm back, his fingers clenched tight in a fist, but the strength behind his arm was lacking and it faltered obviously.

''Problem with your arm?''

There were gasps all around from the people that had gathered at the scene, and more people turned toward it out of curiosity. Only a few seconds passed before a crowd had formed around them, stinking of anticipation of a fight.

Jace's taunt was the last straw for Jonathon.

His fist started down, and though Clary knew it wasn't the same as it had been before, she found herself shouting out before she could think any better of it.

''Jonathon!''

Her brother's fist faltered, and when he looked over Jace's shoulder at her standing a few feet away, it fell passively back down to his side.

Jace followed his gaze and turned his head to look back at her, and the pools of gold were unreadable as he took in the sight of her. She knew he recognized her, and she braced herself for the sharp remark she expected was coming.

But he turned away indifferently, returning his attention back to Jonathon. He pulled himself free and straightened his shirt with a smirk.

''I see your sister still pulls your strings,'' he mocked, following the words with a silent laugh.

''She pulled your strings that day, too,'' Jonathon reminded him darkly, and the smirk faded slowly from Jace's face.

''Jace, can we go now?'' the girl beside him asked, and though she pretended to speak out of impatience, Clary could have picked up on her anxiety from a mile away.

''Sure, Isabelle,'' Jace said to her, though his eyes never left Jonathon. ''See you around school, Morgenstern.''

With a careless wave, he and his two companions slipped past Jonathon and through the double doors into the school, leaving a horde of gaping mouths in their wake. Just before he disappeared inside, Clary saw Jace glance back in her direction, and she felt her heart jump in her chest.

Jonathon looked over at her, and she met his eyes evenly, despite the fury she saw burning in them. He reached down and took her hand, and she let him pull her through the crowd behind him, waving goodbye to Simon as she went.

He dragged her behind the school where the grounds were deserted, and tossed her hand away like it had burned him. ''You stopped me. You shouldn't have stopped me.''

Clary swallowed hard, watching as his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. ''You would have gotten suspended from school on the very first day,'' she replied. ''And probably kicked off the football team.''

Jonathon shook his head, not buying her explanation. ''You're protecting him,'' he said, his eyes narrowing. The wind picked up then, blowing his silky white hair back from his face so that his black eyes were bared completely to her. ''Like you did that day.''

''He was going to kill you-''

''You didn't care what he was going to do,'' Jonathon said, cutting her off. He reached down, and she gasped as his hand clasped around her already bruised arm. ''You stopped him to protect him, not your own brother.''

She tried to shake his hand off, but his grip was stone. She resigned to the pain and stopped struggling. ''I'm not having this conversation again,'' she said, setting her jaw stubbornly. ''I'm not going to defend myself to you again.''

''You never had to,'' he said, shaking his head. ''I already know. I always have.''

''He was going to kill you,'' she said again, quietly. ''Does it really even matter why I stopped him?''

He shoved her back and released her arm, watching as she collided with the wall and the breath was knocked out of her. His eyes were not sympathetic as she doubled over and struggled to refill her lungs.

''Yes.''

Clary sank against the wall until she felt the ground cold and solid beneath her, and watched Jonathon's shadow fade as he walked away. The morning bell sounded a few moments after he left, and Clary slowly pulled herself off of the ground and walked stiffly to class.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW! Even just a few words, it's so encouraging and makes all the difference!