Hey guys, as I said these are Jocelyn's dreams/memories as I have imagined them (Some speech are quotes from City of Bones but I do not own anything) Please review x

Fairchild manor, Idris – 1991

Wisps of ash floated all around like snowflakes, they settled on her eyelashes making the already treacherous journey through the rumble almost impossible. But she didn't care, not that she fell so many times that her hands were bloody or that the smoke she was inhaling was slowly chocking her to death. Having pushed her way through a collapsing door frame Jocelyn was suddenly blinded by the last reminiscence of the fire, which was blazing through a room she barley recognised as her childhood bedroom. The warmth of the flames sent of an overdue alarm of danger in her head.

Staggering back she tried to run, but instead tripped and landed hard on a charred beam of wood. Head still spinning she looked up and for the first time in her life the night sky had no stars, they had been blotted out by the smoke. Coughing hard she managed to drag herself into a sitting position, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her ribs. She began to crawl on her hands and knees through the never ending pile of rubble that had once been her home.

There was something not far away that, unlike everything else around her, was not charred or wood or glass or from this distance destroyed at all. Don't look, don't be curious she told herself look at what that did for you the last time. Ignoring her better instincts she crawled toward the objects anyway.

Shock tore through her brain and heart leaving nothing but paralysing pain behind it. She was suddenly being dragged backwards, hauled away from the smoke and…and…

"Jocelyn. Jocelyn" a frantic voice from very far away was saying "Jocelyn can you hear me, are you ok?"

Ok? Am I ok? I'm numb. Is numb ok? She thought resentfully to the distant voice.

The figure was suddenly standing in front staring into her face. Blue she thought feeling, well feeling nothing his eyes are blue.

The need for sleep, for unconsciousness, was overwhelming.

"Their gone" she told Lucian.

"Who's gone?" he asked sounding worried.

Everyone worth living for…and it's my fault, then she let the blissful darkness take her far away from her unwanted reality.

Paris institute, France – 1991

Will you marry me? Really? Had he really just said that? No! He couldn't really believe I'd do that!? The thoughts were running riot around her head, but she had proved many times before that she was too good of an actress for her own good, and here again was proof. They sat in a spare room in the Paris institute, even though she had only been in one institute before, in Geneva, she was beginning to get bored of the same dull rooms that they contained.

"So?" Lucian's voice was a mixture of anxiousness and excitement.

Jocelyn looked up into his inspecting face, trying to compose it from annoyed and disgusted to shocked and thoughtful. She tried desperately to think of an excuse to repel his proposal that was not the truth, because the truth was that right now she would rather have run off the edge of the Eiffel tower than spend one more moment with the creature that had, had a hand in causing the catastrophe that was now her life. Of course there was the slap in the face when she realised that she was almost as responsible as he was but she couldn't escape herself even as much as she wanted to.

"It is amazing of you to ask" she said forcing the empathy in her voice to sound real, whilst pouring the eye drops down her face to resemble tears when her back was turned from him "But you would only be doing it out of sympathy and then you would be stuck with me and child who is not your own." Turning to him she said with a fake sob "I refuse to burden you with that."

She touched his face affectionately, even though it felt like pressing her hand to a branding iron, and turned away and out of the doors the institute, hoping beyond hope she would never see his face again.

Jocelyn's Flat, New York – 2001

"Mary had a little lamb,
little lamb, little lamb,
Mary had a little lamb,
and its fleece was white as snow"

Clary's voice travelled to Jocelyn through the thin walls of the flat, as she began painting the backdrop of Alicante.

"And everywhere that Mary went,
Mary went, Mary went,
everywhere that Mary went
the lamb was sure to go"

The last detail of the background was done and she began to add in the flames.

"It followed her to school one day
School one day, school one day
it followed her to school one day
which was against the rules."

The orange of the last flame just wasn't quite right. There was a knock at the door.

"MUM!"

"I heard it, darling" She said and heard the singing resume.

I feel sorry for whoevers out there it's like a tornado out there no sooner had she thought it she opened the door and realised she didn't feel sorry at all. No, she defiantly did not feel sorry. In fact she felt frankly pissed off. But she put a smile on her face and through her arms around him anyway, because this was her life now, it was not what she felt that mattered.

"Who's that mummy?" came a small voice from behind her.

Disentangling herself she turned around and bent down to her daughter's height. At a quick glance, or possibly more than a quick glance, Clary looked like a clone of her mother. But when she was first born Jocelyn had taken the time to look for features that were not her own, it was a very hard thing to do and to this day she had not found any. In personality however Clary and Jocelyn were nothing alike, instead the girl had gotten her father's stubbornness but more importantly his determination. The thought made Jocelyn smile.

"This is my old friend…Luke" well that was not technically a lie, she would have to explain the name change to Lucian afterward.

He to bent down and said steadily "Hello…"

"Clary" whispered her daughter

"Hello Clary, that's a beautiful name"

Clary quickly glanced at her mother. With a sign Jocelyn said, even though the words tasted like poison "Its ok sweetheart, Luke is a good man you can trust him"

The worst part about this statement though was not that she had not wanted to say it, it was that it was probably true, Clary would probably have a more trustworthy parent in him than she ever would in her own mother. With that thought in mind Jocelyn stood up and shut the door accepting the inevitable.

Jocelyn's Flat, New York – 2007

"Don't wait up" Clary yelled from downstairs.

The word reverberated through Jocelyn's mind. How had she let this happen? If she was any kind of parent she would have raised Clary as a shadowhunter and be done with it. Teach her not to trust most shadowhunters and certainly not the Clave. But instead she had been lazy and relied on a warlock and a werewolf! This is my fault she thought not for the first time, in fact it seemed to be all she thought.

She went over and sat by the window, looking out into the now familiar street. A sudden flash caught her eye. A seraph blade? Another flash this time of white blond hair.

"Shit!" she spat recognising beyond doubt who that was.

It must have been an extremely strong glamor for her to only get glimpses through. That or its been too long since you've had your last mark a nasty little voice whispered in the back of her mind.

"Oh shut up!" she said aloud.

What do I do? She thought desperately. It was either stay and face him, what would he do? Kill you, torture you, you know what he does to traitors…and you would deserve it Stupid stupid little voice, but at the same time she couldn't help but agree with it. The only other option would be to run and barricade herself into another room and take the potion. Coward! the voice screamed.

"Right again" she said, voice shaking, as she ran to the bathroom.

It was not a moment too soon as she locked the door behind her hearing the bang as the front door was knock off its hinges. Scrambling around now looking for the box she heard footsteps going around the flat. A mixture of dread and longing filled her at the sound.

Finally finding the box she began to undo the lid no wait she had to call Clary, had to think of her daughter. Protect her child before acting on impulse this time. She grabbed her mobile and it rang once…twice…three times.

"Dam it Clary answer the phone!" she pleaded.

Again she rang, this time Clary answered on the second ring

"Mum?" an annoyed voice answered

"Don't come home! Go to Simon's and call Luke—" she stopped as an axe crashed through the bathroom door.

It had been the last thing she had wanted to say but she would not have her daughter pay for her mistakes as her son had done. Another crash and she could she him through the gap. Quickly she opened the bottle and drank it down in one.

"NO!" she heard him yell.

It was the last think she heard before blackness engulfed her mind.