**The characters of The Mortal Instruments are owned by Cassandra Clare. The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by ddpjclaf, 2009. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.**

Clary's hand froze on the handle of the infirmary door. Her mother, the woman who had cared for and kept her safe her entire life, waited on the other side. And Clary was scared to see her. Things had changed over the last few months. All of the lies and deceptions had put a wedge between them. One Clary wasn't sure she was ready to forgive. She was also afraid of what she might learn about what had really happened. If Luke had had anything to do with this, she wasn't sure she could handle hearing it.

She closed her eyes and touched her forehead to the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open, stepping into the dim room. Her mother lay in a bed near the window. The moonlight streamed in giving her unusually pale skin an eerie blue cast. Clary moved slowly toward her, fighting with the other side of herself that just wanted to run and throw her arms around her. When she reached the side of the bed, her mother's eyes were still closed. The washed out color of her skin made her bright auburn hair appear like flames against snow.

Clary sank down in the chair by Jocelyn's side and reached out, taking her mother's hand in her own. At her touch, Jocelyn's eyes flickered open. She turned toward Clary, her mouth stretching into a grin as she caught sight of her daughter.

Clary's eyes stung with tears and she leaned forward, laying her forehead on the edge of the bed. Jocelyn raised her hand and placed it on Clary's head, smoothing her tangled hair down. "Why are you crying?"

She raised her gaze to meet her mother's. "I thought—I thought you were going to die. And Luke—"

Jocelyn's eyes widened as if she'd just realized something. "Luke . . ."

"Mom." Clary sat up and reached over, clutching Jocelyn's hand. "Do you remember what happened?"

Jocelyn squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Not really. It was—so fast and so confusing. Luke and I were back in the library. He'd gotten a new shipment of books and we were going through them when we thought we heard a clicking sound, like claws against the hardwood. The last thing I remember was Luke shouting for me to get back, and then him transforming right there. Something shot into the room. I couldn't tell what it was or even where it was it moved so fast. It attacked Luke, and somehow I must have gotten in the way. I remember a sharp pain ripping through my chest and then everything went black."

Clary stared at her. "But Mom, you called me."

"What?"

"That's how I found you. You called me on the phone."

Jocelyn's brows drew together. "Clary, how could I call you when I was blacked out?"

Clary's breath hitched. If it wasn't Jocelyn, who was it and why did it sound exactly like her mother?

"Clary?"

She glanced up, finding her mother's emerald eyes studying her intently.

"Where's Luke?"

Clary's eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head, shaking it back and forth.

"Clary?" Jocelyn's voice trembled.

Clary raised her gaze and met Jocelyn's tear-filled one. "We don't know." Her voice cracked.

"What do you mean you 'don't know?'" Jocelyn's eyes widened.

"Mom." Clary reached out to touch Jocelyn's hand. "When we got to the house, we only found you. Luke wasn't there."

"But that's impossible. We were together, Clary. He had to be there."

Clary shook her head. "I was there, Mom. He wasn't there. But Jace said they didn't find any signs that he'd been hurt badly."

"Then where is he, Clary? Where is he?" Jocelyn's voice clouded with desperation.

Clary leaned over the bed, taking her mother into her arms. "I don't know Mom. But we're going to find him."

Jocelyn struggled against Clary's embrace. "I—I've got to get out of here. I need to find Luke."

"Mom." Clary pulled back and grasped Jocelyn's arms. "Everyone's already looking for him. Maryse and Robert have gathered a group of Shadowhunters and they're searching for any clue that might tell us what happened and who's behind it."

"Maryse and Robert have made it clear in the past they don't trust Luke. How can I trust them to do right by him?"

"Mom! Things have changed since Idris. You know that."

"I know the Lightwoods. I know how the Shadowhunting world works. No matter how much of a truce we've come up with they will still feel their own importance more than a single Downworlder."

"No Mom." Clary's voice shook. "You knew the Lightwoods. They're not the same people they were. Look at their kids. Look at Jace."

"Jace," she said more to herself than to Clary. After a moment, she turned to Clary, her eyes cold. "Do you want to know what I see when I look at Jace?" She paused. "Valentine."

"Mom." The word came out as a gasp.

Jocelyn closed her eyes for a moment. "I can't help it and maybe it's not fair to that boy but that's what I see. In everything about him, his cocky attitude, the manner in which he fights and most of all the way he looks at you." She raised her eyes to Clary's. "Like he owns you. Like you're his. That's the way Valentine looked at me. He was raised by Valentine, taught by him. Valentine was incapable of really loving anyone. How could a child that he raised be any different? Look at Jonathon."

Clary's mouth had fallen open at that point. She couldn't believe the things she was hearing. Especially since they were coming from her mother, a woman she thought held an excessive amount of compassion. "How can you say those things?" Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. "How can you compare Jace to Jonathon? Jonathon had demon blood in his veins! That's why he was the way he was. Jace is nothing like Jonathon or Valentine."

Jocelyn reached over and laid her hand on top of Clary's. "Clary, I know you think you love him—"

Clary jumped up from her chair, knocking it to the floor as she stood. "Think? I don't think, I know."

"You can't possibly know. You have no experience before this. You're only sixteen years old. You and Jace are both children."

"You were sixteen when you fell in love with Valentine." Clary could hear the frantic edge to her voice. She was losing it, she could tell.

"Yes." Jocelyn's voice was very calm. "And we all know how that turned out."

"Yes, we do, but you're forgetting one thing. I'm not you. And as much as you try to deny it, Jace isn't Valentine. For whatever you think you see in him that's like Valentine, there are a thousand things about him that aren't. When my Sight came back, he was the one who taught me about this whole other world, not you. It should have been you, but you were too much in denial to take on your responsibility. When Luke was attacked outside his own house, it was Jace who helped me save him. When Simon was almost dead on that ship, it was Jace who gave him his own blood and brought him back. Would Valentine have done that? Would he have risked himself for a Downworlder? You know as well as I do he wouldn't."

"Clary—"

Clary held up a hand to stop Jocelyn from speaking. "No, you know what? I'm not going to do this. I know you think you're protecting me and I love you for that. But you're wrong. I know you think everything Valentine touched went bad. There's certainly a lot of proof to back that up. But you're forgetting a few very important exceptions. He touched you and Luke, and you two are good. Why can't you believe that for Jace? Why can't you see past the prejudices you have against Valentine and see him?"

"Clary, you didn't know Valentine."

"You're right, I didn't. But I do know Jace—better than I know you apparently. I think he's the one person who hasn't lied to me about who he is. You spent my entire life covering up who you really were, who I really was. And now you want me to trust your judgment about something as important as this? Well, I'm sorry but I just can't do that, not anymore." Clary took a few steps backward toward the door.

"Clary—"

Clary's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Mom. I can't." She whipped around and bolted out the door into the hall. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the cool, smooth wood, letting the hot tears slide down her cheeks.

It was when she opened her eyes again that she saw him standing there. His back against the wall, head down and arms held across his chest.

She took a few steps toward him, her arms outstretched. "Jace. Did you—"

"Hear that?" His head came up, his eyes conveying that he had. "Just the end, and the part I'm assuming you wish I didn't."

She closed the distance between them and placed her hand on his arm. "Jace."

He looked away from her. "Isabelle told me Jocelyn had woken up. I waited here because I didn't want to disturb your time with her. I wasn't trying to listen in." His eyes found hers once more. "She'll never see past Valentine, Clary. She can't."

"If she wants me in her life she will."

"Clary—"

Clary rose up on tip-toes and pressed her lips against his, silencing him. "No." She shook her head. "I'm not going to change my mind. She's my mother and I love her, but you—there are no words to express what you are to me. She's just going to have to deal with that and get over it."

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin. "Spoken like a true sixteen-year-old."

"Uh-huh." She stretched up again, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His hands found her face and his fingers brushed over her skin sending shocks through her body. Twisting her hands into the hair at the back of his neck, she pulled him closer. She just couldn't seem to get close enough to him. Without thinking, she pressed her hips into his.

"Clary," he said against her mouth.

"Hmm?" She didn't pull away to answer him.

"We probably shouldn't do this here."

"Do what?" She continued her assault on his lips.

He reached up and pushed her face back. "This." His eyes fell to their sandwiched bodies.

"Oh." Clary stepped back, her cheeks burning. "I'm sorry. I—I couldn't control myself."

His brows pinched together. "I don't think that's something you ever need to apologize to me for. I just figured maybe we didn't want to put on a show for everyone who comes down the hall."

"No, you're right, I'm so—" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry." She gasped. "Dang it. Why can't I stop saying that?"

He laughed.

"So," she asked. "What are you doing tonight?"

He lifted one brow, a devilish grin spreading across his lips.

Clary smiled, whipped around and ran down the hall toward her room. Jace followed behind, tackled her through the open door, and slammed it shut behind them.

###

Clary awoke when the sun was already high to the sound of her cell phone vibrating against the hard wood of her bedside table. She groaned and reached over to it, checking the time as she did. Eleven-thirty in the morning. Grabbing the phone, she flipped it open and pressed it to her ear, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer finger.

"Hello," she croaked.

"Clary?" Simon's voice greeted her. "Were you still asleep? How hard are they working you there that you have to sleep half the day away?"

Clary grinned with the memory of the night before. "What do you want, Simon?" She slid her hand across the bed, finding only cold sheet next to her. A crinkle sounded when she touched a folded piece of paper. She picked it up and opened it. Across the center, Jace had scrawled a note, In the training room. Come down when you decide to quit being lazy. —J.

"Well, I haven't seen you in a few days. I thought maybe we could hang later—if your warden allows it, of course."

"Shut up, Simon." Clary yawned and placed Jace's note on the table. "Sure, that sounds good actually. What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," Simon said. "Maybe we could just get something to eat and catch up—or something."

Clary fought back another yawn. "Simon, you don't eat, you suck people's blood."

"Hey! Other than—well, that one time—I've never drank human blood."

She chuckled. "Sure. Okay, maybe we could go to Taki's. That way we can both eat."

"You don't think Mr. 'loves himself more than anyone should be allowed to' would mind?"

"Simon," Clary scolded. "Be nice."

Simon sighed. "Sorry. Well, will he?"

She stretched and sat up, peeking into the mirror on her open closet door. Her hair looked like she'd ratted it up and applied three cans of hairspray. She reached up to touch it and groaned. It was not going to feel very good trying to brush those tangles out. "He probably will, Simon. If you think he's normally overprotective you should see him now. With these attacks would you blame him?"

"No," Simon whined.

"Don't worry. I'll talk to him. He knows I'm safe with you."

"Yeah, yeah. Call me later and we'll plan a time."

"Okay. See ya."

"See ya."

Clary clicked the phone shut and tossed it back onto the table. With another yawn and stretch, she stumbled toward the bathroom. A hot shower should loosen her up for training. She stripped off her clothes, stepped over to the shower and turned the knobs. Placing her hand under the pouring stream to test the temperature, she stepped in when it felt just right. She lifted her face to the water, letting it fall over her, refreshing her tired body. Her thoughts drifted to her mom. Why did she have to act the way she did about Jace? Clary understood her reservations, but why couldn't she just get to know him? If she did, Clary knew she would love him too. Well, maybe not love, but like at least. She knew better than anyone how difficult Jace could be.

After she'd worked shampoo and conditioner through her tangled locks, rinsed and washed the rest of her body, she stepped out, wrapping a large fluffy towel around her. She ran another towel across her hair and pulled a brush through it. After several minutes of painful tugging, she had all the snarls out. She stepped back into her room and dressed in a pair of short training shorts, a sports bra, underwear, and a tight white tank top. After pulling her wet hair up into a ponytail, she set off toward the training room.

When she opened the door, she found Jace and Alec sword fighting on the centermost mat. The clang of the swirling blades echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. Isabelle stood near the back, one leg stretched straight up against the wall. Clary wished she was as flexible.

She walked over to stand next to Isabelle.

"How was your night?" Isabelle smirked.

Clary glared at her. "Fine. Yours?"

"It was all right. Nowhere near as productive as yours I'm sure." She laughed.

Clary rolled her eyes, but figured she was probably right. Her night had been amazing—but she wasn't about to tell Isabelle that. She sighed and began stretching her arms, pulling them across her body and pressing them to her with her other hand.

"So what are you doing this morning?" Isabelle switched legs, stretching the other up on the wall.

"Hand-to-hand, I think." Clary bent over, touching her fingers to her toes. From behind her came a loud clang, a grunt and then a bang. Clary straightened up and turned finding Alec perched on top of Jace, his sword to his neck.

Clary and Isabelle exchanged surprised glances. No one ever beat Jace. Alec jumped up and whooped. "Finally!"

Jace sat up and glared at Alec. "That doesn't count. I was distracted."

Alec leaned over and slapped Jace on the back. "Lesson of the day. Eyes on your opponent, not on the cute girl's butt. You know better than that, Jace." Alec peered up at Clary and winked. Her face exploded with heat.

He reached his hand down to help Jace up. Jace took it, but rather than standing, he jerked his hand hard, flipping Alec over and landing him on his back. Jace stood and hovered over Alec. "Lesson of the day. Never tease an opponent stronger than you."

Alec groaned.

"Boys," Isabelle said.

Clary couldn't help but laugh. "I tease you all the time." She spread her legs and leaned over, not finding enough resistance to stretch as much as she would have liked.

Jace stepped up beside her. "Yeah, but I like it when you do it. Here, let me help you." He placed one hand on her hip and one on her upper back, applying light pressure.

She felt her muscles stretching immediately. He removed his hands and she switched sides. He pressed on her again.

She straightened up. "Thanks."

He reached out his hand to her. "You ready?"

She took it. "Yep." She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him. "Is it weird that we're holding hands on the way out to fight?"

He laughed and led her to the center of the mat. "For anyone else, yes. For us, no, not really."

He let go and stood across from her. Donning a fighting stance, she threw a few punches and kicks at him. All of which he blocked with ease.

"By the way," she panted. "Simon called me this morning."

"Oh, yeah?" He avoided another punch by grabbing her arm and twisting her toward him, holding her backward against his chest. "What did the bloodsucker want?"

She elbowed him in the side and wriggled out of his grasp. "Wanted to meet up with me later." She kicked at his side only to have him catch her foot, twisting it and her off her feet. Landing with a hard thud on the ground, she flipped over out of the way before her could pin her. Within seconds, she was back on her feet.

"Oh," he said, as he blocked another of her jabs. "Where are you going to go?"

She paused in shock just long enough for him to flip her over onto her back once more and pin her under his body. "You mean you're not going to argue with me and act all 'you're not going' or whatever."

He laughed. "No, but I will insist he come here to get you and walk you there and back. That is if he can handle doing something that involves being a gentleman."

"Shut up." She stared up at him, studying his golden eyes as they did the same to hers. "You're really not going to fight me on this? I mean, I just figured with all the attacks and everything."

He raised his brows. "You're right, it's much too dangerous. I simply forbid you to leave my side for even an instant." He grinned. "Is that better?"

"It sounds more like you." She nodded and then frowned. "What's your deal?"

He leaned down to kiss her. "Maybe I'm just in a good mood."

"That's a first."

"Shut up," he said as he stole another peck from her lips