It started out just like it had the last ten times. Clary stood in Alicante's empty streets in front of the adamas demon towers that warded the city for a thousand years. The symbol burned into the side, spreading dark blood like a disease across the surface until it was covered. Jonathan behind her, horrified, demanding to know what she'd done. The burst of energy as the wards fell, throwing them to the ground. Demons flooding the streets. Her mother holding a seraph blade to her brothers throat. And Clary powerless to do anything.

And then she woke up. Even if she fell back asleep, the dream would play on repeat until morning came, every single night without fail. Sometimes, there were drawings, other times there weren't. That symbol repeated itself over and over. It wasn't in the grey book, that much she knew. There was no mention of it in any of the history she read. And the only way to bring down the wards was fresh demon blood, impossible because demons couldn't enter the city with the wards up.

Jonathan had sad that her draws and dreams could be prophetic, so she didn't dare tell him about this one. If it was a vision of the future, it wasn't a good one. Clary bringing such terror and destruction to Alicante? Bringing the wards down? Allowing demons to enter it's streets for the first time in a thousand years? She couldn't think of any reason why she would. Alicante was the closest thing their people had to sacred land. It was special, it was home—the one place where shadowhunters could always return to.

She wouldn't be the one to change that.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about it?

"Clary?" Jonathan said.

Snapped out of her thoughts, she looked over at her brother. They were in the car, driving to the Institute after dropping Simon at his moms house. She'd convinced Simon to go home early to surprise his mom while she and Jonathan went to the safest place in New York to recover her memories. The New York team was due to Portal home in the next few hours, and she needed to have her memories back before they arrived home from their holiday. Then, they would conceive a plan of action in regards to her mother.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to get coffee before we go?"

"Sure," she smiled, suddenly desperate for caffeine.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"I just want back what was stolen from me," she said honestly. She wanted to remember her family, her brother and dad. She wanted to help her people recover what was theirs. She wanted to know if she could trust her mother.

"It might not be what you expect."

"I know. But I can't keep going on without them."

A half hour later, they were parked outside the Institute, their coffee half gone, pulling on their coats before getting out of the car.

"It probably won't be pretty," Jonathan warned as they closed the gate behind them and paused within the glamour. "We have no idea what happened in those missing nine months, Clary."

She nodded. "I know. I don't care about that. All I care about is you and dad."

He tilted his head, confused, and Clary realized she hadn't gone into her feelings about it with him. "What do you mean?"

"Jonathan," she said, taking one of his hands in both of hers. "I love you. But that's because my heart remembers you, and a small bit of me has loved you since we met. Same with dad. And it breaks my heart every day because, without my memory, I can't love you two as much as I want to. I can't know the missing years or growing up with a family. You two have missed me more than I can even imagine, and it breaks my heart when I don't remember that life, and I see it in your eyes that I'm not the same Clary you grew up with, or that dad raised. It hurts to see that pain in your eyes when I don't know something, or have to relearn something. You missed me, but I never missed you. I couldn't. But I want to! I want to know what was missing when I couldn't see you. I want to see your face the first time I talk about something we did together as kids. I don't want to ask anymore. I want—I need to remember you and dad." She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and was only a little surprised when Jonathan suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You're still my Clary," he whispered. "You're still and always will be my baby sister. You're still reckless and adventurous and artistic, just like you always were. You don't have to remember it all to be my sister. I want you to remember us, but we don't know what happened. I don't want it to hurt you." He tightened his arms around her. "Honestly, I don't want you to remember missing me. I don't. Losing you and having to search for you, and always wondering if you were okay…that was the worst pain I've ever felt. I don't want you to feel it too, Clary. That pain almost tore me apart. The only reason it didn't was because I needed to know that you were alive, and I couldn't stop until I knew. I don't want you to know what that feels like. I love you too much to want that for you. And I don't care what everyone says or thinks—I don't care about the damn cup either. All I care about is having you back."

Clary felt hot tears fall down her face. "Jonathan…"

"If it were up to me," he said. "We would leave right now and go home to train or watch TV. I don't care if we'd have to exile ourselves from the other shadowhunters. If it were up to me…I would live a completely mundane life just to keep you safe." He pulled back suddenly, placing his hands on her shoulders and smiling tearfully. "But it's not up to me. It's up to you, and you want your memory back. So that's what we're going to do, because at the end of the day…I care about your happiness. If this is what's going to make you happy, so be it."

"Jonathan…"

"It's not up to me, Clary," he said, suddenly very serious. "It never has been. It's all your choice. Being a shadowhunter, waking up our mother, getting your memories back…It's all your choice. You are choosing to do this. And I can't do anything more than speak my mind. We have to make decisions for our own lives, and these have all been yours. So I'll stay by your side. That's my choice. I'm going to stay by your side and keep you safe. Okay?"

She hugged him. "I'm sorry. I wish I could do more to make you happy."

"Having you here makes me happy. Just don't make me search for you again, and I'll be happy."

She stepped back and grinned, taking his hand. "Deal!"

And then it was time. They walked, hand in hand, into the Institute and up to the library where Valentine was setting up for the meeting. There was a circle of chairs and tables for everyone to sit and come up with a plan of action. There was a small space in the back of the library with a small couch and a drawing pad set out on a coffee table. Also on the table was an electric kettle and the spell Ragnor Fell had given her in a mug, just waiting for the hot water.

Valentine looked up when they entered the room. He pointed out the space he'd set up for her. "Everything okay?"

Clary nodded and ran over to hug her dad.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she nodded once.

"Me too."

"I'll be with you," Jonathan said, touching her shoulder.

That was the plan. Jonathan was going to sit beside her and help her process the memories as they came. The drawing pad had been his idea, thinking that the rush of it all might spill out into the need to draw something. Their father had been asked to receive the New York group in the garden when they arrived, so he would be heading down there in the next few minutes. He'd wanted to stay and help, but Jonathan had suggested that too many people might overwhelm Clary in that fragile state. They'd all agreed. They had no idea what would happen when the spell was activated. Magnus Bane was sort of on stand-by, arriving with the shadowhunters from Idris, ready to intervene in the event that something went wrong. They had no way of knowing.

"I'll see you soon, my love," Valentine said, giving his daughter a final, firm hug before leaving the library.

"I love you," she whispered as the door closed, too scared to speak at full volume.

"You ready?" Jonathan asked.

She nodded and they headed across the room. Simon had texted her, and she responded while Jonathan poured the hot water over the magic-encased leaves. It smelled like jasmine.

Psymon: wish you could have seen my moms face when I walked in. it was great!

Clary: I bet. You happy to be home?

Psymon: yes, but I wish I was with you. Should have started school a few months sooner

Clary: shadowhunters are so particular.

Psymon: yeah, you are! Please call me when it's done, or have jonathan. I want to be informed.

Clary: can I see you tonight?

Psymon: can you?

Clary: we probably won't do anything until tomorrow.

Psymon: should I come over?

Clary: Java Jones is 24hr.

Psymon: what time?

Clary: midnight, cuz we're rebels.

Psymon: it's a date.

Clary: awesome. My tea is ready.

Psymon: couldn't he have made you coffee?

Clary: I'm turning my phone off for this. Send me something sweet so I have something to look forward to.

She turned her phone off and dropped it in her bag. She sat on the couch beside Jonathan.

"You ready for this?" He asked, handing her the mug of tea. The smell of jasmine was almost overwhelming.

"No," she whispered. Before he could respond, she brought the mug to her lips and drank the whole thing. When she was done, she placed the mug back on the table.

"How do you feel?"

"Nothing yet."

She waited a few seconds. Nothing.

She screamed, falling forward to the floor. The corner of the table hit her temple hard, but she didn't notice. On her hands and knees, tears falling from her eyes, she was blind.

Then the memories flooded in and she screamed again.