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Madeleine hesitantly passed Jace the portrait. "Please let me explain," she said quietly. The drama, it seemed, had passed for now.

"I'll let you explain- then I am going to leave," Jace muttered resolutely. He was holding the portrait in his hands as though it were made of gold. As if it answered all his prayers and held the secret to immortality. At that moment, with that page in his hand, Jace resembled a starving man with a ticket for a free seven-course meal clutched in-between his fingers.

Madeleine paused, but decided not to argue with the Shadowhunter in front of her. She clearly didn't want Jace to leave- she wanted things to plan out in a different manner but for now she would just work on telling her story.

"Perhaps," Jacques offered from the doorway. "You would like to use the kitchen? It is warmer and you could both get something to drink?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Jace murmured after a small silence. He still hadn't averted his gaze from his own face as it lay alongside Clary's. He eased himself up from the edge of the bed in one fluid movement, his inky Marks glimmering under the yellow light from the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. He walked out of the room with his back ramrod straight, the posture of a soldier full of pride even when his heart told him to shuffle. The small gathering around the door instantly moved so that he could pass, and Jace led the descent downstairs silently.

Jacques ushered the boys into the sitting room as Madeleine lowered herself into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Jace swung another around deftly in one hand and sat down with a grim look on his face. The chair was the wrong way around, the long wooden beams decorating the back of the chair rested against his chest- like a barrier between him and the woman across the table. Jace's forearms lay on the top of his backwards chair as his calculating eyes sized up Madeleine. It didn't escape her notice that every pocket on display held a weapon of some sort, she wondered how many similar secret compartments were hidden from her view. Jace placed the page silently and almost reverently onto the table, closer to him then her. He never spoke, but his eyes commanded Madeleine to explain- and explain fast.

"You had her," he accused softly. "Clary, you took her from me."

"No," Madeleine replied hastily. "That wasn't me."

Jace extracted a long, slim blade from his inside pocket and left it wordlessly before him on the table. Madeleine knew that he could kill her as fast as look at her. The knife was only intended to threaten her and remind her of that fact. Luke had told her who he was, and how talented he was. Ruthless and expeditious. Even the fact that he had left the knife on the table reaffirmed that- it told her that he wasn't afraid to leave a weapon close to her, because he knew that if she so much as glanced at it wrong, he could stop her without difficulty.

"Don't forget who I am," Jace said lightly. "And don't forget that she isn't here to stop me this time."

"Jace, I have never met you before in my life- I swear it. It wasn't me who kept Clary-"

"I may appreciate the painting, but don't you dare think for one minute that you can buy me with bright pieces of paper. I might be a devilishly handsome fellow, and be flattered by this little portrait, but I have absolutely no qualms about using one of my knives on you. And trust me- they're nice and sharp."

Madeleine made a quick decision and resolved to quickly tell her story before the youth in front of her escaped. "I live here with Jacques and the boys- I only left for a short business trip to America. I was a very close friend of Jocelyn and Lucian's in the old days. I called in on Jocelyn while I was there, and found an empty apartment so I called Lucian who told me where she was. I met him at his apartment soon after, Clarissa was there… she locked herself in her room when she saw me. I didn't know why. Lucian explained. There was an impostor- sent by Valentine- to monitor Clarissa and attempt to force her into using her powers for him. The powers she possesses relating to runes. Lucian and the Lightwoods confronted the impostor after you left, they were lucky he was there- they were going to let her go on Clary's insistence before Lucian realised that the woman was most certainly not me. The High Warlock of Brooklyn was called, and her memory of Clarissa was wiped before he handed her over to the Clave."

Madeleine looked up at the teenager, he was still listening. His face was grim and expressionless as he stared at her. Suppressing a sigh, she continued- hoping that he believed her so far.

"That woman told her terrible lies, Jace. Lies about Jocelyn and Valentine. She convinced Clary that she could save Jocelyn if she helped her- Clarissa had no chance, Jace. Those lies appealed to her better nature- she only wanted to save her mother, that's all. She regrets it, Jace. She was… broken, when I saw her. She hates herself for what she has done to you."

"Why should I trust you? How do I know that you are telling the truth?" he raised an eyebrow in a challenging manner.

"How do you know that I am lying? Have some faith, Jace. Do I sound like the woman you encountered? Do I act like her? If I was the woman that you think I am, would I be trying to send you back to Clary? She is looking for you- they all are. They want you back so badly…"

Jace waited until Madeleine turned her head upwards to face him before he spoke. His eyes locked with hers and she found it impossible to turn away. She could see the strength in them, the power and the intensity in those golden orbs.

"What if I don't want to go back?" he said it in a smug way, not like a question at all. He had abandoned all ties with New Jace, he was going back to what he used to be: smug, arrogant, egotistical and conceited. The usual mask. It seemed like he had accepted Madeleine's story and her real identity now.

Madeleine faltered. "They love you, Jace. All of them. Why would you intentionally pass up love?"

Jace gave a short bark of wry laughter. "Oh Madeleine. Innocent, naïve Madeleine. Don't you realise? Love is overrated. To love is to destroy, Madeleine. It is giving an unworthy fool the power to drag you down and corrupt you. Why would you intentionally subject yourself to that?"

"Look at the picture, Jace. You know that isn't true. Love is hard, love can cause pain- but it does not destroy. The course of true love never did run smooth- it is a road covered with bumps and holes and sometimes fatal accidents, but it does not destroy if it is real love. True love wins through every time. Only those who fight love off or refuse to fight for it get destroyed- they destroy themselves, Jace. If you stopped to analyse it you would realise that I am right."

Jace remained silent in deep contemplation as he frowned at the page on the table. So what if she was right… it was too late now. He had already left, Clary had already abandoned him. It was too late, the game was up. He didn't want to go back, he didn't want to live in the past. People who refused to fight for love ended up destroying themselves…

"And Clary is with Luke?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Madeleine answered.

"The Lightwoods?"

"Lucian told me that they too are looking for you, but were still at the Institute when I left."

Jace let the silence fill the room, it shrouded him as Madeleine observed him under lowered lashes. He ran his fingers along the edges of the page again, and blinked very slowly. His knife lay directly between his face and Clary's, right between the words I'm Sorry. Sorry… was he sorry? Would he be? He was Jace- defiant, strong and independent Jace. Did he want to be tied down and hurt? Did he want to relinquish the freedom he had embraced when he left New York? Jace stared in the silence and mulled over his thoughts, his face looking troubled and conflicted.

Slowly, Jace stood and pushed the chair back under the table in its correct position. He clasped his knife in his hand and returned it to its place in his pocket.

"Thank you, Madeleine," he said lowly. He walked through the sitting room where the television was switched off, without acknowledging anyone or anything. As his form retreated up the stairs, Madeleine shot Jacques a worried look and called after him.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Madeleine prayed that he would say Home, or New York, or To Clary… or anywhere that would signify that he was going where he needed to be.

"Somewhere new," he answered without turning around. His voice sounded resigned as he trudged up the steps- his gait exuding power and strength as always… Madeleine began to wonder if it was all just for show.