Chapter 52: Meet the Parents

Hey guys, thanks for coming back for another chapter. Just a quick note before we get started - I know I'm really starting to set up Clary and Jace's future, but most of it will actually happen in the sequel. If you have any ideas about something you'd like to see, let me know and I'll try to work them into the story. Enjoy the chapter!

Jace's POV

"You know I'd never heard of Idris until I met you. And I'd travelled a fair amount by that point," Clary tells me as we sit in the taxi on the way to my parents house.

"Well to be fair, it is a super small town. I doubt most people in Europe have heard about, let alone someone from Brooklyn," I tell her, looking out the window. It has been over ten years since I'd been back here, and I'd forgotten how green the whole place was. Not to mention all the mountains and lakes. "You'd heard of France before," I say, finally looking back at Clary, "which is about as close as most people get. There's a reason it took two planes and a bus to get here."

"Well I'm glad to finally see where you were raised. It's beautiful here," she says, grabbing my hand almost out of habit, while looking out the window.

"It sure is," I say, not taking my eyes off Clary. Her eyes seem to come alive when surrounded by the greenery of the forests, and they move so quickly trying to take everything in that it's difficult to follow their movement. And her hair stands out so vividly against all the nature…

"Why are you looking at me," Clary says, smiling. She doesn't move, but I can see her looking at my reflection in the window. "Can't handle my amazing looks?"

"Something like that," I say, and look out my window. A big manner type house comes into view which I recognise as the house I bought my parents a few years back. When I realised that the city life of New York was only making my mom worse, and that I could have more control over my career if my father was far away, I did everything I could to get them back here. Part of that was buying them this massive house my father had always admired. Another part was sending them money each month - sort of like an allowance so that my father wouldn't have to work.

The car pulls up out the front, and the driver quickly gets out to get our bags out of the boot. I open up the door for Clary, and stare up at the house I'd never been inside but that my parents call home. Clary grabs my hand, looking up at the house herself. I kiss her on the temple before making my way up the obnoxiously large knocker on the door, and knock a few time.

I step back and wait for someone to open the door, which my mom eventually does.

"Oh, my Jace," my mom says, and she runs up to me to hug me. After she lets go, I step back.

"Mom, this is Clary Fray. Clary, this is my mother; Céline Herondale."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mrs Herondale," Clary says, beaming at my mother. My mother was exactly what you'd imagine a stylish French woman to look like. She'd always had a good fashion sense, and made sure she looked respectable, and now was no exception. Despite her slightly graying hair and the addition of a few wrinkles, she actually looked younger and healthier than the last time I saw her.

"Céline is perfectly fine, dear," she tells Clary, giving her a warm smile. Since moving back from New York, it seems that her French accent has gotten stronger again.

"You look good mom - really healthy," I tell her.

"Well all this cold wind isn't going to help that, is it?" she says, gesturing inside. "Come on, and do get her bags Jace." I watch as she ushers Clary inside, leaving me outside to deal with the taxi driver and our bags. Clary quickly turns and pokes her tongue out at me, before following my mother inside.

By the time I get inside, Clary is already sitting next to mom on the couch, who is pouring the two if them a cup of tea.

"Nice of you to offer me a cup," I say, sitting across from them on a second couch.

"You don't like Earl Grey," Mom says simply, handing a cup over to Clary.

"I still would've liked to have had the option," I say, crossing my arms and looking around the room. It honestly was a nice house, but it was definitely far too big for just the two of them.

"Look at him," mom says to Clary, "already pouting like he's five years old." She looks over to me. "Just because you are with your maman does not mean you have to act like a child."

"I'm not acting like a child," I say, but after a pointed look from my mother, and Clary choking down a laugh, I drop the subject. "Where's Stephen?"

"Your father," my mom says, putting a heavy amount of emphasis on father; she never liked that I called him Stephen, "went out a little while ago to get some cakes to have with tea. He should be home very soon."

"Well, perhaps we can have some fun before he gets here," I say, standing up and beginning to wander around the room. I know I'm being immature, but I had really been dreading seeing my father again, especially with Clary here.

I hear mom and Clary chatting about something or other, and decided to leave them to get to know each other. I walk back out to the entrance and grab our bags, and search the house in pursuit of the guest bedroom. After a couple of minutes I come across a room that is made up, but pretty bare so I assume that it's our room. I leave our bags and look out the window. I see a Range Rover parked in front of the house that wasn't there before, which I can only assume is my father's car. I sigh before heading back down to the room Clary and mom where in before. One of the only things I could think of that I disliked more than my father was leaving Clary alone with him.

"Jace," mom says as I come back into the room, "Clary was just telling us about the house you two are going to build together."

"Jace has always had an eye for the finer things in life," Stephen says, making room for me on the couch next to him.

"I think you'll find that that's you, actually," I say, reluctantly sitting next to him. Clary gives my an encouraging smile, before turning back to mom, I assume to give her more information about the house.

"I don't know," Stephen says, looking over at Clary. "You seemed to have picked up yourself a nice little piece there."

"Don't say that about Clary," I say, trying to remain calm.

"She's everything I could've hoped for in a girlfriend for you," he says, still eyeing Clary. I don't like the way he's looking at her, and I can tell she's noticed and is becoming uncomfortable, but trying not to show it.

"Why don't you show me outside?" I ask, hoping to get him far away from Clary.

He nods, and takes me out the back so we can walk around the gardens.

"What do you mean she's everything you could've hoped for?" I ask when we're far enough away from the house.

"Well, you've dated a bunch of girls before, but none for very long - nothing that seemed serious." I look over at him in surprise. This is far from the answer I was expecting. "Models, mostly. But Clary - she's connected in a way you've never had before. She's one of the first people you've dated who is at a similar level of fame as you. She's really helping out with the publicity and all that. All I'm saying is that you should hold onto her for a little while more. Really squeeze all the worth out of this one."

I look away and into the distance. That's the answer I was expecting. A normal father would comment on how I seem happier than I have in a long time. How I don't party nearly as much. That I seem healthier, and that I'm taking on more responsibility in my life. That I'm finally growing up. But all my father was concerned about was how much money I could make off Clary, and how much of that he could take.

"She's good for me, you know," I tell him. It's time I finally stood up to my father. "I love Clary more than I knew you could love a person. She's helped me become a man I'm proud to be, and I won't have you talking about her like this. If I see you do anything to her - if you say anything, then we'll leave right away. I'll cut you off, and I'll get mom a house far away from you."

"You wouldn't do that to your own father, would you?" he says, trying to call my bluff.

"Well the thing is Stephen," I say, putting as much venom into the name as I possibly can, "is that you never really treated me like a son, did you? I was more this thing that you could profit off of. And I'm fine giving you and mom money, because for some fucked up reason, she seems to look past everything you do, and it means you stay away from me. Stay away from Clary and we can keep up that deal."

"Why are you so protective of this one? The little bitch must be good in bed-"

"You say one more thing like that, and I will take my mother and leave. And you will be all alone like you deserve to be. I gave you everything you have, and I can take it away just as easily," I say, before turning and hurrying back to the house. My father makes no move to follow me, and when I reach the house I turn to look at him. He's still standing where he was. I open the door to see Clary and mom looking over a photo album. I must be flushed in the face, because Clary looks up at me concerned, but doesn't say anything.

"And this one was on Jace's fifth birthday. All mom petit lion wanted was to have a bath in spaghetti. So Stephen filled the tub, and that's exactly what he did." She looks up at me, and then out the doors to where my father is still standing in the garden. "Tu devrais être plus gentil avec lui, ma chère." (You should be nicer to him, my dear).

"Mom, Clary can speak French, so there's really no point. And anyway, she knows everything," I say, turning the page and smiling down at a photo of me and mom.

"You can speak French?" mom asks Clary, suddenly distracted.

"I could talk a little bit, but Jace has been teaching me. I'm not fluent or anything," Clary says, modest as always.

"I'm glad he's still speaking French at all. And you could try to give your a chance," she says, gently pinching my chin.

"Sure mom, I'll try. Anyway, did you need help with dinner?" I ask, trying to move onto a new topic.

"I was just going to make spaghetti with pesto. It always was your favourite," mom says, smiling at me.

"I can make it," Clary says, and before mom can refuse she adds, "really, it's the least I could do. You've been so kind to have us. I'd like to help."

My mother just nods, smiling at Clary. Clary gets up and heads towards the kitchen.

"I'll be in in a minute to help," I call after her. Once I see Clary go into the kitchen and close the door, I take the photo album of mom's lap and rest it on the coffee table.

"I'm not sure this is the best time to tell you, but we're only here for one night, so I'm not sure I'll have another opportunity."

"What is it Jace?" mom asks, turning towards me to show she's paying attention.

I look towards the door to make sure Clary isn't within hearing range, before telling my mother quietly, "I'm going to ask Clary to marry me."

"Jace," mom says, smiling, "the wonderful. I'm so proud of the man you're becoming. And I'm happy that you're happy with Clary. It's been a while since I've seen you genuinely happy. She's a great girl."

"I think so," I say. "And thanks mom, for… everything. I wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Anything," mom says. She still looks happy, but almost dazed. I'm sure she didn't expect me to get married at all, let-alone this young. "I'm getting a ring made. It's being made at the moment in London, but I'd love to get your opinion on the design. It'll be finished soon, but I'm sure I can get some changes made to it if you think I should."

I take out a piece of paper that has a drawing of the design and a digital picture of what it should look like when it's finished.

"It's beautiful Jace. Simple, elegant. It kind of reminds me of…" she says, touching her own ring with a small smile.

"It's umm… it's based off your ring and Clary's mother's ring. I had a picture of both of them, and I asked them to kind of blend them together. I made some changes, obviously. I made it a bit more simple, and I made it silver. And it's got a bigger diamond, but… you really like it?"

"I love it," she says, looking up from the piece of paper. "And there's no need to be nervous. That girl would say yes to you if you proposed with a candy ring. Congratulations little lion."

"Thanks mom," quickly hugging her. "Anyway, I better get in there and help Clary with dinner."

Just before dinner is served my father comes back into the house, and it takes everything I can to hold back and not go off on him.

Clary and I bring the plates into the dining area, where we all sit. After a little while of silence, mom starts asking Clary about art, which Clary is happy to talk about. I keep an eye on my father, but he keeps his head down, or looks at mom. Seems that I'm finally getting through to him. When we're all finished, mom volunteers Stephen and I to wash up, so I reluctantly head into the kitchen. Clary tells me that she's going to shower, but she'll meet me up in our room.

"Your mother told me that you're planning to propose. Congratulations." Stephen tells me as he's washing up.

He hands me a plate. "Like you really care," I say, quickly drying it and putting it in the cupboard. The faster I can finish this, the better.

"I do care," he says, slowly washing a plate. "I know I haven't been a good dad to you. When you were born, I promised myself that I'd give my son a good future. Maybe I got a little carried away in that goal."

"Right, so was part of the success taking a heap of my money and overworking me?" I ask, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"Who would have ever guessed that you were going to be successful as you are? I think I got caught up thinking that very movie could've been your last, so you just had to do everything you could. I'm sorry that I pushed it too far," he says, finally handing me the next plate.

"And that explains all the drinking and drugs and gambling how?" I ask, paying particularly close attention to drying the plate.

"It doesn't. And I can't explain that. I can only ask for forgiveness. I don't do any of that anymore, apart from occasionally sharing a glass of wine with your mother. All I can hope is that you become a better man than I am. And you already are a better man. Sure, you may have gone through a rough patch, but I can't help but feel that I influenced that. I'm… I'm sorry. And I'm proud of you."

I look up at him and take the last plate a quickly dry it. "Thanks… dad."

I quickly leave the kitchen and head to the spare bedroom. I open the door a little bit, and see Clary sitting in a chair in front of a vanity with wet hair, and mom standing behind her. I leave the door open a sliver a listen to what they're saying. I know I really shouldn't be eavesdropping, but I can't help it.

"I don't know… you may have heard," Clary is saying, "umm but... my dad died when I was thirteen. And after that my mom just kind of... checked out. And then she died when I was fifteen. So… no one's really taken care of me like this in a while."

"One of the great joys of life is having one's hair brushed," mom says softly.

I hear Clary sniffle a little and I quietly close the door and head into the bathroom to get ready for bed. By the time I leave the bathroom I see mom closing our bedroom door softly.

She smiles at me sadly, "take care of her, Jace. She's tough, your girl, but everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes."

I nod, and quickly kiss her on the cheek before heading into our bedroom to Clary still sitting on the chair in front of the vanity. She smiles up at me through the reflection, and I gently take her hand and lead her to bed.

After a while of stroking Clary's hair, she softly says "I've been thinking." I stop stroking her hair and move a bit so Im able to see her face better. "After everything that's happened… I'd like to help others."

"I don't think I follow," I say gently.

"Well, obviously what happened to me wasn't good," understatement of the year, "but at least I had the resources to deal with it. You know… I got lawyers and a therapist straight away. And it wasn't hard for me to move out of my house… what happened to me happens to so many women, or just other people for that matter… and there's nothing they can do to help themselves. And it's not their fault… if the same thing had happened to me, but I wasn't in the band, I would be in that situation. There would be almost nothing I could do to help myself. I can't imagine being in that position. So I'd like to set up… a foundation maybe? I haven't thought of the specifics yet. But somewhere people can go to get help - whether that be legal, or mental… or just to speak to someone. Or maybe they need help feeling safe again. I don't need to do it straight away, but I'm not that busy at the moment. I can start organising it now and when it's ready… I don't know. If it helps even one person, isn't it worth it?"

I nod, "I think so. And I'll do anything you want to help. You're amazing Clary."

"I'm not doing it to be amazing… I just… am in a position to be able to do it," she says, leaning back into me.

"I know," I say, as I begin running my fingers through her hair. "But you still are."

Hope you liked that chapter! I tried to work in some French, but I don't actually speak any so if there are some mistakes please let me know! Also, if there's something you'd like to see in this story, or in the sequel let me know! Hope you have a great weekend!