Me: Thank you to all who reviewed! It means so much to me that you are liking this story. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.

Pokemon67 is sorry for any and all grammatical errors.

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Chapter 2: City of Hurt

Clary felt like she was going insane. Everything was going back to the way it was, which in itself was good, and yet…

She's not here. She's not here and she should be here.

The worry in her mother's eyes every time she looked at Clary was prominent. Every time she asked if Clary was alright, Clary would smile and lie through her teeth claiming yes, she was. It was like a knife was scrapping her insides. How could she be alright? How could anyone be alright?

But she couldn't imagine speaking to her mother about this. Hell, not even she and Jace spoke about this. Looking at Jace was painful. Her own worry was reflected in his eyes, and she saw he too was struggling. But what could they say to each other?

Every hunt they went on, they kept their ears open for more news of the Underworld. Soon, two officials from Idris would be coming to the institute to conduct the questioning by the Mortal Sword. Apparently, Robert's connection to Jace was thought to personal for him to do it properly. But Clary didn't have high hopes. The Clave wouldn't care about her daughter. Well, maybe in only the possibility she was a half demon like Jonathan Morgenstern, but they wouldn't care about her wellbeing. They wouldn't care if she was okay. In fact, they were no doubt going to be specifically hoping for the opposite.

It was thoughts like this that made Clary feel like she was drowning. Her daughter missing was horrible, but if she died….

Clary couldn't take anymore. And usually when she couldn't take anymore of her life, she fled to the one person who wouldn't judge her for it.

Clary sat in Jonathan's living room, fiddling with a lose thread on her sweatshirt. She caught sight of her nails, short and scrapped. She had taken to bitting them.

The chains dug into her wrist. The fairy ignored her cries and injected another vial of black liquid into her. It burned through her veins, making her scream. She scraped her nails against the stone floor, the grating sound and sensation grounding her in a way nothing else did.

''Clary?''

Clary snapped the memory aside, looking up at her brother. ''Yes?''

Jonathan's green gaze never wavered. She hated how his expressions were so vague. She could never tell what he was thinking. He had the same expression he always did, the same on he had when a few days ago he had come back and told her he and Celeste hadn't found anything more in Naranth. ''What is it?''

''Nothing.''

He sat down on the floor in front of her, crossing his legs. ''Clary.''

Clary swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. She shook her head. ''Nothing. I just-'' she bit her lip. ''I- I don't know how…''

Jonathan stared at her. ''You can tell me.''

Clary felt tears prick her eyes. She ran her hands through her hair. ''I can't stop thinking about her,'' she confessed, her voice a whisper. ''Every moment, every day- all I do is think about her. She could be anywhere. They could be doing anything to her. She- she might be dead. I- I don't know what to do or how to find her. They have her and if I lose her-'' Clary couldn't finish. The thought was too horrifying.

Jonathan was silent for a moment. Then he asked, ''What's her name?''

''What?''

''Her name.'' Jonathan leaned forward. ''What's her name?''

Clary took a shuddering breath. She hadn't said her name since she got back to the apartment and saw they had already taken her. To speak her name was almost taunting the universe, daring it to make something worse happen. This was stupid and she knew it. So regardless, she forced herself. ''Moriah. Moriah Cèline.''

''What does she look like?''

Clary felt like her heart was breaking. She remembered how she held her in the bed in the apartment, how perfect her tiny hands wrapped around her finger. ''She has Jace's hair. And- and she was so pale. So pretty and small and cold. Her eyes-'' Clary trailed off, her mind going back to when she was first able to look into those dark eyes, darker than any charcoal drawing she had ever done. ''They were so wide. So deep and dark. It was as if she could see inside me and knew who I was.''

Clary didn't realize she had trailed off until she saw Jonathan staring at her. ''You're going to find her.''

She closed her eyes. She could picture Moriah in her head, how she laid so quietly in her embrace. ''What if I don't? What if she dies or she grows up without me? What if the fairies have taken her somewhere like Valentine took you?''

''Not gonna happen.''

''How do you know?''

''Because you won't let it.'' Clary blinked at him. ''You want her. You want to find her. As long as you hold on to those memories, you'll find her.''

''Mom held on to you. She didn't find you.''

''She didn't want to.'' Jonathan shook his hand as Clary opened her mouth to protest. ''It's the truth. She didn't want me. She wanted her human child. She mourned me, Clary. You aren't mourning Moriah, you're missing her. You've just sat here and talked about her pretty black eyes. You know what she is and you want her anyway. I know you: you get what you want.''

Clary took a trembling breath. ''What if that's not enough?''

''It will be. Moriah Cèline will be found.''

Clary gave a nod. She stared at her fingers in her lap, all twisted together in a nervous knot. If she thought hard enough, she could recall how it felt to have Moriah's cold body laying against her. I'll find you. I will find you.

You could've heard a pin drop in the library of the Institute on the day the Clave came for Clary's and Jace's statements. Everyone along with the two officials sent from Idris were in there, sitting and waiting as per the official's request.

Normally, the Inquisitor would handle the questioning. But as Robert Lightwood was the Inquisitor, and Jace his son, the Clave seemed to think it best to have someone else handle the questioning. This was Isabelle's first tip off that the Clave was worried. They were not taking any chances with the possibility of a demon child.

Magnus and Luke were questioned first since they couldn't be tried by the Sword. Then Jocelyn, who could, and then Jonathan Christopher, who Isabelle was surprised agreed in the first place. Next was Alec, then her, and then Simon.

All their depositions were the same; they went to Naranth, were surprised by the fairies attack, and then found Clary and Jace. Only Magnus and Jonathan had been in the apartment before they got there. She didn't know if Magnus lied outright or just kept back certain truths, but Isabelle strongly suspected Jonathan had lied. How she didn't know since he was holding the Mortal Sword. Maybe he was just that good at word play. The officials of the Clave seemed to think so as well, but nevertheless they had to let him go.

Next was Jace. Isabelle studied him as he stood in the center of the room, calm and composed as ever. He was too thin and too pale. And there was that old hardness in his eyes she hadn't seen since he was young and had first come to live with them. It was the look of someone who thought the world was against him, as if he didn't think he had anyone on his side. It broke her heart.

Jace picked up the blade. He adjusted his grip and held it out, waiting for the questions.

''Jonathan Herondale,'' the official began.

''Jace.'' The official blinked. Jace shrugged. ''Jace Herondale. You know, since this is all about the truth and such.''

Isabelle heard Max snicker. The official bristled. ''Jace Herondale,'' he corrected himself. ''What happened on the day you and Clarissa Fairchild went missing?''

''We were captured.''

''By who?''

''Whom.''

Next to Isabelle, Simon coughed into his hand. The official's face actually changed color. ''By whom?''

''Fairies,'' Jace supplied. ''Fairies apart of the Underworld.''

''Why did they capture you and Clarissa Fairchild?''

''For experimental purposes.''

''Be more specific.''

''How so?''

Isabelle realized Jace was only going to answer what he had to, no more. The official knew it too. ''What sort of experiment did these fairies wish to preform on you?''

Jace shrugged. ''They didn't exactly share their ideas.''

''What did they wish to preform on Clarissa Fairchild?''

Isabelle saw irritation flash on Jace's face; he had thought he had gotten away with the last question. ''I suppose, specifically, they wished to preform and experiment not on Clary, but on her child.''

''You suppose?''

Jace's hand on the sword was white. ''I know.''

''Clarissa Fairchild was pregnant prior to being captured?''

''Yes.''

''Was this child your's as well?''

Jace turned around to where Clary sat in a chair. ''You wanna field this one?''

Clary gave him a look. ''Jace.''

''Sorry.'' He turned back to the official. ''Yes.''

''What was the experiment?''

''Like I said, they didn't exactly share their procedures.''

The official drummed his fingers. He tried a different tactic. ''Are the rumors about these fairies and their fascination with Valentine Morgenstern's own experiments true?''

''Yes.''

''Is it true the child was subjected to the same treatment that led to the corruption of Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern?''

''Wow.'' Jonathan looked over from where he was leaning against the fireplace. ''Words can hurt you know.''

The official ignored him and continued to look at Jace. ''Well?''

Isabelle could see the anger in Jace's face. ''If you mean was she injected with demon blood, then yes, she was.''

Isabelle waited for the next question but it never came. The official nodded, looking as though he got what he wanted. ''That will be all.''

Suspicion was on Jace's face. Nevertheless, he laid the sword back on the desk and retreated back to his seat.

The official looked at Clary. ''Clarissa Fairchild.''

Through all the questioning, Clary had sat in an armchair, unmoving. Her hands had been folded in her lap, knotted together and looking white from lack of blood flow. Isabelle didn't know if was a kindness or a cruelty making her go last, and not only that but making her sit through all the other interviews. It was almost a taunt, really. A statement made by the two officials in the room. We will find out. We will make you tell us everything.

Clary got to her feet, gently brushing away the hand Jace offered her. Her wound must've not been fully healed yet, for she walked carefully and slightly hunched over. But she straightened up upon taking the Mortal Sword, holding it out in front of her as Jace had done. She met the official's icy stare with her own. Isabelle felt a swell of protective pride for her; Clary was not going to let this man intimate her.

''Clarissa Fairchild, is it true you were pregnant upon being captured by the fairies of the Underworld?''

Clary nodded. ''Yes.''

''Is it true they experimented on your child with demon blood?''

''Yes.''

''Did they have your consent to do so?''

''Excuse you?'' Jocelyn demanded from the back of the room. Maryse held her back.

The official pretended not hear. ''Did they?''

''Of course not,'' Clary answered.

''Is it true you and Jace Herondale escaped from the fairy realm?''

''Yes.''

''Is it true you escaped to Naranth? A place known for it's illegal Downworld activity?''

''Hey,'' Luke cut in.

Still, Clary did not waver. ''Yes.''

''Why?''

Alec exchanged a look with Magnus. Isabelle felt her heart go cold as she began to see the direction this conversation was going.

Clary didn't answer at first. She continued to stare at the official, no doubt thinking of various responses that would be turned around on her. The official already knew what he wanted her to say and he wasn't giving her any choice but to say it. ''We fled to Naranth because we didn't know what to do.''

''To do about what?''

''About our daughter having demon blood.''

''You were worried?''

''Yes.''

''So there is something to be worried about? This child is something to fear?''

''That's enough,'' Robert said. But the official was on a roll.

''Clarissa Fairchild? Is there something the Clave should fear?''

Clary's gaze was still full of ice. ''Only my wrath if you so much as harm one hair on my daughter's head.''

The official smiled, but Isabelle saw him shuffle every so slightly back. He hadn't forgotten he was in the presence of the girl who's runes led to victory in the Mortal War. And as she wasn't wincing in pain from the Sword, she clearly meant what she said.

''That's enough,'' Robert repeated. He took the Sword from Clary.

''You heard them,'' the official said. ''In their own words they confess to the child bearing remarkable resemblance to Jonathan Morgenstern. And did she not just threaten me? The Clave? Her alliance doesn't belong with us but with a monster-''

''That is enough,'' Maryse echoed Robert, making her way towards them.

''I am conducting this line of questioning, Lightwood,'' the official protested. ''It is not finished until I say it is.''

''I am the Inquisitor,'' Robert said. ''And I say it is done.''

''Of course you do. You both do. These two delinquents are your old cult leader's children. Of course you should fear the possible annihilation of the next generation freak.''

There wasn't anyone in the room aside from the other official who wasn't ready to kill the man, and even his companion looked horrified. Robert raised his hand and Isabelle wasn't sure if he was going to punch the guy or simple stab him through with the Mortal Sword. Surprisingly, it was Jonathan Christopher who stopped him.

In the blink of an eye he was in-between them, his elbow raised to block Robert's blow. ''Settle down, children,'' he chided. He glanced at the official. ''Leave. Before I change my mind.''

The two withdrew, Magnus going angrily with them in order to make the portal. Robert gave a small, nevertheless grateful, incline of his head to Jonathan.

Jonathan returned the gesture. He then went to Clary, who was still standing in the same place. She looked as though the fight had gone out of her. Her eyes were on the floor, her fingers clenched in front of her again. Jonathan gently took her arm and led her out of the library.

Isabelle clenched her fists until she could feel her fingernails cut her palm. She wasn't used to feeling as if she were out of place, as if she served no purpose. But in this situation she did. Everyone did. Where did they go from here?

Alec came up the hallway. He saw Magnus glaring at the wall. ''Did they go?''

He nodded. ''To Hell, I hope.''

Personally, Alec agreed with the sentiment. There was no excuse for the way the official had talked to Clary. But he was still a Shadowhunter. ''You didn't actually make the portal…''

''Hmm?'' Magnus frowned at him before deciphering his meaning. ''No, of course not. I did think about though.'' He shook his head. ''How about I go home to the boys? You stay here, see if…''

He trailed off. Not even Magnus knew what to do, but Alec appreciated the sentiment. ''Yeah,'' he agreed. ''That would be good.'' He kissed him. ''I won't be long.''

''Take your time.'' Magnus went down the hall.

Alec sighed. Jonathan had been with Clary, and no doubt she was already on her way home with Jocelyn and Luke. His place was with Jace.

Slowly, Alec went to his room. He knocked. ''Jace? You in there?''

There was no answer, but Alec hadn't really expected one. He opened the door, only to stumble back as a knife appeared in the wood. ''What the hell?''

Jace stared at him, another knife in his hand. ''You should've have opened it.''

''Clearly.'' Jace threw another knife, this one hitting the wall next to Alec. Alec watched it deadpanned. ''Now that's not dangerous.''

''What do you want?''

Alec sighed. ''Jace, I- I know this is hard-''

''Do you?'' Jace scoffed in exasperation.

''Yes. But you can't- you need- Clary needs-''

Jace actually laughed. ''You think-'' he stoped himself, shaking his head, a distracted smirk on his face. ''Forget it.''

''No.'' Alec stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He had a strange moment of deja vu. A time when he was really still getting to know Jace, when he first opened up to him by pushing, literally pushing past those walls and eyes of mistrust. Demanding to be let in and be his parabati. His brother. To be someone he could feel safe falling apart to. This seemed to be another time for those tactics. ''Say it. What do I think?''

Jace scoffed again. ''Do you remember what you said to me in the Demon Realms? Remember how you were angry with me because I didn't see how worried you were about Magnus?'' He gestured around with his knife. ''This is exactly the same.''

''How so?''

''Can you imagine what I'm going through? Imagine one of your sons missing. Imagine them being fucking tortured and experimented on for days, and the only way you knew they were alive was by their screams. Can you imagine that? Do you have any idea what that feels like? And now, realizing your entire world is against you. The Clave don't give a crap about what happened. They just want to make sure they have their asses covered. Do you have any idea what that feels like?''

Alec stared at Jace, bitting his lip. ''No,'' he answered honestly. ''I have no idea.''

''No you don't. So don't you dare come in here and lecture me.'' Jace ran a hand through his hair. ''Don't you lecture me and don't you dare bring up Clary-''

His voice caught. Alec knew he was thinking about the cells. Thinking about whatever had happened that neither of them had mentioned. ''Do you remember what you said to me in the Demon Realms?'' Jace looked at him. ''You told me I wasn't alone. And guess what, neither are you. Both you and Clary have everyone behind you. You don't have to be okay.''

''Yeah,'' Jace said dryly. ''The Clave is really behind us. It's not like they are already looking for evidence that Clary and I are planning some sort of coup, and that the second Moriah is found, she'll be killed.''

''We won't let that happen,'' Alec insisted, taking a moment to realize Moriah must've been the child's name. ''You know that.''

The look on Jace's face scared him. He looked…wistful. ''You haven't met her yet,'' he said in a whisper. ''When you do, you might not think that.''

Maryse leaned against the kitchen island, drumming her fingers against her now empty wineglass. The Institute was quiet, all her children and Simon were in their rooms. Whether or not they were sleeping, she could only hope.

Anxiously, she thought of Jace's pale face and his gaunt look. Both he and Clarissa were practically shadows of their former selves. It was to be excepted. Even with the questioning by Mortal Sword, what hadn't they said about their time in the cells? What had all happened? And how were two 17 year old's supposed to handle it?

''Need more wine?''

Maryse looked up unamused as Robert entered the kitchen. ''No,'' she said, though in all honesty she had been contemplating another glass. She hated that he read her so well. ''I was just…thinking.''

Robert nodded. He stood across the counter from her. ''About what?''

''The entire situation. Jace, Clarissa….'' she trailed off before adding, ''the child.''

Robert let out a heavy breath. ''What do you think?'' He asked carefully.

Maryse had been thinking many things. She had thought about the Clave's worry, how there was a certain truth to it. She had thought about the fairies and the Underworld in general and about what the best strategy would be to take them down. But she ended up not bringing up any of these things. ''Do you remember when there was that whole big meeting in Idris, right before Alec's first birthday? In reality it was a pretense for an Inquest for the Circle?''

Robert raised an eyebrow. ''Yes?''

''Remember, we had walked to the Morgenstern's,' Maryse continued. ''And we entered and coming down the stairs was Jonathan, barely two, and looking almost smaller than Alec. He looked at us with those big eyes, and asked us the meaning of a word.''

''Fickle,'' Robert supplied.

''Yes. That was it. He asked us what the word fickle meant. And when we told him he nodded and went on his way.'' Maryse tilted her head in remembrance. ''That whole morning, god, Valentine and Jocelyn were so scattered. And Stephen was being a pain in the ass and Cèline was sitting on the counter drinking her god-awful coffee.''

''Then Michael and Eliza got there,'' Robert cut in, ''And Michael pointed out Jocelyn's outfit-''

''-Because her clothes weren't clean,'' Maryse finished. ''And he echoed exactly what we and Stephen had said-''

''-And then Jocelyn nearly left Jonathan behind-''

''-Because she and Valentine never seemed to notice when he wandered off.''

They both chuckled at the memory. There was a strange tightness in Maryse as she realized that she and Robert never did this. They never talked about the Circle, not even the good times. ''What made you think of that?'' Robert asked.

She shrugged. ''Jonathan was only two,'' she said. ''And I know Jocelyn thinks differently, especially with him back, but- I can't lie and say he was always a demon. He was a child who grew up and made terrible choices. But he was a child. I can't rewrite history and say he wasn't.'' She looked at her hand's again. ''If the Clave finds Clarissa's and Jace's child…''

''There's no telling what they'll do.'' Robert sounded grim. Maryse looked at him. ''Is that why you were so adamant about not calling Jace Jonathan?''

Maryse blinked. It took her a moment to understand the question. ''Do you really think you could've called him that?'' she asked. ''Even if we thought he was Michael's son at the time, we saw Jonathan Christopher a lot more than we did Jonathan Wayland. Could you really have called Jace Jonathan and not think about the house burning and the bodies-'' she stopped abruptly. Her chest felt tight at the memory. Even now, though she knew for certain the events hadn't happened that way, the memory of that time couldn't be erased.

''No,'' Robert confessed honestly. ''I couldn't have.''

They were silent for a moment. ''I want my grandchild,'' Maryse said bluntly. ''I won't have Clarissa and Jace lose their child.''

To her relief, Robert nodded. ''I agree.''

Simon sighed in exhaustion. His glance went to Clary, who seemed to feel the same. ''Is that the last of them?''

Panting for breath, Clary glanced at her Sensor. She seemed to get more winded easily these days. It made Simon worry, but it wasn't as if she was going to slow down. She insisted on going on as many hunts as everyone else. Which, as there seemed to be a strange influx of demons lately, was a lot.

Clary frowned at her Sensor. ''I guess.''

''You guess?''

''It's not reading right.'' She turned it around to face him. ''Maybe it's just residue from the ones we killed?''

Simon shrugged in response. He looked around, taking in the sight of the abandoned warehouse they were in. He gestured to a metal stair case. ''Shall we check?''

Clary gave a nod, pocketing her Sensor and forging ahead. Simon followed, watching her back with concern. Ever since she and Jace had come home, and since the deserters questioning two weeks ago, there was this wall between them all. This subject lying between them that nobody wanted to bring up. But Simon knew they would have to, eventually. That or he feared Clary and Jace would go insane.

Or maybe they already had, he thought as he began checking around the second floor. Whenever he talked to either of them, their minds seemed elsewhere. Clary would jump if you entered the room too suddenly, and one time on a hunt when Simon had grabbed her back from being hit from behind by a demon, she had actually hit him. And Jace- well, when Jace wasn't out hunting he was locked in his room. Simon barely saw him. And when he did, he was always by Clary. This wasn't too different from before Naranth, but now Jace just looked…frightened.

Simon wondered if they ever talked about their child between themselves.

He turned away from the dusty boxes and crates, making his way back towards the stairs. ''Nothing here,'' he called. He entered the open room that Clary went through. ''How about you?''

Clary was standing in the room, her back to the door. Simon frowned at the surroundings. This room didn't seem deserted. There was significantly less dust, and instead of boxes there were tables, each one stacked with objects on it. ''What are these things?''

''Vials.'' Clary's tone was devoid of any emotion. Simon turned away from the tables with their strange array of items on them and walked to Clary. He saw in her hands was a notebook, torn. ''They were here.''

''Who?'' Clary was still staring at the notebook, and Simon followed her gaze.

The notebook's pages were creased, clearly carelessly left behind when whoever had been here had fled. The black ink writing however, was crisp and clean. Simon narrowed his eyes in the dim light and made out a few words: 'experiment' and 'demon blood.' ''No.''

''She was here,'' Clary said softly. ''They're studying her.''

Simon felt sick. Clary was staring at the writing, looking broken. He placed a hand on her arm. ''We know she's alive. That's progress.''

Clary didn't respond, but continued to stare at the carefully taken notes about her daughter.

….

Thunk! The knife landed almost perfectly centered in the target. Clary got into position to throw another one. And another, and another…

'The child is not as powerful as we'd hoped. She does not speak, and often doesn't seem to hear.'

Could that be because she's a baby?

'Tests, however, have shown her memory is phenomenal. Nothing escapes her notice. This is very encouraging.'

Well, bully for you.

''Clary?''

Clary turned as Jace entered, her knife entirely missing the mark and clinking on the training room floor. The sound echoed as they stared at each other.

Jace looked tired. He held up the notebook. ''I read it.''

''What did you think?'' Clary asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ''Personally, I found the author's lack of commitment to a single genre annoying. I mean, is it a horror story or a sci-fi? Both? Then make it clear, jackass.''

Clary had to remind herself to breathe. Anger was building in her chest. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Jace tapped the notebook with his fingers. ''I think we should burn it. Before the Clave has reason to get ahold of it.''

Clary considered. That was probably the best course of action. After all, proof that the demon child was alive would no doubt get the Clave involved to a starling degree, one which Clary was certain they wouldn't like the outcome of. Of course, burning the book meant they wouldn't have it to glean any more info from. On the other hand, Clary was certain she would never forget the crisp pages of black letters talking about her daughter as if she were an animal in a lab. ''Okay.''

''Simon hasn't said anything, right?''

''No. Of course not.''

Jace nodded and led the way to the library.

They gathered around the fireplace and with a quick rune made a roaring fire. Clary watched numbly while Jace tossed the notebook into the flames. As it turned to ashes, Clary envisioned the fairies who had imprisoned them burning. Hearing them scream as she had screamed, holding her daughter as they begged for mercy.

Stop.

''Clary?''

Jace's voice again jostled her out of her thoughts. Absently, she wondered if she should worry about how often she kept slipping so deep into her own mind. ''Hmm?''

''There were two locations mentioned in the book,'' Jace said. ''I want to check them out

tomorrow.''

Clary shook her head. ''Both were only mentioned to demonstrate her memory,'' Clary reminded him. ''And both were abandoned because she knew them too well. They were afraid she'd escape.''

''I know.'' Clary turned away from the flames to look at him. His tone was strange. He was still staring into the fire, the light making him glow when he asked, ''How old could she be if they are afraid of her escaping?''

A stab of pain went through Clary. ''I don't know.''

''Maybe it's just the unpredictable aspect of the demon blood that has them worried.'' His tone was still strange, and Clary realized she wasn't the only one lost in her own head and feelings. ''Still, those places?''

Clary nodded. It was information, that was all that really mattered. Maybe there would be something that would help them. ''Okay.''

They didn't speak again, but continued to stare into the fire. They stayed there until the embers died, knowing no words could fill the feeling in their hearts.

Maybe they would find something tomorrow. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe she's dead. After all, how long does one keep an experiment they are afraid of?

Me: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have time, please review and let me know what you think!

Happy Writing!