Me: I want to thank everyone who took the time to review last chapter. Every single review makes me feel so happy and spurs me to write more. I especially want to thank a guest reviewer whose review came on a day when I really needed to hear something kind. Thank you all so much.

Disclaimer: That's right. I do NOT own the TMI universe.

Chapter 23: Aftermath

Isabelle shoved her hands in her pockets as she walked across the park to join her brothers and nephews. She smiled and waved to Rafe and Little Max, who were busy playing with Max by the jungle gym. She went on the bench a little ways away to where Alec was. He nodded in greeting. ''Hey.''

''Hey.'' She sat down next to him, following his gaze as Max helped Rafe swing on the monkey bars. She hesitated before asking, ''How's Celeste?''

Alec took a breath. ''It's been a week,'' he said, and Isabelle wasn't sure if that was meant as a good thing or bad. ''Magnus only got Caterina to agree to treat her three days ago, so… ''

Isabelle bit her cheek. ''She's not in the clear yet, is she?''

Alec shook his head. ''No.''

Isabelle slumped against the bench. With everything Clary and Jace were going through, what would they do if they lost the person who had helped them so much?

Predicting where her mind was, Alec asked, ''How's Moriah?''

Isabelle glanced over to where Max and the little boys were. She had no desire to worry Rafe and Little Max. ''Not great.''

''Has she come out of her room at all?''

''Not once.'' Isabelle's heart ached as she remembered returning home six days ago, entering the Institute to hear Moriah screaming bloody murder. It was because Clary and Jace had carried her out of their room, and Moriah had not wanted to leave the room. She was scared. Moriah- blank faced, emotionless Moriah- was scared. Terrified.

Well, we wanted her to feel things. Now she is.

''And Clary?''

''The same as she's been, as is Jace. Though I'm pretty sure when were not looking they are planning some sort of killing spree.''

''Don't joke about that.''

''Who's joking?'' She lowered her voice. ''Don't tell me you wouldn't join them?''

''Of course I would,'' he replied back sharply. ''Especially since Simon swears one of the people was Whitesnake-''

''He's the one who probably let Renage out in the first place,'' Isabelle pointed out.

''-But if they do do something,'' Alec continued, not addressing Isabelle's theory, ''We both know who the Clave will punish.''

Moriah. They would come for Moriah. Ever since their parentage was revealed- Clary being Valentine's daughter, Jace being raised by him- Shadowhunters on the whole seemed wary of them, especially of Clary and her rune power. Sure they were respected, but they were feared. And now, the Clave had the perfect leverage against them.

Isabelle resisted the urge to kick the bench. She hated the distinction between individual Shadowhunters and the Clave. Shadowhunters were her friends and comrades, but the Clave…well, lately it seemed like the Clave was this large villain that was intent on hurting her family. Not in a malicious way, just in a fearful, stupid, controlling way. They didn't care. They didn't know or care about Moriah in any way that mattered.

''Is dad still in Idris?'' Alec continued the conversation.

''Yeah, doing business and stuff.'' Contemplating murder, too, Isabelle added silently to herself. At least, that was certainly the impression she got from the look on her father's face when she last saw him before leaving Lightwood Manor. ''Mom is heading back today.''

''Why?''

Isabelle shrugged. ''To help dad or get a head start on that killing spree. I don't know. I think she'll flip a coin when she gets there.''

Alec bristled. ''Still not funny.''

''Still not meant to be.''

Little Max laughing made both Isabelle and Alec look up. Max was having him and Rafe race through the playground, seeing who could dart though to the slides the fastest. Isabelle was happy they were happy, however that pain persisted in her. Moriah should be happy too. But instead she was home at the Institute, crying at the mere sight of anyone who wasn't Clary or Jace. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

Clary twirled her phone in her fingers, pushing down the feelings of unease that always rose up in her as of late when her mother called. Since returning home, she had called once a day to ask after them all, obeying the unspoken order of staying away. Clary missed her terribly and yet was glad she was giving her space. It was better for them both, she thought, to take some time and come to terms with their situation.

She hugged her knees to her chest and glanced out the window. A reflection in the glass diverted her attention, making her turn around on the window seat to look at the little figure sitting cross legged on the bed. ''Hey, baby girl.''

Moriah stared at her. Her black eyes and bruises made her already pale face look as white as snow. The only real color came from that old scar on her cheek, which had reopened and was now bright red.

The unease in Clary changed from being about Jocelyn to being about Moriah. Every time she looked at her little girl, Clary felt pain, as if it were her own face that had been injured. ''Do you want something?''

Moriah watched with an unwavering gaze as Clary rose from her seat and came over to her. Clary had only left the bed to talk to Jocelyn, leaving Moriah laying down in false hope she had been sleeping. It was now clear she hadn't been. No doubt she'd been sitting up in silence like this ever since Clary turned away.

Clary sat back down next to her. Moriah gave a low noise in her throat and reached for her. Clary pulled her into her lap, stroking back her hair from her face. At least she was whining again. Other than screaming when they had tried to get her to leave the room and crying in the night, Moriah hadn't been making any noises since coming home. No whining, no speaking.

Moriah curled up in her lap. Clary held her tightly, kissing her forehead. It was as if they were back to where they started, she reflected. Back when Moriah was first found, only worse.

She just needs time, Clary told herself sternly. She got hurt and is scared. She'll be okay.

But there was something about Moriah that made Clary doubt herself. Moriah was scared, that was clear, but was it fear keeping her from speaking? From leaving the room? The way she stared and sat so still gave off an air of…resignedness. What she might've resigned herself to, Clary hadn't the faintest idea.

She rocked herself slightly. ''Do you want anything?'' She asked quietly. ''Something to eat?''

Moriah gave no response, which Clary knew was a response all on it's own.

Jonathan again felt the same pointlessness and stupidity he had felt when Clary was injured and he had lurked outside the Institute. He wasn't strictly forbidden from going into Caterina's center where she healed Downworlders and mundanes alike, but he strongly suspected it was because of his connection to her that had made Caterina so reluctant to treat Celeste in the first place. He had no wish to risk Caterina changing her mind.

So he stayed in the alleyway near the entrance, watching with narrowed eyes as oblivious mundanes went about their pathetic lives. He wondered if some of them suspected there was so much more to the world than they knew. He wondered if they wished there was more, or if they did know, wished there wasn't.

He could hear footsteps behind him, and an educated guess made him decide not to bother glancing behind him to see who it was. The person soon spoke, confirming their identity. ''Why are you out here?''

''Lovely weather.'' Max approached to stand next to him, making Jonathan eye him in suspicion. ''Why are you out here?''

'' 'Cause.'' Max looked to the building next to them. ''Not allowed inside?''

''I've no desire to be inside.''

''How is she?''

''How should I know?''

''…Would you like me to go see?''

Jonathan managed his creepy smile. ''Why should you think Caterina likes you anymore than she likes me?''

''Touchè.''

A silence settled over them, causing Jonathan to once again wonder what brought Max here in the first place. ''Why are you here?''

''Have you talked to Clary?'' Max asked.

''About what?''

''Oh, I don't know. About the fact her daughter is holding her and Jace prisoner by not letting them leave the room?''

''From my understanding, they can leave the room. It's Moriah who won't leave.''

''So is that a 'yes'? You have talked to her?''

''Briefly.''

Max gave a huff. ''Would a straight answer kill you?''

''Do you really want to risk finding out?'' Jonathan drummed his fingers on the wall behind him. There was this feeling in his chest. Nervousness. Talking about Clary made him nervous. ''What does it matter, anyway?''

''She's your sister. She might need you.''

''If she does, she knows where I am.''

''Not visiting Celeste?''

''Exactly.'' Max rolled his eyes. Jonathan was confused about what it was he was looking for. What should he do, anyway? What could anyone do to help Clary and Jace as they dealt with Moriah?

''Does she feel fear?''

Jonathan blinked. ''Who?''

''Moriah,'' Max clarified. ''Does she feel fear?''

''Why the hell are you asking me?''

''Because I can't ask Moriah.''

''I believe there are a few differences between us. Namely the fact that she is a little girl and I am not.''

''But there are similarities. Namely, the demon blood.''

Jonathan made a mockery of looking around. ''And here I thought the Inquest was over.''

''I'm serious,'' Max went on. ''Does she feel fear?''

''As your father so aptly pointed out, Moriah and I are not the same. We have different demon blood.''

''And as Renage pointed out, don't all demons have the blood of Lilith?'' Max gave a sigh of frustration. ''I just wondered… well, maybe you would know what she's thinking.''

Jonathan scoffed. ''Child gets attacked and watches as two people are beaten to death in front of her, knowing she's next. Gee, even I can infer from that.''

''If Little Max gets hurt, he cries,'' Max argued. ''If he's scared, he runs to Magnus and Alec. Moriah doesn't do that. She makes no noise and just…hides.''

''She runs to Clary and Jace.''

''She clings to them,'' Max corrected. ''She clings to them and yet voices no protest when they put her down. She lets them leave the room, but she doesn't. Won't. Screams at the very mention of it.'' He shook his head. ''I don't know if she's scared or…or…''

''Or what?'' Jonathan prompted.

Max sighed. ''Or…broken.'' He took a trembling breath. ''I think they broke my niece, Jonathan. And I don't think she's ever going to be whole.''

He buried his face in his hands, crying. Jonathan patiently watched him. He realized when it came to Moriah, everyone was like him; completely baffled as to what emotions were. They were as handicapped as he was, left to only pick up vague clues from her and interpret them as best they knew how. How powerless humans were when their ability to connect in an emotional way was cut off.

It had taken Maryse many years to learn to control her emotions in order to do what needed to be done, to act properly like a warrior and not let her personal feelings get in the way. A Shadowhunter was not an island; one needed others and to work as a team. She prided herself on how far she had come, but could now feel herself slipping back into ways of feelings that would startle even Isabelle.

Monster. Creature. 'That thing'. These were only a few of the synonyms many people had adopted when referring to Moriah. Maryse had swallowed all of these- watched her son and Clarissa swallow these- in perfect silence. They had obeyed every order, had that damned Inquest, and yet it was still not enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

The recap of events given to her by her children had repeated itself over and over, making her heart pound and her vision blur. And when they had returned to the Institute, and she not only heard Moriah screaming in terror, but saw her face- her bruised, beaten face- well, it was lucky for Shadowhunters she did not posses the ability to make a portal. If she had, no one could have stopped her from turning on her heel back to Idris and raising hell.

From what she could derive from the few stiff fire messages Robert had sent to her, he was trying to raise hell. But they both knew it was a fine line they were walking. It did not take a very active imagination to imagine what would happen if they pissed off the wrong people by pursing the matter of Moriah's attack.

Maryse's hand trembled so that she had to place her bag down in fear of dropping it. How can we not pursue it? How can we stand by and let this pass?

Someone needs to pay.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. One thing at a time. First, get back to Idris. She had duties there, not to mention making sure Robert didn't do anything stupid. If anyone was going to do something stupid, it should be her. His position was far too important. Surely the Inquisitor being Moriah's grandfather had to be some sort of deterrent?

Clearly not.

Maryse pushed all further thoughts away and continued collecting papers to put in her bag. How did so much paperwork manage to pile up on the library desk? They were warriors, after all. Not secretaries.

''Are you leaving now?''

Maryse turned around at the voice. Jace was entering the library. Despite his causal voice and manner, Maryse could see the tension in him. The dullness of his eyes, the slowed walk, the weight he still had not regained- it all made something inside of her jump. He was a warrior, she raised warriors, but still…goddamn it he was her son. He was not yet eighteen and he should not look like this.

''Soon,'' she replied to his question. She zipped up her bag before turning around to face him properly. ''How's Moriah?''

''The same.''

Maryse bit her cheek. She ran through the list of reasons why she shouldn't leave again, only to once again arrive at the same conclusion that there was nothing she could do here; Moriah had declared herself a recluse. No one touched her who wasn't her parents, and even when Maryse entered the room to sit with her to give Clarissa and Jace a break she made it clear her dislike of the arrangement. She made no sound, but sat in the room as far away from Maryse as she could, watching with wide, unblinking eyes, until eventually Clarissa or Jace came back, upon which she would throw herself at them. Moriah wanted nothing to do with anyone else, and no one was in any mind to deny her of that.

No, there was no need to stay. She would not be gone long in any case. Just to deal with her work, keep Robert from doing anything, and perhaps do something herself. No, she needed to go.

''I won't be gone long,'' she said. Jace's mouth twitched.

''So you've said before.''

''Well I won't be.'' Doubt again rose up. ''Are you sure-''

''We'll be fine,'' Jace cut her off. ''Promise. She'll be okay.''

''Right.'' Maryse sighed before hugging him. She felt him relax ever so slightly against her, allowing himself a moment of weakness. After a moment she reluctantly pulled away, resisting the urge to sigh again. ''Say goodbye to Clarissa and Moriah for me, okay?''

''Sure.'' Maryse grabbed her bag. ''There was something I wanted to ask you, though…''

Maryse paused, looking at him curiously. ''What is it?''

Jace tapped his fingers against his leg for a moment before looking over his shoulder. ''While you're in Idris, can you get some information for me?''

''Information?''

''Yeah. About…'' he hesitated, lowering his voice before telling her.

Maryse listened to his request, processing what he was proposing. The mother side of her wanted to put her foot down and tell him to get that foolish idea out of his head. The warrior and emotional sides of her however were once in complete agreement. She smiled, feeling the way one does when a planned hunt comes together in a perfect manner. ''I think I just might be able to manage that.''

Jace's eyes sparkled at her approval. Maryse felt a sort of peace from the knowledge that dues would be paid, and not just in full, but by the people who were owed them.

Jace watched Renage as she entered his cell, closing the door with her foot. ''I've come again,'' she said lightly. ''As I said I would. Now, have you had time to think about my proposal?''

Jace looked at her, but only half of him was listening. The other half was focused on the sounds down the hall. Someone shushing someone else. A high pitched cry. ''What are you doing to my daughter?''

''We aren't talking about her,'' Renage reminded him.

''What are you doing to her?''

''You should really worry about you now.'' Her eyes glinted. She was excited, but Jace had seen enough of her to know that behind that excitement was rapidly growing annoyance. ''Will you accept my deal?''

Jace didn't want to give her anything. He didn't understand what she wanted it the first place, and all the times she had asked before he had just told her to fuck off. But now…Well, if she really wanted this, then he had leverage. ''Let us all go and I'll do anything you want.''

''I'm not one for settling,'' she purred.

''Shame. Neither am I.'' He leaned back against the wall. He resisted the urge to flinch as another cry rang out. One day, he would kill Renage, and she would make the same sounds his daughter was making. Worse, even.

Renage gave him a look that made Jace's heart flutter. She was angry, and it didn't take much imagination to guess what a creature like Renage did to things that made her angry. But all she did was turn around and leave the room, the cell door slamming behind her. Even with the door closed, the crying still went on.

It got louder.

Of course. Why punish him when there were two other people who's pain would hurt him so much more than his own?

Jace opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling above him. He turned his head and saw Clary, thankfully asleep, beside him. But Moriah was not between them. Jace's heart skipped a beat as he sat up, about to call her name. It was then he realized the crying he heard hadn't just been in his dreams.

He peered through the darkness to the other side of the room. He could just make out his daughter's small silhouette, standing with her back pressed into the corner. Being careful not to wake Clary, Jace got up, walking over to her slowly. ''Moriah?''

He saw her jump as he approached. She had one hand clamped over her mouth, the other balled into a fist at her side. Her black eyes glittered, even in the darkness. She whined when he knelt in front of her, actually recoiling further into her corner. ''Moriah, it's me. It's okay. I'm here.''

Another whine. She shook her head at him, her chest heaving up and down in panic. Since getting back, this had become almost a nightly occurrence. Jace wondered what she was thinking or dreamed of that led to this. The attack? The Cells? There was no way to know. Slowly, he outstretched a hand, curling his fingers and stroking her cheek.

Moriah made a choked noise. She trembled even as Jace touched her, acting as if he were hitting her rather than stroking her. ''Shh, little girl. It's okay. You're okay.'' She whined in protest, high pitched. ''Hey, look at me.''

He tilted her head up at him. There were no tears, just this horrible, panicked stricken look that made something in Jace tighten. They did this to you. They hurt you. Images of the Cells and of the clearing all blended together in his head, the screams and cries all combining. How Jace hated them all. The fairies of the Underworld, the Shadowhunters who helped them. One day, they would all pay.

Jace sat back on his heels. He lowered his hand from Moriah's cheek and clasped the hand that hung at her side. Her skin was so cold. ''I'm here, okay? I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down, okay?'' he whispered to her softly.

Moriah gave another muffled cry into her hand. Jace watched her silently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. They sat in the still night of the room, the only sound being Moriah's trembling breaths.

After many moments, Jace sat up again. He hesitantly pulled Moriah closer to him. When she didn't protest, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, getting to his feet. She buried her face in his neck and let out a small whimper. ''I know, baby. I know.''

He rocked her gently and stroked her rumpled hair. ''Let's go back to bed now.'' He shushed her when she whined. ''No, we have to be quiet. Don't wake mommy, okay?''

Moriah cut herself off mid whine. She clenched her fists again, clasping them against her chest as Jace held her. He took her back to the bed and sat down. He kept holding Moriah, letting her lay on his chest and covered her with the blankets. She made another sound in her throat, this one purposefully quiet. ''It's okay. Try and go back to sleep.''

Moriah fell silent. Were you ever asleep? Jace wondered, not for the first time. If Moriah did sleep, it wasn't when he and Clary were awake to witness it.

Jace looked as Clary shifted. He felt guilty as he realized he must've woken her. She sat up on her elbows and looked at Moriah in his arms. ''Again?'' He nodded. ''Sorry. Here, let me take her.''

''I got her,'' he insisted. ''She's fine.'' Clary ignored him and turned to sit up. ''Don't. There's no reason why you shouldn't sleep.''

''Someone once told me sleep is for the weak.'' She adjusted the blankets and leaned on her side, head against the headboard of the bed. ''I don't want you both being stronger than me.''

''Bold of you to assume I'm not going to sleep right here.''

Clary gestured to Moriah. ''Really? With her laying on you like that?''

''She's perfect,'' Jace sniffed, putting a hand on Moriah's back. ''Besides, I can sleep anywhere. Like…like an animal that sleeps anywhere.''

''Cat. Like a cat you can sleep anywhere. Which is obviously not true of you, because only a sleep deprived person would forget that common stereotype of cats.''

''You clearly don't know about Mr. Church Particular, who would only sleep if conditions were just so.''

Clary gave him a look. ''You need sleep too.''

''Hypocrite.''

''Ugh.'' Clary gave up the line of conversation. She moved closer to him, curling up against his side and leaning her head on his shoulder. ''You're right, I do need sleep. Because talking to you is exhausting.''

''I'm offended.'' Clary lifted her head again to kiss his cheek before laying close to him again. Having both her and Moriah next to him, knowing they were both at the very least safe, gave Jace a feeling of contentment. Even in the aftermath of Moriah's breakdowns, the darkness of the bedroom made it almost easier to believe that everything would be alright eventually. Moriah would be okay, Clary would be okay, Celeste would be okay. And when they were, everything would fall into place and he would get his revenge. Then maybe he would be okay, too.

Me: I'm a sucker for whump and emotions and aftermaths of events. This chapter took a long time to write mostly because I didn't think I liked the way it was coming out, but am actually quite happy with it now.

I hope you enjoyed! If you have the time, please leave a review!

Happy Writing!