tw: passing mention of a previous assault, not detailed

It took Clary nearly thirty minutes to get her ass out of her car and onto the front steps that lead up to the police station. She had Essex on a leash, which Essex obviously didn't particularly like but she still acted like a lady, sticking close to Clary's side and trotting up on her toes. Clary swallowed hard as she slowly began walking up the steps to the station. It was dark now, and the police station was busy, as was to be expected in the middle of a city.

She had never been here before, even if she had driven past it hundreds of times. Even when Kaelie had been assaulted by some asshole footballer last year—even Kaelie hadn't been to the police station, they had gone to the hospital with a lawyer that her mother had been dating at the time, and then after the tests had been done, they had gone back to Kaelie's place for questions with one of the detectives. The whole place was a lot less tacky than she expected, although halfway up the stairs, there was a man hunched over just outside the front door with his dirty coat covering half his face. Clary didn't want to think about what they had been at the station for, and she dropped her head forward so that she was looking at her feet stepping one in front of the other instead of at them as they walked past her.

The further she got up the stairs, the more nervous she felt.

She still wasn't a hundred percent certain on what she was going to do here.

She didn't know if she was here to try and...Advocate on Max's behalf? Rat out her father for lying?

Clary had no idea.

Essex whined at her feet, butting her head against Clary's calf, and the redhead realized that she had stopped walking again, and her poor dog was confused as to what they were doing. It was nearly eight-thirty and they were somewhere that Essex had never been before, and she was obviously picking up on the fact that her owner was completely uncomfortable.

"It's alright, Essie," Clary mumbled, patting Essex's head quickly before starting up the stairs again, this time more determindly. She reached the top of the stairs and walked across the multi-coloured pathway that lead toward the front doors. A few uniformed officers came out the door, one of them with a styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand, and the other had an unlit cigarette. They barely looked at her as they passed by her and walked quickly down the stairs. There was someone leaning against the wall smoking with their head bent forward and there were a group of younger kids with skateboards and beanies tugged low of their foreheads. Clary took in another deep breath and pushed on the glass doors that opened to the precinct, and she noted idly that there were a couple of finger print smudges on the glass before looking toward the front desk.

Essex stuck close to her side and Clary tightened her grip on the lead as she gathered herself up, pushing her shoulders back and holding her head high as she walked toward the front desk. There were two uniformed officers behind the desk. An older woman behind the desk with grey hair streaked with a few dark colours, her mouth turned downward in what looked like a permanent scowl and her eyebrows pulled close together. And then there was a younger guy, with blonde hair and an arrogant curl on his lips, as though he thought he should be anywhere but behind the desk.

"You can't have a dog in here," the man spoke up, jabbing a finger in Essex's direction. Clary felt Essex tense a little at the gesture, and she made a clicking noise with her tongue before narrowing her eyes at the officer.

"I don't see any signs," Clary sniffed back at him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at her comment and then he straightened up behind the desk, towering over her, and it looked like he was about to snap something when the older woman gave him a sharp look and turned around in the chair she was sitting in, moving from where she had been scribbling at a pile of paper.

"Shove off, Ryan," she grumbled at him before looking across at Clary. There was stern look on her face, studying Clary and glancing down at Essex before meeting Clary's eyes. "What can I help you with, love?" She asked, and her voice was gruff, but her eyes were soft. Clary breathed in sharply through her nose.

"I was hoping to, uh—" she cut herself off because she still didn't know what she was doing here. But the older woman was looking at her curiously, and Clary knew that she just needed to say something. "I was hoping to talk to a cop," she began.

"Well, you came to the right place," snorted the younger officer—Ryan—and earned himself another sharp look from the woman before she looked back at Clary.

"Right, well, I'm just about to sign out," the woman said. "But—" her eyes lifted quickly and Clary turned around to see a handsome, dark-skinned man coming through the front doors. He wasn't wearing a uniform like the ones behind the counter, but he had a gun and a badge strapped to his belt. He wasn't smiling, but he had a kind face. "Luke, do you mind talking to this young woman?" Luke Garroway's eyes went down to Essex, before nodding.

"Sure," he gave her a small smile. "Let's head in here," he passed by her, heading past the desk and deeper into the building and Clary hesitated. If she followed him, and went to his office or wherever he was leading her then it was going to be a whole lot harder to escape if this whole thing hit her as a bad idea.

Actually.

It had already hit her as a bad idea, but she was still here anyway.

She might as well find out what she could.

Clary followed after Luke, Essex comforting warmth rubbing up against her leg with every step given how close her dog was walking. There were a few looks from several uniformed officers who walked past her, but they didn't say anything. Thankfully, Luke didn't have a shared office, so it was just the two of them by themselves, with a desk near the front of the large room, and he took a seat behind it and nodded at the spare seat to the side. Clary sat down and spent a good few minutes procrastinating as she looked around the big room that was buzzing with life, before her eyes settled back on Luke, who was looking at her expectantly.

"So, I'm Luke Garroway," he began, his voice steady and comforting. "I'm a detective here. What's your name?"

"I'm...Clary," she began carefully.

"Clary?" Luke prompted, obviously after a last name.

"Clary," she repeated firmly. Luke nodded, looking a little disappointed but moving on quickly.

"Alright. What can I help you with today?" He asked. Clary twisted her lips together, thinking about how to phrase it before beginning slowly.

"What can happen...To someone who lied to the cops?"

"Well, that depends," Luke told her. "There's a lot of different circumstances where someone may lie to the police. If it's something smaller then a fine or a misdemeanor charge and probation. But if it's a lot bigger than they could be charged with obstruction of justice or perjury, then it would be a much larger crime and a more serious charge with possible jail time." Clary hadn't been sure what she was expecting to hear but possible jail time hadn't been it.

"And...If two people ended up in prison because of the lies?" She asked tentatively.

"In prison?" Luke's eyebrows pulled together and he leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his desk. "Two people?" He was obviously being careful with what he said, so as not to scare her off, to make her stop talking. "It...Would be difficult to say, without specifics." Clary let out a frustrated noise, playing with her keys in one hand and gripping Essex's lead tightly in the other.

"I just want to know if the kid is gonna get out of prison!" She stated.

"A kid?" Luke blinked.

"Yeah, there's a kid, h-he's in prison—juvie," she corrected herself. Luke pursed his lips and then clasped his fingers together, staying quiet for a few moments before he began talking, his voice low and a lot more serious that he was before.

"I need you to tell me who you're talking about," he told her. "If this is affecting someone's life, if this is not some hypothetical situation, you need to tell me what's happening." Clary blinked at him, processing what he was asking and the reality of the situation all came crashing down around her. Her eyes widened and her hands jerked. She got up so quickly from the chair that it squeaked loudly on the ground and Essex jumped at the sound and movement.

"Nope," she shook her head. "There's nothing you can do," she turned the keys over in her hand, the metal teeth biting into the soft tissue of the inside of her palm. "He's got money and lawyers and there's no way anything is going to happen and I can't—" she shook her head, ponytail bouncing. "I'm sorry for wasting your time," she turned around and tugged on Essex's lead and she managed to get three steps away before Luke was catching up with her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, slowing her down.

"Okay, look," he began slowly. "It's clear that there's a lot going on and you're not ready to talk about it." He took his hand off her shoulder and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Take this," Luke said as he took out a card and handed it to her. "Call me sometime, okay? I can help." Clary stared at him for a moment before snatching the card from his hand and then stalking back in the direction that they had just come from, just a few minutes before. Essex seemed more than happy to get out of the station, and Clary was nearly tripping over her feet in her eagerness to get down the stairs at the front of the building.

She got to her car, Essex jumping in in front of her, settling down in the passenger seat, and Clary got in after her. She slammed the door shut behind her, throwing Luke's card into the middle console of her car and attempting to get the keys into the ignition. She missed the entry three times, scraping at the plastic around it, and she let out a frustrated sound that came out more like a sob and she threw her keys onto the dashboard.

The tears that spilled over were hot on her cheeks and swiped at her face, but they kept on coming, and she bit down on her lower lip, trying to force them to stop.

There was a knock on her window and Clary jerked, turning her head to the side, expecting that Luke had followed her out.

But he hadn't.

It was Jace.