Chapter 24

Days passed, and Clary found no chance to act on the contact information for Marilyn Crane. Jace had taken to trying to be alone with Clary, even more so than usual, for one simple reason: Isabelle.

Clary's birthday was approaching, and to Isabelle, that meant a party. As a result, Isabelle entered a frenzy of planning Clary's birthday celebration, one of her favorite things besides shopping.

Clary mostly left Isabelle to do her thing, as she had no chance of any say anyway. Simon took his sudden loss of his girlfriend's attention well, knowing from experience that Isabelle was unstoppable at this point. Alec also ignored his sister's impression of a whirlwind, while Magnus embraced it and even assisted with suggestions.

Jace, however, had never experienced Isabelle leading up to a party, and was unprepared for her constant solicitations to have him do something special for Clary on her birthday. Whenever she saw him, she began hinting that he should help her, and sometimes tried to drag him out of the room to confer with him. Jace went out of his way to avoid a confrontation with Isabelle, claiming that he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"You're just worried that she'll win the argument and you'll be forced into being her slave for this party," Clary told him.

Jace glared. "That is completely false. I would never worry about such an impossible thing."

"Mhm. Sure."

Still, whenever Jace saw Isabelle approaching, he would grab Clary's arm and drag her into another room to discourage Isabelle.

One day, Isabelle caught him. She resolutely walked into the kitchen and pulled Jace away from Clary, who let him go willingly. Jace returned later looking defeated.

"I have to go shopping with them."

Clary suppressed a smile at his forlorn expression. "That's not so bad, Jace."

"It is. Shopping is the most boring thing in the world."

"I heard that!" Isabelle shouted from the other room.

A giggle escaped. "I'm sorry, Jace. It'll probably be a horrible experience, but you'll get through it."

"Won't you come with me?"

"I would, but Isabelle won't let me."

"Let's ask her."

But Isabelle immediately shot down the request. "Jace, you know why we're going shopping. How could we bring Clary?"

"We could hide it. You could choose, and I'd approve it later. Can I please have her with me?" Jace gave her a pleading expression that melted Clary's heart but made not a dent in Isabelle's resolve.

"No."

Clary could see a lost cause in this, and convinced Jace to go with the rest of the group. "Be a man, Jace."

"Men do not shop."

"Men have to endure shopping, especially when they know someone like Isabelle. Go."

"You just want a pretty present, don't you?"

"That would be nice, but don't worry about getting me anything. You'll be fine."

"Don't be too bored without me," Jace teased.

Clary didn't think she would be bored at all.

She stood before the steep steps leading to a mahogany door set with a gold number 56.

After an hour-long bus ride, Clary had finally arrived in the neighborhood where Marilyn Crane lived. She had considered just calling Ms. Crane, but she felt that the woman would take some convincing better done in person.

Now she was just three steps away from either the best or worst decision of her life.

It'll be fine, she told herself, leaping up the steps to accommodate for her short legs.

She knocked on the door. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps, then the click of the lock. A woman with short brown hair and large brown eyes opened the door.

Clary's first thought was that the woman looked very much like a sparrow.

"Hello?" the woman said politely.

"Hi, are you Marilyn Crane?"

"Yes." Ms. Crane looked her up and down, as if trying to place her.

"I'm Clary Fray. Can I speak with you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know you. How did you get this address?"

"Sarah Wayland gave it to me."

Recognition flickered in Ms. Crane's eyes, and she opened the door wider. "Come in."

Ms. Crane led her into a cozy room and gestured for Clary to sit. "Maybe you should start by how you know Sarah."

"I'm her foster son's girlfriend."

"Which one?" Ms. Crane asked. Chris jumped to Clary's mind, but she pushed the thought away.

"Jace."

Ms. Crane's face softened. "I see. Why do you need to talk to me?"

"Jace told me about his parents. And he was saying that he might want to talk to his dad. I was wondering if you could help me."

"Help you with what?"

"Well, I'd like to get in contact with his father and ask him to come see Jace."

Ms. Crane's delicate face darkened. "I don't know about that."

"Can you get me in touch with Jace's father?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I should."

"Look, I've thought this through. I wouldn't do it if I really thought Jace wouldn't want it."

"Are you sure this is the best thing for him, though? He might not want it later."

"I don't think he even knows what the best thing for him is. When I talked to him, he seemed confused, indecisive." Clary paused briefly. "I just want to talk to Mr. Herondale. Please."

Marilyn Crane studied her for another moment, then stood and left the table. Clary smiled as the woman returned with her laptop.

With Stephen Herondale's phone number safely tucked in her jacket pocket, Clary unlocked the door to her home and slipped into the warm house with a sigh of relief.

I might as well call him now. Before Jace gets back from his shopping day of hell.

She dialed the number on her home phone, a sliver of anxiety twinging in her chest. It's too late for second-guessing, she told herself sternly as she raised the phone to her ear.

A woman's voice answered. "Hello?"

"Can I speak to Stephen Herondale?"

"One moment." Footsteps, then a faint yell. "Stephen! Phone!"

"Hello, this is Stephen," the deep voice of a man said.

"Hi, I'm Clary, your son's girlfriend." Clary winced at the bluntness of her statement, but she couldn't take it back now.

"My son-I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number," Stephen Herondale replied with a hint of something Clary couldn't identify. Guilt?

"Jace's social worker gave me this number."

"His social worker-you know Marilyn? I thought she said he didn't want to see me."

"Well, he's changed his mind. Would you like to meet him?"

A pause. "Yes-yes, I think I would."

"When are you free?"

"Next week? How about Saturday?"

"Okay. Meet us here." She gave him directions to where she wanted to meet, then on second thought also provided her number.

"Thank you, Clary. I never believed I'd be able to meet him-after all this time, especially after he turned down meeting Amatis and me."

Clary had a sudden thought. "Right, um-maybe you shouldn't bring Amatis."

"Oh-all right. I'll come alone."

"Okay, good. We'll see you Saturday."

Hanging up, Clary felt relief. She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do.

But what if Jace didn't want this?

You can't think that now. It's done.

She would have to hope for the best.

The week passed so slowly and agonizingly. Clary wished she didn't feel so guilty every time she saw Jace, wished that she didn't want to tell him right then what she had done. But she told herself that she wasn't trying to hurt him at all.

Friday, Clary realized she had to make an excuse to get Jace out to that place. She thought she knew how to do it- the bridge was a special place for them.

Maybe he would get two surprises on Saturday.

"Let's go out," Clary said suddenly.

Jace looked at her, surprised. "What? I just got here."

"We should spend today outside. Look, it's sunny."

"Not really..."

"Come on, for me?" Clary pulled a face she never had before, pleading him with his eyes.

Luckily, Jace melted almost immediately. "Okay, okay. God, do you know what you can do with that face?"

"This, apparently." Clary smiled and kissed him gently, pulling away before he could press her against him. He frowned playfully at her.

"Let's go," Clary said anxiously.

Jace took it for eagerness, and laced his fingers through hers. "All right. Where are we going?"

"Follow me," she told him with ease.

They walked the path she had taken all those months ago. This time the sun was shining, while last time it had been bitterly cold, but Clary felt the same nervous anticipation she had before.

This time, though, she had Jace. Jace, whose hand wrapped around hers delicately, like she was a china doll he didn't want to break-but tight enough that she knew he didn't want to let her go.

She didn't want to let him go, either.

Jace's mouth opened slightly when he saw the bridge, then he smiled. Clary squeezed his hand as they reached the apex of the bridge. She could tell that they were thinking about the same thing.

Jace bent his head towards hers. "Is this why you wanted to come here?"

"Well-kind of-" She broke off as their eyes met. His face was close, so close.

She noticed movement over his shoulder. Jace noticed the widening of her eyes and looked back. He stiffened.

For Jace, it must have been like looking in a mirror. Clary recognized Stephen Herondale by the similarities in their faces, bearing, hair color. She blushed at the position she and Jace had been caught in, but stepped up next to Jace.

"Mr. Herondale?"

"You must be Clary." He smiled at her briefly, but his attention was clearly focused on his son.

Jace stared back at him in complete shock. Clary felt a twinge of unease.

"Jace. It's me, your father." Stephen cleared his throat. He looked awkward, uncomfortable. Clary remembered the ease with which Michael Wayland had interacted with Jace at his house.

She didn't think she could take the silence anymore, and begged silently for Jace to say something. Stephen seemed to feel the same as she did, shifting his weight.

"Dad?"

It was only one syllable, whispered in shock, but it was something. Clary's fingers curled inside Jace's hand.

Stephen's relief was palpable. He smiled. "It's me."

"What are you doing here?" Jace looked around, like someone would jump out of the short noontime shadows and tell him what was going on.

"Well-" Clary began, but Jace had already turned to her.

"You knew he was coming. That's why we came here?"

Clary couldn't tell if he was angry or not. Her heart clenched.

"Yes, Clary called me last week." Stephen paused. "I was surprised. I thought you didn't want to ever see me again, since the last time..."

Jace turned back to his father. "I don't know. I don't think I would have chosen this myself."

Stephen glanced towards Clary, who kept her eyes on her toes. "Clary, could you-give us a moment?"

"No, she should stay," Jace interjected. Clary lifted her eyes to see the two mirror-images staring at each other. The one with more wrinkles relented.

"All right. But could we talk?"

"I don't know what to say to you." Jace's hand trembled in hers. The muscles in his face tensed.

"Jace-" Stephen stepped forward.

"Maybe we should go." Jace turned away.

Clary hoped Stephen could see the apology in her eyes as she glanced at him one last time before falling into step with Jace.

"Wait-Jace, could we meet again? I want to talk to you, apologize."

Jace stopped suddenly. He swiveled to face his father again. "I don't know, all right? Maybe."

Disappointment spread over Stephen's face, and Clary wanted to tell him that it was better than nothing. But she kept silent.

She struggled to keep up with Jace's long stride as they stalked in heavy silence back to her house.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the lateness of this update. Finals have been taking up so much of my time lately, this chapter just wasn't coming through. But it's here now, and I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you for reading and please review!

~Sami