Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Thank you to shang07, ItsTayler and rori-mori for reviewing the last chapter. Glad you enjoyed it!

Jocelyn sat in her favourite armchair at the corner of the bookstore, curled so closely around herself it seemed like she wanted to disappear into the seat. A mug sat on the table beside her, hot water and lemon, but the steam had curled away into the air long ago, the cup still filled to the brim with the now-cold liquid. Luke had meant well, but the thought of drinking anything, even something so small, made her stomach churn.

The man had left almost an hour ago, having phoned Alaric, his second-in-command, and gotten the pack on Clary's trail. The girl did not know how to cover her tracks well enough to hide from the werewolves; it would not be long before they found her.

As if her thoughts had been overheard, the bookshop's phone began to ring on the cash register, an old-fashioned sound that matched the ancient piece of equipment. Luke had never been one to adapt to the modern nature of New York; there was a reason he sold antique books for a living.

It took a few seconds to work up the courage to answer, and Jocelyn wished her voice did not shake quite as much when she spoke. "Hello? Luke?"

"Yeah, it's me." Luke answered. His voice was soft with relief, something which brought a hint of a smile to her face, no matter her worries. "We've found Clary, I'm on my way back to the shop. What do you want me to tell her?"

It was the perfect opportunity for an easy escape, to ask Luke to tell Clary as much as he was able, so she would not have to see the look of disappointment in her eyes. But somehow, Jocelyn could already tell the guilt would be too overwhelming. These were her mistakes, she would be the one to face them.

"Don't tell her about Valentine." the woman instructed. "Don't tell her anything about the Circle, or what we did. What I did. She needs to hear it all from me."

"Alright." Behind Luke's resigned tone, she could hear a hint of pride. True, he wanted to spare her the pain of telling Clary the truth herself, but he recognised the old warrior in her that would not let anyone else fight her battles. Perhaps, deep down, the Shadowhunter had never gone away.

It was another twenty minutes before the shop door burst open and Clary came hurtling through it, a tiny hurricane barrelling through the bookshelves and throwing herself at her mother's midriff, embracing the woman so hard that it was difficult to breathe for a few moments. Jocelyn did not care, she held Clary just as tightly, hardly able to believe they were together again at last.

"Mom, I was so worried about you." Clary cried. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, her fiery red hair sticking to the damp patches of her skin. "When I got home to the apartment and you'd just disappeared, I thought…"

"I'm okay." Jocelyn assured her daughter, stroking her hand gently across the girl's head, the same comforting gesture she had used all throughout her childhood. It had been something her own mother had done when she was still a girl, though the redhead tried not to think of that.

"Where have you been?" the girl asked passionately through her tears. "I've been looking all over the city for you, Simon even called the police! Where were you?"

Jocelyn took a deep breath, sharing a brief glance with Luke. This was the pivotal moment, where she could either strengthen her relationship with her daughter or rip it into shreds. The only issue was, she did not know which option was which.

'This has gone on long enough.' she decided eventually, though it hurt her heart to admit it. 'You've been lying to her all her life. It's time to end it.'

"Clary, I need you to know that I didn't want to leave you." Jocelyn began, her voice little more than a murmur. "I would never leave you if I had a choice, you know that."

"So where did you go?" Clary asked again, already seeming a little frightened of the answer. "If you didn't have a choice, then that means you were…"

"Kidnapped." Jocelyn filled in quickly. She could not bear to see the confusion give way to horror on her daughter's face, and so she fixed her gaze on her fidgeting hands.

"But who would do that?" The poor girl looked as if her whole world had come crashing down around her. "Who would want to hurt you? I don't understand."

"Clary, there's a reason why I don't talk about my upbringing, or what I did when I was younger." Tears were swimming in Jocelyn's eyes, her throat growing rough with emotion, as if her own body were trying to prevent her from speaking. "There were some things I did… some things that happened to me… I never wanted to tell you because I didn't want you to have to live with the burden of knowing… who I really was."

"Mom, you're scaring the hell out of me." Clary whispered. She reached out to pull her mother's hand into her lap, forcing a smile onto her face. "Mom, I know everything I need to know about you. You're Jocelyn Fray, my mom. You married Jonathan Clark, the love of your life, and he crashed his car into a tree in Albany a couple of months before I was born. His picture's on the mantelpiece, you have a box of his things under your bed."

Clary's voice was breaking in tears with every word she spoke, and Jocelyn's face crumpled almost identically as she shook her head. "Clary, I'm sorry, but Jonathan Clark doesn't exist. Well, he does, but I never met him. His parents commissioned me to paint a portrait of him in his uniform, and I kept the photo because I thought it would make it easier for you to believe."

"But the box? With his initials? J.C.?" Clary was looking at her mother in horror. It was almost as if Jocelyn had disappeared, leaving only a monster in her place. For an awful moment, Jocelyn admitted that she was right; she was seeing a monster, because she was seeing the truth about her mother, which the woman had tried so desperately to hide.

"It's not him, Clary." Jocelyn sighed. "The box was mine first- those initials are mine as well- but the things inside it belong to your brother. Jonathan Christopher."

That final piece of news seemed too much for Clary to bear, because as soon as she heard the name, she bolted for the door, running out onto the street. Luke was quick to follow her, not wanting the girl to do something foolish that might put her in danger.

And so Jocelyn was left alone, her hand still lying where it had fallen on Clary's seat, and her eyes dripping with tears. She had only a few hours left before she would have to return to Valentine, perhaps never to return to New York again. She had never thought it might be for the best until now.

A/N: So, the secret is finally out! But will Clary's rejection force Jocelyn back into Valentine's arms? You'll find out soon! Please review!