Author's Note: This is based primarily on the original trilogy The Mortal Instruments, though there are references to the 2013 film and the Shadowhunters TV series. It starts just before The City of Bones began, mid-summer of 2007.

I changed the histories of some characters, which will be described as the story goes along but also omitted certain events, mainly Valentine's worser crimes, including: experimenting on Downworlders and caging the angel Ithurial in his basement, as well as killing Jocelyn's parents and Michael Wayland and his son. (There's only so much Valentine could do to make this story at all feasible.) I also omitted the angel blood experiments on Jace and Clary; therefore, Valentine is only caring for Jonathan.

Update: Story has undergone major revision, updated January 2025

Luke Garroway had a bag of groceries and was walking. He had some stray thoughts: record keeping for the bookshop, what he would cook tonight. Overall, he was in a pleasant mood, and he was close to home, within sight of it, when he felt a shift. An unexplained tension, old instincts, that something was amiss.

There were many people about and he started looking around, taking care not to underestimate anyone. After all, at first glance, he did not appear to be much of a threat either: tall with an average build; curly, messy brown hair; rectangular glasses covering light blue eyes; steady and haggard simultaneously. He looked like someone who would run a bookstore. The only deviation being his habit of wearing work boots. Otherwise, the rest of his clothing was nondescript: jeans, a button-down. He preferred flannel, but when it was warm he wore woven cotton. Like it was tonight, but there was nothing underscoring that he was raised as a warrior, of the supernatural at that.

Yet he saw nothing of the Shadow World on these streets: no smell of sulphur, no fairies in disguise. The sun was still up, the vampires were still asleep. No other wolves nearby. Instead, he locked on to a man standing in front of his shop. This alone wasn't odd, but his skin tingled and his hair stood on end because the man was intensely familiar: head held high, suit and tie; magnetic, drawing the attention of passerby even in New York, where no one spared each other even a glance.

Luke's heart rate picked up. This was an event not beyond his imagination. He had wondered what he would do if they should ever meet again. The man looked his way. Their gazes met: platinum blond hair, brown eyes so dark they were essentially black, tall and powerfully built.

Stay or run. Fight or flee. Valentine, because that's who it was – his former friend, his former parabatai – didn't have a weapon drawn nor any Luke could see on his person and he was standing relaxed. Luke had already noted passerby seeing him; no invisibility rune. Valentine knew he lived here and if he knew that, he assumed Valentine knew where Jocelyn and Clary were too.

"I do not intend you any harm, nor do I intend to harm Jocelyn or Clarissa. Yes, I have seen them," Valentine spoke, forgoing a greeting. A shiver went through Luke, regardless. "I do not seek the Mortal Cup either," he continued, calm, as though no time had passed. As though the last time they'd seen each other, they hadn't tried to kill each other. "I do wish to speak with you. That is why I have come here this evening. Will you allow it?"

"About what?" Luke quipped. "What, if you do not intend to kill me or want information about Jocelyn, could you possibly want to talk about?"

"If I wanted to kill you, frankly, Lucian, you would be dead. If I wanted information from Jocelyn, I would speak to her. I came to speak with you." There was no hostility, no arrogance in those words. Luke did not feel like he was being baited, but that made this even more bizarre.

"But you have no reason to trust my word, just that," Valentine carried on. "I swear by the Angel I mean you, Jocelyn, and Clarissa no harm." Valentine paused for a moment. "I have not answered your question: What do I want to speak of? I delayed because I know you will find this unsatisfactory. You often did in the past, but this is the truth: I had the impulse to see you."

Luke was immediately brought back to when he and Valentine were inseparable. He had often heard Valentine say some form of: "I want to see where this goes" when asked why he was doing something. Life was an adventure, with Valentine. His choices so often played out to good fortune: going to the bakery when fresh bread had just come out of the oven; going out to the hills to watch a breathtaking sunset. Luke didn't know then, and still didn't know how he did it. He'd asked Valentine many times but he would only laugh and give some version of the same: "I followed my intuition."
But Valentine was not a young man anymore: his shoulders broadened and the intensity he had always possessed honed over the years to a razor's edge; his voice more mature, and apparently hindsight had given him wisdom as well, since he now informed Luke: "These past years have changed me. I am not pleased with what I have done. I still wish to speak with you but I will depart, as a sign of my good faith. When may I call on you again?"

Luke took a hard look at him. Valentine had always been forceful. He'd once admired that about him. Why did he always get caught in this man's plans. But if he couldn't shake him, he could at least dictate terms. "Tomorrow night, here, nine o'clock."

Valentine nodded. "As you wish." Then walked away just as he said he would, past Luke and onto the still bustling sidewalk. Luke out of habit, opened his door, walked inside his store, down the aisles to the back, entered his living quarters, then set down his bag of groceries.

Valentine had always operated on an honor code. If he said he meant him no harm and would see him again at an agreed time, Luke was inclined to believe him. He needed to call Jocelyn. He took out his phone, she picked up. They were not in the habit of calling each other this late in the day, and as such, she was already uneasy. He had no intention of dragging things out.

"Are you at home?" he asked.

"Yes, Clary and Simon are here too. We just finished dinner. They are going to work on a summer project, so they say. Why, did you want to come over?"

"What!? Luke's coming over? I told you not to eat so much Simon! Now Luke won't have anything!" Luke heard Clary yell.

"I couldn't help myself. Mrs. Fray, your cooking is that good. Sorry, Luke! Didn't know you were coming!" Simon defended himself.

"Oh my God. That is disgusting. I don't do this with your mom."

"Obviously, because my mom, bless her heart, is not as fantastic a cook as the one and only Mrs. Fray."

"Ugh! Mom, we're going in my room to work. And yes, we really are working on a school project!"

"Yep, you've got yourself two regular Einstein's here. Did you know Einstein was Jewish?

"Yes!"

"Alright dear, and thank you Simon, that is very kind of you," Jocelyn replied, then after a short pause: "Sorry about that, Luke. They've gone now. What is it?"

Luke sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses to do so. "There is no easy way to say this. I just saw Valentine. I am unharmed. He said he knows of you and Clary and means you no harm. He swore it on the Angel. Says he's changed."

There was silence – Jocelyn doing her own quick assessment of the situation, then: "Does he know Clary is his child?"

"I'm not positive, but I would assume he does: the math adds up."

"Do you think I should take Clary and flee? Use the portal at Dorothea's?"

"...I don't know. There are so many unknowns. I will honor whatever decision you make with regards to you and Clary. He wants to speak with me again. Tomorrow night. I'm going to stay for that. If you're leaving, it would be best if you don't tell me anymore. I don't want to be used against you." Luke's heart clenched. To not see Jocelyn or Clary, or Simon, but there was no stopping Jocelyn once she made a choice.

"What about you?" she asked.

"He already knows where I live, it would be easy to use a tracking spell to find me, and I don't have the funds to hire a warlock for aid. I suppose I could try to hide by some water but I suspect I'm under surveillance. As for a preemptive strike, I don't know anything about Valentine's current status: followers, location, weapons. It seems suicidal. I could go to the wolf pack but I doubt they would help me unless I kill the leader. That is a brutal business. It could be worth it if Valentine is truly up to something. I just don't know."

"There's the Institute, and you do have a meeting set up. Ambush?"

"They assume Valentine is dead, and you would break your cover by going there. I could go by myself and leave you out of it, but I don't know if they would believe me, even though I fought Valentine. I've been in exile all these years, if I were to show up now… Add my being a Downworlder, my opinion won't be in held in high regard, and this story sounds incredulous and I'm the one who saw him.

"And frankly, I don't think Valentine would fall for an ambush, but.. this is all so convoluted as an attack against us. He said to me if he had wanted to harm me he would have done so. Is it possible? The simplest answer is usually correct, could he be telling the truth?"

Jocelyn sighed. "I don't know either, but I know that love never truly dies, and it is only natural to want to trust someone you love, but love and trust are two different things."

Luke steeled himself. "Have you decided?"

"…Yes. I'm going to take Clary and go. I'm sorry, Luke."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"I'll tell her a half-truth. That I lied to her about her father. He's… violent. I had to get away from him. He's found us and it would be best if we get out of town. I'll tell her that's why you called now, to warn me. Since she'll probably suggest this, I'll say the police have been told."

"But the portal?"

"We'll use regular transportation. I still have some tricks up my sleeve."

"...How about I come over? I'll back you up on your story. Maybe she'll go with you more easily."

"Thank you. Hurry over."

"Remember, don't tell me where you're going. Don't tell Clary until I'm out of earshot, in case she says it aloud. Or Simon."

"Understood."