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The art show couldn’t have been going better for Clary - all of her friends were there, the faculty and even a few important art critics, on the prowl for local talent. People were looking at her art, amongst the others at the end of semester showcase for the Brooklyn Academy of Art. It was like a dream come true.
“I love this,” someone said, and Clary turned to see a woman next to her - someone she didn’t even recognise. “Are all of your works abstract?”
“Most of ‘em,” Clary said, feeling a little flush of excitement about talking to a stranger about her art. Most of her previous student exhibitions only had her friends and fellow classmates attend, but recently there has been a sudden uptick in attention, especially for her work. “It's like I have these feelings and stories inside that are trying to surface but I can't quite make 'em out. So the closest I can do is paint the feelings.”
It was a sad truth of her life how accurate that was - despite the dream come true of this exhibition and the buzz around her future career, she felt like some part of her was missing. In a way, there was - about a year before, she’d been involved in an accident that had taken a whole chunk out of her life from her memory.
One moment, she’d just turned eighteen and was excited for her future ahead, and the next it was three years later and she had no idea how she’d gotten where she was. Or why. She supposed that was the biggest influence on her art - she painted all of these feelings she wished she could articulate but had no words for. She knew something was missing from her life, but it was like she had no idea what that something was. Three years was a long time to have lost, but more than that, Clary felt like she'd lost part of herself.
It had changed her entire life, and also impacted her art. Before, at least what little she had of her old portfolio (apparently the rest of it had been destroyed in a fire), indicated she’d drawn a lot of hyper realistic fantasy, but that didn’t feel right anymore. So, she’d switched it up with abstract art. It had been such a change, but so had her accident - the day she’d somehow come to stand in the middle of the street at night wearing a fancy dress with tears streaming down her face. She’d had no idea how she got there, or why, and nobody had been able to fill in the gaps.
“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” the woman said.
“Thank you for coming,” Clary said and shook the woman’s hand. The woman walked off with a smile, and disappeared into the crowd of people.
Clary stood for a moment and thought back to the day of her accident - even if accident wasn’t the right word for it. There’d been no signs of injury on her body, no traces of sustained trauma or pain, just her too-expensive dress and some tears on her cheeks. Doctors couldn’t explain it, and her therapist said she might never get her memories back, and the only way was to move forward. Although all of that was easier said than done - it seemed a lot had happened in the time that had gone missing from her mind.
The first awful thing she'd found out was that her mother was dead. According to a police report she'd been deemed missing before someone had filed a death certificate months later without any explanation. Clary had desperately tried to find information, but the details had been scarce and reports conspicuously empty. She had almost refused to believe her mom was dead until someone had shown her a grave. That had been an awful day, and she’d cried for a week afterwards, the grief of it all feeling too fresh for something she had to have known about.
The second blow had come when she’d tried to call her best friend Simon, only to find out from his sister Becky that he’d died in an accident. His death had hit her hard, Simon was so young , how could he be dead? It had felt wrong, and for weeks afterwards she’d walked through her old neighbourhood, and tried to look for him in the faces of people passing by.
To move on after all of that had been hard, especially since Luke wasn’t there either. She’d found out through his ex-partner Detective Wilson that he’d been imprisoned on a false murder charge and had quit the force. After that, it seemed that Luke had vanished into thin air. She didn’t even have a number. Now she was all alone in the world, and no idea how to be.
But, after everything, she had built herself a life. Becky had helped her find an apartment in a new neighbourhood, somewhere far away from everything. “A fresh start,” she’d called it, and Clary had taken that to heart and put her life back together. She’d finally enrolled in the Brooklyn Academy of Art (who'd been surprisingly understanding about her multi-year absence despite usual procedure which would have terminated her place) and gotten back into the one thing she still had - art.
It was a cliché, but her art had saved her life. The abstract lines and shapes she drew somehow managed to project all the feelings she couldn't express. Sometimes, she felt as if she could stare long enough, she’d be able to make sense of them and reveal her past, like a magic eye image that showed a cat or tree if you stated just right.
It was right then that she noticed someone watching her - Clary hadn't had her eye on anyone in particular, at least not consciously, but her eyes eventually focused on a good looking guy with blond hair and a leather jacket leaning against a pillar, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on her.
Her eyes locked with his, and she felt the strangest rush of emotion looking at him. It was like some weird sense of déjà vu, a feeling she was well accustomed to by now, but something about this guy was really familiar.
But as soon as he realised he’d been spotted, he froze and looked over his shoulder, as if he thought she saw someone behind him. But how could she not look at him? He was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. However, beyond that attraction there was some whisper of recognition. She had to have seen him somewhere before. Perhaps around campus? He looked like a few of the music guys.
“Sorry,” Clary said as she walked over, unable to help herself. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”
“You can see me,” he said as his expression shifted from one of shock to melancholy. It made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t even begin to understand. Maybe it was the fact he looked a bit like a lost puppy?
“Yeah of course I can see you,” she said, confused. She wanted to ask if she’d seen him before, or what class he might have been in, but before she could say anything, he turned and left.
Clary watched him go, shocked he’d just walked away. For a second, she was about to let it go as a weird encounter when an image of the guy popped into her head - his face, bathed in flashing blue light surrounded by dancers at a club.
Clary hadn't been to a nightclub recently. She stopped short and before she knew what she'd done, she followed the man out of the building. Her heart raced - she’d never had a moment like this before. Until now, everything was a hazy, unreal mess. Now she had something - it wasn’t much, but the fragment of memory was crystal clear in her mind. It had to have been from her missing time - the last time she'd gone out was to an eclectic bar that was primarily lit with dim candle light.
Clary practically sprinted her way outside in her rush to find him before he vanished into the city streets for good. She followed him out one of the back doors and it took her a moment to spot him in the darkness. He stalked through the alleyway, shouldered hunched.
“Hey!” she called out, desperate to make him stay and explain himself. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”
The man stopped in his tracks. Clary moved over to him quickly as he turned around. His expression was so impossibly sad, but there was the smallest hint of hope in his eyes now and she longed to know what exactly put it there.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she asked. If she let him talk, maybe she could get him to tell her something. She knew it had to be a long shot, but the flash of memory told her to follow the lead.
The man looked at her, his face full of emotions she couldn't read. After a moment, he shook his head and snapped out of whatever emotional spiral he was in. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, far too casual for someone who'd just ran away from her.
Clary knew he'd just lied to her. She wasn’t sure how, but it had suddenly become a universal truth: her name was Clary Fray and this mysterious guy had just lied to her.
“No, I do,” she insisted. “I definitely do. I …” she trailed off, uncertain of what to say next. She wished she had something, anything beyond that one fragment of memory. If only she had a name. Her mind scrambled for purchase.
Jace . The name popped into her head all of a sudden and she almost fell over. His name is Jace . She had no idea where the name had come from, but it was there all the same.
“You’re Jace, right?” she asked, but in her mind, she’d already decided the answer.
His entire expression seemed to light up the moment she said the name. “Yeah. Yeah I’m Jace,” he said, his mouth curved into a hesitant smile.
“Yeah?” she said, feeling a thrill of excitement at getting it right. “I’m Clary. Um,” she said, but then realised halfway through her introduction he probably already knew who she was.
They both laughed, and Clary felt a couple of tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t feel sad, but something quite the opposite - excitement, tinged with relief. She’d remembered something! This wasn’t just some crazy mental break after the pressure of the exhibition preparation. Her therapist had often cautioned her against optimism in regard to recollection of lost memory, but now she was giddy off the high. If she could remember one thing, perhaps there was more Jace could help her unlock!
She looked back at him and studied his face and realised he had tears in his eyes - he didn’t look sad however – just like her, he looked happy.
Clary’s mind raced, a million and one thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find something, anything meaningful to say to him.
She couldn’t stop looking at him - it felt as if she’d look away for a moment and he’d vanish into the night. Her eyes zeroed in on a line of black ink that poked out of his collar. She was sure it hadn’t been there earlier, but as she looked at the now, Clary had no idea how she’d missed them. She looked him over and noticed a few dark shapes under his white shirt that seemed to indicate he had more tattoos. Clary had always had an eye for detail, so why hadn’t she seen them earlier in the light of that gallery?
“What are these tattoos on your neck?” Clary asked. Her hand reached out of its own accord to touch them. She expected to be stopped, but Jace didn’t move away, just watched her with an expression of awe on his face.
It felt like they stood there forever, her fingers on his tattoo. Clary knew it should feel weird, but Jace hadn't moved and neither had she.
I’m meant to be here , she thought. It was a strange thought to think about a stranger, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Jace was supposed to be here, with her. Maybe they’d been close, once upon a time.
“They’re uh..” Jace said and trailed off, a little breathless. “Tattoos.”
“Have you always had these?” she asked and dropped her hand. Was it weird to touch him like that? Sure, he hadn’t seemed to mind, but she had no idea who this guy was. What if he’d had some girlfriend she didn’t know about?
“Years,” he replied.
Her fingertips tingle from where she’d touched him and she longed to reach out again. The impulse felt completely foreign and totally normal all at once. She'd never been in love, at least not in any way she could remember, but she was drawn to this man; an attraction she couldn't work out.
“I - where do I know you from?” She asked. “Sorry, if I do know you I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just.”
She paused, unsure of how to say it. “I forgot a lot of things last year, and it’s been hell not knowing what I don’t know. When I saw you tonight…I. Have we met?” She asked hesitantly. Her heart was in her throat, and she almost wanted to puke with how nervous she was about his answer.
Jace smiled, a little sadly perhaps. “That’s a long story,” he said.
“Then tell me,” Clary said. “I’ve got time.”
“I - I don’t know if I should,” Jace said. He looked unsure, and his eyes darted around the alley, as if he expected to find another person in the alley. There was no one else around - everyone was still inside.
“Why not?” Clary said. “If you’re worried it might trigger me, I promise, it’s fine. I can handle it.”
He looked up at the sky and sighed. His shoulders slumped and she could feel him pull away.
"Please," Clary begged. "You're the only lead I have."
Jace looked back at her, his dual-coloured eyes a mess of emotion. She desperately wanted to scream, cry or something, but she was also scared she might scare him off completely. He still stood here now, but if he left, Clary wasn’t sure she’d be able to find him again.
“There’s a reason you forgot,” he said carefully.
"So everyone told me," she said and reached out and grabbed his hand. She had to make him understand. “But I want to remember now. I'm ready."
Jace looked up at the sky again, and then down at their intertwined hands. “By the Angel,” he swore softly. “I don’t know if you’d believe me.”
“I’m ready to believe just about anything now,” Clary said. “You basically just appeared in the middle of that room earlier and now you have these tattoos I didn’t notice until now? What could be more strange than that?”
Jace took a deep breath. “Is there somewhere we can go? I think it’s probably better to talk away from here,” he said.
“I - come to my apartment,” she said. Normally she wouldn’t invite a stranger there, but something told her she could trust him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. Once again, he looked on the edge of hope, as if he was afraid to let himself feel too much. Maybe he really did want her to remember too - he had seemed excited to see her tell him his name. Whatever doubts he had, she’d make him forget them.
“Yes, now come on,” she said and pulled him along before she could wuss out of the decision. “It’s not far from here.”
//
As Jace followed Clary to her apartment, he realised he had no idea what the hell he was going to do. He thought he’d never see Clary again, not like this. Sure, he did keep an eye on her, which was admittedly a little stalker-ish but he just wanted to make sure she was okay. The Clary he knew was tough as well, but all the same he wanted to make sure she’d be okay. She might have been abandoned by the Angels, but he wouldn’t do the same; he couldn’t.
He never imagined that she’d notice him – he’d always been so careful to glamour himself as a precaution, lest Raziel strike him down if Clary caught his eye. He had tried to make her notice him once, on a day he’d felt particularly reckless. He’d tried to call out to her, but the only person who’d paid him any mind was a smoking teenager on the steps of a brownstone who rolled their eyes at him and called him a creepy loser when Clary, now Sight-blind, ignored him.
Now, here he was, with her once again. Only this time, she’d reached out to him. He had double checked his glamour when he’d fled the party, and nobody else had seen him. It had been such a shock to have her look back at him after all this time he’d frozen when her eyes had met his. So, after she’d tried to talk to him, he fled, unsure if he should have let her talk to him.
Jace wondered if this was some kind of test - perhaps the Angel had done this deliberately just to see if he could follow the rules and stay away from temptation. Maybe it was an arrogant thought, but in some ways, Clary’s punishment also felt like his own. Sure, he hadn’t created a rune designed to kill a demon-blooded brother, but he had been complicit in many of her plans.
With her here now, his first impulse had been to tell her everything, to encourage any scrap of memory that had floated to the surface of her mind and spill the truth. But, the Clary that was here now might have lived that life, but she wasn’t exactly the same person without those memories. This Clary didn’t remember the things she’d done - things that Mundanes could only dream about. In her mind now, she’d never even had to pick up a knife, let alone fight a war not just against Hell, but her own family too. How could he explain any of it to her now, when she wasn’t even supposed to know his name? The Shadow World was supposed to be forbidden to her now, by angelic decree.
He still remembered with painful clarity the last time he’d seen her before she’d had her runes stripped- she was dressed in that beautiful red dress, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she turned to walk away. They had danced together just before, and she’d told him just how much she loved him. It was a perfect moment, but there had been something that troubled her. At the time, he thought it might have been about Jonathan - her heart broken for the brother she never got to have.
He’d told himself she needed a moment, and he’d go after her when she’d had a chance to collect herself, but he’d gotten distracted by a happy-drunk Alec who’d cried about how happy he was to be married. Once he’d handed off the newly wedded Shadowhunter to his Warlock husband, he’d realised Clary had vanished. The only trace of her left in the Institute had been the letter she’d left on his bed with a confession about the price she’d paid to save everyone.
It hadn’t seemed fair - how could the Angels allow her to have such a gift but punish her when she used it? She didn’t ask for it – Valentine had experimented on her before she’d been born. In the end all she’d done with the power was to save the world, but the Angels hated her for it anyway.
But knew the will of the Angels wasn’t exactly one he could hope to understand. So, despite the pain, he’d accepted the price. For the most part, anyway. He had still held onto hope that there was a way out - some loophole he hadn’t worked out yet. No matter the cost of it, he’d figure it out and break her free of this punishment she didn’t deserve.
“Do you need another invite to come in?” Clary asked. Jace realised they’d arrived at her apartment and he’d just stood in the doorway and stared at her like a fool.
“Oh, no,” he said and prayed for a moment that the Angel wouldn’t smite him as soon as he placed a foot on her doormat. He carefully stepped inside the apartment and waited for a moment. Nothing happened. No light or angelic presence - his blood hadn’t boiled or body incinerated into ashes either.
The inside of her apartment looked so achingly familiar to him, much like the inside of the room in the Institute that had been left for her. Artwork littered the space, all of it abstract paintings with fragments of runes and other blurry images that if you knew what to look for, you'd recognise as part of the Shadow World - half formed runes, the glass spires of Alicante, Lake Lyn under a sky full of stars.
He even saw a photograph of Simon and Clary on the wall - the two of them side by side with big smiles on their faces. This was clearly an image of Simon before he’d turned - his smile wasn’t sharp and he still wore his glasses. He looked so different from the man Jace knew now - a confident leader of Vampires and a loyal Downworlder deputy of the New York Institute.
Clary followed his line of sight, and walked over to the picture of her and Simon. “He was my best friend,” she said softly. “His name is - well, was Simon..”
He was a little surprised she’d remembered him - he wasn’t sure if the Angels had taken away all of the memories of Simon too since he was now one of the most influential Downworlders in the entire Shadow World now. It would have made sense to make her forget him all together, but he guessed there were some things the Angel must have been a little kind of about.
“Was?” Jace asked when he realised she'd spoken about him in past tense.
“Yeah, he died,” Clary said and Jace's heart broke for her all over again. He wished he could tell her Simon wasn’t dead, and was in fact quite the opposite as an immortal vampire. He couldn’t just tell her that though - just casually say by the way, your best friend you’re mourning isn’t actually dead, he just drinks blood now.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. He still remembered how upset she’d been when Simon had died the first time, and the look on her face as she’d watched him rise up out of the grave Raphael had helped them bury him in.
“Thanks,” she said. “Y’know, sometimes I feel like it’s not real, that I’m gonna finally see him again one day - it’s stupid, I know.”
“Not at all,” he said. He wanted desperately to tell her she wasn’t stupid to think that Simon could come back. However he knew Simon took the Angel’s decision far more seriously than he had, despite the fact Simon wasn’t a Shadowhunter. In fact, even earlier tonight Simon had told him off about his regular visits to see Clary.
Anything we try to do to try to change it - it's against the will of the Angel and could make things worse , is what Simon had told him.
Jace hadn't listened the first time Simon said it months ago, and he sure as hell hadn't listened now. He knew it was reckless to try, but he had to believe it was possible for Clary to come back to him and the Shadow World she'd help save time and time again. And wasn’t this the start of that? She’d remembered his name, seen through his glamour despite the countless times before he’d been so close but unable to touch her.
“So, tell me, how did we meet?” Clary asked, her eyes fixed on him. She still looked a little confused, however, Jace felt like she might already have an idea of the truth.
“We met at a club, you'd just turned eighteen,” Jace said. He still couldn’t forget the first time they’d met - she’d made a hell of an impression when she’d called him out when he’d bumped into her. He’d been too focused on the hunt to pay attention to a group of mundanes crowded by a beat up van. She’d rightfully called him out for the rudeness - normally he was much more aware of his surroundings, but he’d been distracted. Once he realised she could see past his glamour without any clear indication of Downworder heritage, his curiosity had been sparked. Who was this pretty Mundane girl who’d been able to see right through glamours? That was a mystery he'd been interested to solve.
“A club, huh? I guess my fake ID wasn't so bad after all,” she said with a small smile. “Were the lights blue?”
It was a strange question, and one he didn’t fully remember the answer to. “I think so?” he said. He’d only been to Pandemonium a handful of times, and mostly on the job so there wasn’t exactly time to appreciate the décor.
“I remember you,” she explained. “You were standing in the blue light at a club.”
Jace was speechless. “You remember that?” he asked.
“I - I don’t think that's all of it,” she admitted. “I know there has to be more to it, or you wouldn't be here now.”
“That’s all?” he asked, as he spoke, his eye caught on a half done painting that was propped up next to the sink. The painting was a swirl of blues with golden flecks and as he stared at it, he realised it reminded him of when Clary had unintentionally killed her first demon. He’d done most of the work, but she’d grabbed the seraph blade he’d dropped and when it had come to life under her touch, he’d seen an opportunity and shoved the demon on to it. He still remembered her shocked expression and how the glow of the disintegrated demon lit up her red hair.
“That’s all,” she said and shook her head. “I wish I had more.”
“Did you think there was a reason you forgot?” he asked gently.
Clary paused. “I - maybe. I mean, I don’t know why I’m telling you this but, my first memory when this all started, I had been crying. I couldn’t even remember why I was so sad."
Jace’s heart ached. He couldn’t imagine how lost she might have felt in that moment, and he wished desperately he could just tell her why. But he felt if he prompted her too much it could backfire. It was entirely possible that the Angel had left him alone for now because he hadn't said too much to her directly.
“It’s weird,” she continued, oblivious to his anguish. “I was apparently walking by this abandoned church, and I had no idea how I got there. Ever since then, I felt like I’ve lost something but I don’t know what. So, if you know anything, I need you to tell me.”
Jace sighed. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to,” he admitted.
“Well, I can handle it, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I found out in the space of a week pretty much all the people I cared about were gone,” she said and straightened her shoulders. “I’m not some fragile little girl.”
“I know you’re not,” he said. Clary had always been tough, even before she knew how to fight. It was part of what he loved about her - her bravery in the face of the unknown and stubbornness in the face of uncertain death.
“Then tell me the truth,” she challenged.
“We met on your eighteenth birthday like I said,” he said. “I walked into a club, and you followed me in.”
“Only because you bumped into me ,” she added and then looked a little surprised. “How do I remember that?”
Jace had no idea what to say. “Do…do you remember anything else?” he asked.
“I - it comes in fragments,” she said. “But, now you’re around, I feel like if I could just. Push? I could find it.”
Jace felt like he had just walked into a trap. If he said too much, would the Angels hurt him, or even Clary? He hadn’t considered that angle before, and he was scared of the possibility they’d hurt her because of him. He couldn’t live with that - he’d rather let Raziel strike him down first.
“I should go,” he said. He knew this was a bad idea - what was he thinking? He couldn’t just walk in here and uproot her life without any care for what it might do to her.
“No - don’t,” Clary said and grabbed his arm as he turned to leave.
“I need to,” he said. “Or I won’t leave.”
“I just found you,” she said sadly and then shook her head. “I know I don’t remember anything about us, or who you were to me, but I feel like you’re important. I can’t lose you now, not when you have answers.”
Jace felt conflicted. He had no idea what to say to her now - if he left, he’d hurt her. And if he stayed? Who knows what kind of consequences that could have? Simon was right, he should have kept his distance better. Who was he to tell the Angels what was right?
“Please,” Clary begged. “You’re the only thing I have, Jace.”
The way she said his name in that hurt voice, he knew once and for all he couldn’t say no to her. Angels be damned, he’d take the consequences himself. How could he say no to the woman he loved when she needed him? Even after all this time, she had his heart in her hands, not that he intended to ever give it away again. His heart would always belong to her, even if she never remembered who he was.
“Okay,” he said, and moved towards the sofa. She followed close behind him, as if terrified he’d try to run away again.
He sat down on the sofa and sunk into the cushions. He felt a little out of place in this apartment and wondered, stupidly, how the hell he’d be able to fit into her life if he wasn’t able to tell her the truth. Jace had no idea if the Angel would allow that, but how could he help it if she was there and wanted to let him stay? He’d do anything for her, even now.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t push you to talk if it's, like, traumatic for you or anything, but I have to know.”
“I understand,” he said. He knows he’d fight like hell if he was in her position - his whole life had been about being the best Shadowhunter there was. How could he live if he lost that? Clary had only been properly a Shadowhunter for such little time, but she’d more than proved herself worthy of the title.
“It’s just, well, I just wish I had answers, you know? All my life I’ve felt like there’s been more out there, and now, after the accident, the feeling only got worse. Like there’s something really important I’ve lost, but I can never figure out what I’m supposed to be missing,” Clary said in a rush.
She looked so small in that moment, no longer the excited artist he'd seen at the show. He hated to think he'd done something to upset her big night.
Unable to help himself, Jace got up off the sofa and walked over to hug her tightly. Clary leaned into the embrace, and sobbed quietly into his jacket.
After a long moment, she pulled away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you,” she said and wiped away a tear.
“You don’t have to apologise, Clary,” he said, and wiped away another tear that had fallen down her cheek. Clary closed her eyes for a moment and leaned into his touch.
“Did I love you?” she asked.
Jace froze.
//
Clary looked at the man in front of her and realised she might have fucked up. Did I love you? What the hell had she thought to ask a question like that? It felt so stupid.
She looked at Jace, whose expression was totally unreadable. Maybe she should have just let him go when he asked.
“I - I’m sorry. That’s a weird question,” she said and stepped away from his embrace. “You can leave if you want.”
"I should leave,” he said, and her heart sank. She'd pushed too hard, and now he'd leave her alone again. The thought terrified her - she wanted more than anything to get answers, and suddenly this man who seemed to know all about her missing past showed up like a prince at the end of a fairy tale. Perhaps she had loved him - maybe that was why she wanted him to stay so badly. Not just because he was just any figure from her past, but someone special.
She knew it might have been a foolish thought, to immediately imprint on the first person she even vaguely remembered, but she couldn’t help it. Something about Jace told her he was important to her.
Her therapist had told her memories were random, that there was no timeline or logic to what she might recall. But, to suddenly feel so sure of Jace's importance in her life? It all had to mean something - she couldn’t just discount it, not now after she’d had her first concrete memory in a year.
It felt so cruel, that the years that were supposed to be the most formative in her life had to be the ones that disappeared from her head. She had no idea of the person she'd become in all that time. It had taken plenty of therapy to start the process of acceptance, but it was still a hard pill to swallow, even now, to know she might never know herself completely.
"But,” he added after a long moment. "I don't think I can."
"Please," she said softly. She tried not to sound too desperate and she normally wasn't one to throw herself at some guy, but Jace knew her. More than just that, he knew a part of her she didn’t. How could she just let that go? If he walked out that door, she felt like she might never see him again.
Jace stepped closer to her again. She wanted so badly to reach out, to touch him and hold on to make sure he didn't leave, but despite how willing he was to let her touch him, she didn’t want to risk it.
“I know this might not make sense to you now, but I have to say it,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped thinking about you. I don't think I can.”
Clary started to cry again. God, how did he know exactly what to say to her? He reached out slowly, as if she were the one about to run (how could she run anywhere now?), and brushed a tear from her cheek. His touch was warm against her skin and she wanted to lean into him so badly, but she couldn’t let herself overstep.
"I just wish I knew who you were to me," she said. "God, I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now."
She reluctantly stepped back and walked to the counter where a box of tissues sat and grabbed one to dab at her face. If she put distance between them would help her keep her head straight. It was a little wild, how easily his touch made her feel undone. As far as she was aware, there was at least a good year between her and the last time she'd been with anyone. Her friends had told her to get out there, find a man and have some fun, but she didn't feel comfortable. For a while, she'd been able to brush it off as trauma from forgetting, but now? Maybe there was more to it. Maybe she had loved someone - perhaps even Jace. That could be why her body reacted to him so easily.
So, as much as she wanted to close the gap between them and let herself get lost in his touch, she needed answers more.
"What can you tell me about myself?" She asked.
“I don’t know how to tell you the truth,” Jace admitted.
Clary looked up at him. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“There was a reason you forgot,” he said. “Not just trauma, but - well. It’s bigger than that. I thought I’d never see you again.”
His voice broke on the last word. Without conscious thought, Clary walked back around the counter to get closer to him.
"I'm right here," she said. She hoped it reassured him the way she wanted it to and her hand reached out to touch him.
Jace watched her hand as it hovered over his. “I wish you were,” he said softly. “Sorry. That’s not fair. I know you’re still you, but you don’t remember…”
“Remember us?” she filled in and let herself finally touch him again.
Jace sighed. "Everything. Me. Us. Most of the last four years."
"I understand, if I'm not the same," she said.
Jace shook his head. "No, of course not. You're still the same person, Clary."
"But?"
"Lewis told me not to get my hopes up," he said. "I shouldn't be here right now, pushing you into remembering something you forgot for a reason, but I can't let you go."
Lewis. Like her friend Simon. She’d thought of him often since he died, and it was hard not to get fixated on anything that reminded her of him. She wondered if this Lewis guy might have met Simon before he died or if he'd just been one of Jace's friends.
She pushed the thought aside. It was too painful to hold onto those thoughts for too long and she needed to focus. There were more important things to worry about.
"Why did I forget?" She asked.
“It was a choice you made,” Jace said carefully.
Clary frowned. “You mean I wanted this to happen?” she asked. A sudden feeling of unease churned in her gut - her therapist had told her time and time again the memory loss had to be her brain’s way to cope with the trauma she’d experienced. That despite the efforts they went to, it seemed her mind didn’t want to make those connections or else it might break. She’d had to accept it, and learn to move forward in spite of the empty space in her past.
“Not exactly,” Jace replied. “You knew what needed to be done, this was the price.”
“Now you’re talking in riddles,” she said.
“I don’t know how much I’m allowed to tell you,” Jace confessed.
“You think it might trigger something bad in my head?” she asked. “Don’t worry about that - I have my therapist on speed dial and a helpful set of breathing exercises for stress.”
“It’s not just your mind I’m worried about,” Jace said. He looked a little anxious now, as if he’d told her too much already. His dual-tone eyes looked around the room, as if he expected someone else to be there. Or, perhaps, he wanted some kind of sign.
“Just tell me,” Clary said. “I never thought I’d get to know the truth, then you turn up totally out of the blue with all the answers and you think you’re not allowed to tell me?”
“I think you told me a long time ago not to follow you,” he said.
“I told you not to tell me?” She asked. “Well forget whatever the hell I said before. I’m telling you now: I need to know.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Jace said with a sigh. “I wish more than anything I could tell you the truth, but I don’t want to hurt you either.”
“I’m telling you I can take care of myself, I’m not some little girl who doesn’t know how to protect herself,” Clary said stubbornly. How could she make him understand that the less he said, the more she needed the answers? He’d seemed so willing before, what had changed?
Jace sighed. “May the Angel strike me down if I’m not supposed to be here,” he said softly, and looked up at the ceiling. She wondered what the hell was in his head - why was he here, if he told her so many times he couldn’t?
He stretched out his arms, and closed his eyes as if he’d just prepared himself to be struck down by whatever Angel he’d mentioned. Clary watched him and wondered for a moment if she might need to call her therapist about this. Maybe she’d actually snapped and Jace wasn’t real and this was the part where the hallucination got out of control.
“What are you doing?” she asked, and reached out to stop him. She worried he might have also experienced some kind of break. Maybe that's why he’d kept his distance until now. But before she could ponder that line of thought further, she felt a shock as her fingertips touched his arm. She jerked her hand away.
Just as she was about to reach back out, she felt a white-hot stab of pain on her wrist and she yelped at the pain. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt and for a moment she thought she might black out due to the pain.
“Clary!” Jace yelled and dropped down beside her. “What’s going on?”
She tried to open her mouth to speak, but before she could, she saw her arm start to glow and any words she might have said died in her throat. This time, there was no pain - in fact, she suddenly felt better than she’d ever felt before.
“Are you okay?” Jace asked. “Can I see your arm?”
Clary carefully removed her hand from her wrist and held it out for him. However, she jerked back in surprise when she saw a black mark on her wrist. She looked back up at Jace, whose expression was one of pure shock.
“That’s impossible,” he breathed - his eyes were so wide she worried he might burst a blood vessel or something.
“What is?” She asked and frowned, suddenly confused by his concern. She followed his gaze back to her wrist. “My tattoo?”
//
Jace’s head spun. He couldn’t comprehend the symbol on Clary’s arm - a rune, and not just any rune, but the angelic power rune. He still remembered the day she’d first got it - how excited she’d been to finally prove herself worthy in the eyes of the Clave and the Angel.
Did this rune mean what he wanted it to mean? The Angel may work in mysterious ways, but a sign like this was as impossible to ignore as it was unlikely.
“Why are you so freaked out?” Clary asked again. “It’s just ink.”
Jace had no idea how to answer - she had been momentarily freaked out by the pain, but as soon as he’d asked about it, it was like her mind had just skipped over the moment and shut it out and made sense of it in some Mundane way.
Jace reached out to touch her wrist where the rune was. He hesitated before he touched her, worried he might trigger more pain, but when nothing happened, he relaxed slightly and curled his fingers around her wrist. “That,” he said and turned her wrist to show off the rune on it. The darkness of the mark was stark against the paleness of her skin.
“No it’s been there for - no. you’re right,” she said and frowned. “That wasn’t there earlier.”
“Why did you think it was?” he asked.
“I had this feeling in my head, like I’d just had it done recently, but. I don’t have any tattoos,” she said and then eyed it wariy. “Is it dangerous?”
Jace shook his head. Normally, when runes were stripped it was permanent. If a Shadowhunter fell from grace, it was exceedingly rare they’d ever be able to see a rune again, let alone receive one. And especially not if that removal had come directly from the Angel,
If Raziel was still mad at her, how could she wear these runes? He desperately wanted to take her down to the Institute and have a team of Shadowhunters look over her, but he didn’t know how Clary would react to that.
He wondered if it was possible that more than just a single rune had come back. “Do you remember anything else?” he asked.
“I- I don’t know,” she said. “Ask me something.”
“What does that symbol mean?” he asked.
“Angelic power, it's a rune, just like yours…” she said and trailed off. She looked back over to the runes on his neck. “Did I have more of them?”
“You did,” he said.
“They - I,” Clary started. She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t know how I knew that. I’m sorry.”
“Keep going, if you can,” he asked. Hope felt like a dangerous thing, but he couldn’t help it - it wasn’t every day that a rune re-appeared after it was stripped. Clary had seemed certain in her letter that her punishment was permanent, and nobody had any reason to doubt that was the Angel’s intent.
He still remembered the first time he’d seen her after her memories had been taken. She’d been in a café with her sketchbook, lost in thought as she drew on the pages. It was a warm day, so her shoulders and arms were exposed, which had made him feel terribly sad at the sight of her rune-less skin. For so long, the image of her in his head was of her in full Shadowhunter gear with the runes that proved her heritage covering her skin. She looked incomplete without them.
It was then he knew that the Clary he knew was well and truly gone - that the Angel had stripped her of any trace of her angelic gifts. No longer was she Nephillim, just another Mundane in a city of millions. However, he still hadn’t lost hope that maybe, just maybe, if the Angel could see how much he cared, that if he still let himself love her despite this change, maybe something would happen.
I guess I got my wish after all, he thought.
He looked at her and willed her to say more, to fill in another gap but instead she shook her head. “That’s all I have,” she said with a sigh and opened her eyes.
“But you remembered that,” he said. “And you have the rune back.”
Clary looked back down at the mark on her arm. “I guess I do,” she said. “Is it dangerous?”
Jace shook his head. “No, it’s quite the opposite,” he said. “Runes are a gift.”
“You have one - that’s the tattoo on your neck,” she said and looked up at him. Her hand reached out shly for the part of the rune that poked out of his shirt.
Jace let her touch it again, and closed his eyes as her fingertips touched his skin.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Do you have more?”
Jace nodded, and pulled off his jacket to show off the runes on his arm. Despite the fact he was still fully clothed, he felt naked as he stretched out his arms for her to study.
“They match,” Clary said as she leant in to look at one of the tattoos on his forearm - the same Angelic Power rune that adorned her skin.
“It’s a standard rune for Shadowhunters,” he said.
Clary froze at the word. "Shadowhunter," she said slowly, as if she needed to test out the word. "Why do I know that…?"
She paused and stood up, and ran over to her bookshelf. Jace watched as she scanned the shelf for a moment before she pulled one of the books off it. She immediately started to flip through the pages.
“I got this in the mail the other day,” she explained. “Apparently the writer saw the student showcase last semester and liked my work. It’s weird – this book is a fantasy novel and I haven’t drawn any of that stuff in ages. Said it was an advanced copy of his new book”
Jace narrowed his eyes at the book in Clary’s hands - he’d seen that cover before. Unseen World: The Divine Implements, the cover read, by Ezekiel J. Russo.
The words looked familiar and he thought for a moment then realised where exactly he’d seen it - on Isabelle’s nightstand a few days before. It was an advanced copy of the graphic novel Simon had written, she’d told him. Isabelle hadn’t been much of a fiction reader - she’d been more interested in scientific journals and scholarly articles, so the book had stood out.
All that talk about staying out of her life , he thought. Who knew Simon had it in him?
“See, look at this line,” she said and pointed to a panel in the book. It was of a girl with bright blue hair with a speech bubble that asked What are you? Some kind of hunter in the shadows?
She pointed to the next panel, where a man with bright red hair had a bubble that said No, I’m a Night Warrior. I don’t hunt shadows - I hunt monsters that stalk the night and protect you Ordinaries from the unseen world that would do you harm.
“Night warrior,” Clary said as she read the page. “I don’t know why it stuck out to me, but you said Shadow Hunter and I just thought of this.”
“Do you know who sent it?” Jace asked.
“I thought it might be the author, but I couldn’t find anything but a website that said ‘coming soon’ with his name. It’s like the guy doesn’t exist.”
“Weird,” Jace remarked.
“Have you seen it before?” Clary asked.
Jace had no idea how to answer that - he wanted badly to tell her that it was Simon who wrote the book, the best friend she still thought was dead. He also had no idea if Simon had actually sent it himself - it was possible Maia or someone else had sent it. Simon might not have been aware one of his advanced copies had been sent to her.
He looked down at the rune on her arm again and made a decision.
“A friend wrote it,” he said. “You know him.”
“Are they also some kind of Shadow Hunter?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “They’re not.”
Clary frowned. “Who was it?” she asked. “Can you tell me about them?”
“You already know him - Ezekiel is a pen name,” Jace said. “Simon Lewis wrote it.”
Clary’s frown deepened. “That’s not funny,” she said.
Jace held out his hands. “It’s the truth.”
“Simon has been dead for almost three years,” she insisted. “His sister never mentioned he finished any book.”
“Simon died, but he didn’t stay dead,” Jace explained. He needed her to remember the details - she had to.
“Don’t think just because I’ve forgotten some things doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” Clary said. She looked angry now, and it reminded him so much of when they first met - her determination to know the truth then seemed just as strong as it was now.
Here goes nothing , he thought. He hadn’t exactly meant to lead with this, but perhaps this truth was as good as any to start with. So, he told her:
“He’s a vampire.”
//
“Get out,” Clary said flatly. She’d never felt so angry in her life - who the hell was Jace, to come in here and taunt her with some absurd tale about how her best friend wasn’t dead?
It had to be some kind of cruel prank - remind her just enough about her past only to feed her some bullshit story and break her heart all over again when he decided the joke was up. Maybe she’d made a mistake when she said he could come here to talk.
“I’m not lying, Clary,” Jace said. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to remember.”
Clary shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes and she willed herself not to cry. She couldn’t break down now, not when it was probably what Jace wanted.
But. there was some part of her mind that had a distant recollection - a dirt covered hand that pushed it way out of a freshly covered grave. Then, Simon’s face, confused and covered in grime as he looked up at her with an open mouth, his teeth sharp. His hands wrapped around a blood bag, hunger in his eyes.
She shook her head. No. Simon was dead - Becky had told her that the first time they met up after Clary’s accident. They had cried about it together.
“No, I - Becky told me he was dead,” she said softly.
“That’s what she thinks,” Jace said gently. “Becky is a Mundane. You’re a Shadowhunter, so you know the truth.”
That word again. The line in the book she remembered. Simon’s face covered in blood, his fanged smile.
Clary started to cry. Terrible, unfiltered sobs wracked her body and she had to sit back down again. She felt arms circle her and she didn’t even have the energy to fight it. She leant into the embrace and closed her eyes tightly as Jace held her.
“How, how could I forget him?” she asked herself between sobs. That had to be the worst part - Simon wasn’t dead, but she’d believed it anyway and forgotten all about him. Did he hate her now? Was that why he’d never reached out?
“It was part of the price you paid,” Jace said. “You were supposed to forget the Shadow World and we had to stay away.”
Clary took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “So, he’s alive?” she asked and pulled away a bit so she could see Jace’s face again. The reality of it felt surreal - she’d spent the whole year with no idea how to live with that fact. It had been so hard to grapple, especially since her last memory was of Simon, brilliantly alive and right there.
“Yes,” Jace replied. “He had to fake his death after he Turned - it was too much for his mom to understand.”
She had another thought. “Is my mom actually dead?” she asked. She barely dared to hope, but if Simon wasn’t dead, maybe her mom wasn’t either. It was possible she was just a vampire as well.
Jace nodded. “She’s not a vampire,” he said. “She died last year.”
Clary tried not to cry again. Jace ran his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to calm her and she leaned into his touch. It was strange how relaxed he could make her feel, as if her body remembered where her mind didn’t.
“Can I see him?” she asked. She wanted to do it right away, to find her best friend and hug him again. She’d missed him so badly, and part of her didn’t know she’d fully believe it until she saw him again.
“Of course,” Jace said. “He’d be excited to see you again. None of us thought you’d remember anything.”
“Was I not supposed to?” she asked.
Jace sighed. “You were one of us - a Shadowhunter, but well. It’s a long story. I didn’t even start from the beginning.”
“Tell me everything,” she said. Her mind raced with so many thoughts - finally, here were the answers she’d so desperately sought. Memories seem so close now and the images in her head were less blurred, but still just out of reach.
If Jace told her more, she felt like she might be able to make sense of it all - it was as if there was a dam wall in her head and just the right words would break it down and let out the flood of memories.
Jace looked back down at her wrist where the rune on her arm was - the one she’d somehow remembered was called Angelic Power. She traced it again with her fingertips and was struck by how comforted she felt by the sight of it. Something about it felt right on her body, and now the rest of her bare skin suddenly felt empty. How many more of them did she have? And how was it all related to Simon now, who was apparently a vampire?
“Well,” Jace said after a long moment. “The first thing you need to know is all the legends are true…”
As he talked Clary felt something in her mind shift. Images that had once been nothing more than a vague and blurry sense of emotion shifted back into brilliant focus – the demon at Pandemonium. The quest to find her mom. Valentine, the Shadowhunters, Simon and Luke. All of these people who she’d forgotten or thought had disappeared from her life. They’d never left - she had.
It broke her heart to remember how much she’d lost, but now here she was - whole again with every memory back in its place. No more did she have to walk through life with a piece of herself gone - all the doubt about her identity was gone.
I can see them again , she thought with excitement. She has so much to talk about with all of them - a whole year gone and she had no idea where they all were now. Simon had apparently written a graphic novel, and who knows where the rest of them were - what was Luke up to now? How were Magnus and Alec after their wedding? All of her friends in the Shadow World were finally within reach again and she couldn’t wait to see them.
She looked over to Jace and felt herself struck with so many emotions all at once - there he was, the man she loved right there within reach. He’d come back for her, despite the fact she hadn’t remembered who he was. He hadn’t forgotten about her.
“Jace,” she said, her voice thick with emotion and love for the man who had her heart. “I remember.”
He paused his story and looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Clary?” he asked.
“I - I’m here,” she said.
The words seemed to break something in him and tears filled his eyes. She reached out to touch him and pulled him into an embrace like he’d done for her. As her skin made contact with his, she felt a warm glow and suddenly the rest of her runes settled back onto her body - they didn’t feel painful this time, just a sense of warmth and light.
She may not have had a direct line to Heaven anymore, but the message was clear: Forgiveness. How or why, she had no idea. The will of the Angel was mysterious, but she wouldn’t question a miracle.
“You’re really here,” he said. Jace pressed forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She breathed him in - memory didn’t do justice to the real thing. Sure, she had spent a lot of time with him before, but a year without had left her with a sense of emptiness she hadn’t realised she’d had until this moment.
No longer did she feel awkward about her desire, just steady and sure in the knowledge that she loved him. She remembered something she’d told him at Alec’s wedding - every single cell in my body loves you. It was true then and now, it felt even more so.
“I never stopped loving you,” she said and kissed him. The kiss felt like home - his touch so familiar and new all at once. Clary wrapped her arms around him as if she couldn’t get him close enough to her. Here she was back with the love she thought she’d had to walk away from for good.
Home , she thought , I’m finally home .
//
Beyond that small apartment in the middle of New York where two lovers embraced, an Angel looked down from Heaven and smiled.