Running Away From Jace

Almost

Hellhounds could only mean one thing, Clary thought as she stared at her daughter, covered in ichor, the air reeking of demon. They could only mean that somebody was tracking them. A demon, specifically. But that could also mean Sebastian. Did having demon blood qualify you as a demon? Clary wasn't sure, but she wasn't about to cross out the theory. 

The two of them stood staring at each other for a moment, until Clary rushed for her daughter, folding Allison into her arms - the way she'd wished for Jocelyn to do so many years ago after Valentine had taken her. She smoothed Allison's hair back, clutching her tighter when she heard the sobs. It took Clary a minute to realize it was her - those choked, awful sounds were coming from her.

"Mom," Allison said, "Mom." She repeated the word until Clary had loosened her hold enough for her daughter to move. Allison peered at Clary's face, features tangled in worry. Distantly, she thought of the first time she'd seen Allison, chest still rising and falling heavily and skin glistening with sweat, and thinking that the little human in her arms was the most impossibly beautiful thing she had ever seen or would see. 

"Are you okay, baby?" Clary cupped a hand gently on either side of Allison's face, staring up at her - and even though she couldn't see any wounds on her daughter, she had half a mind to put on an iratze anyways. Just to be sure. 

Allison stared back. "Fine. I'm - okay."

"Thank god," Clary breathed, smoothing back Allison's hair again. Tucking a strand away behind her ear. 

"Are - are you okay, Mom?" 

Clary wiped away as much of the evidence of the tears as she could with the back of her hand. "If you're okay, then so am I, sweetie." 

_____

Allison watched her mother with thinly veiled concern. Clary tried not to notice, because she knew very well that her daughter had that uncanny Shadowhunter ability of masking her emotions. So if Allison was letting her concern show through, she was doing it on purpose. 

Clary swallowed a mouthful of coffee - her third one today. "Did you want to go out shopping?" 

The concern vanished from Allison's face, and her eyes went hard. It reminded Clary for some reason or another of Jace. Allison put her palms flat against the counter between them. "Jocelyn Fairchild."

She took another drink of her coffee before replying. "What about her?" 

Allison cocked her head. "You know, Mom, don't make me point out the obvious."

She had known, from the second they got to New York, from the second she'd revealed Valentine to Allison, that it was only a matter of time before her daughter would figure the rest out - want to meet all the people who were, for all intents and purposes, her family. Who were supposed to have been her family had Clary not run away. Looking back on it now, she knew it was a stupid decision, but still...She could never bring herself to regret it. Not really. Leisurely, she put the green mug down on the counter. "You want to meet your Grandmother?" She arched her brow. "Wash the rest of the ichor off and get changed." 

Allison blinked. Once. Another time. When she spoke, nodding slightly, she sounded suspicious. "Okay." Clary almost wanted to laugh, wondering if her mother had seen that very look on her face, so many years ago. 

She made for the bathroom, and only when Clary heard the water begin to run did she allow the faint amused smile to fall, allow the weary sigh to slip from between her lips. She hoped Jocelyn still had the same number.

_____

Seeing Luke's bookstore was like coming home, and it wasn't simply because she'd lived there for a few years during the war. No, it was much more the auburn-haired woman running down the stairs with tears running equally as fast down her cheeks.

Jocelyn disregarded the tears, nearly knocking her daughter backwards onto the walkway with the force of her hug. Allison stilled uncomfortably next to her, and Clary felt her daughter's eyes on them as she hugged her mother back with as much force as she could. Jocelyn didn't seem to ever want to let go; like Clary might dissolve if she let her go. 

"Mom," Clary said, "Mom - there's someone you need to meet."

Jocelyn pulled back slowly, bright eyes still glistening. It looked like a great effort to pull her eyes from Clary for even a second, but Jocelyn did it. It was this moment, when Clary began to realize there wasn't much her mother could not do. 

Allison swallowed, eyes darting to meet her mother's and then darting to meet Jocelyn's. She stuck her hand out. "Hi," she began meekly. "I'm Alliso -"

Jocelyn's arms snapped out, wrapping around Allison before the words were finished, muttering, "Clarissa Adele, you are grounded."

_____

"Where's Luke?" Clary's fingers trailed lightly over the spines of hardcovers lining the shelves as they passed through the bookstore, over to the stairs. Her eyes darted to the blonde girl nearly adjacent to her, the look on her face like she was torn between a nervous smile and fear. 

Jocelyn waved a hand. "At the Jade Wolf. Maia called, said she needed help with something." 

Clary nodded. Felt Allison's eyes on her. "Luke is my stepdad," she explained. "Dad, really. I don't...count Valentine. Which," she looked at Allison over her shoulder as they ascended, grinning, "makes him your Grandpa."

She was trying not to show it, but Clary could see the emotions playing out on her daughter's face: she was out of her element, more afraid than of meeting her own family than of battling a hellhound. It was almost enough to make Clary laugh.

Jocelyn led them to the kitchen, gestured for them to sit in the living room and disappeared in to the kitchen with the excuse of putting on a pot of tea. "Coffee," Clary interrupted, "please." 

Jocelyn nodded absently, like there were about a million thoughts racing through her. "Coffee, then."

She came back five minutes later, the steaming coffee pot in one hand and in the other three mugs all clinking together as she precariously set them on the table between them. They talked all afternoon, late into the night, continuing on with Luke when he arrived. It was late when Allison began to nod off on the couch next to her mom, and Jocelyn and Luke eagerly directed her to Clary's old bedroom down the hall. When Jocelyn and Luke had ascertained themselves Allison was securely and safely in bed, they had only one question for Clary: "Why?"

She took a breath, rubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. Dropped them back onto her thighs. "I wanted a fresh start. I was eighteen, and stupid and too young to be running an Institute and - and too young to be having a baby." 

"We would have helped you, Clary -" Jocelyn began.

"I know that now. And I wished I would have let you, I wish I would have thought about that - thought things through before I went running off." A shaky breath. "But when Jace said he didn't want Allison, I just didn't feel like I had any other options other than to leave."

There was pink in Luke's cheeks, and he pushed up his glasses. "He's the reason?"

Clary gave a noncommittal shrug, nearly embarrassed to admit it now. How could she have let someone, who was so seemingly insignificant to her life now, chase her away like a scared puppy? 

"We're here for you," Jocelyn told her, green eyes red and bright and brimming with unshed tears and not for the first time, Clary thought over every decision she'd made and almost wished she'd done things differently.