This story is about what would happen if Valentine was successful in his first attempt to take over Alicante. He catches Jocelyn after years of her leaving him. Clary is eight. Since Valentine was successful the first time, a lot of things are different.

"So, who else knows you're alive?" Valentine Morgenstern had looped around the white couch at least a dozen times before he spoke. His voice was steady, abnormally calm, as Jocelyn remembered. She tried not to look at him when he addressed her, but she couldn't help it. Her eyes twitched quickly to his moving body. He didn't look much different than he had twenty years ago - his shoulders were still broad as an ox, he walked firmly, his hair was fair and his eyes were still rich with blackness. But she could tell he aged - he had two long lines that had formed from his cheekbone to his chin, a few miniature webs spreading underneath his dark eyes. At the top of his hairline, white strands were starting to show.

It was almost creepy, Jocelyn thought to herself. Whenever she imagined him through the years of fear and tears, she had pictured him as what he looked like twenty years ago. She had never imagined him with fading hair and wrinkles. It never occurred to her that he was, despite what he has done, mortal.

"Nobody," she said shortly. In the corner of her eye, she noticed how he broke his walking pattern for just a moment, as if hearing her voice for the first time in twenty years had caught him. But then he resumed to pace around her just as quickly as he stopped.

"Nobody," he repeated, his voice failing to appear emotionless. Valentine was infamous for his empty tones when in powerful situations, but the coldness leaked. The corner of her lips almost tipped up, until she remembered why she was there.

"Who could I trust?" She asked him, repeating his present thoughts as she knew what they would be. "The Lightwoods? Nice people they are, but as you said once, Valentine - Maryse and Robert breathe by honor, not by heart." She turned to him fully now, breaking the invisible mold she had made for herself in the last two hours. He stopped when her eyes moved towards him. He stood as straight as a line, normally making him intimidating to talk to, but she saw how his hands, which were clenched into a small buddle against his back, were starting to turn red.

"Why did you leave me?" He let out suddenly, his head still not turned towards her. She let out a breath. She had hoped they would have spent more time passive aggressively fighting before he came to that point.

"You were a monster," she replied. "You are a monster." Suddenly, his nose flared and his head whipped to face her. His fingers seemed to unlatch as he strode towards her loathingly. She almost backed up farther into the couch, but she knew that Valentine could only do so much to her now. Her chin raised up proudly.

"Do you see what I've made? I've changed the Clave for the better. The Shadowhunter World, this," he said, gesturing around him, "is my creation. I had taken down and rebuilt an entire empire. You should have felt honored to be at my side."

She didn't even blink as she answered, "I do not feel honored when there's a dead angel in my basement." Suddenly, he shuddered. A spasm flashed across his face, a series of emotions coming and going so fast that there was no way to tell what they meant.

"You looked," he said, as if to himself. "You went inside the basement." She started to stand up from the couch, leaning close to him. She could feel his breath shake.

"Yes, I know what I left when I left you. My honor, my family, my identity. But if you are going to kill me, do it. Because I'd do it all over again," she said, clipping each word carefully. With each word, a new layer seemed to harden in Valentine's eyes, the humanity in his eyes slowly leaving.

"So where is she then?" He asked. Jocelyn blinked, her shoulders falling forward.

"Who?" she breathed, though her voice raised eight octaves when she let it out. A small, mocking smile sprawled onto Valentine's lips victoriously.

"The girl, Clary you call her? My daughter?" He hissed. Her lips trembled. Her mouth opened several times until she finally answered.

"Camp. There's no school in the summer." His smile widened.

"Cheeky answer," he replied. "Where is she, Jocelyn?" She shook her head quickly as she started to tip back.

"I won't tell you," she said. "You can kill me, you can torture me, but leave her out of this. She's just a girl. A girl who doesn't-"

"Want me? Need me? Care for me?" He finished. "No, because I'm not her father. Because I didn't get to raise her." She swallowed.

"Our relationship was over eight years ago," she reminded him. "We're two different people now, with two different lives. There's no reason for me to be here." He started to inch closer to her, making her heartbeat ring in her ear.

"There's a thousand reasons why you should be here," he said, slowly cupping her face with his large, callused-filled hands. A shiver ran down her spine.

"There is none," she said, and she could feel one of his hands reach her waist. Her body tensed. She could barely breathe. "So go ahead. Kill me. Talking to me for whatever reason you have won't do anything." His eyebrows furrowed down. She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or if he was truly genuinely confused.

"I am not going to kill you," he said, as if she was stupid. "Why would I kill you, Jocelyn?" Her shoulders slumped further. Despite the fact that her life would be spared, a new, magnifying horror ran down her. Possibly even worse than dying.

"Then why," she said, more demanding, "Are you keeping me here?" A sudden emotion rippled in Valentine's eyes. At first it seemed foreign to her, as if beneath the blackness she couldn't recognize it, but then she remembered what it was. Love.

"Because I screwed up. I'll take the blame for it - I let you walk away. I should have paid more attention to you. I should've done something before you-"
"It was more than just as drifting apart," she hissed, as she tried ripping away from Valentine's grip, but the more she twisted the harder Valentine dug his fingers in her hip. "I didn't love you anymore, I still don't love you!" Valentine was silent for a long moment, taking in her words.

"I will make you love me again," Valentine said, as if to himself. "You will love me again." She shook her head roughly.

"No!" She argued, her voice rising loudly. "I won't! Don't you get it? It's too late, Valentine. I will never love you!" But it was as if the words hadn't hit him. He continued to look at her, with a look filled with desire.

"You forget what your shadowhunter life once was," Valentine said. "Sending yourself off into the disgusting mundane world has tainted you, but I will cleanse you, Jocelyn. I will fix you, my love."

Before she had even realize what she had done, she heard a slapping sound ring in her ears. Her hand collided with Valentine's cheek, slapping him across the face so hard that she felt her fingers ring with pain. Valentine tipped back on his heels. The pain was nothing to a shadowhunter - every shadowhunter was trained to bare far worse, but the shock that she would hit him exploded in Valentine so roughly that he flinched back. His face was still turned away as he sucked in a breath. Her breathing paced quickly, a sudden fear running through her as she backed away slowly. She watched as he turned his head forward, his hand rubbing his now-red cheek. Her eyes widened.

"Jocelyn," Valentine breathed. "You can go. It's your choice." At first she stared at him, waiting for the seven-fold price she would have to pay for her violent act, but she didn't hesitate any longer. She grabbed the cloak that she had originally been under before Valentine captured her and headed for the glass door.

"807 Berkeley Place, Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York?" She stopped suddenly. Her hand was almost to the doorknob when he said the words. Slowly, horrified, she turned to look at him. He was still in place, his hand to his red cheek.

"What?" she said, barely a whisper.

"That's where you and Clarissa live, correct?" He asked. She didn't answer at first.

"I-I-I thought you didn't know where she is," her voice shivered. A small smile sprawled on his lips. A cold smile.

"You really believed that, Jocelyn? You've forgotten my mentality." He took a step towards her. Though he was far away, the one step made her wince. "Like I said Jocelyn: it's your choice. Either you or Clarissa." Her shaking arm fell to her side.

"You can't honestly think I can just leave her, do you? She has a life, she has a home-"

"Lucian can take her, can't he, since you're so close to the werewolf? That is, if you don't want me in her life." Valentine asked. Her stomach started to turn. As she opened her mouth to answer, she thought she would throw up.

"Fine," she heard herself say. "But if you touch her, if you even come close to her, I will promise you that I will kill you."

Walking out of Valentine's fairly new office was a blur. Valentine forced her to link arms with him as they left the office. Her eyes looked out the large windows that revealed the glass-like city, at the magnificent buildings and empty cobble-stone streets. Alicante always felt so breakable to her. People always said it was indestructible, but nothing so beautiful can be indestructible, she had once told Valentine. And as it was dark now - she would never risk going to Alicante in the day when people were asleep - early in the morning, the moon casted a glow across her face.

"Come," Valentine beckoned, pulling her away from the floor-to-ceiling hall windows. She swallowed, following him down a glass staircase. The hair on the back of her neck rose when she felt Valentine's gaze. It wasn't until they reached the chilled air that she met Valentine's eyes. Victory reflected back at her. Her jaw clenched.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" He said, looking up towards the beautiful buildings that crowded around them with a wide smile. She swallowed as she looked around as well, taking in the silent beauty. He looked around in glory, but she looked around in fear. Her eyes found the large, glowing moon. She wondered where Clary was.

"Not for my taste," she said, bitterness running in her tone. Valentine's smile dropped instantly, his arm holding her tighter.

"It will be, Jocelyn, it will-"

"Did you just say Jocelyn?" A voice yelled. They both froze instantly. Jocelyn's stomach disappeared. At first she just stared ahead of her, until she started to turn towards the voice. As Valentine moved with her, she caught an irritated expression flash across his face for just a moment. Her eyes turned ahead of her, and instantly her stomach started to come back.

A figure, not much taller than herself, wrapped around in a red, velvet cloak, froze before her. For just a moment Jocelyn couldn't decipher who it was, but then she saw the long, curly, yellow-blonde hair that touched the figure's collarbone. Her mouth opened.

"Annamarie?" Jocelyn asked, in a wave of confusion. She wasn't necessarily a fan of Annamarie because of her overly-giddy personality, but before she left she was fairly close to her. She had tea with her at least twice a week, despite secretly not liking her. She honestly didn't know how she felt about seeing her again.

Annamarie ran to her, her arms colliding around her neck. Jocelyn felt her arm being ripped away from Valentine, and heard a huff of annoyance from beside her. Though Annamarie held her tight, Jocelyn stood numbly.

"I thought you were a goner," Annamarie said. "Where did you find her, Valentine?" An admiring tone, which had annoyed Jocelyn so bitterly when she was with Valentine, rang loudly. Jocelyn's eyebrows narrowed down.

"A goner?" Jocelyn questioned, her eyes glowering at Valentine. Valentine didn't look at her.

"I was right. She was kidnapped by Hodge Starkweather," Valentine said. Jocelyn's mouth gaped. Kidnapped? By Hodge? But Valentine casted her a threatening glare, making her mouth close. She looked away.

"Oh, sweetie! We were all so worried for you, dear," Annamarie said, tugging at Jocelyn's shoulders. "All of the shadowhunters made numerous plans to find you, but Valentine said he already had a group looking for you. And obviously, they did. It took a long time though, I must say." Valentine flashed her a quick, forced smile.

"Yes, well, it was nice to see you, Annamarie, but-"
"Is that a ring?" Jocelyn blurted. It was accidental, but when her eyes lowered to Annamarie's pale left hand, a bright ring glimmered back at her. She remembered that right before she left Alicante, that Annamarie had been gloating about her new "exciting" affair with Robert Lightwood.

"I'm guessing you moved on from Robert?" Jocelyn asked. A flash of anger hit Annamarie's face.

"Moved on? He left Maryse for me," she said, matter-of-factly. "About a year ago, actually. Turns out, Maryse had gotten pregnant with another man's child." Her eyes lowered at Annamarie. She didn't know Maryse well, as she never gotten along with Maryse's cold demeanor, but she knew that Maryse was far too good to have an affair. As Annamarie reminded her of a twelve year old girl, Maryse Lightwood reminded her of a future leader. Jocelyn had never understood how Robert had went from Maryse to Annamarie. But she did know one thing - that child was not another man's child. It was Annamarie telling everybody that to ruin Maryse's reputation.

"Oh," Jocelyn said simply, suppressing her sudden anger. "Well, that's..." She glanced to Valentine, realizing that she'd rather be stuck with that thriving maniac than Annamarie.

"What about tea tomorrow, Jocelyn?" Annamarie said, smiling widely. Jocelyn's jaw clenched. I won't be here tomorrow, Jocelyn wanted to say. I will be in New York, getting Clary and then disappearing off the planet so that Valentine will never find us again.

"I-"

"We're having a dinner party this Saturday. How about you just see her then?" Valentine asked. Jocelyn's eyes widened.

"What?!" She hissed in his ear. Annamarie had obviously not heard her because she was smiling lividly.

"Oh, yes, that will be so exciting!" Annamarie gushed, clapping her hands. "I will invite everyone!" Valentine's hand went to Jocelyn's waist tightly, slowly retreating.

"Well," Valentine said tightly. "We must go. We will see you soon Annamarie." He turned Jocelyn towards the street again.

Annamarie's retreating clinks that were caused by her shoes as she went the seperate way reminded Jocelyn of the pair of heels that Clary had drawn only a few days ago.

AN: The first chapter is never perfect, but ta-da. I don't upload unless theres new reviews because I don't know if people actually want more unless they tell me, so review if you want more! The more reviews the faster!