A/N: And this is it! Please stick around to the end, leave a review and enjoy! This story has been so therapeutic to me... so please enjoy the ending...

Chapter Eleven: Let's Call It A Night

Clary had never bothered to ask the name of the pilot, but as she stood in the jet, Isabelle once again helping to fit her into her vest as it seemed like the world was spinning around them, she felt more than sorry for him. They were on their way to a city where, if they failed, there would soon be millions of casualties. She wondered if he had signed up for it. This wasn't what she was used to with her team: they were good at covert operations, complicated legends, backstory and stealing and sneaking around. TacOps is what she had done with Sebastian.

"Okay boys and girls," Simon began, Jordan helping him with his own Kevlar. "I tried calling Branwell but I couldn't get to him, so I had a look through the reports myself. The good news is, our gas masks will most likely stop any small exposure to the chemical, so there's one for everyone, and we'll be going in hot. And I mean hot—" He held out his phone, the screen displaying four video feeds. "This is the location we're going into. I can't see any weapon in any of the labs with cameras, but my guess—" He pressed a button, the screen moving to a satellite image of the roof. "Is they have it on the roof. The schematics make it seem like the chemical won't activate until the missile is airborne, but if I'm being honest it seems highly unstable. I have sensors in our drones for Sarin and VX, but I'm not even sure they'll be able to detect this agent. So if people start dropping, it's time to hot tail it out of there."

"What's our move?" Jace asked, letting Clary strap his Kevlar tighter, lifting his arms and tugging to make sure it was fitted snugly.

"We don't have time for any kind of sweep. Simon has camera access to most of the floors: looks like another abandoned lot. I have two cars waiting; I want one team to go through the entrance, storm tactics, distract as many as possible. Second team goes straight to the top. Simon is going to be watching, he's gonna be our eyes," Alec confirmed, and Simon nodded glumly. "That way no matter what happens, whoever reaches the weapon first can deactivate it. And when I say that is our goal, I mean that is our goal. We're playing tag on this one."

"Tag?" Jordan asked, inspecting one of the gas masks with distaste, and Isabelle nodded.

"You know, you're It? If the first team goes down…" She trailed off, realising what she was saying. "If the first team goes down, you play tag until…"

"Until there's none of us left." Jace finished.

"Morbid." Jordan said, clapping his hands. "So… who's going first?"

The silence that followed would have been comical if it weren't so deafening. Then Isabelle spoke. "Well… I'm the fastest, and Alec is the best shot. So I say we go up the back way, you boys, and our Clary of course, storm the entrance."

Alec raised an eyebrow, and Jace frowned, not really wanting anyone to go in. But he nodded. "I can live with that."

"Good idea, Agent Lightwood," Simon said with an edge, and Clary followed the exchange between the two of them, the way his eyes landed on hers, the silent exchange. She smirked, not sure why they even bothered trying to hide it. And then her smile dropped as she realised what they were about to run into.

Simon looked around at them again. "I can deactivate the weapon safely, once you're up there. But here's the thing… if anything goes wrong, and I can't tell you how to defuse it… and I'm saying this as a last resort, Miss I-do-everything-without-thinking—" he looked to Clary. "If I can't tell you how to defuse the weapon, then blow the damn thing up. One IED, right on the warhead. It'll stop it from synthesising the agent midair, hopefully at all… but it will, you know…"

"Blow everything sky high?" Isabelle offered, and Simon nodded.

"Exactly, so get the hell out of there, ASAP. We clear?"

Everyone nodded, seeming once again surprised with Simon's decisiveness.

"I have a few other teams on their way," Alec said, glancing at his phone. "But I have no way of knowing when they'll arrive: I think M… Michael… whoever the hell is in charge of this, he knows we're on our way. Half the safehouses in the area have started active shootings, one of them blew up—he's trying to distract us."

"He doesn't know we have the flash drive," Clary said, and Alec nodded.

"Probably. He doesn't know just how much we know."

"That's a good thing, right?" She said. "the element of surprise."

"A good thing… that might be a stretch. But it's definitely an advantage." Alec finished. "And we're going full TacOps, okay. I want as big a distraction in the building as possible, get people out of the way."

"And if we're in the wrong place?" Jace asked, ever the devil's advocate. Simon blinked.

"Let's hope that's not the case, man. Otherwise we're about to watch a city burn."

Jace could feel every drop of blood buzzing in his veins, thrumming through his body as he lay in wait. They were positioned, four corners of the building, waiting for the signal. And he was furious.

If he was being honest back at base, he would have said that he wasn't sure who the man on the roof was. He didn't recognise the blurred face of the assailant: but he recognised the betrayal in Clary's face. It was the way he looked at Robert, at Maryse, every time he thought about his own parents. Fury at the cards he had been dealt, fear for the life that he wished he could have. Fear for his family… what they were about to face.

His mouth was flush against the gasmask, the comms unit pressed uncomfortably tight to his ear, yet he still felt light, all his muscles yearning to move. The AR-15 strapped to his side felt weighty: the countdown in his ear even weightier. Simon was the only one with eyes on them all: he knew Clary was at the West corner, Jordan at the East. Isabelle and Alec were already preparing to begin their ascent to the roof: and they could all hear the bustling inside the building. Unlike the past three locations they had scouted, the place was teeming with armed guards: and not the kind the FBI messed around with. These were thugs, armed with crude, stolen weapons and god knows what else. And Simon was getting ready to send them in.

"I've got three drones active now: you'll need your visors when I set off the flares, okay?"

"Copy." Came Clary's voice and Jace felt a calmness run over him at the confidence in her demeanour. She thought they could pull it off.

"You have visuals of the roof?" Alec's voice came through.

"I can't get the drone too close, but I've got two heat sigs. Not much protection up top."

"But a lot below." Came Jordan. "How we looking, Red?"

"I'm ready."

"Goldielocks?"

Jace grinned, reminding himself to make Jordan pay for that one if they made it out of there. "Ready."

"Right then, ladies and gentlemen," Simon said, and Jace closed his visor, ready for the signal. "Let's get this done."

Then the world burst into flames, Simon's flares exploding across the building like a thousand fireworks all at once, and Jace's smile widened as he heard the confused choking begin. "All teams, go!"

Clary sprang from her position crouched outside the warehouse, her visor protecting her eyes from the sporadic flares that were going off around her. The effect was instantaneous: where before she had visuals of a number of masked guards standing around inside the building now they were flooding through the huge, bay doors, flustered and waving their flashlights through the smoke. She couldn't help but grin at their confusion and she picked off a number of her smoke grenades, rolling them into the chaos.

"Morgenstern, I can barely see as it is." She heard Jordan say, and laughed quietly.

"Thermals are there for a reason: they're so fucking stupid, I'm pretty sure we can just flush them out."

"Nice—oh shit, Jace, on your six—" She heard Jordan say: while they were both distracted she began to slip around the edge of the warehouse. Gunshots were being let off sporadically now, and she felt glad for her mask and visor, her bright hair tucked away behind the dark helmet. The building was laid out like a gutted factory: instead of layers of floors, there was just a huge, empty space filled with desks; two other levels of the building were connected by rickety staircases and scaffold walkways that trailed like spiderwebs across the warehouse. Not exactly sophisticated.

"Si, I'm by the West entrance: am I seeing a line of snipers on that beam, second floor, facing Jordan?" She asked, throwing down another smoke grenade as she heard approaching footsteps.

"You got it: can you take them out?" He asked, and she nodded.

"On it—"

She levelled her rifle, knowing that the second her weapon went off she was going to be exposed. But they were currently aimed at Jace and Jordan, who were occasionally letting off profanities as they battled their way through a wave of unsuspecting yet seemingly highly trained, insurgents. She knelt down, carefully lining up her scope. Then she released a round, taking down at least five of the men before they could even move.

"Hey! Over there!"

She ducked at the sound, hitting the ground just as a volley of bullets came flying toward her. She rolled, pushing herself up onto her stomach. And then she was running.

"Simon!" She shouted. "Where are we taking the most fire!"

"Uh, you've got like, ten men on your trail right now," He replied. "Another flare?"

"Yes please!" She yelled in reply, throwing herself inside the warehouse as she felt the heat from another round of Simon's special fireworks. She flipped up her visor, finally having a clear field of vision, and she felt her stomach tighten. The inside of the warehouse was the stuff that would give any kid nightmares: the walls were lined with weapons, automatic and the Luddite variety, along with a number of hooks from the ceiling that Clary unfortunately recognised—

Clary found herself laughing as the masked man in front of her proceeded to string the chain binding her wrists back through the hook on the ceiling. She cried out as her feet left the ground—

—she was brought back to reality as the butt of a rifle landed at the base of her shin, and she let out a cry. "Motherfucker!" She screamed, wheeling around and kicking her assailant in the chest. She watched with satisfaction as he went flying, but found herself met with more bullets from above. "How are we looking?" She screamed, making a beeline for the edge of the warehouse.

"We've got a problem up here—" She heard Alec reply, and once again cried out as the smoke swimming in her vision began to clear, a cabal of a dozen men approaching her through the smoke.

"I've got one, north wall!" One of the men cried, and Clary cursed.

"Jordan, you need to get up here—"

Clary didn't hear what happened next as the men spotted her and she dropped another smoke grenade, dropping low into the chaos and sending out a spray of bullets, cringing as she heard them meet her mark. She jumped up again, spotting one of the hooks hanging down the side of the warehouse and made a run for it, reaching out and feeling the cool metal through her gloved hands, gripping tightly and swinging herself up.

"Red, stop playing monkey!" She heard Jace call. Vaulting off the wall once again she dropped into the remaining men, taking down as many with her as she could. "Wave!" Jace called, and she held out a hand.

Looking up she realised why he had asked, bullets falling around her in a painful cacophony of groans, each of the remaining men falling flat against the ground.

"Are you on the roof?" She asked, getting to her feet and scrambling to push the limp limbs of the fallen men off of her.

"He's inside, second-floor walkway," Simon replied instead, and Clary began to move around the side of the building. "Clary, I need you to get to the roof."

Her heart stopped, and she pulled down her visor. "Why, where's Jordan?" She asked, sweeping her flashlight around the building's edge. She dropped the AR around her neck, letting hand limply, bringing out her .45 and taking out the two bodies who were slinking toward her in the dark.

"She… she fell, Clary… I've got one heat signature on the roof now, most of the goons are on the ground level. Jordan's got Isabelle… I know I shouldn't have, but—"

"You don't need to explain," Clary said, pulling her gasmask back down over her face, sweat dripping down, into her mouth, around her eyes. "Goldilocks?"

"Red."

"I'm going up."

"I know." A deafening silence hung between them in the spaces between their words and Clary felt for a moment the same hesitation she had when she found out that Hodge had betrayed her. Then she steeled herself, the pity flooding from her body, replaced with vigour.

"Keep them distracted for me, my love?" She asked sweetly, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. He heard it anyway.

"Always."

She pulled her visor back down as she charged toward the back of the building, throwing the last of her smoke grenades before her, and a number of Simon's own IED's: tiny blast range, big boom. Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard the men below her react to the explosions, and she didn't want to stick around for the end results. The same chains that were hanging down below were strung along the warehouse walls and Clary felt her stomach clench once again, her boots pounding too loudly against the metallic steps to the roof.

She heard as Jace let off another round and wondered vaguely if anyone had noticed that they had turned this presumed empty lot into a warzone. Perhaps people thought it was just fireworks. Or maybe people really didn't care about what they couldn't understand.

"Clary, I've got a massive heat signature on the roof, and I mean massive. I think he's activated the weapon—"

"Say no more, Lewis." She whispered, crouching down as she approached the roof. She held up her scope, peeping through to get a lay of the field before she went in. But there was no one… she could see Alec's body, lying on the ground across from her, and her blood ran cold. She switched to thermal, feeling little relief at his readings, then spotted what Simon had been talking about.

Her gas mask was no comfort to her. The… thing… that stood in the centre of the roof was like a monolith, a huge device with wires spreading across the roof, and Clary guessed, down into the warehouse. "Can we shut off power, Lewis?" She asked quietly.

"To the warehouse… oh you genius, Clary…shit. No. I can't shut down the power without shutting off the whole grid."

Clary hissed. "Well, can't you just do that?" She asked again.

"No! I can't, Clary, I'm sorry…"

"No. No, it's okay, I got this."

"Red… you need help?"

"No! Just… please, Jace. How many more men down there?"

"Two dozen, maybe more?"

"You've got about a dozen coming in now, Jace, but other than that it's just stragglers."

"Okay." Clary said, taking comfort in Simon's analysis. "And you have Jordan and Isabelle?"

Simon paused. "They're in bad shape, Clary—"

"I know. I guessed. I just want to make sure they're out of the vicinity."

"Red… stay calm."

"I'm calm, just get rid of them, Goldilocks, okay. For me."

"And then I'll be on my way up."

Clary grinned, "Oh, I'll be done by then."

She lowered her weapon, climbing up the final steps onto the roof, looking around for the person who she knew must be there, waiting somewhere in the shadows. Like he must have been for years.

She approached the weapon, doing her best to pretend it was just any other operation, scanning it over with precision, pretending that Alec's body wasn't lying feet away. He was alive. She knew he was: he had to be. But before she could decide between getting closer to either the weapon or him, she felt that familiar tingle down her spine. Because where there should have been that familiar buzz of her comms in her ear, there was only silence.

She spun around just in time to see him approaching, the gun in his hand pointed directly at her. She had already known what she would be seeing but that didn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips.

"Michael." She breathed.

Christmas Day, 2017

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Rooks only move straight, Jace. This one can go diagonal." Clary sighed dramatically, picking up Jace's bishop and demonstrating. He frowned.

"This is not how I remember learning."

"That's because Isabelle taught you, and she is a notorious fraud."

"I've definitely lost money over it."

Clary laughed, leaning back into the couch and wrapping her blanket further around her. Jace had been true to his word, and although they weren't supposed to move into their new living quarters until January, Hodge had allowed them to make their mark early considering their lonesome nature on the holiest of days. That meant that they had bagged the best rooms, already made a mess of the living space, and dirtied the kitchen in their attempt to roast a turkey. That would be a problem when the timer went off. Jace continued to frown at her, finally knocking over his King with an elegant finger.

"I give up. You are officially better than me at chess."

"Add it to the list." She responded, met only with a glare. "What? We have proved on multiple occasions that I am superior in most ways—"

"Oh, can it. You want your present or not?"

Clary's face broke into a smile so wide Jace thought her dimples might burst a hole through her cheeks, and he couldn't help but count the freckles across her nose. "Yes. I want my present: gimme, gimme, gimme!" Clary squealed pushing herself up onto her knees. Jace rolled his eyes and stood up, reaching under the couch and pulling out a small box.

"Go on then." He said, handing it over, and Clary ripped the lid of eagerly before letting out a gasp of delight.

"I love it!" She exclaimed, pulling out the small photo frame. It was a picture, of all of them: Clary, on Jace's shoulders, his hands gripping her legs tightly; Alec and Isabelle standing next to them, Simon's head under Isabelle's arms, him laughing as she ruffled his hair. It was from the previous summer, a spontaneous day when they were all at the Lightwood House. Clary couldn't get enough of it, drinking in the image, the way they were all smiling so brightly. Before everything had gone so wrong. One of her hands was reaching to the sky, toward the open sunlight. She had the other hand in Jace's hair, and she remembered the way it felt under her fingers….

"Are you sure you like it?" Jace asked lightly, rubbing his neck, and Clary looked into his eyes with disbelief.

"Are you kidding?" She asked, placing the picture carefully on the coffee table before throwing her arms around his neck, his surprised hands resting tentatively on her back as she squeezed him. "I love it."

To anyone else it may seem like she were exaggerating, but Jace knew what it meant to her. They were the same, growing up in houses with no signs of life, white walls and empty book cases. Everything to keep an identity secret: it made it feel like they had no identity either. Jace smiled, squeezing her back.

"Okay. Where's mine, then?" He said, pulling back and watching her pick the photograph back up, still enamoured.

"Present? What present?" She teased. Then she laughed, standing up and pulling on her sweater. "Okay, maybe that wasn't a great lie… come one, come with me."

She stood up and held out a hand, Jace taking it apprehensively. "If you're leading me into some sort of trap…"

"Well, duh." Clary said, tugging him toward her bedroom. "What else would be in here."

Jace swallowed at the implication, following her blindly. "Seriously, what have you done? I will not be seduced by you today, Morgenstern, no matter what you say—"

Clary slapped his chest at that, glaring, before finally stopping at her bedside table. "Okay. Close your eyes." She said, and he raised an eyebrow. She huffed. "Humour me, Herondale." He rolled his eyes, complying with her demand and shutting his eyes. "Okay, hold out your hand—no, flat. Yes. Okay. Perfect."

Jace felt electricity run up his arm as Clary's finger's gently took his hand, and he tried not to curl his fingers around hers. He then jolted as he felt something cold touch his skin, a ring sliding onto his middle finger, warming to his touch. "Okay." She whispered. "Open."

Jace's heart stopped for a moment as he took in the silver ring on his finger. He knew exactly what it was… the tiny birds flitting across the metal, chasing brighter skies. He looked to Clary.

"What… how…"

"I stole it." Clary grinned devilishly, still holding his hand. "I… I mean, I saw it in Hodge's office, when he was away and Catarina sent me to get his files… it was on his desk, and I figured… well, I had seen it. In that picture on his desk—" She tilted her head, biting her lip. "I know it was your dads. I reckon Hodge was saving it, but let's be honest, when have I ever let Hodge have all the fun. And look—" She turned the ring slightly, and Jace saw that the small birds were no longer chasing each other, rather chasing a small 'L' that Jace hadn't seen before. "I thought… for the Lightwood's, you know. I get that it was a family ring, but we do family differently. They're your family too. And… and we're family." She finished, patting it gently, trying to read his face.

"You hate it." She said, crestfallen. But Jace just shook his head, gripping her by the arm and pulling her tightly to him.

"You're so full of surprises." He whispered, squeezing her tighter. She beamed, pulling away and leading him back to the living room for more stolen eggnog and terrible Christmas films.

I love you: he didn't say.

I love you too. She didn't reply.

July, 2020

She had almost forgotten what he looked like. He was older now, three years lining his face far more than it had her mother's. He had that blank look at the corners of his mouth from botox, the same wrinkles around his eyes. Isabelle would call it a sign of someone overly wealthy, fat with more than food, money lining skin until they were unrecognisable. But Clary recognised his eyes, that were once so kind, now glaring vehemently at her.

"Michael." She breathed, knowing he couldn't hear through her mask. He pointed the gun at the weapon behind her, raising a greying eyebrow.

"Take off the mask." He hissed. "Or I shoot, and we all go up."

Clary flinched. Bringing her hands up to her face she unclipped the airlock Simon had so carefully prepared, pulling the mask from her face with a vacuum of fresh air. It was colder than she thought. Dropping the mask to the ground she held her hands up: as terrifying as it was to be standing next to a deadly chemical weapon, no mask, no chance, and no back up, she couldn't help but grin. Michael Wayland narrowed his eyes, cocking his head.

"I'm sorry." Clary whispered, unsure for the first time in a long time of what she was going to do. "But… holy shit!" Michael flinched. "You're here." She breathed. "You're alive… I knew it."

"Clarissa Morgenstern." He said, and Clary was brought right back to being a kid again, running through the throngs of agents at the office, barely tall enough to see past their waists. ""You shouldn't have come."

Clary raised an eyebrow. "You're lecturing me?" She laughed. "What about you, Michael… what the hell have you done?" He seemed to be frozen, watching her every move, and she smiled again. "I went to your funeral, Michael. I watched my family mourn you. Hell, I mourned you."

"What do you want me to say?" Michael said, a grin suddenly spreading across his face. It darkened again. "Drop the weapon." Clary slowly lifted the AR from around her neck, placing it slowly on the ground. "And the comms." He said again, and Clary hesitated.

"It's dead." She protested, and he raised the gun higher. "Okay, okay." She removed the unit from her ear, feeling a whole lot more vulnerable as it dropped to the ground. He nodded, satisfied.

"And the vest."

Clary knew what was coming and lowered her hands to her vest, undoing more straps, pulling against the plastic and throwing the heavy item over her head, the chill of the night soaking into her sweat, chilling her skin. The goosebumps raised along her arms and she clenched her fists. Michael smiled again.

"Okay. He said, lowering the weapon. "That's better."

Clary bit her lip, watching as he looked over the edge of the building, fingers inching toward her sidearm.

"Just try it, Clarissa." He muttered, satisfied with what he saw on the ground. "You're like your father, you know. Always trying to sneak up on me."

"Why didn't you kill them." She asked, hoping to find the chink in his armour, and he continued to pace before her as the machine behind her began to make an unsettling noise. "My parents. You had them… and you had me… and you let us get away."

Michael watched her curiously, tapping the gun against his lip in a way that made Clary cringe with both the lack of regard for their protocol, and a seeming lack of sanity. "Your parents… I owed them many favours. Considering what I have planned… what's a few more days of drooling in a hospital Besides..." He grinned evilly. "I needed someone to pin this all on. And your father had always been too easy to manipulate. It's just perfect, your surname... 'Morgenstern'... 'M'."

Clary's eyes widened: he had been the one to plant the idea in Hodge's mind, that it had been Valentine. She sneered at him. "You're a traitor."

This time Michael grinned widely, relishing her fury. "Oh, Clarissa, I wish you didn't have to be so… pure. You're very talented, I could have used you. We could have been allies."

"I would never ally myself with a man who would betray his own family, hurt good men. For money." Clary spat, dropping her arms. Michael grinned wider.

"No…? You don't think that's what our organisation is...? The Institute is just another form of government, a way of the righteous to have control. Your parents have never been better than me: you know nothing."

"I know everything." She said, her teeth chattering, "I know you were the leak all along, and I know that you're M. You always have been. And when my parents and their team got too close to figuring it out, you were forced to fake your death. You just got lucky they didn't figure you out sooner."

This time Michael laughed, botox filled lips stretching grotesquely around his teeth. "You think your parents suspected me? Clarissa—" He looked her directly in the eye, smiling wide. "Who do you think helped me?"

Clary felt the same shiver run up her spine and shook her head. "You're lying. They didn't know…"

"Of course they knew… They thought I was being targeted, so they helped me get away. They knew all along, Clarissa. You really don't know how this works, do you. It takes an insider to cover up something like this… and I had a whole team."

"But they didn't know! They didn't know you were a criminal the whole time!"

Michael shrugged. "Maybe not. But they knew I was alive… and I'm sure none of them were eager to tell you, during your search for… M. I love that. 'M'. Makes me sound so mysterious."

Clary let out a cry of disgust. How could any of this be true? How could a place she had admired since she could talk, walk, think, be so… corrupt?

"What happened to you?" She whispered.

That finally seemed to cross a line, and Michael was no longer smiling: he raised his gun once again, aim as perfect as any other agent, and let out a swift shot.

Clary's knees buckled as the pain ripped through her arm and she fell to her knees, hissing through gritted teeth. "What happened to me?" Michael asked, approaching her and pulling her up roughly by the arm he had just shot a bullet into, Clary letting out a shriek as he did so, spitting through her teeth as he dragged her toward the machine and threw her to the ground beside it. "This life happened to me Morgenstern. The Institute could never give me what I wanted, and then your parents come along…" He trailed off, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and attaching one cuff to Clary's injured arm, the other to the arming key on the side of the crude weapon. Clary glared at him, and he spat at her.

"What, you want me to treat you special? Like those fucking kids? I should have brought that place down a long time ago."

"Why didn't you?" Clary asked, on her knees and shaking. Blood was trickling down her arm and along her shoulders, and she knew the bullet hadn't gone all the way through. She tried not to groan. "Why are you doing this?"

Michael laughed again. "Clary… you know what this is… what it will do?"

"It'll kill millions of people, Michael. Why would you want that?" She urged, desperately trying to stop herself from passing out. Hold it together, Morgenstern.

"Oh, this?" Michael said, gesturing wildly to his creation. "This is just the prototype. See, I have a lot of people who would pay a lot of money for a weapon like this… all I need is an advertisement."

Clary's eyes widened. "Fire will rain tonight." She mumbled, and Michael raised an eyebrow again, Clary wondering how he could do that with so much filler in his face.

"You're better than I thought." He said. "What a waste."

Clary forced herself to stay awake as he turned his back to her, forcing her to keep her injured arm in place, not to disrupt a single piece of the clearly unstable puzzle. She felt satisfaction swell inside of her as she finally understood, what it had all been about. Why Sebastian had to die, why her parents had been so secretive, why everything was so fucked up. Money and corruption, she thought. They make the world go round.

Then she felt the air shift once again, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Hey, Wayland!" She slurred, and Michael turned to face her once again, his eyes glued to a phone in his hands. "One more thing." She said, spitting the bile from her mouth. She caught the glint of gold behind Michael Wayland's head and grinned widely as the man she had thought long dead raised the gun to her head for a final time. "Stay dead, this time, motherfucker."

BANG!

Clary watched in satisfaction as the bullet emerged cleanly from his forehead, and Michael Wayland dropped to his knees, keeling onto the concrete roof without even a final word. Behind him stood Jace in all his glory, gas mask making him seem like some hero from a post-apocalyptic world. She watched, dazed, as he brought his hand up and removed the mask, his sweat soaked face emerging from within. He grinned, then grimaced as the machine Clary was cuffed to began to whir rhythmically, sprinting toward her.

"Hey there, Morgenstern." He said, examining her injured arm and the weapon beside them.

"Jace." She whispered. "Get Alec, get out of here."

Jace looked at her incredulously. "Now now, Morgenstern, where's the fun in that?"

Clary groaned in pain, keeping her arm as still as she could as it pressed against the arming key. "Please, Jace. Comms don't work up here, mine's gone. You can go, get him out of here. The macnine…" She hissed, using her right hand to pull another of Simon's special explosives from her belt. "I got this one."

Jace shook his head, moving to check Alec's pulse, and Clary felt a wave of crushing relief as Jace also let out a calmed breath. He was alive. "Okay… he's good. That's good. We're good."

"Please, please, I'm begging you, Jace." Clary said, trying to crane her neck to look at him. "Can you just go! Do what I fucking ask for once in your damn life!"

Jace cocked an eyebrow, walking around the weapon. "Not very nice of you, red." He muttered, eyes scanning the machine, and Clary, for the first time in a long time, began to cry. No heart wrenching sobs, no crocodile tears. She just felt the hot, slippery tears spill from her eyes, and she took in a shaky breath. This was panic, real, hot, burning panic ripping through her. At the thought of her arm getting ripped off when the missies launched, firstly, of the ensuing explosion and all the people that would die. But mostly the fact that she knew what she had to do: with her arm cuffed to the damn thing, and what Simon said. There was no way she could blow the thing up without going down too.

Clary looked back up to Jace, who was still pacing around the machine. She could hear choppers in the distance. "You need to go, please." She said.

"I'm not going anywhere, honey."

"Honey?"

"We're at the doors of death, allow the honey, honey."

Clary laughed despite herself, and Jace came back to where she was trapped, kneeling down in front of her, trying to take the explosive from her hands. She gripped it firmly, tears still pouring down her cheeks. Jace's expression darkened.

"Put that damn thing away, Clary." He said as the machine began to whir even more alarmingly, and Clary shook her head.

"No." She gulped, blinking at her tears, crying out as she jolted her arm. Jace couldn't bear it anymore and brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, her salty tears spilling over into his palms.

"Stop," He commanded, and Clary just laughed, gripping it even tighter.

"I love you." She muttered, licking at a tear that stopped on the edge of her lip. Jace's finger's stopped their swiping, frozen, and Clary just sniffed. "I know I should have said it before, properly. Or… maybe I shouldn't have said it, considering this is the end of the world. Or maybe this is the perfect time."

"Clary." Jace muttered, searching her eyes. "Will you shut your damn mouth."

Clary hiccupped, shaking her head from his hands and leaning forward, pressing a hot kiss to the corner of his mouth. "No. When have I ever done what you said?" She whispered, then pushed him away. "Now, fuck off and let me save us, would you!"

The machine began to make an even more alarming noise and Clary groaned, trying to get to her feet. Jace pushed her back, standing up and circling the machine one more time.

"Jace please! Please!" She pleaded, trying to see what the hell he was looking at. The weapon was practically screaming, and Clary's heart was pounding so fast in her chest she was surprised she could still breathe through it. "Get Alec out of here! Stop being so goddamn selfish!"

Jace appeared in front of her again, stroking her cheek. "Oh, Clary." He said, kissing her forehead. "Since when have I ever done what you said?" He retorted. And before Clary could stop him he had wrenched her cuffed arm, arming key and all, from the missile. Clary let out a scream of shock, of terror, of frustration at Jace's sheer stupidity, and she fell against Jace's chest.

But instead of the machine increasing it's noises and firing the missile toward the city across from them, the sickening mechanical noises shut off, and for the first time the night was filled with silence. Clary pushed herself away from Jace looking up at the doomsday bomb, then back to Jace who was grinning a devilish smirk.

"What…?!" She asked, green eyes red rimmed and wide, and Jace tapped his ear.

"Your comms might not be working…" He said, turning a dial. "But mine is."

"Uh… Hey Clary—" Came Simon's voice, and Clary let out a strangled cry. "So… this is super awkward."

Jace shut the comms device off again, looking up as the sound of a helicopter came into earshot, the floodlights of the HMX-2's sweeping over them. Clary shook her head in disbelief, groaning once again at the pain in her arm.

"I hate you." She spat at Jace, clutching her arm. He just smiled wider, lifting her good arm up and over his shoulder, helping her to her feet.

"No you don't. You love me." He stated, helping her hobble toward the steps, and Clary shook her head, cheeks flaming red.

"Clearly that was the adrenaline talking… how could I love such a bare-faced, ass hat, fuckwit of a liar."

"You love me!" Jace sang, depositing her by the steps where medevac were currently making the ascent. "Simon heard it, I'll get a tape of the confession."

Clary leant forward ready to slap him, but he caught her instead, pulling her flush against him and threading a hand through her hair, tugging lightly as he brought his lips roughly to hers.

"By the way, Morgenstern" He whispered against her lips. "In case it wasn't already blatantly obvious to the whole damn world. I fucking adore you."

"Uhm Jace?" Simon said in his ear. "I am still here, you know?"

"Shut up, Lewis." Clary mumbled, pulling the comms from Jace's ear and pulling him closer, pressing her lips to his once again. "He's finally making sense."

"Better than the first time?" Jace smirked, and Clary looked to his lips.

"Oh, way better."

It wasn't until they were all in the hospital that Clary found out what had exactly happened; the full story. It mainly involved listening to Jordan explain his act of extreme heroism, having caught Isabelle mid-fall from the roof of the warehouse whilst simultaneously taking down three of Michael's men. Yeah, right. Isabelle now had a huge gash across the back of her head, stitches revealed by a pretty badass spot where her head had been shaved, but she was grinning in her hospital gown as she recounted the event, jello in hand.

Simon wasn't so pleased with her.

Alec was the only one who had been really injured, and it was at his bedside, the rest of them with their own bandages, Clary's arm in it's sling, that they finally ended their operation.

"So…" Jordan said, looking around at the team. "That was pretty fucking crazy."

Clary couldn't help it: she looked over to where Jace was sat, leaning his head against the wall beside Alec. Isabelle was all bandaged up, sat on Simon's lap on the chair beside Alec, and Jordan standing with his arms crossed, grinning at his team. She started to laugh.

Alec wet her wide, watery eyes with confusion, not knowing what to say as the red-haired girl sucked in another breath, her arm burning as she continued to laugh. Isabelle's warm brown eyes met Clary's and she snorted, covering her mouth, before also bursting into laughter, Simon soon following suit.

"I… I…" Clary began, choking on her laughter with tears streaming down her face. "What the fuck?!"

"Michael Wayland?!" Isabelle screeched, wiping her eyes. "After all this time."

"We nearly blew up New York… like, for real." Simon chuckled, looking up at Isabelle. "I'm really fucking glad we didn't."

"You know," Jace said, looking to Clary. "I'm pretty sure the Institute is gonna be fucked up after this. There's no way it can't be."

Clary wiped at her tears, still giggling. "Ah, let it change. Like Luke said…" She said, her laughter trailing off. "There's been something dark there for a long time. We were just too young to know about it."

"Have you spoken to your parents, yet?" Alec asked Clary, and she shook her head. Maryse, Jocelyn, and Valentine had all been awoken whilst their children were being treated for injuries caused by a man they had protected. Clary wasn't sure what she would say.

"They're still in the hospital, though." She replied, biting her lip. "Wayland told me, up there… They all helped him fake his death."

"Not because they knew he was M, Clary." Isabelle replied, shifting in Simon's embrace. "They thought he needed to get out of the game, my Mom told me… they all thought he was a target… not the one targeting."

"I know. I know they thought they were protecting us… I guess I'm just still not over the whole, secrets and lies, thing."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Secrets are what we do, remember, Morgenstern?"

Clary huffed. "I guess. Si, did Branwell manage to find out if he had manufactured any more of them?"

In the five days since she had stood on that rooftop, the Institute, alongside a considerable amount of inter-agency cooperation, had managed to take down Michael's organisation on practically every continent. Even as they sat there, safe houses and cells were being infiltrated: Clary had talked to Maia… first to tell her what had happened to Sebastian, and then to ask for her help.

The Circle became responsible for one of the largest successful operations in the history of the Institute… and no one would ever know.

"He said that Michael's weapons would be easy to find, you know, follow the money." Simon replied, "He helped disarm the one in the lab in Chicago."

Clary nodded. "So… it's just… over?"

"Clare, you can sound a little happier about it. You did it. You took down M."

Clary flinched at that, not knowing whether she should be happy or not. People had died, and she had lost respect for so many people… her parents included.

"For all these years… Michael was the one leaking all that information."

"He didn't need to leak anything, Simon… He was Director of the Institute and ran a mob. He was the perfect double agent." Clary finished.

"I don't understand how he was still able to have information on active investigations after his 'death'?" Jordan asked, looking to Alec whose face fell slightly.

He shifted in his bed, wincing, and Jace placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's on your parents, and ours." He said with a grimace. "You really should talk to them."

"I said I will." She said with a roll of her eyes, and the sourness was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hey all looked up as Special Agent Bane, a man who Alec liaised with on their operations, entered the room with a bunch of flowers. He was a tall man, always impeccably dressed, black hair slicked back and eyes calculating. Yet as he stepped through the door he seemed to falter at the sight of the crowd, and Alec sat up straighter in bed.

"Mag—Agent Bane. What can I do for you?"

Isabelle and Clary locked eyes with a grin at her brother's flustered expression, and Agent Bane pulled at his collar. "I… I didn't realise you had so much company…"

"Oh, we were just leaving." Isabelle said, pulling Simon up behind her and heading to the door, flicking Jordan to follow her. "Good to see you. Bane."

Agent Bane nodded awkwardly, not meeting Clary's gaze as she pulled Jace from the room whilst trying to contain a squeal.

They slammed the door shut, making their way out of the ward, and Isabelle was the first to speak as they walked toward the exit.

"Did you see that?" she squealed, leading Simon along behind her. Simon scratched his ear.

"What?" He asked, and even Jordan laughed.

"Oh, you are so oblivious, Lewis."

"In most ways," Clary interjected, glancing at their intertwined hands. She grinned too.

"It's a guy thing." Isabelle shot, and Clary looked to Jace: he was following close behind her, and as she glanced up, he winked, that devilish smile she knew all too well crossing his face. She wanted to reach out to him, kiss him again… but she knew now wasn't the time.

"Hey, guys." She said, stopping outside the outpatient ward. "I'll meet you back home, okay?"

The other's nodded to her but Jace hung back, looking to her. "You okay?" He asked, his golden eyes watching her carefully, and she nodded firmly.

"I am. I'll come find you after."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she groaned. "You better!" He called as she disappeared into the ward, eyes still watching even as the doors slammed shut.

When Clary knocked against the open door of her father's hospital room she hadn't expected to feel quite so much relief. Her father was sat up, looking far better than when Clary had last seen him, limp and bound, and her mother was sat at the chair beside him. Neither smiled as she entered and she made sure to close the door.

"Clarissa…" Valentine said, his dark eyes scanning her arm. "You came."

"Sorry it took me so long." She said, glancing to her mother as she took the seat opposite. She wasn't sure how to behave: it wasn't like being with her team. There wasn't any comfortable silence, or familiar touches. She felt like she was walking into another undercover mission.

Her father was watching her carefully, her mother's face fixed and stoic as always, and Clary shook her head. "You know, I thought maybe things would be different. What with me having just saved your lives…" For the first time in a long time, Valentine's face broke into a grin.

"That you did… You know, I don't think I've ever told you how proud of you I am."

Clary's eyes widened, and she raised an eyebrow. "No. You haven't."

"We're leaving the agency." Her mother suddenly said, and Clary turned to look at her. Their twin eyes met, and yet again Clary was surprised by the gleam in Jocelyn's eyes. "I… I've made so many mistakes, Clary. You know that now… Hodge filled us in on your operation."

"You knew Michael was alive this whole time," Clary said, and her mother winced. "You could have helped me…"

"You know that everything we do is—"

"Classified." Clary finished with a smirk. "I guess not anymore."

Jocelyn smiled lightly at her daughter. "No. I suppose not anymore."

"You've done well," Valentine said, looking between the two. "We're very lucky you were smart enough to figure it out."

"I had help." Clary replied uncomfortably. Valentine nodded.

"The Circle." He breathed. "How fitting."

"Not as fitting as the Clave." She retorted with satisfaction, finally relishing the surprise in his expression. "I met Luke, by the way. How is he doing?"

Valentine licked his lips, looking to the ceiling. "He's doing okay… I never thought we would be reunited in such a way."

"I'm sure he wasn't thrilled about it either." She sighed. "I need to know… how could you have been part of all those operations. Mundane, working with criminals. Knowing about Heavenly Fire. How could you know and never tell me? I… I always trusted that you knew what was best." Clary said, looking down at her arm. "Now I think I'm disappointed."

Jocelyn and Valentine remained quiet under the scrutiny of their child: there was so much she didn't understand about their world. She was so young.

"We thought we were doing what was best, Clary… we've spent the last few years cleaning up our mistakes." Jocelyn said slowly, shaking her head. "This was never the life we thought you would have… we wanted you to have normality."

Clary rubbed her eyes. She wasn't sure what she wanted from them anymore. Information? She had all that. An apology? But for what? Clary wasn't sure. "I just… I need to know one thing." She said, looking between them. "Are you happy? After all these years being… this. Losing—" She choked slightly, thinking of Sebastian. "Losing people. Lying. Does it ever get easier?" She realised that she was pleading and her father reached out to take her uninjured hand.

"Clary." He said lowly, shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand yet, the times we were living through. We never got to think for ourselves, never questioned anything… we just thought we were as good as it got. But you're better."

Clary sucked in a breath softly, squeezing his hand and thinking back to her youth before everything got so complicated. When she had thought her father hung the damn moon, when she had been so desperate to please him. He smiled slightly.

"We always knew you would be better… than all of us. And you are, you all are. Hell, that's why I'm happy to leave. I know this is a new era."

"I don't know if I want to be like you." She whispered, ashamed, and Valentine just chuckled.

"You've never been like us, Clarissa."

"You just took down a terrorist organisation we've been hunting for twenty years. And you did it in a year… not even. I was wrong, Clary." Her mother said, the words spilling forward. "I'm sorry for what I said. You weren't picked because of your relationship with Hodge… you've always been exceptional."

Clary swallowed thickly, a shame settling in her stomach. "No, Mom. You were right. Hodge only sent me with… Verlac, because… well, he thought you were M." She said, looking to her father. "He just wanted me out of the way."

Clary's mother raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "I'm telling you, Clarissa. You've earned every success." She sat up straighter again. "Now take that compliment. I know they're rare."

Clary grinned; it had been a long time since her mother had cracked a smile, let alone a joke. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot…"

Jocelyn smiled lightly, then looked to her watch. "I'm supposed to be attending a final briefing with Maryse in an hour… would you like to come to lunch with me before?"

"I… yes, yeah. I'd like that a lot." Clary said, looking to her father who was shrugging. "I… what will you do now? If you're leaving the agency, that is…"

"Oh… I don't know." Valentine replied with a twinkle in his eye, looking to his wife. "I thought a long-overdue honeymoon might be nice."

Jocelyn scowled, standing to get her bag. "As if we aren't on ten no-fly lists after this mess." She grimaced. "Hodge is pretty pissed, rightly so."

"Eh, he'll get over it."

"You accused him of being a double agent."

"Water under the bridge."

"Your daughter had to kidnap him, then apprehend the man who actually was a double agent. A man we kept updated for three years."

"He's a big softie."

"Valentine, please—"

Clary followed her mother from the room, slightly disoriented by the way they were speaking so casually, in a way that she had never known them to…

… it reminded her of her team, the way they behaved with one another. And she finally understood how her parents, the Clave, how they had kept their secrets for so long. They thought they were protecting each other… and Clary could understand that perfectly.

March 2018

"I don't like him."

"You don't know him."

"He's ex-military."

"Which means he always will be military."

"Simon, can you just please have an open mind, for once," Alec said in a huff, rolling his eyes at the younger man.

Simon crossed his arms and glared. They were all sat in the small briefing room that was quickly becoming their home: it was where, for the past three months, they would sit and receive their orders. Mostly for intel, research and security details that needed to be assigned to lower-level agents. But for the first time, there was someone new to the group. Clary and Isabelle sat, ogling at the man outside the door. Alec was frowning at Simon's stubbornness, and Jace was scowling too at Clary's interest in the guy. "Why do we need someone new, anyway?" Simon asked.

"Because, Lewis. We're all freshly trained… they want someone who actually has some semblance of field training."

"Hey!" Clary interjected angrily. "We have field training. Just last month—" She cut herself off, looking to Isabelle guiltily, and Alec raised a firm eyebrow.

"Official training, that is. Besides, it's not as though he'll be in charge… it's good to have a large team… more assets."

"I don't like it." Simon muttered, and Alec glared.

"I didn't like you at first, Lewis." He deadpanned, and Isabelle cackled.

"You didn't?!"

"No. You were spying on my sister and Clary—"

"I was not spying, they were the ones who were spying!" He cried out, and Clary shrugged.

"Yeah, that's fair enough." Clary replied, looking to the laughing Isabelle. "I think that was the time we were trying to break into the emails."

"Trying? Babe, that was child's play."

"I can't believe you didn't like me." Simon pouted, and Jace scoffed.

"If it softens the blow, I also didn't like you, ratface. In fact… yup, I'm still on the fence." He said with a nod.

"Oh, don't take notice of that," Clary said, patting Simon's arm. "He didn't like me either. He loves me now, though."

"Another debatable statement," Jace said, curling his lip, but he winked at her as she grinned slyly.

"Okay, okay, fine." Simon relented. "I'll see what he's got."

They all turned as Hodge finally entered the room, the tall guy trailing along behind him. He was broad-chested, holding himself high as they entered the room. Jace scrutinised his expressionless features, the small scar above his lip, and the way that he yielded to Hodge: he sure was a military boy. But he also had something else, something that their group could appreciate: he was wearing a button-down and jeans with a shiny belt buckle that glinted in the light of the office. Clary grinned. Not all military precision.

"Agent Lightwood, I assume that you'll be capable of making introductions," Hodge said, looking around at the team. His eyes lingered on the circular table, the discarded coffee cups that Clary had delivered that morning now floating amongst stacks of paper. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Like the round table, eh Agent Kyle? These are some of the most talented operatives I know… I'm sure they'll let you into their… Circle…" He nodded. "They'll welcome you quicky."

"Of course." Kyle said, shaking Hodge's hand. "Thank you, sir."

Hodge smiled, nodding to Alec before turning and heading out the door. It was only once the door was shut that Jordan let out a breath, tugging at his collar.

"Does that guy always speak in riddles?" he asked, and Clary grinned wider, meeting Isabelle's amused look.

"Yeah. It's kind of his signature." Isabelle said, and pointed to the empty seat. "Come on, we don't bite."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jace. "You sure about that?"

"Oh, we're sure," Clary said, glaring at Jace. She looked around at what would become her team, the people that she would rely on most, and then she smiled at their newest member. "Like Hodge said. Welcome to the Circle."

July, 2020

"Where've you been?"

Clary jumped as she flicked on the light in her room, the buzzing glow revealing Jace's lean figure on her sheets, blinking against the light. Clary scowled.

"How do you always get in here?" She asked, dropping her coat and throwing herself onto the bed, ignoring his protestations as she forced him to sit up. He pointed at his chest with a sly grin.

"Spy." He said, and Clary pushed at his chest.

"I keep private things in here." She said, hissing slightly as she knocked her shoulder. Jace was sat up in a flash, running his eyes over her arm, reaching out to put a hand on her thigh.

"You okay?" he asked, and Clary laughed.

"I got shot." She deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.

"Ever the comedian, Morgenstern. Now what's this about private things…" He ran his fingers softly along her thigh and Clary shivered, knocking his hand away.

"Focus, Herondale." She scolded, and Jace's face morphed into a pout.

"Focus on what?"

Clary licked her lips, sitting up on her knees so they were nose to nose. "No more sneaking into my room." She whispered, pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth. Jace tensed, leaning into her, hands slipping to her waist, and she pulled back with a grin. "Or I won't be inviting you back."

"You definitely will." Jace said, eyebrow in its perpetually raised position. "I know it."

"You know it?" She asked, biting her lip, and he laughed.

"Yeah. Like I know a lot of things."

"I'm curious Herondale…" She said, moving so that she was sat across his outstretched legs, ignoring his protest. "What else is it you're so sure of?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, hand slipping from her waist to her hair, brushing it behind her ear, relishing the feeling of its softness. "I know I should have told you how I felt a long time ago. How I should never have acted like you weren't fully capable…I know you've always been better than me, and that terrifies me." He swiped his thumb across her lip. "I know I love you." He said under his breath.

Clary couldn't help it: she pulled him against her, ignoring the pain in her arm and meeting their lips, gasping against his as he deepened it, tracing her bottom lip with own, memorising her. Then she pushed him back and laughed.

"Wow. That was… so lame." She said, pushing off of him and making her way to the door. Jace sat up incredulously, following her exit.

"Are you kidding, Morgenstern? I'm very vulnerable here!"

"Call it payback for the roof… " She trailed off slightly, scanning his face. "I'm sorry you had to do it, Jace." She whispered. "That you had to kill him."

Jace's face tightened and he pursed his lips, looking to the wall. "He wasn't who I thought he was, Clary."

"I know… it doesn't make it any easier."

"No. It doesn't". Jace thought back to being a kid, having no one that believed in him, gave him anything that he could use to believe that he was loved. Then there was Michael, and Hodge… two men who felt such guilt at the loss of the Herondales they made it their mission to raise Jace. "I thought… after my parents. I didn't think I would have anything like that again, anything…" He sighed. "Hell, you already think I'm soft. I never thought I'd have a family again. But I do—" He looked to Clary, a smile playing at his lips. "And it was not Michael."

A smile stretched across Clary's lips and she pulled him to his feet. "Come on, sappy. Let's find out what happened to the rest of the others before you burst into song." She teased.

She still kissed him softly on the cheek, though, as they left the room; him trying to press kisses against her cheek and leaving her giddy and breathless, swatting against him as they entered the living room.

"Now this is truly disgusting." Simon's voice came. Isabelle and Jordan were exiting the kitchen with beers in hand: Clary just rolled her eyes at Simon's disgusted face.

"Oh get over it, Lewis." She said, slumping down beside him and ruffling his hair, much to his chagrin. "Like I don't see the way you stare at Iz."

Simon's ears turned hot and he flushed, flicking her arm, leaving her gasping.

"Asshole!" She cried, and he just glared.

"I have so much dirt on you, Morgenstern… stay on my good side."

Jace cocked a brow. "Absolutely terrifying Lewis, I'm impressed." He took the beer that Isabelle offered, clinking it against hers.

"I'mma be honest." Jordan interjected, sitting on the arm of the couch. "I'm pretty fucking terrified of Lewis. Was I the only one who saw the range on those IED's he designed?"

"Yeah, also, when the fuck did you have time to make those?" Isabelle said, placing her feet on the table.

"I was a big fan of those, personally." Clary said. "Very effective."

"Now if only he'd do his field ops training…" Jace interjected.

Simon opened his mouth in protest. "I did it!" He protested, met only with disbelief. "I swear."

"The digital age makes you a perfect liar, Lewis."

"I am an excellent shot." He countered, taking the beer from Isabelle and swigging it. Isabelle snatched it back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Clary laughed, hissing again when Simon hit her arm. "Quit it! That's my war wound."

Simon smiled lightly, bumping against her. "Do we need to do anything, now?"

Clary shrugged, looking to Isabelle. "I don't know… I guess we wait for Alec to come back to command us."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on… we all know Alec has never been our boss, right?"

"He tries," Jace said with a grin, looking to Clary.

"You know, Hodge is stepping down," Isabelle said as she scanned her fresh manicure. "I heard Aline talking about it- and I heard Garroway is coming out of retirement to take his place."

"You and your damn rumour mill." Jace muttered.

"What now?" Jordan asked suddenly, looking around at his team fondly. "I mean… this was pretty big, right? I might not be a legacy like you all… but this operation was pretty fucking impressive."

She looked around at her team, and suddenly she was struck by just how much they had been through. What they had seen, what they had accomplished, what had bound them together forever. She felt a warmth run through her and Isabelle reached out, noticing her pensive look, to grip her hand. Clary sat up straighter. Not everything was perfect: people were still dead, and there were still so many questions that she wanted answers to. Like how to live the way they did; how to survive the danger and the betrayal, the constant fear; how to move forward.

"Now… now we make a change." She said, thinking of Michael Wayland, of Luke, who had lost so much, of her parents who had nearly lost themselves. Their team wouldn't be like that. Isabelle and Alec were too strong, Jordan too full of integrity: Simon was way too smart to be manipulated and Clary knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jace strived to be a man that his parents could be proud of. Her face broke into a smile, and she looked to Jace, his eyes fixed on her like they always were.

"We do better."

THE END

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know my stories aren't particularly popular but I have such a good time writing them. I'm currently working on my other stories, and A Simple Life, Good Behaviour, and In Bloom should all have updates soon, so if you don't know them please check them out!

But... that being said, if you really liked this story please stick around because I'm going to write a sequel! These characters are just so fun to write, and I already have the first few chapters that I'm editing, so keep your eyes out for that! (Sneak peek coming soon maybe? I'll most likely post it as an update to this story so stick around... I think you can also follow my page to stay updated on my writing!)

Bit of a read, but again thank you for supporting! It means so so much to me when people review/ message to let me know that they are enjoying. I know eventually this platform will probably stop being used and I'll have to make myself scarce, but with the world the way it is at the moment I'm glad there's a place to escape to.

Big Love x