Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare. I am not Cassandra Clare. *sniffles

A/N: No, I'm not dead. Merely busy. I am extremely sorry for the long abscence. I vaguely remember saying something about earlier updates.

Ha. That's a joke for the books.

I suddenly woke up today and realized that CoG is coming out IN FOUR FREAKIN' DAYS! So much for 'Drip Drop Drabbles' having 10 or so stories before March 24th.

Now, I command you to read!

Please?

Clary's eyes flickered up as the office door swung open.

She had been doodling absentmindedly with a note pad and pen that had the therapist's name emblazoned on the top.

She refrained herself from doodling anything of real significance, especially any runes. Indeed, Jace would look over her shoulder every so often, prompted by Isabelle, to make sure Clary hadn't drawn any.

Alec and Magnus emerged from Folchart's office, the former looking dazed. Clary heard them talking, too low to discern actual words.

Then they started walking towards the others, Magnus's high-watt smile shining brightly.

Alec settled down beside his sister, as he said, "They want you two next," looking from Clary to Jace.

With a heavy sigh, Clary got up, placing the note pad on her seat. Jace, on the other hand, projected no intention of ever moving from the low-slung sofa where he was sprawled, let alone attending his therapy session. He had yet another seraph dagger out, this one shorter, about the size of Clary's hand. The secretary, Margaret, had been shooting him glances for the past fifteen minutes or so, and not because of his 'astonishingly good looks', as Jace would phrase them. Margaret had probably seen her fair share of crazies, who could cause damage without weapons. But here was one, armed, whistling a ironically cheerful tune - Jace probably made the top of the list.

Clary kicked Jace's leg. "It's our turn."

'Despite how much you want to be alone with me, my beloved sister, I have no desire to ever setting foot in that office again, primarily because I value my sanity."

"What sanity?" mumbled Simon, as Alec said, "We went."

"Well, I don't have problems like you do," Jace remarked, brushing away a non-existent speck of dirt from the handle of the seraph dagger. "Let the mundie go in -that should keep Folchart busy for a long, long time. During which we can make our escape."

"I'll tell Mom," warned Isabelle, obviously relieved that she hadn't been called for the next session.

"And I'll tell my dad. Which one is scarier, do ya think?"

Alec and Isabelle exchanged a look with one another, then with Magnus. Jace looked smug, like a cat that had just eaten an entire vat of cream, thinking that playing the 'father' card had worked.

Magnus lazily waved a hand in Margaret's direction, and the secretary's gaze fell out of focus. Then, with the effortless grace unfairly bestowed upon almost all Shadowhunters, Alec and Isabelle got up, locked their hands under Jace's arms, and dragged him off the couch.

Jace protested loudly, kicking and flailing. The dagger dropped from his hands, though that wasn't stopping him from trying to fight against his adoptive siblings' grips.

"Damn, it, let go of me, you -"

Clary had opened the door to Folchart's office, and Alec and Isabelle swung Jace onto the couch there. He sat up with a huff, and straightened his clothing out, before giving the siblings the finger. Simon shot Clary a sympathetic look, and a wary one at Jace, right before the door slammed shut.

"You seem to have a flair for dramatic entrances," remarked Folchart, from her seat behind her desk. Jace glared at her with a fury that Hell could envy, as Clary sat down a foot down the couch from him.

"So, you two are siblings, correct?" Folchart asked, as she spread open two files on her desk.

Clary nodded grudgingly, as Jace muttered, "The family resemblance should have given it away."

"Would you rather I call you Clarissa, or Clary? It says here that it's your preferred name." She motioned to the contents of the files that weren't visible.

"Clary is fine."

"Alright. And Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern." Folchart grudgingly looked toward her other patient. "Which do you go by Jonathan, or Christopher?"

"Jace." His chin jutted upwards defiantly. "And my last name is Wayland."

"I'd rather you'd pick one of the two. And it says here that your real last name is Morgenstern." (A/N: I know it makes next to zero sense that Folchart would insist upon calling Jace by his full name, while she has no such problems with Clary. But I personally think she does it just to spite him!)

He didn't respond. "Jonathan it is then. Clary, I think I was told, is an artist. Do you have any similar pursuits or aspirations, Jonathan?"

"I like to kill things. I find joy in ripping pages out of books, setting fire to buildings, kicking old ladies, and drowning puppies. One day I aspire to dominate the world by contaminating its water supply, and unleashing all of New York's rodents to terrorize innocent citizens." Somehow, he managed to say all of this with a straight face.

For such a speech, Folchart wrote only a few lines down onto her notepad, much like the one Clary had been doodling on back outside. However, Clary noticed that she'd already used several pages.

"Now, am I correct in believing that you two only learnt about the other's existence quite recently."

"A month ago, about," Clary supplied.

"But whose counting?" Jace said.

"And who told you?" asked Folchart, her gaze on Clary.

"Our father."

"And you never met this man before?" Folchart's eyes probed Clary's uncomfortably.

"Well, Jace was raised by him." Clary broke free from Folchart's gaze, trying to deflect the attention to Jace.

It worked. Folchart asked him, "And your father never told you about the fact that you had a sister out there?"

"No."

"Did you ever wonder?"

"No."

"Did he tell you anything about your mother?"

"No. Other than that I was better off without her."

Turning back to Clary, Folchart asked, "Your mother raised you?"

"Yeah."

"Here in New York?"

"Yeah."

"As a single mother?"

"Yeah."

"What did she tell you about your father?"

"That he'd served in the army, and died in a car crash before I was born."

"Did you wonder what he was like?"

"Yeah."

Folchart leaned back in her chair, seemingly done playing 20 Questions. She had been writing down notes and observations on her notepad, enough, probably, to start-off another college psychology thesis report. She steepled her fingers together. She looked at the two teenagers sitting on the couch in her office, polar opposites in more ways than one.

Directed at both of them, she asked, "Why do you think do you think that the existence of your sibling and other parent was kept from you? Was there a messy divorce?"

"No, actually," Jace said, tone mild,"nothing but ravenous hordes of blood-thirsty demons could keep them apart."

"I think it was a mutual decision," Clary optioned to say as an alternative.

"Right. Now, Jonathan, I think it was mentioned that you were abused as a child. Is this true?"

"I'm going to murder whoever said that."

"Yes, you already mentioned your affinity for killing. However, sidetracking will not help the problem. Were you abused as a child?"

"Yes. By your mom."

"Humor will get your nowhere, Mr. Morgenstern. Sarcasm is almost always a cover-up for some deeper pain."

"I'll make you feel pain, if you don't shut up. And my last name is Wayland."

"I understand that the pain that accompanies your identity, that of Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, might be something you'd want to forget, but making up another name, and identity is not the way to go. Bipolaria is a very serious situation, one that most people get themselves into almost intentionally."

Clary could see Jace's hand twitching, just aching to grab one of the many weapons she knew he had hidden somewhere.

"My father told me that my name was Jonathan Christopher Wayland. Not Morgenstern."

Folchart looked mildly surprised. "You were raised thinking that your name was Wayland?"

"No, the magical unicorns came to me and threatened to spear me with their horns unless I called myself Jace Wayland."

"I'm taking that as a yes." The scratch of her pen intensified, as it started to run out of ink. Folchart opened a drawer in her desk, and grabbed another, setting the old one aside.

"And where is your father now?" Folchart asked Clary, turning back to her after the long conversation with Jace, from which Clary had been happy to be a bystander to.

"Um... on..sabbatical..." Clary could hit herself. Jace hid a smirk.

Folchart raised her eyebrows. "Is he a professor?"

"Um....... no?" Her voice cracked at the end.

Folchart looked confused. "Sabbaticals are used to refer to periods of paid leaves for college professors."

"Well, he's something of an expert on demonology, and weaponry." Jace was silently laughing, his shoulders shaking with suppressed hysterics.

"Ahh. And your mother?"

This was something Clary could answer. "She's in a coma. Staying at the Beth Israel Hospital."

"Since when?" Hopes that Folchart would think a comatose parent's situation too personal to delve into, vanished.

"A month ago."

"Rather around the time you two found out about your relation." Neither Clary or Jace - who'd finally stopped shaking - spoke. Folchart stared at them long and hard, then said, "How did you meet each other?"

"At a party," Clary said. Why the hell wasn't Jace helping out?

"Did you go together?"

"No," Clary said, tone cautious. Jace was eyeing Folchart with similar heedfulness.

"So you two were not romantically involved prior to obtaining knowledge of the fact that you were related?"

"What? No!" Clary blurted out, at the same time that Jace muttered, "Just let me kill her already."

Folchart didn't look particularly convinced, but she did not push the subject any further, just as she had done with the topic of abuse and others.

"You and Simon are good friends, aren't you Clary?"

"Yes."

"Then you wouldn't mind if he could come in, would you?"

"No..No!"

"Margaret, please send in Mr. Lewis," Folchart told her secretary on the intercom.

"God, not the mundie," Jace moaned.

The therapist was immune to their discomfort. By this point, Clary was beginning to think that the pleasant blonde woman she'd originally pegged Folchart to be, was actually one of those shape-shifting demons, wearing a particularly thick disguise, and that needed to be destroyed by the Shadow Trio.

The door opened, and Simon strode in slowly. Clary had seen the expression he now wore on his face prior to that day. Simon had once been called to the principal's office, and he had been scared to death that it was because of something bad he had done, when really it had just been about a remarkable English paper he'd written that the principal wanted to display in the library.

He settle down beside Clary, between her and Jace. Though Clary knew it killed him to sit beside Jace, though he was probably only doing so to separate them.

"Thank you for joining-"

A blur of silver whizzed by Simon's head, sent through the air by Jace. The weapon spun back into Jace's open palm, which he closed before Clary could see what it was.

"Nice to see you two. Miss me?" asked Simon

"I couldn't sit still, for the memory of your hands on me," Jace drawled.

"Jackass."

"Bitch."

"Blond!"

"Language, gentlemen!" Folchart had jumped up upon the use of a weapon inside her office. It seemed like Magnus's spell was wearing off slightly, for she hadn't minded last time.

"Jonathan, please remove all weapons from your person."

Jace didn't seem to fully understand her order. "What, here?"

"Yes. Here. NOW."

Not completely certain whether to be amused, or bemused, Jace laid down the weapon he'd used on Simon on the coffee-table. It was a kindjal, the spinning star that Hodge had been fond of. Luke had probably given it to him,'

Out from under his cuffs came several seraph daggers, and a traditional silver one, inlaid with golden detailing. Clary saw him push his stele further up the wrist cuffs, though, instead of surrendering it.

"There." He held his hands up.

"Take your boots off."

"What should I strip off next? My pants?" he sneered.

"Boots."

Grudgingly, Jace shook of his black boots. Out came enough small, handheld weaponry to power a war between rival gangs for years. Clary couldn't identify most of it, though she was pretty sure that it was illegal to be caring most of it, even in America.

Satisfied, with her excessive notes of the spectacle, and convinced that Jace was no weapon free, she nodded for him to sit down. He tugged his boots back on harder than needed, fuming.

"NOW, Mr. Lewis," Folchart said, turning to Simon, who'd been chuckling during Jace's humiliation. "I see that you and Clary have been friends since you were five. How did you feel about the discovery of Jace?"

"How do you 'see' all this?" Jace asked of Folchart, quick to regain his confidence(pride), again. "It's not like you're the Big Guy up there, is it."

"You don't believe in God," Clary reminded him.

"That's not the point."

"Actually, particular cases of atheism can affect a person's outlook on life, so much so that they just want to end their own, to let the dark of nothingness they believe awaits, envelop them," Folchart explained.

"Well, this is getting particularly emo," remarked Simon.

"Has Jace ever expressed any reckless behavior, any rash, devil-may-care, attitude? Suicidal tendencies?"

Simon and Clary exchanged a glance.

"Now that you mention it, that window is looking particularly tempting," Jace said with a bit too real wistfulness.

The therapist's hand must be aching like hell, Clary thought, after such

excessive writing. But, no, she just kept on going, without even looking at the page.

Folchart turned her attention to Simon, his and Clary's reaction to her question about Jace's 'suicidal' tendencies answer enough.

"Thank you for being so patient Mr. Lewis. As I was saying, how did you react when you found out about Jace's relation to Clary."

"Oh, I was jumping for joy. I mean, he's just so kind and caring and gorgeous." Simon took on an air of besottedness (A/N: My new word of the chapter!) one usually associated with Twilight fan girls.

"Sorry. I'm on the straight and narrow. And you are not my type. Though you can ask Alec and Magnus if they wouldn't mind having a threesome," Jace offered.

"I see sarcasm is something of a hobby for all of you." Folchart remarked.

"More like an occupation," said Jace, "and it pays better than all this shrink stuff you do."

Folchart seemed not to hear him. She asked Simon, "Did you learn about Jonathan's relation to Clary about the same time that Clary did?

Simon nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "Yeah, about a month ago. According to Clary it was this whole 'Luke, I am your father,' scene."

"What? Valentine is Luke's father, too?" Jace raised a single blond eyebrow. A thought flashed across his face, and his expression turned pensive. Slowly, he said, "Actually, come to think of it, that makes so much sense!"

"Don't be stupid, Jace!" Clary punched him.

"You see!" Jace exclaimed, pointing at Clary. "I'm not the only one who has problems. She obviously has anger issues."

"She is a red-head," mused Simon, "and they're supposed to be fiery. But I'm pretty sure it's genetic."

Clary punched Simon this time, who yelped and said, "That actually hurt."

Jace smirked. "That's what she said."

The red light on Folchart's phone started to blink, signifying that Margaret was calling in on the intercom. Folchart held a finger up to indicate that she was picking the phone up.

"Yes Margaret?..What?.. Why?... I am in the mid-"

"AUNTIE!" A teenager girl came bounding into the room, an aghast Margaret following in her wake. She smelled strongly of bubblegum and vanilla, and was wearing clothes that were a bit too bright, washing out the pale skin of her thin frame.

"Sorry and all, auntie, but I, like, need you to sign this, 'cuz my teacher is not, like, going to let me-"

"Amelie, I'm in the middle of a session,' Folchart said, rounding about her desk. "Jonathan, Simon, and Clary here are -"

Amelie's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. The wad of bubblegum she'd been chewing popped out of her mouth, like it would out of a machine, landing on the floor.

"Eh. Ma. Gawd. IT'S JACE WAYLAND!!!!!!!!!!!" Amelie took upon the countenance of the Twilight fan girl that Simon had been imitating earlier.

"Actually, his name is Jonathan Morgen-"

"OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG! You are like the hawtest guy ever!!!! The way you are always wearing black is just sooooo unbelievably hot, and the demon slaying - sooooo sexy! You could kick Edward Cullen's ass ANYTIME" She started fanning herself with the slip of paper she'd brought in for her aunt to sign.

Jace was smirking widely, not at all concerned about how Amelie knew him.

Clary, on the other hand was slightly disturbed by the arrival of this girl who seemed to know everything about Jace. However, she was more concerned about whether or not Amelie would need a paper bag soon. She was next to hyperventilating.

"AND SIMON!" Jace looked miffed that the attention had been deflected from him to the other boy. "Ehmagawd, you went all Edward Cullen-y in the last book! I could NAWT believe it! And TRUST ME, you two," Amelie said, looking from Jace to Clary, "you are definitely not related. The book is coming out in only FOUR DAYS!!!!!! AND I AM SOOOOO, LIKE, CERTAIN THAT YOU ARE NOT RELATED!!!"

Clary was contemplating the possibility of Amelie having consumed drugs prior to her entering the room.

"Amelie, stop disturbing my patients, and give me what you need to be signed," demanded Folchart.

"Uh-uh, I want Jace to sign it."

"Margaret, please take my niece down to the deli across the street."

The timid secretary led the protesting girl out of the room. Though, as she emerged into the sitting area, Clary could her hear Amelie yell, "NO SHIT! IT'S ALEC AND MAGNUS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

After a moment, Folchart made to follow them, sighing. "I'm extremely sorry, but I think I have to deal with this now. She's highly excitable, and there's a Starbucks right beside the deli. Coffee is the last thing she needs right now. Anyway, I think I have enough from our session. While I'm gone, the rest of you can decide who can come in next."

With that, she was gone.

A/N: Surprisingly enough (or not so much) it was really easy to write Amelie - I just had to channel my inner Jace-fan girl, and my excitement for Tuesday. And don't think you would not have acted the exact same way if you saw him.

However, as Tuesday brings the resolution of the Mortal Instruments, I'm thinking I'm thinking of actually ending this whole story with the next chapter. Don't worry it will be a long one.

There aren't a lot of other great couples to interview, other than the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders together (I have an interesting idea for that), and an interesting way to get them all out of there. Not many of you noticed a particular new character introduced in CoA was in one of the previous chapters of this story.

I am fully aware that Jace would never actually 'Your mom' and 'That's what she said.' But, like I said before this story is meant to induce laughter.

And, I have deleted my Twilight stories, which were God-awful. YEAH!

Hope you liked this chapter.I'm very sorry about any inconsistency errors and typos. I've been typing for way too long.

I am hoping to get the next chapter out within the next two weeks. SOOOOOOOO (You see where Amelie came from? My deranged subconsciousness!) excited for Tuesday!!