One shot of Jace's POV when Valentine summons the Angel in COG. No worries-has a happy ending, I promise :)
Anyway, I don't own this, bla bla bla whatever
Anyway, plz review and let me know what you think

Jace moved silently as he approached the scene on the bank of Lake Lyn. Clary was lieing on the sand, bloody and looking like she was struggling to speak. Valentine stood above her, Maellartach clutched in his upraised hand.

"And now," he said, "I just need a bit more." Then, in a swift efficient move, he swung his sword down and Jace knew he was going to kill Clary. Moving with the speed that only he, now that the real Jonathan was dead, possessed he ran forward and knocked the Mortal Sword out of Valentine's hand. He momentarily looked down at his bleeding hand, wide eyed, before his gave flickered up to Jace.

He was barely a foot away from his father but the proximity didn't make him nervous like it used to. He could feel Clary's eyes on him, drinking in his battered appearance and probably worrying about him even when she herself was hurt too - that was just what Clary did.

"Clary," he said, not breaking eye contact with Valentine, "Clary are you all right?"
She looked like she was struggling to say something but no words came out.

"She can't answer you," Valentine said plainly, "She can't speak."
Jace's eyes flashed heatedly. "What have you done to her?" he demanded, jabbing the sword at Valentine and causing him to take a step back. His adoptive father didn't look frightened like he wished he would. He looked a little cautious, but that was all.

"A rune of Quietude. She won't be hurt by it," Valentine said, staring at Jace in a way that made him highly uncomfortable, "I don't suppose that you've come to join me? To be blessed by the Angel beside me."

Jace didn't even have to try to keep his expression from changing. He had no desire whatsoever to join this man who had lied to him time and time again in his life. He would never join him. He'd rather die - he'd gladly die instead actually.

"I know what you're planning to do," he said coldly, even though inside he was filled with a burning hate, "I know why you're summoning the Angel. And I won't let you do it. I've already sent Isabelle to warn the army-"
"Warnings will do them little good. This is not the sort of danger you can run from . . ." he said, briefly looking at the sword in Jace's hands. "Put that down," he said, reminding Jace exactly of when he was a little boy and his father would scold him for taking something off his desk. "And we can talk - That's not your sword. That's a Morgenstern sword . . ."

Jace couldn't help but smile a sinisterly sweet smile that could only be learned from Valentine. "It was Jonathan's. He's dead now."
He had the satisfaction of seeing Valentine looked momentarily and completely stunned. "You mean-" he began.

"I took it from the ground where he'd dropped it," Jace cut him off, "After I killed him."
"You killed Jonathan?" he repeated seeming shocked that Jace was capable of killing the 'good' son-good being a synonom for horribly evil in this case, "How could you have?"

"He would have killed me," Jace said, unsure of why he was explaining himself to Valentine - he wasn't even his real father, "I had no choice."
"I didn't mean that," he said, shaking his head, "I raised Jonathan, I trained him myself. There was no better warrior."

"Apparently there was," Jace snapped, agitated that his adoptive father was still doubting him, even now.
"But-" Valentine's voice cracked, perhaps the second time Jace had ever heard it do that in his entire life, "But he was your brother."

"No," Jace said, pressing the tip of the sword over Valentine's chest, "He wasn't. What happened to my real father. Isabelle said he died in a raid, but did he really? Did you kill him like you killed my mother?" He needed to know - needed to know if there was even more reason to hate this man. Thanks to him, he'd been orphaned twice in his life. Now he just needed to know if they were both intentionally.

"I didn't kill your mother," he said, dodging the real question, "She took her own life. I cut you out of her dead body. if I hadn't done that, you would have died with her."
"But why?" he demanded desperately, he felt like nothing he knew made sense anymore, "Why did you do it? You didn't need a son, you had a son! Tell me the truth. No more lies about her we're the same flesh and blood. Parents lie to their children but you - you're not my father. And I want the truth."

"It wasn't a son I needed. I needed a soldier," somehow that wasn't the answer Jace had been hoping for. He felt even more useless knowing that the only reason his adoptive father wanted him was to be a warrior in his sick twisted crusade. He didn't care about his life at all. "I had thought Jonathan might be that soldier, but had too much of the demon nature in him. He was too savage, too sudden, not subtle enough. I feared even then, when he was barely out of infancy, that he would never have the patience or compassion to follow me, to the lead the Clave in my footsteps. So I tried again with you. And with you I had the opposite trouble. You were too gentle, too empathetic. You felt others' pain as if it were your own; you couldn't even bear the death of your pets. Understand this, my son - I love you for those things. But the very things I loved about you made you no use to me."

"So you thought I was soft and useless?" Jace snapped savagely, he was trying to hide it but the sting of that rejection wounded him. His adoptive father thought he wasn't useful so he had just pawned him off onto another family when he was just a child. Just like the real Jonathan had said - Valentine had gotten tired of him. "I suppose it will be surprisingly for you then, when your soft and useless son cuts your throat out."

Valentine sighed like he was trying to teach something to a child and they refused to accept it. "We've been through this," he said in a weary voice like Jace's threats were the mere ramblings of a stubborn child. If only Valentine knew that he was prepared to do it this time. "You wouldn't do that. You didn't want to do it at Renwick's, and you don't want to do it now."

"You're wrong," Jace said, "I have regretted not killing you every day since I let you go. My brother Max is dead because I didn't kill you that day. Dozens, maybe hundreds, are dead because I stayed my hand. I know your plan. I know you hope to slaughter almost every Shadowhunter in Idris. And I ask myself, how many have to die before I do what I should have done on Blackwell's Island? No . . . I don't want to kill you. But I will."

"Don't do this," his father pleaded although somehow he sensed he wasn't pleading for his life. What Valentine was pleading for he didn't know, and didn't care. "Please. I don't want to-"
"To die?" Jace guessed, "No one wants to die, Father." The point of his his sword slid lower and lower until it was resting over Valentine's heart. Jace worked hard to keep his expression calm even though on the inside he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do this.

"Do you have any last words?"
"Jonathan-"

He dug the sword in a tad, just enough to draw a little blood. He had to resist the urge to say 'dont' call me Jonathan. That's not my name' Instead he hissed, "Last words. What are they?"
"I'm sorry," he said, "I am so sorry."

Jace watched as his father raised his hand and then the next thing he knew there was a sword in his chest. The pain was so unimaginable that his brain couldn't even comprehend it. He felt numb all over and recognized it as the numbness you felt just before your mind registered extreme pain. Suddenly, Jace realized what his father was pleading for. He hadn't been pleading for his life, he was pleading for Jace's. He was begging him not to make him kill his son. And when he said 'i don't want to' Jace had guessed wrong, he meant he didn't want to kill him. But it was too late for that now.

He felt the sword rip back out of his chest and blackness filled the edges of his vision as he dropped his sword and crumpled to his knees. He opened his mouth to say something, and tasted coppery blood dripping over his lips. Struggling to breath, Jace could barely see Valentine crouching down on the ground next to him. He felt Valentine pulling him into his lap like he was still a little boy that could be picked up and carried around at his father's desire. He felt Valentine pull him close and begin to rock him back and forth like parent's were supposed to do to their babies to get them to go to sleep. Valentine had never rocked Jace to sleep and he didn't understand why he was doing it now.

He tried to pull away but found that his attempts were so feeble that nobody, not even Valentine, would notice them. Half chocking on his own blood, he made weak sounds of protest. He wanted his father to put him down - he never coddled him like this when he was a baby and he didn't want him to now. He knew he was dieing, even if he couldn't feel the pain, and didn't want to die in his father's arms.

But there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't speak and couldn't move - he couldn't do anything to convey to Valentine that his last wish was to not die being held by this sick man who pretended to be his father - and did a half assed job of pretending to love him. Eventually though, he gave up on that and was content just to lay there, being held, as he died. He felt Valentine brushing his hair away from his forehead.

Soon, the darkness overwhelmed everything. The last thing his eyes saw was Valentine's face, his lips moving but no sound reaching Jace's ears. But the last image he thought of was Clary's face. Before he knew it, he was dead. He knew that he was dead. He still couldn't feel but it was like he was disconnected from his body entirely. Where he was it was dark and the only thing he could see was a distant light - the light at the end of the tunnel nonetheless. It was beautiful, so beautiful that he couldn't look away. It was a white-gold light, calling to him. And soon a voice accompanied the light. A deep strong voice, kind of how he imagined God's voice to sound like.

"Jace . . . Jace . . . Jace," the powerful voice called. He was mildly surprised that this voice was calling him by his nickname and not his real name. Then again, Jonathan was never really his name. He was just named after Jonathan Wayland . . . or maybe Jonathan Morgenstern. He realized then that he didn't even really have a name that was his own other then Jace.

Soon the voice was joined by others. Male voices, female voices, children's voice. Somehow he knew it was the voices of his fallen Shadowhunter brother and sister's. He recognized Max's voice. Somehow he even recognized his biological parent's voices, even though he'd never actually heard either of them. All of the voices were all chanting his name, beckoning him towards the light. He found himself being pulled towards the light. The closer he got the more beautiful it looked. He wouldn't mind spending the rest of forever there. He knew there was something - someone - he was forgetting but he couldn't remember. All he knew was that the light was beautiful and that he wanted to be in it.

Then, suddenly, the voices calling him dropped off. One by one they disapeared until only the original one remained. Then that voice began to shift, to change into another, more familiar voice-Clary. Clary's voice. It was Clary's voice calling to him. For the first time since he'd arrived in the shadowy place, he turned around, away from the beauitful light. Behind him he saw a scene with blackness edged all around it. It was like a screen on TV. He saw Clary lieing bloodily on the sand, in front of a grand Angel with thousands of eyes in his wings- Raziel. Her lips were moving and all he could hear was his name over and over again.

And then suddenly, Jace felt himself being pulled out of the darkness, away from the light and into the scene on the banks of Lake Lyn. He went back into his body with a jolt. He gasped in shock and sat bolt upright. Vertigo overtook him and he felt the world spin around him. He blinked away the dizzyness and examined his bloody arms. He was alive. He was really truly alive. He looked down at his chest, barely covered by the shreds of his shirt. There was no longer a gaping wound in his chest and other then feeling pitifully tired and weak, he was fine. He was really alive.

As soon as he accepted that, his eyes immediatly searched for Clary. He found her lieing on the sand a few feet from him. She was pratically still but he knew she was alive by the movement of her lips. She was mouthing something over and over again. Without hesitation, he crawled over to her and leaned over her.

"Clary," he said and couldn't believe how great it felt to have his voice back, "Open your eyes."
She did and stared up at him like she'd never been more releiveved in her life. He felt the same. Finally, he was alive again. Finally, they no longer lived under a constant death threat. Finally, they could be together.

He stared at her in amazement, drinking in every inch of her appearence. From the scrapes that covered her freckled cheeks, the tattered remains of her Shadowhunter gear, the matted mess of her red curls, and the bright jade glow of her eyes.

"You're alive," she whispered, "Really alive."
Slowly, he reached out to touch her face tenderly. "I was in the dark," he said, "There was nothing there but shadows, and I was a shadow, and I knew that I was dead, and that it was all over, all of it. And then I heard your voice. I heard you say my name, and it brought me back." He was partially lieing - leaving out the parts about the light and the voices - but he didn't really want to talk about it.

"Not me," Clary chocked out, "The Angel brought you back."
"Because you asked him to," he guessed, peicing together the rest of the puzzle as he traced the outline of her face with his fingers. He just needed to know that she was real; that everything was real. "You could have had anything else in the world, and you asked for me."

She stared at him for a moment in awe before answering. "But I don't want anything else in the world."
Jace couldn't speak, he could only stare at her in amazement. This beautiful, amazing creature, wanted him. Loved him more then anything else in the world. Nothing else would ever matter.

"You're not my brother," she told him suddenly, "You know that right?"
"Yes," he said, smiling, "I know that."

"It means we can be togther," she pointed out, "It means we can love each other."
"Clary, even if you were my sister, nothing would stop me from loving you the way I do now," he said.

"I know exactly," said Clary, "What you mean."
Without speaking, Jace continued to trace the outline of her face with his fingers. She lay silently as he moved on to tracing it with his lips. Peppering her jaw and cheeks and forehead with desperate, affectionate kisses.

Despite how happy he was, he still felt horribly tired and drained. And he knew that Clary could sense that.
"Maybe we should go back soon," she said.
"Okay," he conceeded.

"Oh wait," she realized, "You're not strong enough to walk are you?"
"I'll be fine," he lied.

"Don't lie," she said, detecting his lie with ease. "Maybe a portal," she said mostly to herself, "No . . . you're not up for that either. I guess we'll just have to wait here for someone to find us."
"I wouldn't mind waiting here with you," he said, smiling. Although, the weariness was starting to take it's toll and he could no longer prop himself up above Clarly like he was. So, he slid off her and collapsed back against the sand. He rolled over onto his side to face her and she did the same. They lay there a while, just staring into each other's eyes until they heard voices approaching.

"I found them!" it sounded like Isabelle shouting from a distance, "Come over here! They're over here!"
Jace rolled over onto his back while Clary moved so that she was in a sitting position. He longed to sit up but was too exshausted to even try.

He raised his head slightly to see Isabelle running towards them, followed by a huge procession. "Clary! Jace!" she screamed, half running-half sliding down the grassy hill in her haste to get to the bank where they lay. Hot on her heels were Alec and Simon, both of which were bloody but looked otherwise okay. He noticed Magnus, Jocelyn, Luke, Maryse and Robert, Amatis, Maia and a bunch of other Shadowhunter and Downworlders; all together, running down the hill.

"Clary!" Simon exclaimed, easily bypassing Isabelle with an extra boost of vampire speed. He ran over and swept her off her feet into a huge hug.
"Thank - Thank goodness you're alright," he said, chocking on the word 'God.'

Isabelle reached them next, heading straight for Jace. She knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his forehead in a sisterly way.
"Oh my God Jace what happened to you!" she exclaimed worriedly as Alec reached them, kneeling down on the other side of Jace.

"Valentine summonded the Angel Raziel with the Mortal Instruments," he chocked out, "And then he killed me."
They both stared at him incrediously as other's arrived on the scene, exclaiming in shock and converging around Clary and him and something on the bank he couldn't see.

"Uh are you okay?" Isabelle asked worriedly.
"He probably hit his head," Alec assured her, probing Jace's forehead gently with his fingers.

"He's telling the truth," Clary called, pulling away from Simon and Luke and Jocelyn who still stayed converged around her as she approached. Jace longed to get up; he didn't like lieing on the ground with all these people standing around him. It made him feel small and weak. He'd felt that away enough for one day. "Valentine killed him - stabbed him in the heart. But the Angel brought him back."

"Oh my God Jace!" Maryse exclaimed, rushing over just in time to catch what Clary said. She dropped to his side. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he insisted, "Now can somebody help me up?"

Maryse and Isabelle backed off, allowing Luke to assit Alec in helping Jace to his feet. Once he was up, he felt a little dizzy so he didn't mind the way Alec and Luke still hung on to him, probably sensing how unstead on his feet he was. He felt like he was going to pass out soon. He looked around, taking in the chaos. A number of people were converged around him and Clary, who was just a mere foot from him, and other people rushed around. There was shouting everywhere but Jace noticed another large group converged around something a couple yards away.

"What's that?" he asked, trying to peer around people to see.
"Jace don't look," Luke said. But it was too late; he'd caught a glimpse of a pale face with a shock of white hair and black eyes before Luke put his hand over his eyes to keep him from seeing.

He knew it was his father . . . and he knew that he was dead. Valentine had done horrible, horrible things but he had still been his father- his adoptive father but still the father of his entire childhood. By the time he'd gone to the Lightwoods he'd was only barely still a child. Robert had been very good to him - a much better father then Valentine. But he still had memories of him; some fond and some not so fond.

The pleasant memories. Playing in the front yard with Valentine when he was only just a toddler. Valentine reading bedtime stories to him. Valentine helping him carve a toy Shadowhunter. Valentine teaching him about fighting. Valentine taking him horseback riding. Valentine letting him take a bath in spaghetti. Valentine picking up the baby Jace and hugging him close, telling him how much he loved him.

And then the darker, more horrible memories that had scarred him forever and felt like drops of poison in his mind. Valentine's blood spilling all over his shoes from where he hid, terrified, in the closet when Valentine had faked his own death. Valentine purposely orphaning him and letting him think his father was dead. Valentine snapping his beloved falcon's neck and dropping it to his feet in front of him. Valentine disappearing for weeks when he was a child on supposed 'business trips,' leaving him alone with the servants. Valentine destroying the portal back to Idris. The hard crack of Valentine's hand against his cheek. Valentine plunging Maellartach into his chest and cradling him as he died.

He shuddered involunatrily and felt the color drain out of his face.
"The Angel killed him," Clary said quietly, sensing his distress.

Unable to respond, Jace felt the world spin around him. He swayed back and forth on his feet and felt his eyes roll in their sockets.
"Oh God! Somebody catch him, he's going to faint," Isabelle said from a distant, just as Jace felt everything slip away from him. He fell backwards and felt somebody catch him. He didn't mind passing out as much as he usually did. He didn't care about appearing weak anymore. All that mattered was that he was alive, and that he was going to wake up in a few hours. And that when he did, he would have Clary.

And that was really all he ever wanted.