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Clary feels the loss, but she doesn’t know why.
It’s infuriating, the way she always thinks she’s on the edge of remembering something meaningful before she loses the almost-revelation to blurs and haze once again. It’s like walking into a room for something and then immediately forgetting what, except she feels it every time she passes some apartments in Brooklyn, or sees a specific sort of beer tap, or someone in a particular style of black studded or green military jacket.
She’s missing something. She’s missing someone.
It hurts every time, but Clary tells herself that it’s only temporary. She can’t possibly feel this way forever, right? Sooner or later she’s either going to get used to the feeling of deja vu or it’s going to stop happening entirely or leave her alone. She’s long since given up on the idea of remembering anything coherent from the labyrinth of her mind’s brief memories, or dreams, or whatever they are.
It isn’t until she catches the briefest glimpse of someone passing by her on a crowded city sidewalk that the pieces start to fall into place. Clary sees the head of curly, natural dark brown hair, and suddenly she remembers that same hair framing a face that’s soft and kind and smiling.
Clary loses the woman in the crowd before she can see if it’s the same person from her memory, but that one moment is all it takes for many of her previously cloudy images to grow clearer. Soon Clary’s turning left, going in a direction she hasn’t gone before, but one that feels like a path she’s walked instinctively dozens of times before. She doesn’t hesitate to turn again, and then once more, finding herself standing outside a bar on a street she’s walked down a million times before yet somehow doesn’t remember ever seeing this place.
The Hunter’s Moon.
Clary walks through the front door and there she is. Every foggy, dim memory comes back to Clary in a rush of clarity at the sight of the bartender’s face.
Maia’s face.
Her Maia.
Clary realizes suddenly why every almost-memory hurt her so much: because they were of the person she loved. She feels it so strongly, to the point of being overwhelmed by it.
“Clary?” Maia says from behind the bar. Clary can’t hear the word over the noise of the room but she sees it mouthed, and somehow Maia calling out to her makes this all so much more real.
Clary freezes. She wants to run to Maia and run out the door in equal measure. Before she can decide Maia is coming up to her, stopping abruptly a foot in front of her.
“Clary, are you… do you…” Maia starts then stops, uncertain of her words.
“I remember,” Clary says. “I mean, I’m starting to remember. I’ve been trying to for weeks now, but this is the first time… you’re the first person I-”
Clary stops trying to speak and takes a step forward instead, wrapping her arms around Maia and burying her face into her shoulder. “How could I ever forget you, Maia?” Clary says, the words muffled against Maia’s shirt.
“It doesn’t matter,” Maia says. “Because you came back. You came back to me.”
Clary can hear the waver of emotion in Maia’s voice and looks up to see tears in her eyes. It’s a look of pure love that makes all of Clary’s confusion, doubt, and hesitation vanish just like that. A minute ago she was ready to run until she could sort through her resurfaced thoughts and feelings on her own, but now? All it takes is one embrace for things to turn around completely.
She isn’t scared - not of what she remembers or doesn’t remember, not of her feelings no matter how sudden, and not of the still-blurred ideas of a life she once lived which haven’t fully come back to her yet.
One touch is all it takes for her to remember the love they once had and start falling in love all over again.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Clary says. She opens her mouth to say more, but whether she was about to apologize again or ask questions she’ll never know because Maia silences her with a firm, passionate press of her lips. Clary responds in kind, unaware of the eyes on them, or simply uncaring of the attention. The only person who matters right now is Maia and Clary knows that there will be plenty of time for talking and figuring things out later.
She feels like she’s finally exiting the neverending maze of hazy memories she’s been trapped in for months, emerging on the other side with her mind the clearest it’s been in months.
She’s exactly where she’s meant to be.