Crash.

A brief, blinding light illuminated Jace's bedroom, sending into relief the spotless desk, the tidied floor, and the bed – sheets tucked in perfectly, the only wrinkles in the material a result of the form that was currently lying atop it. Blond head resting comfortably on the pillow, hands tucked beneath it, Jace Wayland stared up at the ceiling, watching as the lightning cast fleeting flickers of brightness across it. The Institute was the best place to be when it stormed, in his not-so-humble opinion. The building was large, dark, and the rumbling thunder seemed to echo down every hallway at once.

It was a beautiful thing in a world where so much was ugly.

Clad in only a pair of the black pants he typically trained in, his skin seemed to glow in the intermittent flashes of light, the harsh illumination turning his golden skin to a paler shade and causing the ink-black runes on his skin to stand out even more than they normally did.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sharp rapping on his door did not startle him as it might have startled anyone else. It took a lot to catch the Shadowhunter off guard – much more than a simple unexpected visitor. He sat up, swinging his legs to the side, his bare feet resting on the cold stone floor. Before he could even make it the few paces to the door, there was another, more insistent knock.

"I'm coming!" he said, shouting to be heard over the next peal of thunder that seemed to shake the very room. "And I swear by the Angel, if that's you Alec and you want to show me another picture from your and Magnus' vacation…" At that point he had reached the door and pulled it open. As soon as there was a few feet of space between the door and the wall, a flash of red hair came surging into the room, a small body colliding roughly with his own. His arms tightened around Clary's body on a reflex; she was practically trembling against him.

"Clary?" he said softly, worry lacing through his tone. "Clary, what happened? What's wrong?"

Bright eyes the exact shade of an emerald lifted up, seeming to stare straight into his soul the way that only Clary could. Her eyes were wide in her face, fear all-too-evident in the dilation of her pupils. With swift movements, he reached one hand out and pushed the door closed, the other sweeping her closer to him so that she was pressed against his chest.

"For god's sake, Clary, what is wrong?"

She shook her head back and forth. "You're going to laugh at –" Her sentence was interrupted by another clap of thunder, this one the loudest yet; and then Clary, his Clary, the girl that had faced demons without hesitation and had blown out the side of a ship with a rune she had created on her own, squeaked and hid her face in his chest. Her arms were wrapped so tightly around him that he was surprised he could still breathe.

"Don't tell me," he said, his voice soft, his attempt at keeping the amusement out of his tone failing miserably, "you're afraid of storms?"

A sting accompanied the sound of flesh on flesh as she slapped his back right in the middle of his shoulder blades. "Shut up, Jace." Her voice was muffled against his skin, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Such a brave Shadowhunter," he mumbled. Before she could protest further, he scooped his arms underneath her and picked her up, her slight weight barely registering at all. "Come here." With just a few strides, he returned to his bed and deposited her on it. She immediately pulled at the sheets, covering her body and looking up at him, a mixture of determination, stubbornness, and fear mixing in her gaze. It was amazing to him that, even facing something she was so afraid of, she still wanted to be strong, to prove something.

It was times like these that he realized just how alike the two of them really were. How much of that could be attributed to the blood they shared? The blood of the angel?

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. It didn't matter. What mattered was that in her time of fear, she had come to him. She had sought him for comfort. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been comforted by his presence. Yes, Alec and Isabelle knew that they could trust him in a fight – that they were safe around him; but safe and comfortable were not the same thing.

Hesitating for just a second, one hand running back through his hair, he sighed and climbed into the bed beside her, keeping his body above the blankets. One arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her against his side.

"It's just so loud…"

Her voice was barely a whisper in the room. If he hadn't been so attuned to every sound she made, he would have missed it. "I guess that explaining to you what thunder is probably wouldn't help?"

"I know what it is, Jace."

Even when she was frightened, she could still sound so chastising. A smile lifted up the corners of his mouth. "Just trying to help."

The room was illuminated again as another flash of lightning arced across the sky. He could feel her tense against him, and he tightened his grip around her just the slightest bit, his chin resting on the top of her head. She cringed and burrowed even closer to him as the next boom of thunder resonated in the room. The slight trembling of her frame had stopped, though, and he marveled that he could have such an effect on another person – especially her.

Golden-shaded eyes landed on the nightstand where his stele rested. I could draw a Fearless rune on her arm, he thought, but he disregarded that as soon as he imagined it. Jace was selfish. He didn't want her to be fearless; he wanted to hold her.

"You better not tell anyone."

His shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Your secret is safe with me, Clary." His lips brushed against her hair.

"I know," she murmured sleepily into his neck. A chill erupted along his spine at the touch of her lips on his skin, and he prayed she hadn't noticed.

"You can sleep, Fray," he murmured back, his eyes focusing on the window and the dark sky outside. "I'll hold you all night if you need me."

"I always need you, Jace…"

His heart stuttered in his chest, a brief change in its rhythm at the raw emotion in those words. After all they had survived, sometimes it still felt so surreal that Clary could love him in the same way he loved her. Some mornings, he woke up thinking he had surely dreamed everything that had happened. Her breaths deepened, their pace slowed down, and he knew she had fallen asleep in his arms. Relaxing back against the headboard, he held her close, letting her smaller frame curl around his, her copper-colored curls sprawling across his chest.

He sighed softly, whispering the words he had such trouble admitting when anyone could hear:

"I need you, too, Clary."