"Jace." Clary's voice whispered the moment he answered the phone.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Will you come get me? Sebastian…he…"
"Okay," he said soothingly, "of course. Where are you?"
"I just started walking and…"
"Clary." He interrupted. "Where are you?"
"A restaurant in Spanish Harlem. Raphael's." He closed his eyes. Spanish Harlem is exactly where she would end up. "I know it's far but…"
He almost snorted. She could've asked him to pick her up from Timbuktu and he'd be on the next flight out.
"I'm on my way."
Jace had warned her about Sebastian. About his temper. About that look he sometimes got. He wasn't surprised for a moment that Sebastian had ditched her. He wondered how far Clary had walked before realizing she was on the exact opposite side of town from their apartment complex. She was so stubborn and determined not to ask for help that she would've wandered into gang territory and decided it'd be okay so long as she hurried.
Luckily, traffic was good and he was able to hit all the greens. It took him less than an hour to reach her. He went in to find her and when she looked at him, his heart clenched. She had clearly been crying, tear tracks on her face, eyes red and nose still runny. That wasn't what made his breath catch, though. It was the black and blue bruises decorating her face. One was on her jaw; the other was quickly swelling into a black eye. "Clary…"
"How could he have done this to me? He said he loved me. He said I was special and beautiful and strong. But he hit me, Jace. How could he do this?"
"I don't know, Clare," he said gently, softly. "I don't know how anyone could do this to you." He took her in his arms, kissing her jaw gently as if his care could heal the bruise. Tears slipped down her face again and he held her tighter, whispering to her that it would be okay.
Everything would be okay.
"When?" She asked, shakily. It was meant to be sardonic, he was pretty certain—knowing her as he did. All the same, it sounded so genuine that it made him hurt.
"I don't know that either," he admitted, "but I'm here and I'm going to be here."
It was enough, she reckoned, to have her best friend—second up until Simon had started dating Isabelle—at her side to get through this. She didn't need a guy who'd hit her and then kick her out of the car when she said she wouldn't stand for that. Had he apologized, had he sworn he'd never do it again, she might have forgiven him. Perhaps, she mused, she should be grateful for the way he'd reacted. He wasn't getting another chance to hurt her now. And, she thought, she should be glad it had happened now before she was in love with him, before he could pull her away from her friends, before he could make her think no one else could love her. His hitting her now saved her a lot of pain, she was certain.
Jace offered to spend the evening with her but she wanted to curl up in her bed and cry. She didn't want comfort and that's what he would give her.
How could he do this? she asked herself morosely. He put his hands on me, he… and then she got angry and completely blew up. He fucking hit me! She threw a water glass that was on her nightstand and it shattered against the wall. The bastard! She threw a pillow which was much less satisfying and then a paper weight which actually was rather satisfying. A spare shoe was next—in her rage nothing was sacred. She threw the snow-globe Sebastian had bought her with incredible force. It flew towards the door but a hand caught it. She followed the line of an arm and Jace was standing there, one eyebrow raised.
"This would've smashed," he observed.
"Sebastian gave it to me."
He twisted his hand and deliberately dropped it to the hardwood floor, expressing her feelings exactly. She told him so and he laughed. She loved his laughter. Where Sebastian's laugh had always been a harsh sound, seeming forced even if it wasn't, Jace's laugh rolled up from his stomach. A laugh with warmth and feeling.
"We were fighting about you," she confessed, laying on her bed.
"What?" He breathed.
"He wanted me to stop hanging out with you, but you're my best friend. And it's not the first time he's brought it up. He thinks you're in love with me."
Well, he's not wrong, Jace thought as he fell beside her, one hand behind his head, the other a mere inch from hers. "He should trust you."
"Oh, he does. But—and get this—"if anyone knows how to manipulate a person it's their best friend". As if you were the one trying to control me, and not him. And it's not the first time he's put his hands on me, although he's never hit me before. He's grabbed me and even smacked me, but never hit me."
He turned his head to look at her and his anger flared. "He's hurt you." He stated flatly. Why had she never told him?
And why had he never noticed?
"Yeah," she hesitantly answered, even though it wasn't really a question.
"You want me to beat him up for you?" He offered, totally serious.
At last she turned her own head towards him, meeting his gaze. She grinned, "Don't worry about it." She laid on her side, propping herself on one elbow. "I always give just as good as I get—got."
"I'm so proud," he teased.
"Just you wait, Jace Wayland." Her smile widened and suddenly she was glad he'd come over, despite her initial wishes. "You will be."
There was a momentary silence. "I could use a cancer stick right about now. Or I would. If I was a smoker. Which I'm not." Her eyes skittered toward him for a second. "Get me ice cream." She demanded.
He smiled hugely and then chuckled and then laughed, eventually finding himself in hysterics. Without knowing precisely why, she joined in. He stopped suddenly and then she stopped, too, though gradually, because he was looking at her all…somehow.
She didn't know it, but he was just thinking—God, I love that woman.
There hadn't been, like, a 'that moment' for him. There hadn't been anything specific that made him fall in love with her but nor had it been gradual. He'd been falling in love with her all his life, a little more each day until he woke up just…just knowing. When they'd met at the age of seven he'd felt connected. In middle school he'd thought she was cute, then beautiful. Her intelligence was enormously sexy and he wanted to deck—and thank—every guy that decided not to go after her because she was so smart. Her laugh had always made him happy, but one day he had thought 'I'm in love with that laugh.' She began to be his first thought in the morning and his last at night. He slept better than ever on the rare occasion he stayed at her house—a recent thing—because he slept beside her. And one morning he had thought, 'I'm in love with that girl.'
No, there was no big moment when he realized it. One day he just acknowledged it as fact—that he had always loved her.
And almost three years later, it still hadn't stopped being true.
"God, I want to kiss you." He almost bit his lip as he realized what he'd said to her, but he didn't want to seem insecure about this.
"Really?"
He decided to just go for it. Worst case scenario: Things are awkward for a couple weeks. Best case scenario: He gets the girl. "Yeah, really. Clary…Rissa," only Jace had ever called her Rissa; it was a term of endearment particular to him, and a particularly intimate one. He had never called her Rissa in front of another person. Though he used it quite often when they were just hanging out, he always used it when he was serious. "Shit, I…I've wanted to kiss you for a long fucking time. Besides," he said trying to pass it off as no big deal, "I'm, uh, I'm completely and totally in love with you."
Her lips curved into a smile, "I never knew…I never thought you might feel the same. By the angel, Jace, I've loved you since I was sixteen."
"Of course. How could you resist?" She narrowed her eyes at his smug tone, used to it though she was, "I was fifteen when I realized," he recalled. "As usual, I win."
"Ah, hell," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Jace."
"Rissa?"
Not wanting to embarrass herself by trying to raise one eyebrow, she raised both in silent challenge. "I thought you wanted to kiss me."
And then he smirked and did just that.
Izzy and Simon had rushed to Clary at school the next morning.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" Izzy practically shrieked. Her eyes, although taking note of the bruises, were mostly searching Clary's own. Izzy was looking for how Clary was feeling, not how she was doing. Nothing in her expression seemed to say she was sad. If anything, Clary looked as though something great had happened, not as though she'd been beaten and betrayed.
"Did Sebastian do this?" Simon growled. He was another one who'd never been on the Sebastian bandwagon. Actually, when Clary thought about it, no one had been on that bandwagon. Izzy was a self-proclaimed 'Clace' shipper; they were her 'real people OTP'. Clary wondered if that was even a thing. Simon just thought Clary shouldn't date—ever. Talk about a big brother complex.
Jace came up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "The thing did, yes. You should see what she did to him, though." He grinned viciously.
Izzy squealed again, though positively, "You guys are together? Finally!"
The redhead sighed, looking at her boyfriend. "Did everyone know except us?"
"Yep," answered a girl Clary recognized as 'Aline' who'd helped her through chemistry, literally out of the kindness of her heart, who was just passing by, "everyone."
"Um, do we know her?" Izzy asked rhetorically as the entire group watched her walk away, turning in their spots, mouths agape.
They mostly encountered only whispers until lunchtime. They sat at their usual table when a shadow fell across the length of it. The cafeteria went silent and everyone looked up. Sebastian.
Jace stood, moving in front of Clary. "That's a nice shiner, Verlac. Get beat up by a girl?" He asked, obnoxiously fake sympathy dripping from every word he spoke.
"Ooh," Simon whispered to Isabelle and Clary, both of whom agreed, "Shots fired."
"Someone got in a lucky swing." Sebastian shrugged and gave a nasty grin. "But I came over here to talk to you, man."
"Oh, yeah?" Jace crossed his arms, the threat clear.
"Yeah. My blessing to go after my ex-girlfriend. You know, my sloppy seconds."
Clary muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Return fire." She supposed she ought to be angry but she couldn't bring herself to care what Sebastian had to say. She'd already decided he'd done her a favor, and that was before she'd gotten together with Jace.
"Interesting, Verlac, that you refer to my girlfriend as sloppy seconds—that would imply that you've actually had her. But we both know that's not true, don't we?"
Simon leaned towards Clary again. "Under siege! Jace is bringing out the big guns." She nearly choked on her drink. "Uzi gun big."
"Machine gun big."
"Really, really big. Enormous."
"Do we know that?" Sebastian retorted, calm and cool. There was a sharp intake of breath across the entire cafeteria. Jace had just blatantly, pointedly claimed something as his and Sebastian had challenged it. The two alpha males butting heads was not uncommon but it was usually about simple, mundane things—now it was about Jace's girlfriend. Sebastian's ex.
The girl that the whole school knew Jace had been in love with for years.
"Well," he said, only loud enough for Sebastian to hear, making his words sound like they meant something totally different, "I know for a fact you didn't have her first."
He straightened and then raised his voice, "Don't talk to her. Don't look at her. Don't even fucking think about her. Or I swear by the angel, you'll regret it."
"Believe you me, Blondie." Sebastian ignored Jace's first comment, having the sense not to publicize what Jace was implying. Whether because he was sure Jace would kill him or because it would destroy his ego if everyone knew he hadn't had Clary after damn near an entire year of dating was unknown. "Very soon, you're going to know all about regret."
And this was the moment Clary got angry, walking over to the two very furious boys. Crucified Christ, Sebastian. I broke up with you because you decided it was a good idea to knock me around. Now you're threatening Jace, just because you know he and I are together now? Well done, Seb. What a big man you are." Her voice was practically dripping with disdain.
Sebastian leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper so that only they three were privy to his next comment. "Don't you get it, sugar?" She shuddered at what he had once affectionately called her; there was not a single hint of tenderness in his tone now, "If I want him to understand regret, the threat must be against you." His next words were spoken at a normal volume. "You two have a real nice day, now."
Jace moved towards him, fists clenched, even as he walked away, but Clary thwarted his intentions. "Babe!" she caught his arm. "Leave it. He's just… fuckin' spoiling for a fight. He gets like this." She wrinkled her nose, "God, I can just about smell the testosterone."
"Well, that's because of how manly I am, beautiful." He breathed deeply and shook off his frustration. "I will happily show you later." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She wanted to shake her head and ask why on Earth she had to fall in love with this guy, settling instead for, "You mean to say that you will show me later. Right?"
His eyes bulged. She bit her lip so as not to laugh—she'd never seen him react to anything this way.
He recovered quickly and the answering smirk made her stomach flip, "Oh." His hands found her hips and a shit-eating grin adorned his face. "Definitely."
"Jace, we're in public," she said trying to back out of his grip, which he simply tightened. He spun his head and stared at a spot to the side. "What are you looking at?" She asked him, curious.
"All the fucks that I don't give." He grinned at her.
She shook her head, trying and failing at not being amused. She patted his chest, this time successfully pulling away and returning her attention to her lunch. He plopped resignedly into his seat and pouted at her, almost but not quite convincingly.
Their eyes met. Later, she mouthed.
He couldn't wait.