Gasoline & Matches

"Swiss on the Beat, Chris move your feet,

And we can transform a good girl into a freak."

Clary had the permission to leave her room for nearly a day then, but not the inclination. Finally her father entered to find a strange sight. Red lay scattered all over the floor, but it wasn't blood. It was hair. He looked to his daughter and found her staring out the window. She had chopped off the beautiful length of her red hair to leave about an inch of sporadically clustered clumps about her scalp.

"Clary..." Valentine spoke and his daughter turned. Her face, with her new haircut, looked sharper and leaner than before, with her cheekbones more pronounced. She had an edge that hadn't been there before. "Don't think this little stunt will help you. You defied everything you are, or at least everything I thought you were."

"It's not what you think, father." She stood to face him, chin level with his though he towered over her. "Ididn't cut it in defiance. I cut it because it reminded me of him." A look of uncertainty crossed Valentine's bold features. "One of the first things he ever said to me was about my hair." She clarified, eyes brimming with some strong as vodka and green as Faerie. "Ididn't want it anymore."

Valentine surveyed his daughter before him. She stood, awaiting his judgement like a good soldier. But Valentine wanting to believe his daughter and actually believing her were two different things. Because as well as he knew that Clary was one of the most promising young Shadowhunter he had ever seen, he also knew that she was one of the smartest. And Clary, Valentine also knew, was a great liar.

xoxo

It had been four days since the moment Prisoner Jace had decided to call up the unexpected and try to shove Clary off her mental balance. But Clary, as she did in most situations, adapted. During dinner before her time when Jace, her father brought up her progress for the first time.

"I haven't checked on the prisoner yet, you know." Valentine's eyes slid over his daughter's thin, athletic frame. "How is it going?"

Clary didn't look up as she scraped peas off her fork. "It's all right. I'm going to try a new method tonight. I have a hunch."

Valentine smiled a little. "So you haven't had much progress yet then."

Clary shrugged. "He's... difficult."

Jace had been proving to be quite a bit more than just difficult. When she tried to ask him serious questions he rebuffed them with jokes. When she threatened him he called her bluffs. When she got down and straight-up cut or hit him, he just spit blood at her feet and asked for more. He had this fearless sense about him, like a man with nothing to lose and little to gain, and that made him impenetrable. It was like his golden eyes were the hard edge of his soul, and she couldn't feel her way passed them. She was anxious now, as well. She was anxious first because he had out-powered her the first time, then caught her off-guard with the kiss, and she wasn't looking for a repeat performance. But she was also anxious for reasons she didn't wholly like to admit. She was anxious about what she had felt when he had kissed her, when he had touched her, that fire that had rose in her body and made her feel light and at the same time tied to the earth. It had made her feel truly, vulnerably and completely human. It was the exact opposite of what her father wanted for her, her floating about emotions and apathetically dealing out punishment. That contrast alone jump-started her breathing.

She buried her face in her water glass as she felt her father's eyes on her. "Difficult?" Valentine repeated slowly. He was judging the situation. "Do you want me to take-"

"No!" Clary cried suddenly. The thought of her father taking the one task he had asked her to preform from her made her body nearly reject her meal. She felt sick to her stomach. Valentine smiled.

"All right." He agreed with forged reluctance. "I'll give you a little longer."

Clary's face set in determination as her father watched, pleased with the progress. She would try with all her heart to break him, and Valentine loved his daughter's sense of heart. But Jace Wayland would not be a parlor trick to destroy. Valentine had picked him for a reason; he was headstrong, and since the death of his mother he was carelessly violent and death-strung. If Clary could break him... Then Clary could break anyone.

xoxo

Clary walked to the stables with moths gnawing the walls of her stomach. She knew what she was going to do, just not if it would work. She cursed her self-doubt. Of course it would work. She was Clary Morganstern. She could do any task she set her mind to, and breaking Jace was that task. She marched into the stables and paused, like always, before the door. There she did more than just shut her eyes and take a breath. She grabbed the tie constricting her long hair in its high ponytail and pulled it out, letting her hair fall down her shoulders in auburn waves. She pulled low white tank top she was wearing and made sure there was a thin line of tanned skin showing between her low-rise jeans and the shirt she had shortened specifically for this occasion. She then shut her eyes, counted to three in her head, took a breath and opened the stall door.

Jace had opened his mouth to say something, most likely rude and probably a lie, but he faltered when he saw her. His eyes skimmed her body up and down and Clary took this opportunity to begin on her much desired upper ground.

"Speechless for once?" She hung her belt on a bridle hook by the door and ran a hand over her head and through her long hair. "It becomes you."

"Did you break into your mom's closet again, JonBenét?" He had recovered quickly, bored smile settling itself comfortably over his features. "Except that shirt looks too small, not too big."

"I'm going out after this," Clary took her knife from her back pocket firmly in hand, then walked over to the wall where Jace's shackles were held. His wrists hadn't healed at all and she suspected the reason was that every time she left him he started yanking on them afresh. Using the devices bolted to the back wall, she began tightening the chains that led to his manacles.

"This seems highly unnecessary," Jace pointed out as he was forced from a sitting position to a kneeling one. She worked on the other until he was forced onto his feet, chains taunt to the wall so he could only move a few inches from it. "It's not like I was going anywhere. Not with you dressed like Laura Croft anyways."

"Just making sure you're comfortable," Clary smiled and patted his cheek condescendingly, "Before we get down to business."

"What's the business tonight?" Jace cried in mock-excitement. "Electric nipple pinchers?" His voice then dropped to an almost edged tone then, a threatening, patronizing one. "Or more amateur hour of the Inquisition? Didn't anyone ever even teach you the proper methods of torture?" He scoffed.

Clary had turned away though, dusting hay off her tight jeans. She had felt the way he had kissed her, and she knew that no one made that many teasing, chauvinistic remarks without a hint of attraction towards the object of them. If this was all just a game for him, then she wanted to play too.

She faced him, smile on her lips. "Don't worry, Jace." She didn't really believe that was his name, but had decided on day two to humor him about it. "You'll get your torture." She moved forward, close to his body until she stood only inches from his chest and could feel the body heat radiating from him. A look of confusion quickly covered with apathy shocked his features.

"Well, this is a lousy start." He mumbled but lost his words as she placed a hand against his chest, tracing the outline of a rune scar burn particularly deep against his upper torso.

"Where did you get this?" She asked curiously, running her short nail along its edge.

"What?" He shook his head as though he hadn't heard her right. "You want a background check now? Try my JV record down at the family courthouse." He suggested.

Clary only smiled, her fingers trailing up to catching on his collarbone. She ran the pads of them along it gently, just at her chin level. "What about this one?" She touched his shoulder, close to his neck where a deep scar ran jagged. "Is this from a demon's bite?"

"I..." Jace's golden eyes held honest confusion as he watched her become engaged in touching his skin. "What are you doing?"

Suddenly Clary's fingers were on his neck, skimming up his jaw and tilting his face away from her to examine a scar against his left cheek. "This is a nasty one." She marveled. "Didn't get the healing rune on fast enough?"

Jace jerked away from her touch and said nothing. Clary smirked, hands not just touching now but caressing his shoulders and upper torso, around his upper arms and smoothing over scars like her palms might heal what was left of them.

"What's the matter, Jace?" She murmured, nose inches from his skin, "speechless again?"

Jace suddenly rattled against the chains savagely, more harshly than she had seen before. Under other forms of torture, like bleeding and punching, Jace remained almost willingly in his manacles, as though determined to show her that he didn't care. Now was a different story. His skin had begun to sweat and her fingers slipped down his body against the moisture. She bit her lower lip and glanced up at him briefly before pressing a kiss against his collarbone. Her fingers skimmed down towards his belt line, running just beneath it but not further, then tracing up his spin behind him as she kissed his collar again. His body shuddered and his head hit the wall behind him, hard. When Clary licked gently a spot at the base of his throat, his breath hitched. She then dared to look up at his face again.

There wasn't much to see. His eyes were closed and his head rested back against the wall. His features were contorted into a frown but he still managed to look more of an angel than any human should have. When he realize she had stopped he looked down at her, eyes darkened and pupils dilated.

"Want to answer some questions now?" She asked, before pressing her lips to his chest and teasing the skin with her teeth. Her fingers danced up his biceps, towards his hair. Jace swallowed but shook his head. "No? All right." She laced her fingers through blonde curls and brought herself up on tiptoes to kiss his neck slowly, sucking against his skin.

Jace gasped out loud. Clary nipped at his jawline and his lips were suddenly against her's. She pulled feet backwards before his tongue could even graze her lips. She shook her head slowly at him, finger out and wagging before her face. "Nuh-huh, Jace." She smiled as a drop os sweat slid down from his hairline. "Not until I get some answers."

She moved cautiously forward again, making sure to keep her face a distance from his, and skimmed her fingers below his pants line once again, running her palms over his jutted hipbones and kneeling before his bare stomach to kiss the flesh. She licked against his lower abdomen and nuzzled it with her nose as her fingers played with the button of his pants. She heard Jace's head hit against the back of the wall again, this time harder. She heard his breath catch as she moved away from his stomach and back up his torso, teeth nibbling on his collarbone again as her fingers lightly scratched at his back.

"All right!" He gasped, panting slightly and eyes dark with desire. "What do you want?"

Clary smiled, proud of herself for the first time in his presence. "Where is the Moral Cup?"

Jace laughed at her question but his breath came up short again when Clary's lips were against his neck.

xoxo

Clary was just loosening the chains when her father stepped into the stall. He watched Jace fall to his knees as though all his energy had been drained, his torso and face drenched his sweat and his face still contorted with discomfort and another emotion Valentine couldn't place. There was still defiance in his set jaw, but every other emotion in the young man seemed to have been milked out of him. He let his eyes drop from Valentine's figure as the man looked with wonder at his daughter.

"Did he talk?" Valentine asked.

"Not yet," Clary replied perkily. "But I think we're making strides, don't you, Jace?" She asked as she passed by him, crossing the stall towards her father's impressed figure.

"Frustratingly small strides, Clary," Jace lifted his eyes to her's. "Frustratingly small strides."

Thanks for all the reviews! Much appreciated! xoxo