Speak

Shut up! I'm making deductions, it's very exciting.

-The Doctor

"I met Jace and Clary," Amy said, leaning back against one of the desks in the Doctor's classroom. She surveyed the room, eyes lighting on the posters on the wall of galaxies and paramecium, with proclamations like, Math Is Universal or Math Is Life and shuddered, thinking of her own math classes back in high school. However, this room seemed ideal for the Doctor, who was writing out a complicated proof on the board. When he finished, he sniffed and crossed his arms. "They seemed very polite, a little nervous, though."

"Well, you were a random woman who came up and started talking to them," pointed out the Doctor. "Then again, Clary has some bad nervous ticks. Did you meet Jonathan?"

"That blond boy is supposed to be part demon?" Amy asked. "Don't get me wrong, the boy's got a bit of an attitude, but he's not evil."

"No, he's not," agreed the Doctor. "But he's been poisoned and it drives him a little mad. It's hard to explain exactly, but the poison affects the basil ganglia and adjacent parts." He said the word ganglia with an odd little shudder.

"I'm not a doctor," Amy hummed.

"The basil ganglia is the center that evolved the reward-punishment system, the part of your brain that drives your most basic instincts to survive." The Doctor smiled at Amy. "You humans and your brains."

"Hey, just because our brains haven't reached Time Lord level doesn't mean we're not brilliant in our own way!" Amy cut in.

"I didn't say that. Anyway, what makes the poison so affective is that the basil ganglia, while being the center for your distance cousins' instincts, evolved in humans, and is now the center for decision making." He looked very serious. "This can have devastating effects on the boy. He doesn't have the same inhibitions a normal human would have; he doesn't understand empathy or suffering. In effect, there is disconnect between Jonathan's actions, and his understanding of his actions."

Amy frowned. "If he doesn't understand what he is doing is wrong, is he guilty of anything?"

"As far as I'm concerned, no," the Doctor said firmly. "Jonathan clearly needs help, but will he get it among humans? I don't think so. However, whether he is guilty or not, he still poses a threat to anyone around him."

"That dangerous?" Amy wondered.

"Think of it like this," the Doctor began. "The basil ganglia was the center for instinct driven actions. The main instincts of all living things are to survive, which involves finding food, fighting off predators, and securing at least one mate to procreate with. If Jonathan has these instincts, but doesn't understand them, he could harm any number of people just to, oh, I don't know…get his favorite sandwich from the pub."

"That's a bit extreme," laughed Amy. "Anyway, have you figured out what to do with Jace and Clary? Rory and I were talking, and maybe we could pretend to be police or something, and show up at their door and snoop around?"

"No," the Doctor said at once. "I don't know why Valentine is alive still, but it doesn't make him any less dangerous. I'm trying to figure out exactly what happened, but until I get a better idea of the war and what happened and what obviously didn't, I don't want any snooping."

"We're never going to find out that way," Amy complained. "You can't just up and ask Jace and Clary why Valentine is alive."

The Doctor shrugged. "Right now, I've got no better alternative than to wait and see. Besides, next week is parent-teacher conference week, and I'm sure Valentine will be coming to see how his daughter is doing." Here, the Doctor smiled slyly. "I could slip a tracking device of some sort on him; listen in on his conversations."

"That's rather sneaky of you, Doctor," Amy said, and jumped off the desk. "Let's get out of here. Rory and I want to see a play on Broadway."

"Yes, yes, yes," muttered the Doctor, giving his proof another look. "Off to Broadway for a bit, then right back to planning. I really can't let this time stream stay the way it is. It could destroy one twelfth of the universe if things get out of hand."

Amy swung around the door. "If you let me and Rory sneak into their house we can tell you how crazy things are, how mad Jonathan is…"

"Nonsense," The Doctor said, waving his hand at her. "Besides, I gave Clary my number. She'll call me if something horrible happens."

Clary clung to the scrap of paper in her hand desperately as her father approached her and Jace. It seemed silly, to cling to something so insubstantial and meaningless, since Mr. Smith was in no way capable of protecting her from her father, but it was something. It was a testament to the fact that someone cared about her, someone was thinking of her wellbeing, that somewhere, there was an adult who would listen.

Listen to what? that mean voice in her had asked. No one will ever believe you if you told them the truth. That you're not really human? That your father, who happens to be the supreme ruler of a race of superhumans is abusing you and no one cares? No, little girl, you're on your own. Clary's eyes moved inexorably to Jace whose shoulder was brushing up against hers. Well, not entirely on your own.

"Jonathan tells me you were speaking to someone after school?" Valentine asked, his eyes dark. "He says you were speaking to a woman, and that she seemed very friendly with you two. Making friends, are we?"

"No," Jace said at once. "We have friends already."

"You think so?" mused Valentine, smiling condescendingly at Jace. "Whatever friends you had belong to me now. Everything you had belongs to me now, though sometimes it seems you forget that."

"She was just a nice woman waiting around for her friend," Clary said defensively. "We didn't tell her anything about…us."

"She wouldn't believe you anyway," sneered Valentine. "But that isn't what concerns me, children. You see, if you were talking to her, who else have you been gossiping with?"

"No one," Clary said quickly, shaking her head and backing up a bit more. She felt her back brush the wall of the dining room and knew they were in trouble. "We don't talk to anyone."

"I find that hard to believe," Valentine said, glancing over at Jace. "Jonathan also tells me you were talking to this Mr. Smith again."

"He ran into us," Jace said, exasperated. He hated when Valentine did this, drew out the punishment, putting them both on edge. "We didn't talk to him, just asked him to look over our homework for some help with the problems-" Jace clamped his mouth shut when he realized what he'd said, but he knew there was no way to take it back.

"You still can't do your math homework?" Valentine shook his head. "I'll deal with that later, but still, I must impress upon both of you my concern that you're telling lies. If you're talking to this random woman, if you're talking to this teacher, what are you telling them?"

"We're not telling anyone anything!" Clary squeezed the paper in her pocket tighter.

"Liar!" snarled Valentine and then grabbed Jace's shirt. Jace struggled a bit, but not enough to have Valentine go after Clary; Valentine jerked Jace's shirt up, revealing the ugly whip lashes. "Telling people about these, are we? Letting those Mundane teachers know all about our family secrets?"

"No!" Clary cried desperately. "We haven't told anyone, I swear! I'll swear it on the Angel if that's what you want. No one knows."

"I don't believe you, Clarissa." He tossed Jace back against the wall. "Perhaps I've been going about your punishments wrong, perhaps leaving marks is asking for trouble. Shall we try something new?"

"Why?" Jace demanded rashly. "What have we done wrong?"

"You spoke when I didn't tell you to," he answered simply. "And, as you've already admitted, you couldn't handle your math homework again. I'm really growing tired of having your miserable failure thrown in my face. What must those teachers think of you, of our family?"

"But we got full credit!" Clary snapped. "Mr. Smith didn't take points away for asking."

"You shouldn't have had to ask in the first place. Now, I'd like both of you to sit on the couch with your shoes and socks off." Valentine shrugged off his coat, and when he saw them standing before him, he pointed. "Go."

As they went, Clary's fingers rubbed the paper. Think of something nice, think of something pleasant and fun. She thought of the nights she'd had with Jace, curled up beside him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That was nice. Think of Jace.

Beside her, sitting on the couch, Jace looked nervous. He was running through his head everything Valentine had said and their current position. No shoes and socks was an odd request, though not completely unwarranted. It worried him a little though, since so many nerve endings were in the feet; it was a delicate place and if Valentine chose to attack there it would be painful. He looked over to Clary, fiddling with something in her pocket, and he felt the wave of protectiveness he always felt when he saw her. Not something overpowering and possessive, but just that reminder in the back of his mind that Clary wasn't used to pain like he was, and, though he certainly couldn't protect her from it all, he would try to protect her from the worst.

Valentine joined them, a knife from the kitchen in hand and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Jace swallowed. This isn't going to be clean, he thought, wishing suddenly Valentine had a stele in his hand. At least those blades burned the skin back together.

"So, who would like to go first? Wait, let me guess…Jace, I'm sure you're willing to go before your little lady?" Jace nodded mutely, staring down the blade. "Give me your foot then." Jace lifted his left foot and carefully placed it before Valentine, who gripped it around the ankle like an iron manacle. With the other hand he dipped the knife in alcohol and ran it through an open flame. Jace jumped when one of his fingers separated his biggest toe from the one next to it.

Definitely going to be messy, was Jace's last thought before Valentine sliced into the delicate skin between his toes with the knife. It was more pain than Jace had expected, and he let a shuddering gasp escape him, but it didn't seem to reach Valentine who continued on to the next gap, and the one after. It was the serrated edge that really did the work, and Jace squirmed against his will every time Valentine cut his skin. When he finished one foot, he began the other, making sure Clary saw.

When he finished, he surveyed the work before him with a frown. "Don't bleed on my carpets," he said, and then turned to face Clary. "You next, my dear."

Terror choked up Clary's throat. "Please, Father, why won't you listen…"

"Give me your foot, or I'll do Jace again, and next time, I'll slice the muscle." He watched Clary's face resign and knew that he'd won; she placed her foot gently in his lap and looked at him with round, green eyes. Valentine saw a bit of Jocelyn there, and he was grateful for it. His anger at his wife had been building over the years, and now, he had a perfect replacement to take it out on. "Don't scream, Clarissa; I don't want the neighbors asking who makes all those noises."

Clary fought every urge she could to scream, and even then, small sounds kept escaping her mouth, earning her disapproving looks from her father. She could feel the tissue and muscle being torn as he went, she could see little drops of blood dribble onto the floor, and she could hear her own raw moans. Beside her, Jace was looking furious, like he wanted to lunge across at Valentine, but she knew he wouldn't; it wouldn't get them very far if he did.

"This seems all in order," said Valentine as he finished the final cut between Clary's small toes. She snatched her foot back and squeezed the toes together in a vain attempt to staunch the pain. "Oh, don't, Clarissa, you look like a child when you do that."

"It hurts," was all she said, and very carefully, put her feet down. Clary made to stand, but her feet gave out beneath her and she toppled forward into his father. Valentine snarled in disgust as he caught her and then tossed her back on the couch.

"Can you not even stand, Clarissa? Are you so helpless?" he demanded, rising up before her and casting a threatening shadow over her crumpled figure. "Again and again, you remind me why I don't want to claim you as my daughter. Jace, get her away from me."

Jace rose unsteadily to his feet and levered Clary up. She had to lean against him dangerously, almost toppling him sideways. Under Valentine's eye, the two hobbled from the room and into their bedroom. Jace set Clary down on the bed and then collapsed beside her, staring at his mangled feet. Clary stared down at the floor, her lips trembling as she held back her cries of pain.

"You should elevate your feet," Jace suggested. "Stop the blood from gathering in your toes and leaking out if you can." Jace patted the bed beside Clary and she leaned back. "You did very good, Clary. You didn't scream, you didn't make him angry."

"I guess that's something to be happy about," muttered Clary. Her hand strayed to the paper in her pocket and she removed the phone number Mr. Smith had given her. "Do you think I should mention the tutoring to Valentine?"

Jace chuckled darkly. "Yes, now seems to be the opportune moment to mention getting math help. While we're at it, I'm going to ask for a car, a passport, and…hell, why not some condoms to top the night off?"

"Jace!" Clary cried, punching his side, but relaxing at the thought. "I don't know why I kept this, really. It's not like we can get the tutoring we need anyway. Valentine thinks we're gossiping with Mr. Smith, he'll never let us be alone with him." But Clary couldn't let the paper go.

You're just clinging to desperate hopes and dreams. He's a math teacher who wears a bowtie and keeps a box of cookies in his desk. You're a girl whose father is teaching her how to kill by beating her. Those two worlds don't clash.

Later that evening, Valentine returned, this time, carrying a stele, a pen, and a piece of paper. Clary and Jace had lurched up, watching him warily. Valentine eyed them both dispassionately, but pulled a chair up to sit before them. "Clarissa, it's time for you to serve my wishes, and, in so doing, perhaps earn Jace a little reprieve from his starvation."

Clary leaned forward thoughtlessly; it was her fault he was starving in the first place. "What do you want?"

"I've decided the best way to keep you two quiet is a rune rather than a beating. You're going to draw me a new rune, not a normal Silenceing rune, something a little more exacting. I want to limit how much you two can speak a day." Valentine smiled at Jace's indignation. "I think it might even teach you to appreciate that you can speak at all. So, Clarissa, make me the rune, and I'll let Jace eat again."

Clary didn't have to think about it; she snatched the pen from Valentine even though Jace made a small protesting noise. It was much harder to create runes under her father's cold eyes, and she'd only done it once before. He was a leech for any dreams and hopes she had, he drained the creativity out of her, and it left her empty and unable to create. It was now only fear of repercussions that drove her onward.

"I'm not going to wait all day, Clarissa," warned Valentine as her hands trembled over the paper. "I knew your Mundane studies were abysmal, but if you can't even make a rune, I may have to reevaluate my teaching techniques, and you don't want that."

Clary's hand moved aimlessly at first, tracing lines here and there, not really sure she had an idea in mind. She thought of all the things she'd like to say, and all the people she'd like to say them to. She thought of Valentine, and how much she wanted to speak her mind; of her mother and how she wanted to scream and shake her until she finally understood. She thought of Simon, and Luke and Magnus, and she didn't even know if they were alive, but she wanted them to be, just so she could talk to them. She thought of Isabelle and Alec and Max, and how she wished one day her father would let her seem them again, just so she could tell them how much she loved them. She thought of Jace too, and how there never seemed just the right word to tell him how grateful, how honored, how blessed she felt to have him. And, oddly enough, she thought of Mr. Smith and his friend, Amy. She didn't know why Mr. Smith came to mind, only that she got the oddest feeling when she was around him, that he knew more than he was saying.

Clary thought of all these things, and then thought what it meant to lose them. How, since her father's victory on Idris, her voice had withered and died. No one listened to her anymore, no one cared what she had to say. She was all but mute now, all but for Jace, and that was how it was going to be from now on. She would silence herself to the world, she would have only enough words for Jace and he for her.

Her hand was moving across the paper now, and when she looked down at the rune before her, she beheld a mess of circles. A large circle with many smaller circles within it, two lines crossing each other like a distorted X. The rune didn't really look like anything she had ever seen, it didn't even look like the language of the Angel. Clary stared at it in utter shock, confused at what she had drawn.

"What is that?" Valentine demanded, snatching the paper back from Clary and staring at the circles. "This is not the language of the Angel; this looks like warlock rubbish."

"It-it's a rune," Clary stuttered. "I sweat, it's a rune!"

Valentine grabbed the back of Clary's head by her hair and pulled her forward. "You had better hope it is, Clarissa, or I'll try my best to make the rune, and I'll practice drawing it on you with my stele."

"Please," Clary croaked, feeling her father's fingers twisting her hair in a merciless grasp. "It's the rune you asked for, just-just draw it on me."

Jace had moved forward and had reached forward to stay Valentine's hand. "Try it on me first, Valentine, if it doesn't work we'll know."

"Jace, don't-" Clary pleaded. She had discovered the hard way what had happened to people when her runes failed. Valentine had once ordered her to make an Immobilizing rune, and her first attempt had failed. When applied, the rune had turned her skin to fire and a fever burned through her body. She had made so much noise, screaming, tossing and turning as the fire burned through her, that Valentine had had to tie her to the bed and mark her with a Silencing rune. She couldn't risk the rune being a failure.

"Me first," Jace said louder still, and then offered his arm.

Valentine offered Clary a sad smile and then jerked Jace off the bed. Jace couldn't support his own weight and tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. Valentine lifted Jace shirt up just enough to see the patch of golden skin that was the small of his back. Jace struggled just a little, but knew that Valentine could easily mark Clary instead, and she'd already been through it once. Valentine murmured some words, and Jace felt the familiar burn of the stele, though it felt more binding, even though it had been months since he'd been marked, and waited tensely for the fire that would surge through him if Clary had failed.

Both Valentine and Jace waited, but as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened, they both assumed the rune had worked. Valentine traced the strange circular rune, confused by it. Normally a rune, even if once created by Clary, could be read by a shadowhunter; this rune didn't translate to Valentine. It was just circles in circles in circles. However, when Jace knew that he wasn't about to convulse into withering pain, he rolled away from Valentine, looking like a cornered animal.

"My, my, my," Valentine said, looking slightly impressed. "Clarissa, it seems you can still surprise me. I'm not utterly ashamed of you." This seemed to be rather amusing to him because he spun the stele around and gestured for Clary to show him her back. Clary didn't bother being humiliated or outraged at his comment, just offered him her back and waited for the sting of the stele. As he applied the rune, Clary felt a spark where the knife touched her and then heat race from her back up and down her body. She curled forward and whined just a little.

"I'm rather pleased by all this," Valentine decided, standing up and surveying the children. "Perhaps I might not have to punish you two for the math failure after all. Keep yourself quiet and occupied for the rest of the evening and I might feed you a hot meal."

The new rune Clary and Jace now bore had taken what little freedom they had and quashed it, successfully suffocating them. They had enough words to share between each other at night, a few moments to whisper hopes or dreams, and enough to appease Valentine's demands of them. The silence, though, had left Jace and Clary with little other to do than curl up beside each other and study or read.

At school, they barely spoke, they couldn't afford to. At first, the teachers had liked it, and had thought the children were just being studious, however, it became offensive. Teachers would ask them to answer questions, and they would shrug or look away or shake their heads. When the teachers demanded answers they would give blank looks or one word answers. Within the week, Clary and Jace had both been sent to the principal's office for insubordination.

When Valentine received the call home on Friday that they were being rude and disobeying their teachers, he was quick to take action. Though they pleaded that it wasn't their fault, that it was the runes that had kept them silent, Valentine had blamed them, saying that they should have answered their teachers and shut up with each other. When he beat them, they couldn't plead with him to stop, they could only moan and grunt with each blow.

"Look at this!" the Doctor exclaimed, staring at a screen on the main control. "Look at this! This is impossible! This is unheard of! This is-" the Doctor spun around, expecting to see Amy and Rory waiting for him to explain, but was instead met with the empty room of the Tardis. He glanced around, checking the corners, the staircase, even the area beneath the main floor, but there was no one. "What do I keep those Ponds around for anyway if they're not even going to be here when I'm making my deductions?" As in response, the Tardis groaned and the counsel flashed in green. "Exactly!" the Doctor agreed. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

The Doctor glanced at the clock imbedded in the counsel and saw it was five in the morning. Well, we are up rather late, the Doctor thought, and then turned back to the screen.

What had so shocked him in the first place was the spike in radiation that had woken the Tardis. He had been taking scans of most of New York since their arrival, and had already picked up the rather massive spike that must have been Valentine's portal to Idris. It had told him both where Jace and Clary were, as well as allowed him to monitor when people traveled through the dimensions. He had been trying to coax the Tardis into tracking the signal and then heading off for Idris himself, but she had been touchy as usual and refused to follow it. He supposed she wanted him to stay in New York longer.

However, this radiation aside, the Tardis had recently registered another, very unique type of signal. It had been so shocking to the Doctor in the first place because when the Tardis received it and, after a few days, transposed it on the screen, it was Gallifreyan. The Doctor stared a long time at the image before him, mostly because it had been well over a hundred years since he'd received a message in Gallifreyan, aside from the note River had carved into the mountain, and his mind, for all its speed, couldn't quite process the meaning.

There can't be another Timelord, he reasoned at once. I'd know it if there were, I'd be able to feel it. I'm the last…

The Doctor gave himself a good shake to push the memories away and returned focus to the screen. "But no one alive can read or write Gallifreyan, so, who's sending me messages? Where is the signal coming from?" The scream flickering and presented a map of the region, locking in on none other than the pent house where Valentine Morgenstern made his home. "I should have figured this would be coming for you, Valentine. Where did you get my language from?"

However, the screen couldn't tell him that, and he gave a frustrated groan. It was no coincidence that this was cropping up around the shadowhunters, at least no coincidence that he was there to see it cropping up. Still, it didn't make any sense; no matter how advanced the shadowhunter culture was, it would take a super genius, at least ten times smarter than the average human, to begin to understand Gallifreyan.

"Well, what are you trying to tell me, anyway?" asked the Doctor and drew the image of the words back up. He frowned at it, feeling a rather uncomfortable feeling in stomach. "Speak," he read aloud.

For an hour, the Doctor sat before the screen, staring at the word and frowning. None of it was adding up no matter how he drew the conclusions together. Unless a shadowhunter just stumbled over the word completely by accident, something was causing the presence of this word. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"The only thing that could cause a rift like this is me, so brilliant for me, I guess," the Doctor snapped, leaning back and staring at the word. "Speak, eh? Speak to who? Speak about what?" the Doctor jumped up and looked again at the clock. It was Monday, he had to be at school that day; he'd see Jace and Clary. "Speak to them?" The Doctor stared a moment longer at the screen. "Parent Teacher Conference Day…Speak to Valentine?"

The Doctor jumped up, clapping his hands together ecstatically. "Speak to Valentine, give him a start, that's what I'll do!"

With another rather mad laugh, the Doctor grabbed his coat, and decided on a top hat, since the weather seemed foul, and raced out the door. He'd left Amy and Rory instructions to go out and have some fun around New York, and that he'd be late coming home. As he headed for the school and Jace and Clary and , later, Valentine, his mind was bursting with a plan.

I've got a plan! the Doctor thought to himself. I've never had a plan before; god forbid Valentine Morgenstern try and best me when, for once in a thousand years, I've got a plan.