Notes: This update took a bit longer than I wanted—I just finished Allegiant, and I'm in a depression over the ending—but it's here, and you know what they say: better late than never c:
This is a little bit longer than the previous chapters, and there are no new characters introduced in this chapter. There are brief mentions of Isabelle Lightwood—expect her to be introduced as a side character in a few chapters.
Thank you to all my reviewers, and I hope you like this chapter where a fraction of Jace's softer side is revealed.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Mortal Instruments".
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Clary soon found that the clothes were many sizes too large, and difficult to keep on. The jeans dragged against the floor and were too large around the waist, and threatened to fall to the floor. Grumbling, she tore away a strip of fabric from her hospital gown and tied it around her waist into a makeshift belt, praying it would hold up the heavy fabric. It seemed to stay up, and she sighed a small breath of relief and slid the large shirt over her shoulders. She frowned—if she tripled in size, the shirt would still hold much to the imagination.
Clary wasn't the promiscuous type, and hated wearing clothes that displayed her full body, but she still was annoyed by the way the covering clothes hung over her small frame. She made a mental note to remind the ice-eyed boy of her sizes as she caught sight of her reflection, wincing.
Her skin looked more pale than it was usually, and the freckles on her arms, neck, and face—though scarce—stood out against her ghostly skin. Her eyes looked startled, and her flaming hair was tangled and sticking upwards in strange places. She frowned, trying to smooth the hair that showed heavy sleep. The matted hair wouldn't yield under her pressing fingertips, and with a sigh, she looked away from her reflection.
When she opened the door, she heard a stifled groan, and quickly came to the conclusion that someone had been leaning against the door before she opened it. Looking around the side of it, she saw Alec rubbing the back of his head and frowning, seeming to be stifling a glare at Clary. A traitorous smile slid onto Jace's face, and Alec's glare shifted to his partner.
"Very flattering," Jace said, raising his arm in an attempt to wrap an arm around the lithe girl. She ducked under his arm before it could land around her waist.
"Try and let me savor my last few moments of faking being single." Jace let out a short laugh, surprising Clary by taking no offense to the comment. She arched her eyebrows, always being unable to raise only a single brow, and he treated her with a questioning look.
"Is there a problem, Clarissa?" She frowned at the use of her proper forename, "Do you want me to desire being your fake boyfriend? Or rather, are you upset that I didn't make a true declaration of wanting to share a bed with you?"
"Is that your definition of a relationship? Meeting someone, eating spaghetti, and jumping into the bed together?"
"No. Sometimes, it's steak instead of spaghetti," Jace grinned at the annoyed girl, "And sometimes, the heat of the passion is too heavy to wait for a bed, and a simple couch has to suffice."
Clary rolled her eyes at the attractive man beside her, giving him a disbelieving look. "I thought that members of the FBI often had better things to do than rip their clothes off and pick up misguided women. You know, things like shooting people and guarding the president."
"For the second time, I'm not in the Secret Service." Jace quipped, though he didn't seem frustrated in the least. His golden eyes flickered over to Alec, but he was too busy watching the halls for potential threats to bring himself into the exchange.
"Why not? Are you not talented enough to protect the president? If so, I may need another bodyguard."
"Don't call me a bodyguard." He frowned, "And I wouldn't want to be in the Secret Service. Even if I did, I'm twenty. I'd hardly say that I'm old enough to be in that line of work."
"How are you twenty and in the FBI?" Clary asked, looking to Alec. Even he—though still young—seemed to be older than twenty, and the young age didn't make sense for such a serious line of work.
Can't be that serious if he's spending his time running round gun happy and protecting teenage girls, Clary mused silently. She glanced up at the blonde man beside her to see if she mistakenly voiced her thoughts like she had so many times, but his static face told her that her thoughts went unheard.
"I attended military school when I was twelve—I wasn't in the military, but I trained like any soldier would. That's where I met Alec and his little sister." Jace said, rubbing the back of his neck. Clary wanted to ask why he attended military school so early, then found a spike of curiosity pertaining to Alec's younger sister.
She wasn't so interested in his sister, but more so about her relationship to Jace—he smiled when he mentioned her, and the redhead was curious. She found herself wondering if the golden boy had feelings for his best friend's younger sister, and why the thought of Jace being in love with someone sent a prick of anger through her.
More than that, Clary wanted to know why she gave a damn about the love life of a man she hardly knew, and if the spark of anger was some demented form of jealousy, a jealousy she was unfamiliar with—she wasn't a very jealous person, something she had found from her indifference when girls flirted with Simon. She couldn't bring herself to care when Simon brushed off a girl who talked to him, so why would she care about Jace's romantic entanglements?
"Why so young?" She finally asked, taking a while to form the coherent sentence through her vine of tarred thoughts.
"Hmm?" Jace looked down at her—he was a good half foot taller than she—and seemed to take a minute to remember what she could be talking about. "Daddy issues. Nothing to worry your head over."
Alec's gaze met Jace's for a short second—it was an almost unnoticeable exchange, but Clary caught it. She found herself quickly interested in something other than Alec's little sister—the jealousy was trivial, but the look that the two friends clued her in that Jace's 'daddy issues' were something more serious than he made it off to be.
With a last look at the now solemn man, Clary sighed, slowing her pace so that the two boys could lead her through the twisted halls of the hospital.
;
She was led to a black car—one that could blend with the night with ease—and ushered into the passenger seat by Jace, giving her the explanation that he wanted her to get to know the way to her new home. She wanted to interject that she would most likely not be making her way to wherever she would be living from the hospital often, but the shooter flickered across her mind, and she pushed the comment back.
The car stopped after half an hour of driving through traffic, and Alec slid out of the backseat. Clary looked to Jace, and he explained quickly. "He's going in to get clothes that fit you and some supplies."
"Supplies?"
"Food, water, toiletries, batteries, the usual." Clary frowned, 'batteries' seeming a bit out of place with the rest of the list, but she supposed that batteries were somehow vital to members of the FBI. She looked up to the attractive man in the seat parallel to her, and he caught her gaze, "Hmm?"
"Where're we going?" She asked, the question coming out a bit too quickly, having meant to ask 'where are we' and 'where are we going' at the same time. He glanced out the window, resting his hands on the steering wheel of the car.
"Portsmouth."
Clary's head snapped over to him—a difficult gesture because she was already looking at him—and she pulled on his shoulder so that he would be looking at her rather than staring blankly out the window. "Portsmouth, Rhode Island?" Jace nodded slowly, and she hit his arm without a pause, the action making her hand sore where it made contact with his taut muscle, "What the hell, Jace? You said we were going a few blocks away from home."
"When I said blocks, I was referencing the old English term of 'block'. When America was first founded, the English way of speaking was predominant, and they called each state a block—"
"That isn't a thing." Clary said impatiently, though she was impressed with his ability to make up untrue facts so fluidly.
"Look, Clary," Jace said, his chiseled face hardening into a serious tone, "You aren't safe back at your home. Someone tried to kill you, and they'll try again if your mother's intuition is correct. This wasn't my idea, but I agree with it—I've been through a hell of a lot of people who called me on some bullshit emergency, but by the looks of this, this isn't something to ignore."
"I'm not ignoring it." She spoke slowly, her words coming out roughly through barely parted lips and half grit teeth, "But you're being an idiot, and not just you. What if he tries to hurt someone close to me, because that person is the next best option? What if he tries to kill my mom because she's the closest thing to me?"
"Clary—"
"I'm not letting my mom die, Jace!" Clary's green eyes hardened, and Jace's own softened.
He admittedly had never been the most close with his parents—though for a reason—but considered Alec and Isabelle to be some sort of extended family to him. He would throw himself in front of a bullet for each one of them—and he had before. Throwing them out as bait for an insane man was at the bottom of his list.
"I know you don't want to let anyone die." His voice was softer, and she looked surprised by his kind tone, "I'll try to reason with Jocelyn. I can't make any promises, but I'll make a call—"
"Thank you," The redhead smiled brilliantly, and he smiled too, her happiness infectious. His eyes remained on her, watching her eyes in particular—they were unearthly, seemingly luminescent, but the green orbs were strange in a good way, a way that made him want to continue looking at her. She brought her face down, and he watched her for a moment more before looking up to see Alec opening the trunk door of the car.
His friend slipped into the backseat, and he tossed a skirt and tank top at Clary. The throw was awkward from the tight space of the car, and nearly hit Clary in the face, but Jace's practiced hands seized the fabric before she could get hit. He looked at the clothes incredulously, holding up the top and small skirt, "Alec. It's forty degrees out."
"She can find clothes herself when we get to Rhode Island." Alec said, looking to be through with shopping for women's clothes.
"These are fine." Clary interjected, glaring at Alec when the words 'Rhode Island' slipped his lips, "I can wear them to sleep, or something."
Jace watched Clary pull her cell phone out of her pocket and hit a number on speed dial, pressing on the speakers, "Simon?" Jace rolled his eyes, having expected Clary to call her mother instead of the annoying boy.
"Clary, are you okay?" Nice job, Simon. You managed eight seconds of a conversation with her without a proclamation of undying love, Jace thought. Usually, the confidence in him left him with no mental filter, but he was fairly sure that his charge would hit him again if he said the words aloud, and he didn't want her injuring her hand.
"I'm fine, Simon. Where are you? Did anything happen to Mom? Did she tell you about Rhode Island?" She asked, quickly firing off questions as though she only had a few moments to speak to the boy.
"I'm at your new home, nothing happened to her, and yes she did." Simon paused, and there was the buzzing of someone speaking in the background. "Luke says hello."
"Tell him I said hello back," Clary said, then frowned, "Are you okay with it?"
"I'm fine, Clary. Someone tried to shoot you, and even though the person who has to protect you is a self-centered, egotistical, dye-blonde—"
"You forgot about wannabe goth and gun happy." Jace cut in, and Clary held a finger to her lips. Jace could nearly hear Simon's frown from the other end, and tried not to laugh.
"I was getting there." Simon said. "Even though he's all of that, you need protection, and the best protection you can get is protection from a guy who is too cocky to be alive."
"Ah, I knew we were forgetting one." Jace smirked, and Clary mouthed 'shut it' to him, much more amused by the debacle than he should have been.
"Simon, calm down. You can . . . fight him, or whatever men do to resolve their differences."
"Will he be challenging me to Call of Zelda?" Jace quipped, and Simon made a movement that sounded like punching something soft to release his anger—a couch, perhaps.
"It's Call of Duty or Legends of Zelda, not both," Simon said impatiently, "And I'm not going to be fighting this . . . buffoon."
"Are we using eighteenth century insults now?" Jace asked, opening his mouth to speak more, but the annoyed girl in the middle of the call cut him off.
"Bye, Simon." She hung up the phone quickly, not desiring to be in the middle of another interaction between the quarreling boys for a while. She looked up to find a smile on Jace's face, watching as he tried to hide his obvious amusement over the exchange, "What?"
Instead of answering, Jace started the car rather quickly and pulled out of the lot of the grocery store, making the redhead cringe with the quickness of the sudden movement. She quickly pulled a seat belt over her, looking up at Jace to find him shaking his head in disbelief over her actions.
"Is there a problem?" She questioned impatiently—she was finding that she had an extremely short temper for the man she hardly knew. The fact that he could so easily frustrate her infuriated her only more, much to her dismay.
"You're trying to act brave and begging me to let you go home, yet you can't even drive without fastening her seat belt?" Clary frowned, her thoughts crossing between telling him that she would never 'beg' him for everything, telling him to shut up, or informing him that going without the protective belt was illegal.
"Shut up. I'd never beg you for anything, and you of all people should know the law on seat belts." She didn't mean to go for all three thoughts, and earned a strange look from both the driving man and the silent man in the backseat.
"Why should I know the law on seat belts?" Jace gave her a questioning look.
"Because you're in law enforcement." Clary supplied, and Jace gave her a hard look from across the wheel of the car.
"I'm not a cop, Clary." Jace informed her, most definitely not for the first time that day. Clary laughed softly, and the hard look he gave her made her even more amused. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to cover her laughter.
Instead of waiting for her to answer, Jace began fiddling with the stereo system of the car, playing a song by My Chemical Romance, one named Teenagers that she recognized well. She settled back in her seat, letting her eyes fall closed. She had no interest in sleeping—she had slept much too much that day—but had some interest in finding peace from the infuriating man next to her.
;
Though she stayed away, the time seemed to move more quickly than it had while she was quarreling with Jace, and she soon felt the car jerk to a pause. The sudden movement brought Clary's green eyes to open, and she looked over at Jace with a narrow look, wondering why he had stopped the car so badly—though there wasn't much room to drive in New York, a kind of stop like that was easy to avoid.
She heard Jace curse softly under his breath, and watched the attractive man as he swung his door open. Clary and Alec both slipped out after him, curious as to why he had stopped so suddenly and exited the car in the middle of the road. She gave a concerned look to the car, hoping that they would not cause too much traffic, and took a quick few steps around to the front of the car where Jace was kneeling.
At first, Clary thought that he was examining the wheels of the car, but a few steps forward told him otherwise. He was examining an injured animal—a dog—and Clary went closer to kneel beside him, lightly stroking the ear of the shivering dog.
"I thought I hit him," Jace said softly, the gentle tone to his voice cluing her in that he was an animal person. "But he was hurt before the car came—he was only a foot in front of the car's wheel."
"How do you know he wasn't hurt by the car?" She asked, cringing when she saw a violent shiver pass through the small dog—his fur was short, and the night air was rough to him. Jace's elegant fingers made their way to the dog's pulse points, checking to see how quickly or slowly it was breathing.
"No tire marks. He was in a fight with another animal—see these marks?" He held out a hand to Clary, gesturing for her to move closer to him, and she did as told. Her thigh brushed against his, and a brush of heat flared through her at the brief contact. "They're bite marks, a bit like puncture wounds."
Clary decided against commenting on how he would be the expert on wounds and followed his golden gaze to the marks, shivering when she saw how deeply they ran, "Should we call 911? Or take him to a hospital?"
For once, Jace's voice was soft, and there were no traces of anger or sarcasm to his dizzying features, "Alec," Jace commanded, and his friend quickly looked to him, "Take the car, and find some sort of animal hospital. Clary and I will wait here, and call a taxi to take us to her home."
"Shouldn't we take Clary home first?" Alec asked, and Jace shook his head firmly.
"Clary isn't wounded—" He paused abruptly, glancing to Clary's left shoulder. The wound didn't show, but the bandaging around it made the shirt show a bump where the bullet had hit. "She doesn't have an open wound, and she won't die of hypothermia if we wait twenty minutes for a taxi."
Alec didn't wait for a second command—though he was older, he often took Jace's word for random matters—and climbed into the car. Jace walked around the side of the car, gently lifting the dog in his arms and helping to fasten him in the car.
Clary watched his slow movements with some stun—he was made of taut muscle and sarcasm, and she hadn't imagined that he would have such a gentle side towards animals or wounded creatures. Hell, she didn't even know that he could move so slowly, or hold something so gingerly—it showed a side of him that she was unfamiliar with, and a side of him that intrigued her.
She looked away as he finished loading the dog into the car, letting her eyes flicker to the trees as the vehicle sped away and Jace walked back to her. Even with her eyes off of him, she wasn't able to help but think about the look in his stunning eyes or kindness in his face—even though it was only present for a moment, it was still there, and it was disconcerting to her.
Sighing softly, she knew that the golden eyes would keep her awake that night.
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Secondary Notes: The ending was a bit of filling, but I wanted to find a way to show Jace's sensitive side, and nothing is better than helping injured animals, right?
In the next update, expect Jace and Clary to have a few moments while trying to find a taxi in the middle of nowhere ;3
Question of the day:
What inspired your penname? Frays is based off of "The Mortal Instruments"—I was thinking of either Frays, Malecs, or Morgensterns, and I decided that I liked Frays the best c:
drop a review in the box c: