Le finale! The last and final chapter, I might write an epilogue for both Last Hope and Winter Rose, but those will come later. Enjoy the finale lovelies!
Clary sat silent, brooding, in the police station's interrogation room, blind and deaf to the bustle around her. A detective was asking her questions, treating her gently and cautiously, asking if she needed a doctor. She answered one question and one only.
"Jace didn't kidnap me, I went with him of my own free will."
After that, the detective's questions fell on deaf ears. Clary was aware that Jonathan was watching her closely. She didn't dare say anything else, didn't care to. Soon the detective led her out and released her into the custody of her brother, being a minor still. As Jonathan escorted her through the police station, acting for all the world to see a good brother, she saw Jace through the clear glass window, sitting moodily in another interrogation room. She caught his golden eyes, and from her short glimpse, they seemed tortured and agonized as they watched her go past. She didn't want it to, but her heart ached physically in her chest.
Jonathan was all the sensitive, caring specimen of family as he escorted her out to his car; she was terrified Valentine would pop out of nowhere, his stern, razor sharp glare cutting into her skin. But he didn't pop out, Jonathan tucked her into his Corvette and slid into the driver's seat. He said nothing, didn't even look at her as they drove home, no not home, hell. As he drove her back to hell.
Jonathan pulled into his drive way, shutting off the car before he hauled her inside. Clary did nothing to fight back, weak and numb. She didn't know whether she expected it or she was too dazed to react, but she did nothing as Jonathan shut the door behind them. Valentine stood in the entry way, glaring at her with his cool, cutting gaze, cutting straight through her protective listlessness. She didn't cry out when Jonathan kicked the back of her knees, causing her to crumple to the floor; she was on her hands and knees, shuddering as Valentine spoke in his cold voice, without inflection.
"The police just left the house Clarissa," he said, his lawyer voice coating the anger she could hear simmering just beneath the surface. "Did you know that?"
On shaky hands and knees, keeping her red hair a curtain between her and her family's ruthless stares, she shook her head slowly.
"Well, for your benefit, I will tell you what I told the police. My daughter was kidnapped by the unstable, transfer student down the street. He left a note that my daughter hid under her bed mere hours before she disappeared. Of course this was a lie, Clarissa. What really happened?"
Clary's mistake was not answering. She heard the distant click of a belt buckle, as though she were far away and it was an echo ricocheting down a canyon to her ears. She registered hot hands tearing the shirt from her, Jace's shirt, baring her naked chest and back, her bandaged skin, somewhat healed now to be once again abused. What woke her numb body was the crack of leather against her aching skin.
She cried out, going down on one elbow, still struggling to support herself as the fresh pain throbbed through her skin.
"Are you going to answer me Clarissa?" Valentine's voice finally managed to cut completely through the layers of protection she'd thrown up, just like the belt had cut through skin, leaving a warm trail of blood seeping down her back, gathering on her stomach, threatening to drip before finally falling to the floor. "Why were the police really here?"
Clary took a shuddering breath before forcing herself to speak. "I… ran away."
She gasped as another sting lashed across her back, driving her other elbow out from under her, to the cold marble floor.
"Try again," he said. Clary couldn't catch her breath, body shuddering horribly as she heard more blood dripping onto the floor.
"I—I ran away… with Jace," she gasped, feeling her brother's hot gaze sliding over her back. Another whip lash snapped like a bamboo stalk over her skin. She pressed her forehead to the cool marble, shivering as pain flooded her body.
"But now you're going to be punished for that," she heard Jonathan's voice from behind her, trickling ice through the heated blood dripping down her back. A booted foot—she didn't know if it was Valentine's or Jonathan's—flipped her onto her back, making her whimper for she didn't have the strength to scream. Jonathan leaned down and ripped the large white bandage from the Morgenstern brand on her hip.
She let out a moan of pain as he ran fingers over the healing brand, leaving a clean 'M' burned into her hip. Valentine spoke up, standing over her.
"See that Clarissa," he asked, pointing to the brand he and Jonathan had placed there not two weeks ago. "That marks you as a Morgenstern. That marks you as my property. Jonathan's property. You don't have the choice to run off with some boy, you don't have choices period. You—"
Something seemed to strike him at that moment, pausing his speech, his punishment as something crossed his face. Then the belt slammed over her bare stomach, causing a scream of pain to echo through the house. Valentine was on the floor, grabbing her chin in his harsh fingers, forcing her to look at him.
"Where did you get the bandages?" He growled and Clary immediately knew the underlying question, one horrid question that had been the bane of her existence for so many years, the cause of so many of her punishments. Who did you tell?
Deciding lying would save more of her skin, literally, than the truth would she said, "I did them myself, I swear," Clary pleaded, reaching to cover her chest but Jonathan moved quickly, grabbing her arms and pinning them above her head, where he sat, leaning over her menacingly.
She expected Valentine to lash out at her, ferret out her lie but he only snarled, dragging her up by a bruised arm and hauling her to the family room. Though nothing family oriented ever happened in this room. The sound of bone snapping echoed in her head as she was thrown down on the hard tile. She always expected to see blood stains on this tile, some type of evidence that she'd been destroyed here, taken down and abused here, but there was nothing. The tile was as spotless as a newborn lamb's coat.
She numbly registered her wrist burned and ached, the air leaving her in a gust as Valentine sat on her stomach. She twisted and squirmed, trying to get away from the monster that used to be her father. She didn't understand what had happened to the man Valentine was before Jocelyn died; didn't care to know what dark pit of hell that part of him had been sentenced to in order to make room for this monstrosity.
Jonathan came out of nowhere, wrenching her arms above her head so Valentine could use his belt, still stained with her fresh blood, to bind her hands together making her utterly helpless. Valentine grabbed her chin, none too gently, and wrenched it towards him, making her neck ache. His lips came down hard on hers, forcing them apart, claiming his property. Clary hated him for it, hated that this man who'd once been her loving father, swinging her around in his arms, to a man who thought her property, who pinned her down like she was nothing more than paid company. Less than paid company. Like she was trash he could throw away whenever it pleased him.
She sobbed as he forced her lips apart, invading her once more. Jonathan held her wrists tight, pinning her body to the ground as she felt the belt close around wrists, restricting her even more. She was dully aware of the crashing of doors, shouting, screaming. Her screaming. More hands touched her and she refused to open her eyes, being pulled and pushed and touched.
But one voice caught her mind, drew her out of her numb shell.
"Clary?" Jace's voice rang in her head and her eyes shot open. Immediately she was acutely aware of every bare spot of skin, every mark that had just been bestowed upon her, old marks as well. She was aware that her top half was bared, naked, and her hands had been released from the belt.
Her hand cracked across Jace's face, a red spot blooming over his cheek where her hand had hit. He looked utterly shocked, touching his cheek tentatively before returning to look at her. He'd betrayed her, and now he was here where she'd been beaten and raped. After she'd been saved then damned to hell again. And it was his fault, he did this to her, made her punishment worse.
"Don't touch me!" She hissed, dragging herself away from Jace's damning golden eyes even as they set her body on fire, unlike the fires her father and brother made. Confusion flickered in his eyes as she struggled to sit up but she could see, the moment his eyes finished their inspection of her, understanding trickle into those golden disks.
"Clary," his voice was soft, melodious, a rhapsody that seemed to soothe the turmoil in her chest, her body but set off a flame that licked through her veins, wrapping and caressing around her arms, her legs, her core, and squeezing tight. "Sweetheart."
He held out his hands. His smile melted her heart, melted her very bones like they were nothing more than ice that had coalesced over years of harsh winter. Ice that had coated a beautiful rose, wilting it and weighing it down with layers and layers of ice after every new wash of freezing water. And all that the rose needed was a constant, warm ray of sun to slowly melt away the last of that heavy ice.
"You're safe now, really safe now. Valentine and Jonathan are in police custody. They can't hurt you anymore." His voice wrapped around her waist, seeming to drag her closer. He inched just a little closer to her, huddled against the couch, crouching to pin her eyes with his golden stare. "Come here sweetheart, no one's going to hurt you ever again."
His proffered hands looked strong and warm, inviting and comforting. Clary's body ached painfully from her abuse, from her betrayal but a longing bloomed in her chest. A longing to just give up and let someone else take care of her. She shook her head, no, he'd betrayed her. He'd fooled her into believing he'd saved her and taken care of her, but they'd found her again, dragged her back here. Jace was no better than her father and brother.
"No," she cried, her voice hoarse and confused. "No, you betrayed me. You let them find me again. You let me get taken back here." She couldn't stop hugging herself, her left wrist crying out in pain.
Jace let out a pained sigh. "I know, baby, I know. But my father needed to collect evidence to put Valentine and Jonathan away. They'll never hurt you again. Come with me and I'll make sure they never will. Please, sweetheart, you're in pain. Let me help you."
"I can't," she whispered.
"Yes you can. I love you Clary, and you said you love me. Hopefully that's unchanged. Please, let me help," he said and she could see the determination in his eyes, the love and concern as he held his hands out to her. But what squeezed her heart was the truth of his statement.
She could see in his face that he loved her, the panic that she was completely destroyed and would never come back to him hidden in his face. The concern that she was hurt and in pain, needing someone to hold her and care for her. She looked down at his hands, male hands, large and powerful, like Jonathan's and Valentine's that had inflicted so much pain on her. But those tan hands, those wonderful hands had only every caressed her, took care of her, touched her with worshipful fingers. Her decision was made when she saw his smile, his beautiful smile that looked like a ray of sunshine, a peaceful, flower filled meadow that she'd drawn where she could lie quiet and still for hours, alone and undisturbed. But now she didn't want to be alone in that meadow, she wanted to have Jace lie beside her, body pressed against hers and have his mouth brushing her ear, whispering to her of beautiful, mesmerizing things.
She reached out and placed her hand in his outstretched ones, warm, strong fingers closing around her shaking, frozen ones. Instead of pulling her to him like she expected, he brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss that felt like liquid warmth on her hand. "Thank you Clary."
It took her a moment to realize that he was thanking her for trusting him; her trust was a blessed gift she'd given to him that he would cherish and keep for all eternity. Then he wrapped her up in his arms, covering her in a thick blanket. It was only then that she realized that there were other people crowding her home, watching her with bated breath. There were paramedics, police, Jace's family, and her cheeks burned horribly. She clung to Jace, gasping for breath, burying her face in his warm neck as she was swept off the ground.
She heard Jace's mom, the doctor that took care of her. "Jace, honey, we need to take her to the hospital so we can check her out. Now that there's no risk of revealing her to her family, we need to take her there for a full exam."
Clary clutched Jace's neck, her first instinct to avoid choking hospitals and her fear of being discovered. She still didn't believe that her brother and father were put away from her, where they couldn't reach her. She had to struggle to let Jace carry her out of the manor that had been her home for many years, her prison and personal hell for so many more. She was shivering by the time Jace carried her into the ambulance because she wouldn't let anyone else touch her, and she wouldn't have gone into that white and red moving box of condemnation had Jace not been holding her.
In the hospital, Jace urged his mother to get the exam over with quickly. Clary couldn't figure out why he would say that until she realized that her nails were digging into his skin where she held onto his neck, realized that she was shaking with fear and anxiety that had been drilled into her for so many years. She would get punished if she went to the authorities, to a hospital, any outside help. She'd learned to function on her own and if she didn't, she'd pay.
It was all a blur of fear and anxiety as Maryse performed a quick, private exam, reluctantly allowing Robert to bear witness to the injuries to report to police. After that, Maryse bandaged her up, replacing every one with fresh bandages and new salves and balms for the pain. Her left wrist, which had apparently only been sprained, the sound of cracking bones only her adrenaline high mind, was put in a brace before Maryse discharged her and sent her home with Jace, to his residency. Along with a slew of police officers in tow. Robert went to the police station to deal with the paperwork and make sure the evidence wasn't tampered with or stolen by one of Valentine's many outside connections. Maryse had to stay and finish her shifts at the hospital which left Clary alone in the arms of Jace, in his bedroom once more wrapped tightly in his embrace.
"Clary, talk to me sweetheart. Tell me what's going through your head. Stop letting it fester," he whispered softly, mouth brushing over her neck.
Clary turned into the warmth of Jace's body, drowsy and altogether fed up with the land of the conscious but she was too afraid to sleep. Afraid that Jonathan and Valentine would find her, both in her dreams and in reality.
"I wouldn't know what to say Jace," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as she sank into the blessed shelter of Jace's arms. He felt like a warm fire, holding off a blowing winter storm.
"Tell me about yourself then," he whispered. "I know you like to paint and draw, you're smart, you're strong and brave and beautiful. What else? I want to know every little quirk and idiosyncrasy," he said, nipping her ear, making her giggle tiredly. She turned into his chest, laying her good palm flat on his chest.
"Stop Jace," she murmured but Jace kept licking and teasing, moving down her neck.
"Stop what?" He asked innocently.
"Your teasing, stop," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips.
"I've got your attention, don't I?" His nose grazed her throat before he shifted, laying her on her back. His lips confiscated her, taking her sanity from her with a single touch of his lips. He held himself propped over her, his lips making a slow perusal of hers as he slid one hand into her hair. His thumb drew slow circles over the corner of her jaw, fingers tugging softly in her hair, pushing her lips closer to his.
She blew out a whimper through her nose as she clenched her good hand in his shirt, pulling him on top of her so his body lay a solid comfort on her. Jace still made an effort to keep most of his weight from her. Jace parted her lips with his tongue, planting a claim over her body, her mind, her heart, saying that no one can or will ever touch her again, aside from him.
They fell into some very passionate doings, touching, caressing, kissing, fondling, but Jace never undressed her, or went further than she wanted. They didn't go all the way because of her sprained wrist and newly acquired wounds, but that made Jace all the more indulgent, laying tender kisses and licks and caresses on every inch of skin until Clary was nothing but a puddle beneath his fingers. He'd managed to wipe every single thought but of Jace from her mind and she was eternally grateful for it.
Jace was the one who stopped, even though Clary begged him to continue. He laughed softly, gathering her up in his arms, kissing her forehead. "No sweetheart, you can barely keep your eyes open." He paused. "How am I supposed to enjoy you if you're only going to fall asleep after your first orgasm?"
Clary was too tired to hit him or act upon his offer, but she was able to blush, drawing Jace's lips to the tips of her cheeks as he tucked her and himself under the covers. All she wore was one of Jace's baggy sweatshirts and a pair of his boxers, everything loose and soft. She was already almost asleep, her eyelids heavy and her body aching when Jace's arms slid around her, cradling her to his body.
Jace pressed his soft lips against her cheek before she fell into a deep, comforted sleep.
Clary's morning was horrid in her eyes, she was woken by her white knight with light kisses and warm hands. She wanted to remain in bed but she was dragged to court, dressed in a woman's suit with a long skirt. It took a tremendous amount of kisses and reassurances from Jace to get her even into the car to the courthouse. Even more so to get her into the courthouse itself. Now she stood at the doors to the court room, Jace at her back, the court room milling with people. Jace said this trial was just a preliminary, already having the convicting evidence of the taped abuse.
Clary was led to the prosecutor's table, seated on the far side, away from the defendant's table where her father and brother sat, Valentine acting as his own lawyer. When it came time for her to testify, Jace escorted her up to the stand. The prosecutor asked her gentle questions, tentative and sensitive as she responded in her strongest voice. When it was Valentine's turn to cross examine her she objected, frantic and panicked.
"I refuse to be cross examined by Valentine and subjected to his verbal and mental abuse anymore," Clary practically shouted, her chest contracting and her body aching as she watched both pairs of black eyes watching her, disguising their hatred well but Clary could see it, knowing them for so many years.
"Your Honor—" Valentine began but the judge held up his hand for silence.
The judge spoke. "Ms. Morgenstern is the alleged victim, of your abuse Mr. Morgenstern. Ms. Morgenstern, if she sees it as mentally distressing to her already fragile state," he said, looking over the medical records the prosecutor had given him. "She does not need to be subjected to your cross examination."
Valentine's eyes boiled with rage as they glanced over her face. Her body stiffened as she slid from the stand. She had to leave the court room when the video evidence was presented in court. The video began, the night of her branding. At first it was the empty living room but one could hear screams and shouts from the front entry way. Then Valentine came in, immediately bringing a fire to blazing life in the hearth, stoking it with that wretched iron poker.
Jace had told her the police had confiscated the poker as evidence. Then she was dragged in, kicking and flailing, her robe tied closed as her father commanded Jonathan to lay her down. Clary, in the video, panicked and slammed her head back against her brother's nose. She was thrown to the floor, her robe torn open, shirt pushed up. Jonathan's blond head bent toward her mouth, sealing her lips and muffling her screams with a kiss.
She saw the red hot tip of the poker on the screen, heard her own screams, felt her own brand burn. The tip was getting closer to her skin and she flinched in her seat. Closer, closer, the skin was starting to boil off her bones just as the tip touched her flesh. Clary stood abruptly, turning from the courtroom, her own recorded screams filling the courtroom as she left.
Jace found her minutes later, curled up in the women's bathroom, rocking back and forth. He crouched down beside her, not touching her as she rocked herself, head buried in her knees.
"Clary, sweetheart? The trial's over," Jace spoke in a gentle voice, coaxing a frightened fox out of her den. "Valentine has been convicted, sent to prison for life. And Jonathan has been sent to an asylum for the criminally insane. Sweetheart, they're gone. They won't ever hurt you again."
Ice poured through Clary's burning body, a sweet relief from the pain but making her body utterly numb.
"What?" Was her squeaky response, looking up from her knees, eyes wide and watery like those of those of the red haired fox she embodied, green as summer grass and luminous as emeralds. If Jace wasn't mistaken he could see that spark of life so rarely gleaming in her eyes.
"You're troubles are gone now Clary. You're free, sweetheart," Jace crooned, drawing his fox up from the floor, against the heat of his body. "You're free."
The next few days were tumultuous as the police closed up the case, her house being swept clean and property returned. She'd turned eighteen the day after her father was convicted and, seeing as her brother had been sent away as well, she was sole owner of Valentine's savings and property. The will had never been changed from the before years.
Jace pulled into the circular drive, the manor house before her seeming not tall and imposing as it had before but cold and empty, in desperate need of life. Jace helped her from the car, lacing his fingers through hers. He gave her a gentle, sidelong smile, his thumb making small circles on her knuckles.
"Come on, Clary, let's go brighten up your home," Jace said, gently tugging her toward the house. Clary wondered at Jace's words. This place had been her home six years ago, house and hell for the remainder. Now, she didn't know what to call it; now it was just a big empty mansion at the end of the street, sitting between walls of trees, early morning sunlight washing over its warmly painted siding.
From the outside one could never tell it had been a personal hell, the den of vicious lions, preying on the weaker lioness, continuously beating her down in fear of her rising up and overcoming them. No one would know it was her prison for six years, her castle of pain and torture, fortified by grief and money. By power. No one dared ever look the wrong way in the direction of the D.A. and his children. Now, all three, father, son, daughter, were plastered on every New York headline. Big Shot D.A. Makes First and Last Mistake. D.A.'s Daughter Saved After Six Years of Abuse; A Story of Public Awareness. All Star Football Quarter Back Arrested, Charged Criminally Insane.
She had no more family in this world, no more family that she wanted to acknowledge, she thought grimly, Jace leading her up the front steps. He smiled a dazzling smile back at her, forcing her to return such a bright, happy curve of the lips. No, she did have family. Jace was her family now, with his caring touch, his loving smile, kind words. Just his love, his belief in her and her abilities set her heart soaring. She grasped Jace's hand tighter as they entered the once cold, lifeless house. Now with Jace by her side, it seemed more vibrant and the possibility of life and happiness seemed to exude from the walls, just as it had when her mother was alive.
Winter had risen with a fury that year, with its clean white snow and cleansing winds. She was a rose, blooming hardy and fierce in the dead of winter, when all life seemed dead and gone, as though there were no hope, she'd bloomed, with help. Winter brought with it new beginnings and pure, unadulterated happiness, in the form of her Jace.
Her white winter knight, she the winter rose.
