UPDATE! Don't raise your pitchforks yet! I know it's a short one, but I just had the sudden urge to not wait and so here we go!
P.S. The first person to get the boxer reference gets a chance to learn a secret about this story :) SO BE THE FIRST REVIEW IF YOU CAN!
A Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz (for Clary's sadness…iTunes chose it for me on shuffle!)
Out of Control by Hoobastank (for a majority of Jace's parts, these are his thoughts in a nutshell.)
His sense of hearing was the first sense to come back to him as Jace slowly detached himself from the blackness he'd succumbed to the-Angel-knows how long ago. Soon after gaining his hearing, Jace was rendered immobile by the shock of excruciating pain, as if every inch of his body was being set on fire. Not caring who heard him, Jace emitted a low groan and swore when he tried to shift positions, only to cause more pain to shoot up his arms and legs.
Upon opening his eyes, Jace realized he wasn't in his cabin anymore; no, he had absolutely no idea where he was. It was pitch-black for one thing and reeked of stagnant water, something that made the bile in his stomach churn and slowly creep up his esophagus, burning his already raw throat.
But that wasn't what caused him alarm; what did was that his arms were tied behind the blistering hot pole his back was leaning against, secured there by what felt like too-tight manacles that seemed to be crusted over with his own blood. That, and his pants–also crusted with dry blood–were rolled up, revealing that each ankle was handcuffed to the scorching hot horizontal pole he stood on.
"What the–?" he swore, trying and failing to rattle the manacles. He let out another howl of pain as the manacles–the very ones caked with blood–ripped apart from his skin since the dry blood acted as a glue of sorts and rattled about, giving him no leeway whatsoever.
"Don't even bother," another voice whimpered, this one very familiar. It sounded not too far off, but with the whistling of the steam being released from behind him–burning him in the process, mind you–it was hard to tell. The fact that there was no lighting at all didn't alleviate the situation one bit.
"Who's there?" Jace shouted hoarsely, his throat searing with pain. "What in the Devil's name are you and don't say human because no human is capable of this type of torture!"
"Jace," the other voice laughed mirthlessly, a sad sound. "It's me; your father. I'm tied up as well."
"Dad?" Jace, despite the current circumstance, felt his heart thud, knowing that at least he wasn't alone in this predicament. Maybe, if they worked together, they could find their way out and catch the goddamn creature who did this to them… "Is Jonathan here as well?"
"Actually, I am," Jonathan replied, sounding not very far off. Jace felt his heart leap, but only for a split second when he heard footfalls.
"Who's there?" Jace spat. "Who are you? SHOW YOURSELF TO ME, YOU BASTARD!"
"Jace," his father said in a half-warning, half-pleading tone. This confused Jace. Why would he warn his own son to back down? Unless…
A sudden burst of pure white light in front of Jace's eyes blinded him for a second, but when his eyes adjusted, Jace couldn't hide the scream that bubbled in his chest the moment he saw who was cradling the light in one hand, and what that person held in his other hand.
"Stop worrying so much," Izzy chided as she absentmindedly played with Simon's hair with one hand, the other spearing a mini-triangle she'd cut out of a pancake. Clary looked up at the raven-haired girl long enough to flash a dirty look. "What? Worry lines cause you to age faster, and I'm only looking out for a friend."
"I know but…" Clary trailed off the moment she spotted a head of blond curls, only to have her little garden of hope wither away the second that head turned to face her and she realized it wasn't Jace.
"Clary," Izzy sighed dramatically, dropping her hand from Simon's hair. Simon, who had had a glazed look in his eye the moment Izzy touched him, shook his head and stared at Clary as if he'd realized she was there for the first time. "Boys are lazy and are prone to sleeping in late. So what if he misses breakfast? That's a very typical thing to do, and I'm sure you know that as well seeing as you have a brother."
"I guess," Clary said glumly, focusing back on her own chocolate chip pancake. As a kind gesture, Izzy had gotten maple syrup and drawn a smiley face on the pancake with it, but now it seemed that the face was just taunting her. If the pancake could talk, Clary figured it would've said something along the lines of: "ha-ha, my life is so much better than yours. I don't have to feel emotions; I just am made and consumed. You have to have the complicated life and I'm so much better than you!"
Without thinking about it, Clary reached for her knife and stabbed the pancake smiley face in the eye, drawing the knife down slowly until it reached the corner of its lip. She didn't need to look up to see the looks that Izzy and Simon were probably giving her.
The rest of the day didn't improve a bit; no signs of Jace at the disembarking gate in St. Lucia–even though she distinctly remembered him telling her they were signed up for the same excursions–and Clary's heart sank when she was forced to sit by herself on a bus that only had two-seater chairs and everyone else paired off, including Alec with Max.
The ride was long and bumpy and by the time they reached the mud baths, Clary was sick to her stomach–the ride being the least of the reasons why she was nauseous. Somewhere deep down inside of her, Clary had a gut feeling that Jace wasn't just "sick" as Izzy so easily dismissed it–no, something was horribly wrong.
By the time that they reached the cruise ship, Clary ran into the bathroom first, showered as fast as she ever thought possible, put clothes on and ran out of the cabin while slipping the room key into her back pocket. She didn't stop running until she reached his cabin and she screeched to a halt in a similar manner of a cartoon, then proceeded to almost knock down the door with her fist.
Which was why she almost fell flat on her face when the door swung open. Clary caught herself and gasped in shock when she took in the familiar curls, the face she'd recognize anywhere and finally, the scar-clad skin that was exposed almost completely save for a pair of black boxers.
She felt her face flush, but threw herself at him anyway, trying desperately to kiss him and was genuinely shocked when he grabbed her by her arms and pried her off of him, a quizzical expression on his face.
"Jace," Clary panted. "It's me, Clary! Where have you been? Why weren't you on the shore excursion today? I-I missed you." She couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice, especially since Jace just stared at her as if he had no idea as to who she was.
Then, right before she felt her sanity crack, Jace's furrow cleared away and his lips spread into a warm smile. "Ah, yes. About that." He let her go and gestured to behind him. "Father has the runs and Jonathan and I have been taking care of him. We simply could not go on the shore excursion today. I am sorry."
Clary just stared. The gnawing feeling that something was horribly wrong spread throughout her body, knotting her stomach tightly and causing her knees to tremble, but that itself was wrong: here was Jace, standing right in front of her, looking safe and fine. But still…she just couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
"All right," Clary said slowly. "Well, in that case, will I see you tonight? Will you play for me tonight?"
Jace stared at her blankly for a second, then that infectious smile came up again. "Quite possibly. And I will play for you but–" Then what happened next truly terrified Clary. Jace stopped mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly crossing as his body started to convulse, spazzing in a way that seemed very unnatural.
"Jace…?" She took a step closer and laid her hand out to his chest, only to get burned by the intense heat he was suddenly radiating. "Jace?"
Suddenly, Jonathan appeared and before Clary knew it, Jace was pinned down on the ground with his brother on top of him. "You stupid little piece of–" Jonathan snarled, pinning Jace's arms behind him, but then abruptly stopped when he realized Clary was standing a few inches away, her eyes widen in alarm.
Jonathan froze, then flashed her his most charming smile that would've worked on any other day to woo her had he not sprung out of nowhere and was currently pinning down the love of her life. "Why, hello there. You must be Clary. I must apologize that you have to see this, but as you can tell, Jace is an epileptic. He usually takes his medicine only when he goes out, the bastard, and clearly had forgotten to take it now. If you could please just leave us alone…?"
Clary's throat was raw and dry, the gnawing feeling completely taken over her, but she nodded once and quickly bolted from the scene simply because instinct told her. With every pounding step that took her away from the dreaded cabin, Clary never felt more certain about something in her life than she did in that moment. And that certainty was that there was definitely something abnormal going on in that cabin.
Jace lifted his head and opened up his eyes, slowly regaining consciousness. Where was he? Jace was suddenly hit with a nasty case of dé jà vu and had to close his eyes and focus on anything else to keep the memory onslaught from overwhelming him. He vaguely recalled being back in the cabin with Jonathan standing directly in front of him moving his lips, but what was he saying? Jace wanted to know so desperately, but the words were a soft low drone in the background and regardless of how hard he tried or how much sweat dripped down his forehead as he struggled to remember, nothing came out at him.
The next memory was of him waking up the first time–or at least, he thought it was the first time–and taking in this place. Now, where was 'this place'? Pipes, steam, that horrible stagnant water odor…he was in the boiler room! Of course! Jace allowed himself to revel in the fact he was able to remember something, which was huge progress for him. He had woken up several times and wasn't able to recall a damn thing, and the fact that he was able to make himself remember was a step in the right direction.
Okay, now the real question: why was he here? Jace could taste his own sweat in his mouth as it leaked in, pouring down his face in rivulets of different widths all the way down his shirt and pants. God, was he a disgustingly drenched mess.
Jace let out a groan and immediately clammed up, mentally chiding himself. Of all the things he remembered, the most prominent memory was a simple command–don't ever make a noise. It was one of the first things he committed to memory and he had already broken the pattern.
"Jace," a hoarse voice rasped. "Jace–is that you? Are you conscious?"
Well, now he had no choice. "Yes."
"Oh thank God"–the voice he quickly recognized as his dad's–"thank God you're awake when I need you to be. Listen, they aren't here okay? It's safe for me to talk, but I don't know how long I have until they come again. I need you to listen to me and believe every word I say, all right? Don't question or interrupt me. Promise me that."
"I promise, dad," Jace nodded vigorously, regardless of the sparks that popped in the corners of his sight.
"Good, good." A pause. "What I'm about to tell you will shock you and possibly make you hate me for life, but you need to know this. You were born for a reason, brought onto this world for this reason and this reason alone: you are an experiment."
BUM BUM BUUUUMMM! How's that for a cliffie? Mm, I'm pretty excited about this sudden twist of events, anyone else agree?
Jace: I sure as hell am not! You lied to me! You are an evil sadist out to get me, aren't you?
Me: Maybe :) or maybe I'm just out to bother Clary.
Clary: HEY!
Me *shrugs*: Just an idea I'm tossing out there.
Jace: If I get a scar on my face, I just might have to kill you.
Me: I dare you to try.
Simon: Oh god…this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?
Jace: You just love the bloodshed, aren't you? I'm going to call you a bloodsucker from now on.
Simon *appalled*: What? That doesn't even make sense!
Jace: Sure it does, bloodsucker.
Clary: Jace has a penchant for nicknames, sorry.
Izzy: Then do I even want to know mine?
Jace *innocuously*: Of course you do!
Me: Ugh…at this point, we'll never know what happens to Jace's face.
Alec: …That's what she said.
*Everyone stares at Alec*
Alec: OH COME ON, NOT THIS AGAIN!
Me: Aaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnddd, we're done!
