Update! :)

Jace. Jace. Jace. Her mind chanted as she stumbled through the door, lids drooping over bloodshot eyes, exhaustion threatening to pull her under. Jace was here. He'd rescued them. She tripped again, gasping for air as Jace swung her up into his arms, carrying her effortlessly through the hallway, a crease of worry forming between his perfectly arched brows, a frown of concern adorning his flawless lips. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, and Clary whimpered at the pain shooting through her skull.

"Shhh," Jace cooed, somehow managing to stroke her hair comfortingly with his hand. "It's okay. You're safe now." Clary knew she shouldn't find solace in a man's arms, not after the repetition of abuse and beatings she'd suffered in her life. But in Jace's, she found everything. She found comfort, peace, happiness…home. She felt at home in Jace's arms, something she'd never had since her mother walked out, since her father decided to join the sex trafficking industry. She'd locked herself in her room during the nights, only to be awoken by her lunatic father, insisting she learn all the tricks of the trade. Jonathon was his muscle, the brute force he needed to keep it running smoothly, but he needed Clary for intelligence, to formulate quick and clean extraction plans for their next victims. Of course, after she'd refused, her father decided she was of no use to him and threw her into the lottery of women just waiting to be sold to lonely rich men with too many wives and not enough sex.

Clary shuddered, pushing the thoughts out of her mind by listening to Jace's soothing heart beat. Bu-bum. Bu-bum. She focused on the way his warm breath stirred the hairs at the crown of her head, how her body bounced a little harder when he stepped with his left foot, how his fingers cradled her gingerly, as if she might break at any moment. At this point, she didn't doubt it. Jace shoved through the door quickly, nestling Clary among the blankets strewn across the unmade bed. He was so gentle as he set her atop the bed, carefully arranging the sheets and quilts on top of her. He was just as beautiful as she remembered him, all hard, chiseled features, a mop of blonde hair, and hauntingly beautiful golden irises that sparkled in the sun. She'd loved his eyes most of all. They were the kind of eyes that hid secrets, that allowed Clary to see so many thoughts swimming just below the surface, where it was murky enough that she couldn't make anything out. Still, she knew they were there. But there was something different about Jace. He was silent, working with quick, skilled hands. He was so focused on the task, a little too focused, as if turning his attention toward little tasks of helping her would take his mind off whatever else.

"Can I get you anything?" he managed to croak, and when their eyes met, Clary saw the murky depths of his eyes become clear. She saw the pure, raw agony in one look, the pain and the hurt and the sadness as he looked at her broken and battered face. God, she must have looked pitiful. That must be why he was letting her stay here. Pity. He couldn't just let the rape victim wonder the streets. Stupid morals.

"I'm fine," she gasped, though her groaning stomach spoke otherwise, sending Jace noiselessly to the kitchen, without another word. She wanted to leave his bed, to get up from the room and march through the door, to spare him the awkwardness of having to kick her out as soon as she felt well enough. Maybe she could go to Simon's, though she seriously doubted it. He would smother her. He probably hated her because of his unrequited love. Clary looked up as Jace returned with ham and eggs on toast, holding the plate in front of her as she stared, her mouth watering. I won't eat his food. I won't eat his food.

"Please," she heard Jace's voice crack on the word. She looked up at him before gingerly lifting the sandwich to her lips, moaning audibly at the buttery flavor exploding between her taste buds. She watched Jace avert his eyes out of respect. Maybe she felt comfortable because he still respected her. She heard the seal crack on a bottle of water and chugged half of it the moment Jace placed it in her hands. Jace lifted his hand as if he wanted to stroke her cheek, but dropped it to his side, thinking better of it. She felt the uncomfortable edges of the teddy poking into her ribs and shifted in the bed, trying to take away the pain. She brushed one of her cuts against the pillow case and groaned, gritting her teeth in pain. "What can I do to help?" Jace asked, immediately at her side, reaching for her hands which she gladly gave him. She could handle the heartbreak in the morning if it gave her one night of peace.

"Can I…borrow…pajamas?" Her breathing was heavy, the pain of the bruises ripping up her sides in a domino effect. Jace nodded, reaching into the drawer and grabbing one of his gray t-shirts from the stack. He looked good in gray. It softened his edges, whereas his usual, badass black attire made him more of an avenging angel. He seemed more approachable in gray, more human. Clary blushed as he held it out to her. "I…I can't…exactly…move…in all the…right ways." She looked down, tucking her cheek into her shoulder, hoping to hide her blush. The room was dark though, since Jace had extinguished all the lights on his return trip from the kitchen.

She saw Jace's head nod as he hesitantly reached out toward her silk nightgown. It hurt as she tried to lift her shoulders to get it out. Jace growled angrily. "Fucking Sebastian," he murmured as he fisted the fabric and shredded it, slipping Clary easily out of it without even looking at her. "Are you okay with this?" he asked gently, still not looking at her. Clary murmured the affirmative as Jace reached blindly around her and unclasped her teddy before ultimately ripping that too. He didn't look at her until the t-shirt was securely over her head. He furrowed his brows, contemplating how to get her arms through. Finally, he decided to delicately guide her arms through the sleeves. She sighed contentedly as Jace help her lay back, arranging the blankets meticulously around her, tucking her securely into a cocoon, returning her to that feeling of warmth and comfort and safety.

"Jace?" she asked as he turned to go to the couch. "Why are you doing this?" Jace ran a hand through his hair, his hushed breaths like a whisper in the night.

"There are some things that I want to tell you, but that you are not ready to hear." Clary moved to protest, but it was finally all too much, the unyielding darkness finally dragging her under.

X.O.X.O.X

A loud scream resonated through the apartment, shooting fear through Jace's nerves as he shot straight up. "Clary!" he called, dashing over to the bed wearing nothing more than his black boxer shorts. "Clary," he murmured, looking at the girl in the bed, twisted and tangled in a mass of sheets, her hair matted with sweat, face scrunched up in either fear or pain. "Clary," he shook her gently.

"Jace!" she cried out, still flailing around in the bed. "Jace, help me!" Jace squashed the satisfaction that he was the one she was crying out for and took her up in his arms.

"I'm right here, Clary. I'm right here, just wake up." She slowly stopped squirming, quieting as the nightmare passed. Jace sighed in relief, setting her back atop the bed and fixing the blankets. He brushed a sweaty curl from her forehead, watching her slumber silently, the silver moonlight casting shadows across her porcelain face, her pink lips slightly parted, soft breaths falling evenly from between. She was so beautiful. He didn't know how he'd been so blind before, how he'd said that she wasn't his type, how he hadn't even noticed until she was gone. Her hair was the exact color of leaves in autumn, her eyes green like the tall grasses of summer. Her skin was like fine china, dotted with freckles in the same way the universe was dotted with stars. She was petite, every curve of her body molding effortlessly to him, like two puzzle pieces that fit together. She was strong-willed, brave. Unlike so many girls he'd met before, her personality had depth. She was kind, compassionate, patient, all things that nobody would blame her if she wasn't, not after all the pain she'd suffered. But she'd bared through the adversity and made it out stronger on the other side.

Jace couldn't deny it any longer. He loved this small girl with fire engine hair and pain in her eyes. He loved her irrevocably, undeniably, endlessly. He didn't care that she thought she was broken. He didn't care that she thought she was unlovable. She was whole to him. She was loved by him. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to her cheek, smiling at her contented sigh as she leaned into him. He loved Clary, and that's all he wanted to show her.

X.O.X.O.X

Clary woke up when the sun was already high in the sky, throwing light across the room. Her body was stiff, sore, her belly begging for food she wouldn't get. She lay there, eyes closed, waiting for the familiar poke of the injection, for the numbness caused by the drugs flowing in her veins. But it never came. Had it happened already? She slowly peeled on eye open after another, holding back tears as she realized where she was, as she remembered that she was free. She was in Jace's bed, cuddled into his warm blankets, head nestled on his soft pillow. He'd rescued her, saved her from another night with Sebastian even though he'd already gotten what he needed from her. She released one strangled sob when it all became too much.

"Clary?" an angelic voice inquired from the stove, a spatula in hand as he abandoned whatever he was stirring in a pot. "Are you okay?" Clary nodded, the tears already dissipating. How could she cry when Jace was so close? He was her savior, her protector. Maybe it was because he was probably going to kick her out, to say she was no longer welcome, no longer wanted. She didn't want him to see her weak, to see her break. She had to be strong if she was going to get by on her own. "Would you like some macaroni and cheese?"

Clary couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. "Spirals?"

"Is there any other kind?" She laughed and threw off the covers, suddenly self-conscious in only a t-shirt. It fell halfway down her thighs, but she was still blushing, trying to stretch it down as long as it would go. "Here." Jace tossed her a pair of pants she'd had while she was here and she gratefully tugged them on, watching his back as he finished preparing the macaroni. She slid into a barstool, and Jace set a bowl of steaming food in front of her.

"You eat macaroni with a spoon?" she asked, looking strangely at the cutlery in her right hand. Jace nodded around a mouthful, continuing to shovel spoonfuls of the cheesy noodles into his mouth.

"It's better this way," he mumbled, bits of mac and cheese falling from his mouth. It must make it easier to be a pig. She shrugged and picked at her food, eating small bites now and then. "Jace?" she finally said after he began rinsing his bowl in the sink. He hummed in response. "About last night…you really didn't have to help me. You got Izzy back. I mean, I understand that you don't want me here now that—"

"What?" Jace interrupted, now standing across from her, fingers splayed against the countertop, face white as a ghost as he looked down at her. She gazed shyly up at him, chewing her lip.

"You don't need me anymore," she said finally. "I'm just a burden now." Jace slammed his hand against the countertop.

"Bullshit."

"Huh?" she asked, startled.

"I said, 'Bullshit.' You have never been and will never be a burden to me, okay? If I didn't want you hear I would have paid for a hotel for you." Clary nodded, though not feeling much better as she dropped her gaze to her toes. She gasped lightly when Jace gently held her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, lifting her eyes back to his. "Clary, I really don't want to overwhelm you right now…but I…I…" he trailed off, releasing her. "Nevermind." Clary looked down at her mac 'n' cheese with a newfound interest as she began shoveling it into her mouth.

"You're right. Spoons are much better."

So?