**The character names of The Mortal Instruments are owned by Cassandra Clare. The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by ddpjclaf, 2010. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.**


11. Please Me, Tease Me, See Me

**A Note: My Spanish translator is actually Spanish, as in from Spain. So, any small "differences" you may find from what you might be familiar with—this is why. I'm confident the translations are correct, as my translator speaks Spanish as her first language and I trust her completely to give DJ his schmexy Spanish words (gracias, niniadepapa *muah*).**

Btw, as tacky as I think it looks, I'm leaving the translations of the Spanish in parentheses next to the phrases. *Sigh.* I hate it, but I don't want you to have to scroll down to see what he's saying—and trust me, you'll want to know what he's saying. ;)

Chapter Songs:

**Stay – Shakespeare's Sister

**Hot – Avril Lavigne

**Mercy - OneRepublic


A low, distant rumbling disrupted the silence of the night. The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle, but lightning still illuminated the sky in quick flashes. The last sprinkles dotted the window, and the tiny, clear pebbles obscured any view to the street below. Not that anyone was looking, anyway.

Jace sat, his head bowed, at the edge of the bed, the covers twisted and untucked from the end of the mattress. His hands trembled against his thighs. He clenched and unclenched his fists, but that only made it worse.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes fell on Clary's sleeping form, the sheet draped loosely over her body, her bare hip peeking from beneath. He had the undeniable urge to run his hand over it, feeling the silky softness under his fingers once more. Her face looked peaceful and untroubled—the exact opposite of how he felt. Jace wished he could lie back down beside her and let sleep claim him too. But he couldn't stop his damn hands from shaking.

He closed his eyes and turned back around just as another flash of light brightened the room, highlighting the outlines of its contents briefly before flickering back to black. It wasn't the norm for him to let girls stay over. In fact, Jace couldn't remember a single time he had, or that he had stayed with any of them. Usually, he was the "love 'em and leave 'em" type. Not that any of the girls complained. This was spelled out ahead of time, and taken as a given. But with Clary, nothing had happened in the way he would have expected. Being with her had been unlike anything he had ever experienced. The way she'd moved over him, touched him, kissed him, was just so much . . . more.

When it was over, she'd collapsed into him, her body limp and shaking. They hadn't spoken—there was nothing to say. He'd just held her, waiting until both of their breathing settled and their hearts calmed. Clary had kept her arms draped around him and turned her face into the crook of his neck, her warm breath fanning over his skin. Never before had Jace wanted to hold a girl afterward. Never had he wanted to touch his lips to her head and breathe her in. But with Clary . . .

God, what had he done? He'd promised himself, and everyone else, he wouldn't let something like this happen, yet, there he was. How could he do this to the case? To her? Why couldn't he resist her? Why did his body burn with a single touch of her hand? Why hadn't the need for her lessened? In the past, it had only taken one time. One night, and all the lust and longing disappeared. But not this time. This time, it had only grown.

Jace didn't understand the feelings festering inside him, nor the things he'd felt hours before when he'd allowed her complete control over him. And he had allowed it—not something he ever did. He liked being the one in control. Liked seeing the way he could make a woman fall apart at his hand. And he had, many times over. But last night, he'd given Clary free reign over him. She'd known what she wanted, and he'd let her have it, wanted her to have it. To have him.

The way she'd touched him . . . like he was precious. Like he was worthy. He hadn't expected that, and the confusion he felt because of it overwhelmed him. Clary looked at him like no one had ever looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent as they took him in, her fingers dancing over him with awe and desire. So careful, so gentle, yet with so much passion it had nearly broken him. He didn't deserve her looks or her touch, but she'd given them anyway. And he liked that she had. Jace wanted her to look at him that way again, to touch him again, to lie with him again, and again, and again. He shouldn't want her like this, he knew he shouldn't. But he did. God, he did.

Jace exhaled shakily and lowered his face into his hands. His chest hurt. His head hurt. Why did he hurt? Not in a physical way, but it almost seemed worse than that. What the hell was happening to him?

Thunder still spoke to the night, but it had calmed and the lightning came less often. Jace didn't know how long he sat there, his eyes covered by his trembling hands before he felt the bed shift behind him.

"Jace?" Clary's voice came soft and quiet, startling him. "What're you doing?"

He felt her just at his back, her heat seeping into his skin even though she didn't touch him. Jace lowered his hands but kept his eyes closed. "Nothing." His voice sounded hollow and far away, even to his own ears.

After a moment, he felt a light, warm touch to his shoulder and he flinched, involuntarily, away from it. Clary sucked in a breath and withdrew her hand. Jace felt the loss of it instantly.

"I . . ." she faltered. "Maybe I should go."

The mattress below him rose slightly, and he felt her move away. Unease grew in his chest, and without looking, he reached back and grasped her fingers. "No." Turning slowly, he met her wide, curious eyes in the dark. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he knew with absolute confidence he didn't want her to go. God, he was going to hell, he knew he was, but he couldn't stop himself. Jace's throat tightened around everything he wanted to say, but one whispered word managed to slip through.

"Stay."

Clary's brows rose and she swallowed. Uncertainty swam in her eyes, but she conceded anyway. "Okay." She looked down and Jace followed her gaze to where her hand lay encased in his. "You're shaking," she said quietly, and then looked up once more.

Jace let out an unsteady breath and met her eyes.

Clary studied him for a moment, her face softening before she moved back slowly and pulled against his arm. "Come here," she said.

He obeyed, no questions asked. Clary lay down on her back and Jace settled beside her. Flipping over onto her side, she met his gaze and lifted a hand to his cheek, her fingers tracing softly over his brow. Jace closed his eyes and allowed the feeling of her touch to take over. Clary continued her gentle strokes, touching every part of his face and then trailing down his neck, over his shoulders, and finally ending at his hand where she laced their fingers together. Jace felt the tightness in his chest abate and the trembling decrease. His entire body relaxed and his mind quieted. He breathed out slowly, feeling as the strange anxiety that had been present just moments before slipped away like sand through a sieve.

After several minutes, Clary's quiet voice disrupted the silence. "I like you like this," she said.

Jace opened his eyes and lifted one brow. "Like what? Naked?" A small smirk settled on his lips. "I'm not surprised. In fact, I'd be quite insulted if you didn't."

Clary rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. "No—well, yes—but that's not what I meant."

He reached up and brushed a few red strands out of her face, noticing the tremor in his hand was gone. "Then what did you mean?"

Clary studied him a moment longer before lifting her hand to run her fingers along his cheekbone once more, her eyes moving from one of his to the other. "Without the mask." She paused. "Not that I don't enjoy a good dose of your assyness, but . . . this is nice. I like when you let me see you."

Jace felt his chest tighten once more, but not in the way it had earlier. He scooted a little closer, his hand gently cupping the swell of her hip. "You like me, Spitfire?" he said, teasingly.

"I think I proved that last night, Cass."

He shook his head and allowed his hand to creep up, settling in the dip of her waist. His fingers itched to explore her entire body again. "That just proved you wanted me, not that you liked me." Leaning in, he touched his lips to her shoulder and ran them along her smooth flesh until they reached her jaw. "You can sleep with someone and not really like them."

Jace heard her breath hitch as a tremor shook her, and he smiled into her skin. Clary pulled back and tucked two fingers under his chin, lifting until he was forced to meet her gaze. Her eyes locked on his. All traces of teasing left her face.

"I can't," she said.

He swallowed hard and felt his eyes widen.

Clary rolled hers. "Come on, Jace, it's not like I'm declaring my undying love or anything."

"I never said you were." Jace struggled to compose himself.

"You didn't have to. The look on your face said it all." Biting her lip, she glanced up at him from under her lashes. The action made him want to suck her lip until it came out from between her teeth. "But, I'm not going to lie and say I don't like you. For whatever reason, I do. I may not understand you to save my life. But I do like you." After a moment, she flopped back onto the mattress and laughed. "God, you're such a guy."

He chuckled. "Of course I am. I think I more than proved that." Jace rolled over and grabbed her leg under the knee, hitching it up over his hip. "If you'd like, I could prove it again," he whispered, rubbing his nose along the sensitive flesh just below her ear. She shivered with the movement.

Clary threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. He moved back and met her stare. "Is that supposed to be a threat, Cass?" She smiled and raised a brow. "Because if it is, you know I'm more than able to keep up."

Jace shifted until his body covered hers. Warmth flowed through him as he pressed against her, and she raised her knees, hugging him between her thighs. It felt so indescribably good to be there with her that Jace forgot all of the rationalizations why he shouldn't be doing exactly what he was about to do. For whatever reason, this girl made him lose his sense, and a large part of him liked that, liked how out of control she made him feel. He'd spent so long having to be grounded, disciplined, that letting loose and just feeling had him intoxicated.

Jace held himself up with his elbows and couldn't help but return her grin. Clary's hands left his neck and slid down to his shoulders, her fingers curling into his skin. Sparks ignited between them, flaming just as hot as they had the night before. Her eyes burned into him, beckoning him to come. And then he was gone. She had him, all of him, twisted up and lost in her. Leaning in, Jace brushed his lips against hers and said, "I knew you couldn't resist, Spitfire."

.o.O.o.

Gray clouds hung ominously in the sky and large puddles pooled in the low lying areas of the street. Clary tried her best to sidestep them, not having planned her shoe apparel appropriately for wetness. A chilly breeze wafted through the air, carrying the last of the moisture from the storm the night before. Loose brown, red, and yellow leaves drifted from large trees to the ground below. The weather evoked a quiet, depressed sort of feeling, but not even that could lower Clary's spirits. Her body hummed with pleasant vibrations. Not a single ounce of stress remained in her muscles. A probably silly-looking smile stretched across her face, and people most likely thought she was insane. But she couldn't care less. For the first time in a long time, she felt good. Really, really good.

A horn blared to her left, breaking her out of her happy place, and she startled. Holding one hand up in apology and the other to her racing heart, she hurried the best she could on her stiff ankle to the other side of the street.

The main quad of the campus loomed straight ahead. Students moved from building to building, textbooks clutched in their hands and backpacks hugging their frames. Clary walked to the main courtyard where she was supposed to meet Maia before their first class. She tried to focus on the present, but couldn't help when her thoughts kept straying to the night before. The desperate touches, heated kisses, murmured words, all of it replayed over and over in her mind like a soundtrack on repeat. A chill swept down her spine at the memory.

Leaving that morning had been beyond difficult. She'd awoken to dull gray light streaming in the window, and the covers twisted around her naked body. Her limbs were stiff and sore, but not in a way that was unpleasant. Jace lay on his stomach, his face turned toward her with several unruly curls strewn over his forehead. His back rose and fell steadily in sleep.

Clary took several minutes to just look at him, studying the way his firm, tattooed arm hooked up and disappeared under the pillow, remembering how they'd felt wrapped around her. How warm, safe, and extraordinary he'd made her feel. The sheet just barely covered his perfect, bronze ass, but left the rest of his sprawled out body on display for her to see. She wanted to touch him, and God, she wanted to kiss him, but she managed to restrain herself, letting him sleep.

The thought crossed her mind about what would happen now. Would they just go back to the way things were and pretend nothing happened? Would they be friends? Would they continue to do this if they were just friends? Could she do that?

Jace had made it clear that he'd never been in a serious-type relationship, and from his whispered pleas for her not to fall in love with him, it didn't seem like he was interested in one now. If Clary was perfectly honest, she'd never had a relationship like that either. Boyfriends had come and gone—nothing too serious. But she'd never been with more than one person at a time. She didn't do casual.

She'd considered these things the night before, but at the time, she didn't care. He'd stood before her, his eyes so open and vulnerable, and said he wanted her. She couldn't stop herself from taking what he offered. What she'd wanted him to offer for so long. And she'd refused to let herself question that. It was what it was.

But now, in the light of day and under the weight of everything they'd said and done, she had no idea what to do. Finally, she decided she'd just wait and see. There was nothing she could, nor that she wanted, to do to change what had happened between them. So, she'd decided to just let herself feel good. To feel happy. To let everything happen how it would, without the worry and doubts she'd normally let plague her. Even though, more than anything, she wished she could curl back up next to him, wake him gently, and wrap her body around him once more. Taking and giving, and feeling like, just for that moment, he was hers.

Closing her eyes briefly and drawing in a breath, Clary stepped onto the covered walkway containing the student mailboxes. Maia stood lounging against the wall, her hair poofy and frizzing up in the damp weather. She twirled a set of keys around her index finger, whistling as she watched the other students pass by. Clary stepped up to her, doing her best to push thoughts of Jace from her mind.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

Maia raised her brows and pushed back the sleeve of her brown corduroy jacket, glancing down at her watch. "Are you? Huh, I hadn't noticed." She looked up and frowned. "Jesus, you look like hell."

Clary rolled her eyes and moved to the mailbox assigned to her. "Gee, thanks."

"I'm serious." Maia followed her. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

A series of images from the night before flooded her mind once more and Clary shivered. "Not really."

"You should take better care of yourself," she scolded. "Sleep is important—unless it's interrupted by some smokin' hottie, which is the only acceptable sleep stealing reason in my opinion." Maia's eyes slid over Clary. "Not that that would be a problem for you."

Clary spun toward Maia, her mouth falling open. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch." Maia rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying you couldn't, I just know you wouldn't. One night stands aren't your thing."

A sickening feeling curled in Clary's gut. She swallowed against it. "No. You're right, they're not."

"See. And since I know you're not seeing anyone . . . well, it can't be that, so sleepless nights are pointless for you."

Clary tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it.

"All right, so, I need some caffeine. You wanna get a cup before class?"

Clary shook her head, her stomach rolling. "No. I'm just gonna check my mail and get to class." She needed a moment to clear her head and compose herself. Maia's words struck a chord, one she'd been trying really hard not to focus on.

"Fine." Maia turned and started toward the small snack bar located just inside the main student building. "I'll be back in five."

Clary nodded and turned back to the mailboxes, letting out a slow, calming breath and trying to revive the happy feeling she'd had moments before. She drew her keychain out of her jeans pocket and fumbled with it until she found the small silver key. Placing it hastily in the lock, she twisted and opened the box. A couple of envelopes stared out at her, and she reached in to get them. Just as she pulled her hand out, a voice sounded in her ear.

"Why didn't you wake me, Spitfire?"

Clary squeaked, jumped, and nearly dropped her mail on the ground. Spinning around, she met Jace's golden eyes. And there was the happy again. With a hand raised to her chest, she exhaled. "Jesus, you scared me."

"I would think," Jace cocked his head to the side, "that after last night, you'd remember my name." He drew his lower lip between his teeth.

"Ha-ha." Clary narrowed her eyes and shoved the envelopes into the opening of her bag, noticing her hand shook a little. She clenched her fist to hide it from him. Raising her gaze to his, she smirked. "Maybe you're just not all that memorable."

Jace grinned and released his lip with a small smacking sound, drawing Clary's eyes right to it and causing her heart to flutter just a little in her chest. "Is that so?"

Her pulse picked up speed, blood sailing through her veins. It amazed her how he could affect her like this. She wondered if it would ever go away. "Possibly. Maybe you should remind me, what was your name again?"

"Are you teasing me?" He stalked toward her, and she backed away, giggling nervously.

"I don't know. Who are you?"

"You know, my ego might've been slightly bruised by that if I thought there was even a slim possibility that I failed to leave an impression on you." Clary's back hit the wall of mailboxes behind her. Jace leaned in, his mouth almost touching the arc of her ear and his voice lowering to a near-whisper. "But since I spent most of the night listening to you call my name over and over and over again, I know you're just being a smartass. However, I think I should punish you for teasing me nonetheless."

Clary closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. No matter how much she knew she shouldn't let him get to her—especially considering she had no idea what to make of what happened between them the night before—she couldn't help the anticipation swimming in her stomach. "Jace . . ."

She felt his lips curve into a smile. "That's it, baby." His breath spread over her neck, causing prickles to crawl up her spine. "Say my name. I know you like how it feels in your mouth and how easily it rolls off your tongue."

Clary let out her breath in a gush and heat flooded into her chest. Jace reached up and cupped her cheek, holding her face to him so she couldn't move away. She knew what he was doing, but God help her if she couldn't stop it from happening.

"Jace, please . . ."

"'Please' what, baby? You don't want me to stop. I know you don't want me to stop. So . . ." He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear. "Dime qué es lo que quieres." (Tell me what you want.)

Clary gasped. Oh, hell. Not the sexy Spanish! "Jace," she whimpered, her breath growing shallow, "that's not fair."

"Mmm," he hummed, the sound vibrating through her entire body. "Haré lo que quieras si prometes gemir mi nombre así otra vez. Por favor, nena," his voice lowered to a whisper "otra vez." (I'll do anything you want if you promise to whimper my name like that again. Please, baby, again.)

Clary reached out and wrapped her hands around his biceps, her fingers digging into his jacket. Because she was a glutton for punishment, and he'd asked in that damn sexy Spanish, she said his name again. This time, though, it was barely a breath. "Jace."

Jace's voice grew rough and Clary could feel his lips moving just over the skin of her neck. "You have no idea what it does to me to hear my name coming from your mouth. I can remember every single time you said it last night. Especially when it came out as only a breath, or how it raised an octave with every repeat and got a little more desperate each time I—"

"Okay! Okay!" Clary reached up and covered Jace's mouth with her hand, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. "God, you're an ass!"

He chuckled against her skin and then kissed her palm.

She moved her hand away slowly, warmth rushing into her cheeks as his eyes locked on hers. They were still unguarded and open like the night before. "I think you've made your point." She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, taking in deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heart. After a moment, she glared up at him. "That was just mean. You know what your sexy Spanish does to me."

"I do." He leaned against the mailboxes and crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk growing. "Now you know better than to tease me."

"Yeah, I don't think so." She stood and pushed back her shoulders. "Sooner or later, Cass, I'm going to figure out your weakness, and I'm going to torture you back."

Jace pushed off from the wall and swiped his fingers across her cheek. "And you know I can't wait for you to try, Spitfire. Now, you didn't answer my question."

"Sorry. Someone distracted me. What was your question again?"

"I asked why you didn't wake me up. You know you shouldn't go out alone right now." He stared down at her and she could see the annoyance—or was it anger, she couldn't be sure which—in his eyes.

"And you know how much I hate it when you try to babysit me."

His expression softened. "I was just saying I would have come with you."

Clary swallowed against the strange fullness in her throat at his words. "Simon had an early meeting with one of his professors, so he rode with me. I didn't want to disturb you. I . . ." She took in a deep breath. "I wasn't sure what the . . . uh, rules were with," she gestured between them, but her hand faltered halfway through and fell to her side, "stuff like this."

"'Rules?' 'Stuff like this?'"

She sighed. "You know what I'm talking about, Jace." Clary glanced around and lowered her voice. "I don't make it a habit to just jump into bed with people I'm not . . . with."

Jace furrowed his brows and took a step toward her. "Clary, listen—"

"No. Just—" Clary raised her hands, palm out, her heart halting to a near-stop. She really didn't want to hear his inevitable let down. "Just don't, okay? I don't need you to let me down easy. I'm fine. I knew what I was doing last night, and I'll figure out how to act. Just . . . just give me a little time."

Jace moved closer and took her chin in his hand, his fingers warm and light on her skin, and his eyes intent on hers. "Clary, I'm not—"

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Maia's voice came from behind Jace.

Clary flinched and peered behind him. Jace's hand fell from her face and he turned toward the voice as well. Maia stood slightly off to their left with Isabelle at her side. Both girls stared at them in curiosity. Clary swallowed and forced a smile.

"Hey. I didn't think you had class today, Izzy."

"I don't." Isabelle's eyes traveled between Clary and Jace, narrowing slightly when they fell on him. "More research."

"Oh."

Jace shuffled beside her. Clary turned toward him, catching the tail end of a look he gave Isabelle. She furrowed her brows and glanced between the two of them, trying to decipher their silent conversation.

"Well, I should get to the library," Isabelle said after a few moments of glaring at Jace. "Jace, walk with me?" A threatening tone tinged her voice.

Jace stiffened slightly. Clary frowned, wondering what in the world was going on between them. Isabelle moved toward him, grabbed his arm and pulled him after her. Jace gave Clary a look that said, "We'll talk later," and reluctantly followed Isabelle out into the courtyard, jerking his arm away and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Clary watched as they walked away.

Maia moved up beside her and whistled. "Uh-oh, somebody's in trouble."

"Yeah," Clary said slowly. "I wonder why?"

Maia snorted. "Who knows, but does it really surprise you? I mean, that guy's such an ass."

"Mmm." Clary watched as Izzy's dark head and Jace's blond one disappeared into the growing swell of students. "He's not so bad."

Maia rolled her eyes and started walking toward the courtyard Isabelle and Jace had vanished into. "Damn, girl. You really need to get a piece of that, and quick."

"What?" Clary asked, hurrying to catch up. "A piece of what?"

"Him. You know, Motorcycle Hottie."

Clary's mouth dropped open and her face heated.

"Oh, don't give me that look, you know you wanna." She shrugged. "I'm just saying, you should get some because then you could move on and quit lusting after him."

"I'm not 'lusting' after him."

"Oh, no?" Maia said. "Then what's that little drool doing on your chin?"

"Shut up. There's no drool."

Maia chuckled. "Fine, you got me there. But it's pretty hard to mistake the look in your eyes every time you see him."

Clary sighed. "I don't have a look."

Maia stopped and grasped Clary by the shoulders, turning her toward her. "Yes, you do. Everyone can see it. I'm pretty sure even he can see it. He'd be blind not to. You need to get him out of your system. Sometimes the lure is better than the actual thing."

Clary closed her eyes for a moment and then looked back out into the courtyard. Students swarmed the grounds, some running, some walking, others crowding around the large stone tables situated in the center.

"Come on." Maia gestured to Clary. "We're going to be late."

Clary hitched her bag over her shoulder without a word and followed Maia onto the sidewalk, her words swirling around in Clary's mind.

Her friend meant well, she knew she did. But what she didn't know was that Clary had already gotten snagged by that lure. And as bright and shiny and outstandingly amazing as that lure was, there was no doubt in her mind that the actual thing would be so much better. No small portion, or "piece" could satisfy. Clary wanted the whole thing, and nothing but that would ever be enough.

.o.O.o.

Isabelle stalked ahead, her hair flowing out behind her in a mass of inky strands. Jace couldn't hold back the chuckle building in his throat as he watched her strut in front of him. She would look, to anyone who didn't know her, to be a formidable girl, her stride confident, her stare menacing. Many men had cowered when faced with her—for good reason. But Jace knew her better than that. She'd been present in his life since they were both children. Their parents always moved in the same circles, worked at the same place, had the same friends. It was inevitable that he, Isabelle and Alec would grow close—as close as siblings. Because of this, even when Isabelle pulled her dominant act with him, Jace didn't fear her.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," Isabelle called, not turning to face him.

"Oh, yeah?" Jace asked. "Why not?"

Isabelle stopped, and Jace almost ran into her back. She whipped around, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into a space between two of the buildings, pushing his back into the brick wall behind him.

"What the he—"

"You want to tell me what this is, Jace?" She shoved a large envelope into his chest, and looked up at him expectantly.

Jace glanced down briefly and then back up. "It's an envelope, Isabelle."

She rolled her eyes. "Just look inside, jackass."

He reached up and carefully plucked it from her hands. "What is this?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Jace sighed and slipped his finger under the flap, opening the envelope. He reached inside, his fingers closing around a few stiff sheets. Pulling them out, he flipped them over and peered down. His brows rose and his mouth dropped open. "Where did you get these?"

"Wh—where did I get them? Really? That's what you choose to ask?"

"Just answer the damn question, Isabelle! Where did you get these?" He held up the grainy, black and white photographs of himself and Clary. Some of just the two of them talking outside of their building, and others of his hands fisted into her hair and his mouth on hers.

"I found them outside our door when I left this morning."

"Was there a note?" Jace asked as calmly as possible, considering he felt anything but.

"No. It wasn't even addressed to anyone in particular."

Jace sucked in a breath and his throat tightened as he peered at the contents of the envelope. "Iz—"

"You promised, Jace. You promised," Isabelle interrupted, her voice shaking with anger. "You said you could handle this, that you wouldn't take things too far."

Carefully, Jace tucked the photographs back into the envelope, the paper crinkling under his fingers. He lifted a hand to his hair and leaned his head back onto the wall, the fake calm on the verge of cracking. "Who's seen these?"

Isabelle stared at him incredulously. "Is that all you have to say? 'Who saw these?'"

"For now, yes."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "Me and Alec."

Jace bit his lip, laughed under his breath, and nodded. "Alec."

"Yes, Alec!" Isabelle's eyes widened. "What? You expected me not to tell him?" She moved forward and thrust her finger into his chest. "What the hell are you doing, Jace?"

Jace pushed her hand away and started to move forward. "It doesn't concern you, Isabelle."

She reached out and shoved him back into the wall. "It doesn't concern me? How—how can you say this doesn't concern me, or Alec even? Anything to do with the case concerns us."

"Well, this doesn't have to do with the case." He threw envelope down into a nearby puddle and crossed his arms over his chest.

Isabelle raised her brows. The air around her seemed to stop. "She is the case!"

"No!" He leaned down, his nose nearly touching Isabelle's. "Valentine Morgenstern is the case. Clary is . . . she's . . ." Jace fumbled over his words and then stood back up straight, running his hands through his hair and lacing them behind his head. He knew Isabelle was right, Clary was the reason they were there. She may not have been the actual case, but she was part of it. The part they'd been assigned to use, to exploit. Letting out a frustrated growl, he kicked at a few loose pieces of garbage littering the space. Crouching down, he lowered his head and swiped his hands over his face. "Damn it. I don't know."

Isabelle knelt down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jesus, what the hell's gotten into you?" She paused and inhaled sharply as if she'd just realized something.

"What?" He looked up at her.

"You're falling for her."

He laughed and stood. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are." Isabelle got to her feet, her eyes still studying him with incredulity.

"And how the hell would you know that?"

"God, it's so obvious I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

"This is ridiculous," Jace muttered.

Isabelle threw her hands up in annoyance. "For someone so intelligent you can really be dense sometimes." She placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. "Are you really trying to tell me that you don't feel something for this girl?"

He shook his head and looked away, a strange heaviness pressing on his chest.

Isabelle lifted her hands and started ticking off points on her fingers. "You treat her better than I've ever seen you treat anyone. You act like a protective ass all the time. You volunteer to hang out with her when she's frightened. You get all worked up and hostile when there's even the slightest hint of danger towards her. You've completely stopped dating. And now," she gestured to the wet envelope lying in the middle of the puddle, "you're apparently kissing her—and God knows what else. Tell me how else I'm supposed to interpret that?"

Jace shrugged. "I don't much care how you interpret it."

"Come on, Jace."

"What?" He lifted his hands and let them drop to his thighs with a smack. "'Come on', what? I don't know what you want me to say."

Isabelle moved forward and reached out for him, her expression softening. He flinched away. She lowered her hand slowly. "It's okay, all right? It happens sometimes to agents with their subjects. It's okay if you have feelings for her—"

"No! It's not!" Jace snapped, his entire body vibrating with all the pent-up frustration and confusion. "It's not okay. Not for me. I—I don't feel things, Isabelle. That's why I'm so good at what I do. That's why they picked me to do this job. They knew I could go in and charm her into trusting me," he rambled. "They knew I could get the job done and leave it without a care." He took in a shaking breath. "That's why it had to be me . . . because I don't feel."

"That's not why they chose you."

"Yes, it is, Izzy. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it."

"You're good at your job, Jace. And I know you know that."

He nodded. "I do know that. But that's still not why they picked me to do this particular job."

Isabelle sighed and leaned against the wall next to Jace. "You know, if this gets back to Hodge he'll have to tell your mother. And she'll remove you from the program. We don't get the same leniency as full Agents, Jace."

Jace closed his eyes and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I know."

"You need to get a hold on this. You need to fix it before it gets out of hand."

Jace looked up into the gray sky and a couple of cool drops fell onto his face from above. He laughed without humor. "Well, it's probably a little too late for that now."

Isabelle tilted her head and gazed up at him. "Is it?" she asked quietly, the insinuation thick in her voice.

Jace closed his eyes and drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. "Yeah, I think it is."

.o.O.o.

The pencil moved in smooth, fluid lines, each curve perfectly embedding the image into the crisp sheet of paper. Clary ran her fingers over the drawing, shading and blending with every stroke. Setting her pencil down, she glanced at the paper and closed her eyes, laughing at herself. The only thing she'd seemed to be able to draw all day was Jace. His eyes, his lips, his hands—any part of him that entered her mind. She just couldn't stop herself from thinking about him, no matter what she did to try to occupy herself.

Throwing her sketchpad aside, Clary sank down into the pillows on her bed. She lifted her hand and clutched a chunk of her hair, letting out a slow breath. Her eyes moved to the window, focusing on the pale yellow moonlight cascading through the open shade. Finally, the rain had dissipated, leaving a clear night sky—well, as clear as it could be in the middle of the city.

Clary heaved herself off the bed and lowered her feet to the floor, intent on going over to the window, but tripped over her bag on the way there. She managed to catch herself from falling on her face, but the contents spilled all over the carpet.

"Damn," she muttered as she knelt down to gather her belongings, shoveling the old receipts, feminine products, and change back into the bag. When she noticed the envelopes she'd taken from her school mailbox that morning, she paused and picked them up. One was just her outstanding bill for the first semester classes, but the other looked like a card. She furrowed her brows and flipped it over, smiling immediately when she read the name in the top left corner. Luke.

Ripping it open, she pulled out the belated birthday wish. She couldn't keep the grin from her lips as she read his words. It had been a while since she'd visited with him. She'd have to make it a point to go out to the country and see him soon. He'd always been one of her favorite people in the world, and his place was where some of her most precious memories were formed. Clary closed her eyes and hugged the card to her chest, reveling in the good feelings it gave her to remember.

For a moment, she wondered why he'd sent the card to her school box, but then remembered she hadn't given him her new address. Making a mental note to fix that, Clary shoved the card back into the envelope and moved to her night stand to place it in the drawer. When she slid it open, she paused when her gaze fell on the slip of paper she'd found in her locket. She picked up the strip and carefully unfolded it with unsteady fingers. The jumbled mix of letters and numbers stared out at her once more. Furrowing her brow, a strange realization pinged in her mind. To anyone else, they made absolutely no sense. And to her, they hadn't at first either. But now . . . now she saw something. Something she hadn't noticed before. The totally random string seemed not so random anymore as her eyes drew the parallels.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her heart thrumming in her chest. A spike of excitement coursed through her as she threw on her shoes and grabbed her hoodie, pushing her arms hastily through the sleeves. She needed to see Jace, needed to show him what she'd discovered. Rushing out of her room, she hurried through the living room and made her way to the front door.

Simon whipped around on the couch. "Where are you going?"

"Upstairs. I, uh, need to talk to Jace." She yanked open the door and stepped out into the hall.

"But—"

"I'll be back in a bit," she called, interrupting Simon's questions and slamming the door behind her.

Clary took the stairs two or three at a time—as fast as her stiff ankle and short legs would carry her. She was out of breath and panting by the time she reached his door. Lifting her fist, she pounded on it furiously, knowing he would probably think she was a lunatic by the intensity of it. After a moment, the door opened, a surprised Alec looking out at her.

"Clary, what—"

"Can I see Jace?" She struggled to get the words out through her ragged breathing. A cramp had started in her side and she clutched it with her hand.

"Uh, he's not here. Well, not exactly. He's up on the roof." Alec's blue eyes studied her carefully.

"Okay, thanks!" she called over her shoulder as she ran toward the rooftop access stairs.

After nearly tripping over her own feet three different times, she burst through the roof doors. The moon sat full and bright in the sky, its rays illuminating the stark darkness. Clary scanned the vicinity, looking for Jace's blond head. Finally, she spotted him, in the far corner of the roof, leaning on his elbows against the three-quarter wall surrounding the edge. She sucked in a slow breath and started toward him. He didn't seem to notice her, his eyes fixed on the city below. A light breeze moved through the area, lifting his hair and ruffling the curls away from his head. Something about the way he looked made Clary's chest clench. He seemed . . . contemplative and almost . . . sad.

"Jace?" she said as she drew closer.

He turned toward her, the small crease between his brows disappearing momentarily when his eyes met hers. "Clary? What are you doing up here?"

A stronger gust of wind curled around her and she shivered against it. "I was looking for you." She moved closer, pausing a foot away from him.

"Well, you found me." He turned away. An unsettling chill slithered up her spine. "Did you need something?"

Clary swallowed against the unease crowding her throat. Why was he acting so distant? Was he going to push her away now? She'd known this was a possibility before anything had happened between them the night before. She'd just foolishly hoped he'd surprise her. "No, I don't need anything. I just, well, I think I figured something out. And I wanted to tell you."

He looked at her, one brow raised, the wind causing a pair of curls to fall over his forehead. "Figured something out about what?"

Clary handed him the strip of paper containing the numbers and letters. He took it and looked at her expectantly. "You know what this means?"

She shook her head. "Not all of it." Stepping forward, she covered the first portion and the last portion with her fingers, leaving only the 2543NWSPRWLN78905 visible. "Just this part." She paused. "I think it's an address."

Jace looked up at her, his eyes wide and mouth opened slightly.

Reaching into her hoodie pocket, Clary drew out the card she'd received from Luke and handed it to Jace. She pointed to the return address. "This address. 2543 North West Sparrow Lane, and then the zip code."

Jace let out a gust of breath. "Jesus. I think you're right. But what do these other letters and numbers mean?" he asked, mostly to himself.

Clary answered anyway. "I don't know. But it's a start right?"

"Yeah. It's a start. A really good start, Spitfire." He glanced up, a small smile on his lips.

Clary returned it only to watch his grin slowly slip from his face and the same strange sadness cloud his eyes.

"I think maybe it's time to pay him a little visit," Jace said.

"Do you think he could tell us what the rest of this means?"

Jace shrugged and returned to staring out at the city. "It wouldn't hurt to ask."

Clary studied the hard lines of his face for several moments. "Are you all right?" she asked carefully, trying her hardest not to make him shut her out further.

"Yeah," he said, but his voice was flat, distant.

Clary nodded once, knowing his words weren't the truth, but also knowing if he didn't want to share, he wouldn't. Instead of pushing, she moved up next to him, and peered down at the city. The lights looked so small and insignificant when viewing them from above. Still, there was a certain comfort to the chaos swarming below.

After several minutes of silence, Clary heard Jace sigh and then speak quietly. "I don't know how to do this."

Clary turned toward him in surprise, and saw he was leaning with his arms braced against the wall and his head bowed. "What?"

He raised his head and met her eyes, his own filled with confusion. "This. Us."

"Us?" Clary asked, her throat constricting around the word.

Jace closed his eyes and stepped away from the wall long enough to turn and press his back against it. "Everything I said to you last night was the truth. I've never seen myself as the type of person that could be anything other than what I was. That I could want anything other than what I'd had. I couldn't see past the superficial, the instant gratification. But, now . . ." He sucked in a breath and raised his hands to his hair then let them drop to his sides.

Clary felt her heart thud against her ribs, and her hands start to shake at her sides. "Now, what?" she whispered.

Jace turned to her. "Now . . ." He reached out uncertainly and moved a few wayward curls away from her face, his fingers lingering at her temples. She could feel them trembling a little against her skin. "Now, I see you."

Clary swallowed hard and clenched her fists at her sides.

Jace hesitated and then shifted, bringing his other hand up to her face and holding it between his palms. His eyes swept over her, like he couldn't get enough and was drinking in every facet of her. "I see you," he whispered. "And I can't see anything else."

Clary wrapped her unsteady fingers around his wrists. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

He dropped his hands, lowered his head, and gave a pained chuckle. "Isn't it?"

She shook her head. "Not to me."

Jace didn't respond, so Clary reached over and slipped her fingers under the hair hanging over his forehead. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Jace?" she said.

Finally, he looked up, and their gazes locked. Clary's eyes moved from one of his to the other, and she let her hand cup his cheek, the day old stubble rough against her skin. She watched the different emotions flicker through his eyes: pain, fear, sadness, resolution, and finally, hope. With every ounce of courage she could muster, she said the words she'd been dying to say, and the ones she knew he needed to hear. The ones that would let him know exactly how she felt, without really saying anything at all.

"I see you too."


I'm fully aware that this chapter will probably incite mixed feelings in some readers. Some expected Jace to go all douche and push Clary away. Some will be happy he didn't. Some won't understand why he seems so confused. Some will wish he had been a douche. I know I can't win with every reader, so I'm playing this story and his character development out the way I have envisioned it from the beginning. I assure you, Jace still has his douche tendencies (Hello . . . Spanish torture?). But he has this whole other vulnerable/sweet side (just like original Jace from TMI) as well. I'm going to let you see both. I hope you'll enjoy.

P.S. He's still an ass . . . you'll see that too. Just maybe not so much to Spitfire—or maybe he will, who knows. ;)

As always, big thanks and tons of *smooches* to my beta, LLWB. Love you.

Ok, so, I'm going to enable anonymous reviews for those that don't have an account or that are too lazy to log in to theirs. :P But be forewarned, the first time someone uses the feature to flame or be rude, it'll be off again. I'm trusting people to be tactful.

XOXOXO ~ddpjclaf