Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

Clary, Jace, and Luke soon found themselves neck deep in boxes. Upon Clary's and Jace's startled expressions, Luke shrugged and said, ''I suppose she left more here than I originally thought.''

They set to work on the boxes, but it was clear that a thorough search would span into a few days. It was mostly papers pertaining to her financial records, or sentimental things, like the drawings that Clary made for her when she was younger.

When Jace first came upon them, he pulled out a big stack and thumbed slowly through them, his eyes moving over the pages in amazement. ''These are yours?'' he asked her, holding up a few samples of her work.

She looked up from the box she was sorting through, her hands clasped around one of her mother's vibrant scarves. There were tears in her eyes, but when she saw what Jace held in his hands, they dissipated almost immediately.

''She kept those?'' Clary exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. ''How embarrassing!''

''Embarrassing?'' Jace asked, looking through the papers again with a confused expression, wondering if he had missed something.

Once he figured out they were seeing the same thing, he said, ''Clary, these are amazing.''

She snorted. ''I drew those when I was like eight or nine.''

His eyebrows rose to his forehead, and he leaned toward her intently. ''Do you still draw?'' he asked adamantly. ''Some of these are paintings. Do you still paint?''

''Luke has some paintings on display behind the counter,'' she said, beaming at his excitement. ''I will show you my sketchbook when we go back to your house too, if you want.''

Luke cleared his throat. ''About that,'' he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up from the box he was sorting through. ''I have room in my apartment, Clary. If you wanted someplace more... Permanent, to stay. Once things settle down.''

Clary sucked in a breath, so surprised by the offer that for a good few moments she didn't know what to say. ''I...'' she started, trying to piece together a coherent thought.

Luke had known her mother, much more than Clary would ever get the chance to. He'd wanted to be the father she deserved ever since he'd met Jocelyn, and even though she had imagined herself staying with Jace forever, it wasn't practical.

''I would really like that,'' Clary said softly, giving him a warm smile.

A harsh bang sounded from upstairs, making all of them jump. They were in the storage basement beneath Luke's bookstore going through the boxes, and they had been undisturbed until that moment due to the 'CLOSED' sign on the front door.

Luke frowned, and for some reason, Clary's stomach turned nervously at his cautious expression.

''You two stay down here,'' Luke told them, and though he tried to make the command sound light, there was an edge to it that disturbed Clary further. He started for the stairs, but stopped on the first step to look back at Jace.

He raised his hand and pointed to a door that was partially concealed by a stack of boxes. ''If I stomp twice, get her in there and don't make a sound.''

Something passed between the two of them, something lost completely on Clary, but she waited until Luke had gone to ask about it.

''What is wrong?'' Clary asked Jace, though her eyes were still looking toward the top of the stairs, where Luke had just disappeared out the door from the basement. Clary could hear his footsteps on the floorboards above her head as he crossed the floor to the front door of his store.

''He thinks it might be Valentine, or some of his goons,'' Jace answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was listening for Luke's footsteps, but the sound of them had gone dead since he'd reached the front door.

''But-''

Clary's voice cut out as they heard the quick scuffle of footsteps on the floorboards, then a loud thud and crash as someone fell onto the ground. Glass shattered on the ground a few seconds later, as something else toppled over, and Clary could hear Luke's grunt even through the small crack he'd left in the basement door.

Clary started for the stairs, but Jace was faster. He grabbed her around the middle, and covered her mouth with his hand before she cried out in protest.

''No,'' he whispered, his voice harsh in her ear. ''Clary, you can't go up there.'' He pulled her back against his chest and held her fast.

There was more scuffling above them, and then a sound that made the blood in Clary's veins go cold.

Two heavy, solid stomps on the floor.

Jace didn't even hesitate before pulling her toward the door that Luke had indicated earlier. He quietly moved the boxes aside, his actions fluid and sure. He made a new stack of boxes a few inches from the door, and once he'd freed the door to open just barely wide enough for them to enter, he snaked his hand back out to pull the stack in front of the door in order to fully conceal it.

Clary felt the string of the light dangling from the ceiling and brushing against her cheek, but she didn't dare to turn it on, even though the room they were in was pitch black.

She felt Jace in front of her, his back to her, and she blindly reached her hands out for him. He tensed when he felt her fingers skim over his back and grab handfuls of his shirt, but she felt the muscles beneath her hands slowly relax.

He turned around a few moments later and slipped his arms around her. He must have been able to see better in the dark than she could or his eyes had adjusted faster, because the next moment he swept her up into his arms and sat down on the cold concrete floor of the storage closet without bumping a single thing.

He settled her down on his lap, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, her hands knotting themselves once again in the fabric of his shirt. Both of them were breathing erratically from the adrenaline rushing through their veins.

The scuffling continued above them for a few moments longer before a set of footsteps broke away from it, moving in the direction of the basement door.

''Jace-''

His arms around her tightened as footsteps creaked down the wooden staircase, silencing her, his mouth a warm presence against her hair. His body was tense beneath her, itching for the action he was suppressing.

Clary startled when something outside of the closet was knocked over and a resounding crash sounded, and Jace leaned down to press his lips to her ear.

The breath Clary had been holding eased out at the sensation, and he nibbled her earlobe. For the first time she felt the urge to push him away, to tell him it wasn't appropriate, to remind him that Luke was likely bleeding out on the floor just above their heads.

But then she realized what he was doing and why, and she suppressed the protest in her throat and let herself be distracted. Another crash sounded and Jace was quick to cover her mouth with his, catching her gasp, and he pressed his tongue into her mouth to stop any more.

She was careful to not sound the moan that rose in her throat from the action, and turned her body into his. He took advantage of the repositioning and slipped a hand up under her shirt, under her bra, cupping the soft mound of her breast in one fell movement.

Despite the situation, she couldn't help but enjoy the fact that Jace seemed as thoroughly distracted as she was.

A few more crashes sounded, but they were only background noise to the pair. Jace's lips were hot against hers, relentless and demanding, as was the hand that teased her breast.

It wasn't until Clary and Jace heard a second pair of footsteps approach the basement door from above and speak that they pulled apart to listen, albeit reluctantly.

''Pangborn, you find any sign of her?'' a voice called down into the basement.

''No. There is a bunch of shit down here though, Blackwell,'' the man, Pangborn, answered, from too close to the storage room door. ''He said Valentine's brat isn't here, but a bunch of this stuff belongs to her mother.''

''Burn it,'' Blackwell ordered.

Clary made a sound and went for the door, but Jace was quick to retain her and spin her around, pinning her between his body and the floor even as she struggled against him. When her writhing foot made just the briefest contact with something else in the room and it scraped against the floor, Jace used his knees and his weight to immobilize her lower limbs.

He grabbed both of her wrists in one of his large, lithe hands while the other clasped down on her mouth. His eyes were blazing when they met hers, flashing even without a source of light, his anger so alive.

But Pangwell didn't seem to have heard her, because he just continued shuffling boxes around outside of the door. He must not have seen the frame behind the boxes, and Jace had a sinking feeling in his gut as to why.

He was stacking more of the boxes in the way of the door, further concealing it, gathering the boxes for an easy burn and effectively trapping them inside the room.

A match was struck, the pull of the head across the sandpaper sounding like death to Jace's ears, and a few short moments later Jace could smell the bitter aroma of the paper burning.

Clary had stopped struggling beneath him, and when he looked down at her, her eyes were wide and frightened. There were tears streaking down her cheeks, her hope leaving her body.

Jace felt his anger at her from moments before seep out of him at the sight of her so helpless and distraught beneath him, and his hands released their holds on her to brush over her cheeks.

He could see the smoke that leaked under the door clouding the air even in the dark, and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips to comfort her. As he pulled away, he hooked a finger under the collar of her shirt and pulled it up over her mouth and nose, a makeshift mask to filter the air.

Her eyes watered again, this time from the smoke, and he felt his eyes do the same. He pulled his own shirt up over his face, and he could feel Clary struggle beneath him to contain the coughs that fought to free themselves from her chest. The smoke had yet to have an effect on him, likely because he had picked up the habit of smoking in juvie, but even so, Clary and her lungs were much smaller than he and his lungs were.

Most of the smoke rose to the ceiling, and as desperately as Jace wanted to get himself and Clary out of the closet and away from the fire, he needed to wait until the last possible moment and Blackwell and Pangborn were gone.

Clary sat up and pressed her mouth to his shoulder, and he held the back of her head as she suppressed the sound of her coughs against his shirt. His own lungs were starting to burn, the filter of his shirt only so effective. He could feel Clary start to sag against him as the last of the oxygen in the small room was running out, and the edges of his own vision were beginning to darken.

Just as he reached for the handle of the door, on his knees with Clary in one arm and cradled against his chest, he heard Pangborn's footsteps as he crossed the room and ascended the stairs.

Jace stalled just a few minutes longer, until he heard two sets of footsteps cross the room to the front of the store, the two goons making a quick retreat due to the spreading fire. There was still no sign of Luke.

Jace had to shove against the door to get it to open, causing boxes to tumble over and the fire to worsen, but he didn't care. He carried Clary out, not even looking back to see the damage before making for the stairs and spilling out the open basement door.

Clary pulled her shirt down from her mouth and gasped in the clean air, rolling onto her back on the hardwood floor, and Jace did the same. Both of them were covered in black ash from the smoke, and Jace found the worst thing of all to be that it dimmed the brightness of Clary's fire hair.

Clary's mind went to much worse things.

''The evidence!'' she cried, starting to scramble back toward the door, but Jace grabbed her back.

''I will go,'' he said before she could protest. ''Check on Luke.''

''Luke is fine,'' a voice said from across the room, and Jace and Clary both turned with expressions of relief to see Luke standing beside the counter. He was leaning with most of his weight off of his right leg, the ankle of which seemed to be swelling as they watched, and there was blood smeared from two different sources on his face.

He looked at Jace, fixing his glasses as he did, one of the lenses cracked down the center. ''Fire extinguisher behind that bookshelf there,'' he said, pointing. ''I'll grab the one behind the counter and meet you down there.''

It took them a good fifteen minutes to extinguish every last lick of flame. Most of the papers were ruined beyond recognition, but the fire had not reached a few boxes. Pangborn and Blackwell had obviously not expected Luke to recover quickly enough to save them, but he'd admitted to faking the extent of the harm they'd done to him. It wasn't his first round with these specific goons, and he learned early on to play dead until they stopped.

Clary sat among the worst of the boxes, covered in ashes and the chemicals from the fire extinguisher that had gotten on her during her frantic attempt to save the papers.

She looked at Jace, and his heart sunk into his stomach when he saw how dull her beautiful eyes had become. Despite this, he had never seen anything so beautiful.

An angel amid destruction.

A light in the darkness.

Jace went to kneel in front of her, moving slowly, as if afraid to startle her. He held his hand out to her, palm up, his golden eyes searching hers. When he found no spark, no sign of life, he said, ''Let's go home, Red.''

There was a flicker, a light, and every so slowly, she reached for him.

They left together, with promises to Luke to return, and disappeared together into the night toward home.

Home.

Clary wasn't sure she had ever really known the meaning of the word. But if she took anything from the horrible events of the night, it was a hope that someday soon she would.

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the short break! I got a book in the mail that I have been waiting FOREVER to be released. If you like supernatural fiction (I assume you do, since you read The Mortal Instruments or saw the movie), I suggest checking out the Jane Yellowrock series. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW. REEEEEEVIEW.