A/N: I know there's been a bit of a wait on this one and for that I'm sorry. I'm in a show and it comes out soon so rehearsals have been kicking my ass. Sorry guys. I'll try to be better. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 14

Clary woke up again in Jace's bed despite making sure to fall asleep on the couch.

The day before she'd let the incident slip as a result of her impending departure, but now that she was staying for the entire week, she certainly couldn't allow him to continue this behavior. Allowing herself little more than just another moment in the comfort and warmth of his bed, Clary threw back the covers and lowered her bare feet to the floor, wincing only slightly at the cold. She moved to the door before she thought better of her hastiness.

In the entirety of their time together, Clary had been unprepared for the day and, as a result, looked like some sort of animal whilst Jace, through the gift of genetics, had always looked like an angel of some kind. She eyed the door adjoining Jace's bedroom to his bathroom and moved towards it, careful to listen for any sounds. She pressed her ear to the door and knocked when she didn't hear anything, painfully aware of the awkwardness of the day before when she'd caught him in nothing but a towel and was forced to acknowledge very visibly how damn sexy he was.

After waiting a moment, she decided to risk it and slowly opened the door, pleased to find it indeed empty. She quickly locked the door and eyed the dual bathtub and shower before deciding on a quick shower rather than a bath. After grabbing a towel, she pulled back the curtain only to be surprised by the sight of feminine body wash and shampoo aimed at girl's curly hair. He must've picked them up the other day when he'd left her to go shopping.

The thoughtfulness of this man baffled her.

After quickly showering using the products he'd purchased for her despite her wandering eye towards his body wash which she'd come to pinpoint as the source of how he smelled, she redressed in his baggy clothes and turned toward the mirror in his bathroom.

She'd avoided looking at herself in the mirror since she'd left.

She knew that she looked like a homeless mess and seeing just how far gone she was would only add an insecurity to her mounting problems. Since she'd been with Jace though, she found herself checking her reflection in the mirror to assure that she looked okay, a sensation with which she was unfamiliar. She'd never been too concerned with her looks, but for some reason she wanted to look her best for Jace. To impress him.

For some reason, she mentally scoffed at herself, as if this shift wasn't obvious.

She was very clearly attracted to Jace. It was hard not to be considering how physically beautiful he was.

But it was more than that. He was kind to her when she'd received very little kindness. He was thoughtful and charming and funny. When she was around him, she forgot all of the things that made her broken and could pretend that she was just a normal girl living with her male friend.

Although from what little she knew of friendships, she wasn't sure they'd qualify as such. Sometimes it felt like they were more and sometimes she was clear that they were less, but if asked to describe their relationship in a word, that was the one on which she always landed.

Clary surveyed her reflection appraisingly, taking in her pale face. She was told often by her father that she resembled her mother, though she only loosely saw to what he was referring. Her mother was beautiful and Clary saw herself as the watered down version of that beauty. Her heart shaped face had softer features than her mother's and her green eyes were less vibrant than her mother. Her usually curly and wild red hair hung limply around her face, making her look thinner than she usually did. None of these features reminded her of her mother usually.

Today, however, she saw it.

Her eyes, though they reflected her haunted past, exhibited some hope, which her mother had never quite lost and she had never quite had. Looking into her own defiant eyes, determined to live despite from what she ran, reminded her strongly of the look she'd often seen in her mother's eyes as a child.

This pleased her, even if nothing else about her appearance did.

Clary emerged from the bathroom, at least semi-content with her appearance, to find Jace asleep on the couch with Simon planted on his stomach fast asleep much to Clary's surprise.

She instantly pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle as she took in the scene. Jace was a large man, especially in comparison to his relatively small couch, which was more of a loveseat than a couch now that she had a chance to look at it. As a result, his head rested on the armrest at an angle that couldn't have been comfortable and his legs dangled over the end of the couch. The result by itself was comedic, but with the addition of Simon, a brown, curly-haired thin cat, to his stomach, the scene was practically hysterical.

Clary's hand twitched and for once the urge to draw didn't feel like a burden of her old life. Instead, she felt incredibly light, almost like the experience of wanting to draw unaccompanied by suffering was a relief. She'd never allowed herself to recognize how much she missed her art, partly because she'd been convinced that she'd never be able to bring anything beautiful into this world after everything she'd seen.

But looking at Jace sprawled on that couch, she wasn't so sure that was the case anymore.

"How long are you going to undress me with your eyes, firecracker? I've got things to do."

Jace's voice awoke her from her daze, but didn't dispel the lightness – for lack of a better word – she'd found. If anything, it made the sensation stronger, to the extent where she was concerned she might float away.

He'd yet to open his eyes or stir even a little, but his face had shifted from sporting a calm smile to something more akin to amusement.

"I think I'm just about done," Clary teased, surprised at the ease with which she did so. Only yesterday she would've blushed and stammered something incoherent.

His smile widened and slowly, his eyes slid open. They focused on the ceiling above him for a moment, before he turned his focus towards her with the same intensity they always held despite the bleariness evident from sleep.

"What are you thinking about?"

A simple question requiring a not so simple answer. What was she thinking about? She couldn't even begin to get her thoughts straight on the man before her, so, in an effort to be honest, she offered what she did know.

"I was thinking about drawing you."

His eyebrows rose curiously and he studied her for a moment. Clary could tell that this was one of those moments when he was discerning which questions to ask and which to avoid. She wasn't sure she liked how carefully he treated her, but she couldn't say that she blamed him.

"You draw?" he started with, asking the question slowly so as not to startle her. He seemed to sense that this was a topic of great importance to her.

She offered him a soft smile in response and explained, "My mother taught me how to draw when I was 5 and I've taken classes for most of my life. I haven't even looked at my sketch book in months."

He hesitated momentarily, unsure of how to next move in response to her openness, but asked, "Why did you stop?"

The memories flew at her all at once. She could feign indifference or uncertainty, but she knew exactly why she stopped. She knew what she made. She knew the ugliness she released.

Her first instinct was to hide that from him. She didn't want him to look at her and know just how much hatred and darkness that was inside of her.

But that wasn't fair. He deserved to have at least an inkling of who she was.

"Everything I draw shows more of me than whatever I'm drawing. And after a while," she paused, her gaze slipping from his as memories she'd spent a long time running from came back to her in a rush, "I stopped like what I was seeing."

She heard Jace stir followed by an indignant meow from Simon as he was forced from his perch on Jace's stomach. When she looked back at him, he was sitting upright and studying her, his face twisted in compassion.

They left the moment as it was. The heaviness of her confession, though Jace didn't understand the extent of it, seemed to weigh on them both.

"Sometimes," Jace began, his eyes on hers but unfocused, making it clear that his mind was elsewhere, "all of the awfulness around us has a way of infecting even the purest things." His eyes suddenly regained attentiveness and she almost shuddered under the heaviness of his gaze.

"I think you probably needed your art to get all of that ugly out of your system."

Clary's heart picked up speed a little bit at the comment and she knew that she needed to shut this conversation down. She was showing too much. Sharing too much. She'd only known him for a little over a day.

But she couldn't stop herself.

"I'm sometimes not sure I did such a good job."

Jace let the comment breathe for a moment as Clary let what she'd said sink in. It was a fear she'd never let herself admit she had, but she was always aware of it. No one who experienced as much evil as she did remained pure. No one could escape something that poisonous.

Jace's eyes were burning into her. Searing right through her skin into whatever laid beneath it. She felt quite certain in that moment that he saw and knew everything about her.

With a quiet passion, Jace, with a tone of finality, stated, "There's nothing ugly about you."

He was standing and in front of her faster than Clary could believe. When he was only inches away from her, he reached a hand out and softly, tenderly placed it over her heart so that she was clear about his exact meaning.

Their faces were inches apart and his breath was hot on her face. Her face tilted downward so that she could look at his hand. His palm was flat against her chest and she felt the heat of it seep through her shirt. Her eyes travelled from his hand to his eyes which were still lighting her on fire.

He was going to kiss her. This she noted with absolute certainty. It was inevitable. There was nowhere else that this encounter would go. He would kiss her and she wanted him to. She wanted the intimacy. She wanted something she could trust. She wanted to feel human.

More than anything, she wanted Jace.

Clary felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She wanted to draw his face like it was then. She wanted to recreate the way he was looking at her so that she could have it always. She wanted to remember this moment for the perfection that it was.

And she wanted it to last forever.

So she did the only sensible thing for a girl in her situation.

She stepped away.

Jace's hand hovered in the air where it'd been before she'd moved back as if trying to hold onto the moment she'd just destroyed. He blinked as if trying to clear his head, and Clary understood why he'd need to. Her head was a little foggy as well from the spell she'd just been under.

His eyes held hers for a moment more and she wondered what he saw there. She wasn't brave enough to even hazard a guess as to what that was.

Slowly he lowered his hand and disappointment clouded his features. Clary felt that disappointment like a dagger through her heart as she acknowledged that she'd brought that look to his face.

"How about I make us some breakfast?" Clary asked, her voice weakly attempting to establish a casual atmosphere.

He nodded lightly and offered her a tight smile.

"Do you need any instructions on how to work the kitchen? I have a gas stove. I hope that won't be a problem."

Clary shook her head and joked, "I find that if you go hungry for long enough, you can pretty easily master any device that helps put food into your mouth."

He dropped his smile at the sentiment and shook his head lightly, clearly displeased with her choice of humor.

Clary mentally cursed herself for ruining the moment and, before he disappeared into the seclusion of his bathroom, she called out, "Jace, please."

He paused and she saw his shoulders slump forward. He half turned towards her and, with an air of exhaustion, stated, "Don't worry about it, Clary. I understand. I'll be patient."

He disappeared into the bathroom before Clary could ask what he meant. She felt the tension leave her body at his absence, for once acknowledging that she was quite sure of what he meant.

She could barely even muster up alarm at the realization that she was relieved.