**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.**

20. Sweet Little Lies

Chapter Songs:

**Lie to Me – 12 Stones

**Wonderwall – Oasis

**Bust a Move – Young MC

**F**kin' Perfect – Pink

Jace's fingers wrapped around Clary's phone, brushing hers as he withdrew it from her grip. She fought against the urge to close her eyes. Even with all of the conflicting and confusing feelings, she couldn't help but want him to touch her. Carefully. Gently. Like he had the night before and just that morning. Reassuring and reminding her of all of the things they'd shared. Just that one little graze of his skin against hers was enough to send her heart flying.

Clary's emotions were all over the place. Anger, sadness, frustration, confusion, hurt—every single feeling she could have in a situation like this she was having. It felt a little irrational. Jace had done nothing—nothing—to make her question him. Other than the fact that before they'd met, he'd been an incurable man-whore. But was that really fair of her to use at the moment? Oh, God! She was the jealous girlfriend! The typical jealous girlfriend. The thought made her want to roll her eyes at herself.

But the moment that message and photo had arrived in her inbox, the nagging doubt crept in. Clary tried to hold it off, to remind herself of last night and this morning, to wait until Jace could explain it away. But the more time that went by, the more she started to question everything. The more she started to wonder: Who could she trust? She hated herself for letting that uncertainty in. For letting whoever sent those messages get the best of her. It wasn't fair to Jace. But . . . Who was that girl, and why was he holding her? Why was he smirking at her? Oh, the smirk. She knew that smirk. His super sexy, "come hither" smirk. There was only ever one reason for him to use it.

Anger ignited again. Clary couldn't help it. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Whatever the reason, she just needed him to make it go away. To tell her it had all been a misunderstanding. Or even better—that the photo was doctored and wasn't even real. But he didn't say any of that.

He just stared at the photo, his face devoid of any and all expression. "Where'd you get this?" Jace asked slowly.

Clary's heart slammed to a stop. "Where did I—" The resentment she'd been feeling multiplied and flooded her veins, heating her body to the point of combustion. "Where did I get it?" Her voice rose in volume. "That's what you're going to say first? Where did I get it?" she repeated incredulously.

His head snapped up and his brows pulled together. "What else would I say? It seems an important question considering someone is following me around."

Clary snatched the phone from his hand and held it in front of her, shaking it in his face. "So, you're not going to deny it?"

Jace looked even more confused. "Deny it? Why would I—" And then his face changed. His forehead smoothed and he pulled away from her, realization filling his features. "Oh, I see. So that's how it is? You immediately go there?"

"Where do you expect me to go, Jace?"

"I expect you to have a little more faith in me than that. I mean, how could you think—"

"How could I not think it? You took off with no explanation. And now this picture? What else am I supposed to think? Obviously you didn't want me to know where you were going." Clary's voice had risen to a shout. People passing by eyed them as they made their way down the street.

"So that's all it takes?" Jace pointed at the phone in her hand, his own voice rising in volume. "One little picture and you just assume I'm cheating?"

"I didn't say that! But you're not denying it, are you?"

"I shouldn't have to deny it, Clary! Of all the things . . ." He paused to collect himself, not really succeeding as his shoulders visibly tightened. "Of all the things you could choose to not trust me with, and you choose this. I thought I'd proven how I felt about you. I thought—"

"Then tell me, Jace. Who is this? Why are you holding her?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why does it matter? You wouldn't believe me anyway, would you? You've already made up your mind about what happened. You decided that long before you even saw me." He shook his head and took a step back. "At least now I know. I know how you really see me."

"Jace, that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" he said loudly, causing a few more people to stop and peer into the alley at them. "Is this what I have to look forward to every time I'm around another girl? Every time I talk to one? I'm always just going to be a player to you, aren't I? I'm always going to be that guy."

"Damn it, Jace! Why can't you just—"

"Why can't I just what?" he said exasperatedly. "Defend myself? Give you a drawn out explanation of who she is and why I'm hugging her so you can feel better about all this? So you can forget doubting me in the first place? Excuse me if I don't feel like playing this game."

"You'd expect the exact same thing in my position, and don't try to tell me you wouldn't!"

"But the difference is I wouldn't assume the worst first."

"That's because I've never given you a reason to!" The words were out before she could even think to stop them.

Jace deflated in front of her, his shoulders dropping and his breath leaving him in a rush like she'd punched him in the gut. He stepped back again, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. The distance between them felt like miles instead of mere feet.

Clary knew she should take it back, tell him she didn't mean it, but in that moment, she didn't want to. He was the one who wouldn't explain himself. What else was she supposed to think? All he had to do was tell her and they could put this behind them, or end it right now. But he wouldn't do that. For some reason, he just wouldn't spill.

"Clary?" A voice called from behind.

She spun toward it, spying Simon standing in the circle of illumination from the streetlight.

He eyed her and then Jace, his stare staying on Jace. "Are you all right?" Finally, his gaze drifted back to Clary. "You're going to be late."

Clary glanced down at her watch, seeing she now had only fifteen minutes to get to work. She shook her head and closed her eyes before lifting her head and meeting Jace's. "I have to go."

Jace laughed a dry, humorless laugh and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Of course you do."

She glared at him. "Yes, well, some of us have to actually work for a living."

"Oh, so not only am I a cheating bastard, but having money is a bad thing too? I didn't hear you complaining when your body was wrapped up in my expensive sheets."

"You don't have to be such an asshole."

"Why not?" he said, indignantly. "Isn't that what you expect of me anyway, Clary?"

She let out a frustrated growl and spun on her heel, moving quickly toward Simon. "Kiss my ass, Jace."

"Already did that, Sweetness. Along with every other inch of you. Or have you forgotten that already too?"

Clary huffed and looped her arm through Simon's, pulling him along after her, not sparing Jace a second glance. She couldn't look at him, couldn't handle seeing the hurt and anger in his face. Why wouldn't he just tell her who the girl was? He wanted her to trust him, to trust the things he'd said, but he couldn't even give her an explanation about this one thing.

Traffic buzzed around them as Clary rushed across the street and melted into the crowd on the sidewalk. Her hands shook and her heart raced. What had she done? Why did she say those things? Shaking her head against those thoughts, she reminded herself that he was the one who wouldn't come clean. He was the one in the wrong, not her. Clary yanked on Simon's arm once again, her anger making her impatient with his slow pace.

Simon turned his face toward her, tripping over his own feet as he struggled to keep up. "Clary?"

"What?" she snapped, her mind spinning with thoughts about everything that had just transpired. Did that just happen?

"Did he really kiss your ass?"

Clary whipped her head in his direction and narrowed her eyes. "Not the time, Simon. Seriously not the time."

.o.O.o.

The girl watched the showdown from an adjacent building, holding back the laughter bubbling to the surface. God, this was easier than she'd thought. When the idea to shake up this little love fest going on between the oblivious girl and her little boy toy, she'd thought it would be a near impossibility. The amount of mushy love radiating between the two of them made her want to puke, and doubt her ability to crack through their bubble. But she'd done it. That little emotion called jealousy was a powerful thing, and she'd used it to her advantage.

"What are you chuckling about?" her partner's voice floated up from behind her.

She turned and grinned at the sight of him, hair all disheveled, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Yeah, if she weren't already attached, she'd tap that. "My plan seems to be working." She nodded toward the arguing couple.

He craned his neck, his face half in and half out of the shadows. "Hmm. For now."

"What do you mean?"

He blew out a puff of smoke and then dropped the butt on the ground, grinding it into the pavement with the toe of his boot. "Those two . . ." He paused. "They're not going to be easy to keep apart for long. They've got this . . . explosive chemistry." He shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm not trying to break them up, genius. I just need a little wiggle room here. A little doubt. And we've planted the seed."

"But why?" he asked, pushing a chunk of hair off his forehead. "How's that going to help?"

The girl smiled and turned back toward the couple just as the other girl stormed off, leaving the boy staring after her, and dragging her friend by the arm. "You'll see."

.o.O.o.

Jace pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to push back the headache starting to form. In the hours since Clary had left, he'd been pouring over the information stored on the thumb drive Maryse had made for him. He tried to concentrate on the images and data in front of him, but couldn't keep his mind from reliving the argument between him and Clary. What the hell had that been all about? Why wouldn't she let him explain? He'd started to when she'd bolted away from him. It almost felt like she wanted to be mad at him, and that in turn made him angry with her. How could she even think—

Jace lifted his hands and rubbed them over his face. Now was not the time to dwell on this. There was nothing he could do until she calmed down enough for him to get a word in anyway. He wasn't going to be one of those guys to go running after his girl, begging her to listen to his sad, sad excuse. If Clary wanted to be pissed, she could be pissed. It wasn't that Jace couldn't understand her being upset. If it had been him in her place, seeing a photo of her like that, he might have been slightly annoyed too. Oh, who was he kidding, he would have seen red. Simple as that. Whoever the bastard was with his hands on his girl would have had them ripped off.

But, it really wasn't that Clary had gotten mad and lashed out that made him angry in return, it was the insinuation. The fact that she automatically assumed the picture meant he just went out to meet a woman—which he did, but it wasn't like that! Couldn't she see how wrecked he was over her? Were the last twenty four hours not proof enough of how tightly she had him wrapped around her little finger? He'd told her he loved her. Loved her! And he'd tried to show her. God, he'd tried so hard. He would do anything, anything, to prove it to her.

How could she not know that? How could she look at him with that hurt and mistrust in her eyes, in her voice, in her words? Of all things she could choose to question him on, of all the things she should be skeptical about—she picked the one thing she could have one hundred percent confidence in—he was hers. Mind, body, soul. Hers. But she doubted . . . and yeah, he'd acted like a douche in return. He couldn't help it. It was a defense mechanism he'd developed a long time ago.

Jace thrust his hand into his hair and tightened his hold, forcing himself to focus on the screen again. As hard as it was, he needed to forget about his relationship problems and focus on what lay right in front of him. Regardless of what happened between them, her safety was still his number one priority. It was up to him to protect her, and he would do it.

Turning his attention back to the screen, he released a slow breath and let his eyes rake over the image in front of him. In the grainy black and white photograph was a man—approximately Jace's height, build, and age. Jace couldn't make out any features because of the low quality of the photo and the slant at which it was taken. He assumed it had come from a surveillance camera from one of the shops on the opposite side of the street, and was angled down, catching the perp from the top. The man wore a plain black hooded sweatshirt and dark pants—probably jeans—and boots. The bill of a baseball cap stuck out from under the hood. All the pieces fit the description Clary had given after her attack at the club.

"Is this the info Mom retrieved for you?" Alec asked from over Jace's shoulder.

Jace didn't turn, his eyes intent on the image, trying to discern anything distinguishing. "Yeah, not that it's helping much." He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt coming up over his stomach and exposing his flesh to the chilly air.

Alec sat next to him, a mug of some steaming liquid in his hand. "Nothing?"

Jace dropped his hands into his lap. "Not yet. I've been through half of it already and all I've gotten are blurry photos taken from a distance. It's just worthless garbage."

"There's got to be something."

He leaned forward and clicked the mouse to the next photo. "There's not. All of these pictures are the same. The guy wears the same hooded sweatshirt and baseball cap, and unfortunately both are without any insignia. He also manages to keep his face hidden from every camera. I have no idea how he does it since there are at least four angles here."

Alec frowned and tapped his chin. "Well, we did find the Agency issued pick. If he's an Agent, he would be aware of how to keep himself hidden, if that was his goal."

Jace shook his head. "I'm not so sure he's an Agent."

Alec looked at him with confusion.

Jace sighed and picked up his kit, which he had placed there to make comparisons. Opening it, he pulled out his pick and held it under the light. "You see these markings next to the Agency seal?" He pointed to the tiny twist and swirl.

"Yeah." Alec paused. "I never noticed those before."

"These are branch specific brandings. Every time a batch of tools are shipped to a facility, they are branded with a mark, identifying them with the specific issuing branch's logo." He reached into the manila envelope sitting to his right and pulled out the pick they'd found on the fire escape, placing it beside his. "Notice anything?"

Alec lowered his face until his nose nearly touched the two picks. His brows furrowed. "There's nothing there."

"Exactly," Jace said, picking up the tool and rolling it between his fingers. "Which means this pick was never issued to anyone by any branch."

"How does that help us?"

"I don't know yet. It could mean a bunch of different things."

"Such as . . ."

"Such as, this guy could be an Agent—or he could not. He could be working for someone within the Agency, or he could have been the guy who drove the new batch of picks to the branch. At this point, we can't be sure of anything."

Alec sat back in his seat, hitting the chair with a thud. "So basically we know nothing."

"No, not 'nothing.'"

Alec raised a brow. "What do you mean? You figured something out from this?" He gestured to the pick.

"No, not this specifically." Jace rubbed his hand over his jaw. "More like, from the big picture."

"You've lost me."

Jace sighed. "What do we know so far? We were assigned to Clary to find a way inside Morgenstern's inner circle. As soon as we started poking around, she began receiving threats. Then she was attacked at the club and her apartment was broken into—twice. The attackers didn't take paperwork, money, or valuables like we would have assumed seeing who her father is. The only thing they took was her mother's locket. Both in the club and here, that locket seemed to be the only thing they were after."

"But it was worthless," Alec said, confused. "Just a plain, gold locket. What could they want it for?"

Jace hesitated, knowing he would have to spill what the locket contained if he hoped to have Alec's help. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and opened it, retrieving the slip of paper he'd kept in there after Clary had given it to him. He smoothed it out onto the table, watching as Alec's expression became more perplexed.

"What am I looking at?"

"Clary found this in the locket."

Alec's head shot up. "What?"

Jace nodded. "At first I thought this was what they were after, that maybe it was some kind of code they needed for something."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not so sure." He pointed to the center section. "We've already determined that these letters and numbers are an address—to a friend of her mother's. The rest we still don't know, but are hoping to find out this weekend when we visit this friend."

"So . . . maybe it's the friend they're after."

"Maybe . . ." Jace hesitated. "But I don't really think so."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." He turned to Alec. "Call it a gut instinct or whatever, but it seems to me, if it were Luke they were after, they would have already gotten to him. His friendship with Clary's mom wasn't a secret."

"What are you thinking then?"

Jace furrowed his brows and looked back at the slip of paper, his mind turning over and over with scenarios, but only one standing taller than the others. "I think that whatever these people are after isn't this slip of paper. In fact, I don't think they know it even exists. They aren't urgent enough. If this was what they wanted, if it was something important to them, once they realized it wasn't in the locket, they would have stepped up their efforts to get it. But they haven't. I think this paper was left by Jocelyn Morgenstern for Clary to find."

"But . . . why?" Alec asked.

"No idea. But I have a feeling Luke knows exactly what this is all about."

"And you're going there this weekend?"

Jace grimaced and rose from his chair, crossing the room to stand near the window and peer down at the street. "That was the plan."

Alec joined him. "What do you mean 'was?'"

"Clary's slightly pissed at me right now."

"Why? What did you do?"

Jace turned to him and glared. "What makes you think I did anything?"

Alec stared at him. "Because you're you."

Jace rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. "Someone sent her a photo that may have made it look like I was screwing around."

"Were you?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Alec." Jace pushed away from the window and threw himself onto the couch. Alec joined him.

"Well, what do you expect? It's not like you don't already have a reputation."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, but this is different. And she knows it."

"Does she?"

He looked up and met Alec's eyes. They were not judging or placing blame, they were actually curious—worried even. Jace swallowed and averted his stare, his gaze falling to his shoes. The same hurt and confusion laced with anger fell over him. "She should."

Alec chuckled and Jace's head whipped up to look at him.

"Sorry, man, but . . . you've been a complete douchebag when it came to women for as long as I've known you. How could she—" Jace stood and moved back over to the computer. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Out. I'm not really in the mood to listen to your lecture—" He reached over and grabbed the mouse, attempting to turn off the computer and accidentally clicking to the next photo. He froze in place.

Alec moved up behind him. "I'm not trying to say you're still—what's wrong?"

Jace stared at the photo for a moment before pointing to an area just off to the corner. "Do you see that?"

Alec moved in, his face beside Jace's. "Not really . . ."

Jace clicked to the next slide, and then the next. "There." He pointed again. "Do you see that?"

"Yeah." Alec nodded, squinting at the screen. "It's another person . . . looks like a girl."

"And do you see what's on her shirt?"

"It's . . . it looks like a crest?"

"Exactly," Jace said.

Alec looked confused and then realization dawned on his face. "And you've seen this before."

"I have." Jace nodded and lowered his gaze to the screen, his eyes focused on the one part of the blurry photo that had become very clear. His mouth pulled up into a grin. "Gotcha," he whispered.

.o.O.o.

Clary had just about had it with her ass being grabbed by drunken men with goatees and beer spilled down the front of their shirts. She didn't know what it was, but they'd been man-handling her all night. Was she wearing a sign on her back that said, Please grab my ass? Because the quantity of hands that had been on her butt that night were more than she'd ever experienced in her life. The next one who did it was going to be wacked upside the head with her tray, and she didn't even care if Magnus fired her over it.

She moved up to the bar, set her tray down and knocked over two mugs of beer, spilling them all over the counter. Kaelie glared at her from the other side of the counter and grabbed a few towels to mop up the mess. Clary lowered her face to her hand. This night officially sucked. Not only had she had a massive fight with Jace, she'd also been stiffed on several tips, Aline was being her normal bitchy self, and she had cramps. Lovely. Could this night get any worse?

Music blared from the DJ booth on stage. Mixed with the cackling laughter and drunk hooting, the cacophony of noise caused Clary to squeeze her eyes shut. Her head hurt, but not the kind of pain a simple Tylenol could cure. It was so full and anxious and upset. Nothing she did made her forget the scene in the alley. She wanted to forget, at least for the time being. Nothing could erase the things they'd said—the things she'd seen. Clary didn't want to see Jace smiling at or touching another girl. Not then, not ever. But every time she blinked she saw that image burned into the back of her eyelids.

She stood there for a few minutes, her eyes closed and her head still in her hands. It was almost time for her shift to end, but for once, she wasn't anxious to get home. She knew she needed to talk to Jace, but she didn't know what to say, and was honestly afraid to hear what he said. A sharp pain radiated from her left butt cheek and Clary jumped.

"Damn it!" She whirled around, bringing her tray up to bash the drunken fool over the head, when someone else beat her to it.

A blur with a head of dark hair slammed into the pincher and pressed him up against the bar. It took Clary a moment to recognize her rescuer.

When he'd let the guy go, Clary narrowed her eyes and set her tray on the counter. "I could have handled that myself, you know."

Sebastian turned and grinned sheepishly. "Aww, come on now, Clary. It isn't every day I get to be the hero. Just humor me and get down on your knees and kiss my feet."

She couldn't help but laugh. "In your dreams, Seb."

He shrugged, flashed her another smile, and leaned up against the bar. "It was worth a shot."

"When are you going to learn that girls nowadays don't need or want to be saved?"

"Speak for yourself! I bet there are a lot that still do." He glanced out at the crowd and sighed. "And someday I shall find my maiden in distress."

Clary shook her head. "You're an idiot."

Sebastian chuckled. "So where have you been this week? I haven't seen you around."

Clary motioned to Kaelie and gave her a drink order before turning back to Sebastian. "Oh, I was off most of the week," she cleared her throat and glanced away, "personal reasons."

"Ahh," he said, turning slowly toward her. "I called J.C. several times this week. Left voicemails but he hasn't called back. Is everything okay with him?"

She swallowed and met Sebastian's eyes. "I think so. I saw him a couple of days ago and he—" Clary recalled the nervous look in Jonathan's eyes the last time she'd seen him. "Well, he was okay then. Just swamped at work, I guess."

Sebastian nodded. "That was the exact reason I refused to work for my dad." He shook his head. "Not that I had any interest in being a lawyer anyway, but working for my dad?" He shuddered. "No thanks."

"No kidding. I don't know how Jonathan does it." She looked up at him and smiled. "Looks like we dodged that bullet, no?"

He raised his brows and shook his head once. "Who'd have thought that perfect little Clary and I would be the outcasts of the family?"

She snorted. It was true though. For generations, the Verlac and Morgenstern families had worked together at the firm, representing every rich and famous person in the city. It was not a happy time when both of them decided they wanted nothing to do with that particular legacy. At least Clary's father had Jonathan. Sebastian was an only child, so his refusal was a huge let down to his family.

"So," Sebastian looked down and picked at the hem of his shirt. "Are you going to that immensely boring ball?"

Clary rolled her eyes and picked up her tray, now filled with her drink order. "Yes. I don't really want to, but it was important to my mom when she was alive, so I feel like I should."

He nodded and followed her to deliver her drinks. "Me too."

"Really?" She peered up at him. "I thought you hated those things."

"I do." Sebastian side-stepped a few drunk patrons, steadying one girl who nearly fell. "But Mom pretty much begged this time around, so . . ." He shrugged.

"Aww," Clary stopped at the table and passed out the drinks, turning to Sebastian when she was finished. "A little Mama's Boy now, huh?"

"Shut up." He shoved her shoulder. "She and my dad haven't been getting along well lately and she didn't want to have to be there alone with him while he schmoozed the masses."

Clary stopped at the bar once more. "That's very sweet of you."

"What can I say? I'm a naturally sweet guy." He flashed her another smile.

She shook her head and laughed. Clary caught sight of Simon and Isabelle near the front doors. She raised her hand in the air and motioned them over. Simon's brows raised and he and Isabelle started through the crowd.

"So," Sebastian said, drawing Clary's attention away from her approaching roommates. "Maybe we should go together. You know, so we'd have someone else to make fun of the stodgy old folk with." He glanced up at her, a bit of awkward vulnerability shone in his eyes.

Clary's stomach clenched. "Oh, uh, Sebastian. I—I can't, I'm . . . well, I'm seeing someone. So . . ."

"What?" He frowned for a brief moment before he caught himself and forced a smile. "You are? How do I not know this?"

She shrugged. "We just recently made it . . . public." Inside, she cringed. She still had no idea what to think about that photo, or about why Jace didn't just come out and tell her what was going on. The uncertainty made talking about their relationship—if they still had one after this—feel weird.

"Is it serious?"

Clary nodded slowly. "Pretty serious, yeah."

"I can't believe this." Sebastian shook his head. "Little Clary Morgenstern with a boyfriend. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey!" She smacked him in the arm. "I've dated before."

"Yeah, but . . . nothing serious."

She shrugged again. He was right. She'd never experienced anything like this before.

"So, who is the lucky guy—wait! Don't tell me. It's Lewis, right?"

"Simon?" Clary laughed. "No, definitely not. We're just friends."

"Then who?"

Before Clary could answer, Simon and Isabelle broke through the crowd and came up to the bar. Simon nearly plowed Clary over as he tripped on a girl's purse and toppled into the counter. She reached out and grabbed his shoulders, helping to steady him before he face-planted it. Isabelle raised a brow and rolled her eyes at him, but Clary couldn't help snorting.

"You all right there, Si?"

"Haven't people ever heard of putting their bags on the table or chair? I could have been seriously injured." Simon ran a hand down his shirt, ignoring Clary and trying to act as if nearly killing himself in front of a horde of people hadn't embarrassed him.

"You almost done?" Isabelle asked, her voice tight and forced.

Clary eyed her, taking in her stiff shoulders and less than friendly demeanor. "I take it you talked to Jace."

"Jace?" Sebastian asked, his forehead creased as he studied Clary.

She ignored his question, much more interested in what Isabelle had to say.

"I did," Isabelle answered. "You did a number on him."

A surge of anger shot through her. She did a number on him?

"Wait! Wait!" Sebastian waved his hand in the air. "Herondale? You're dating Herondale?" He looked away. "Well, that explains a lot."

Clary was just about to ask him what he meant when Simon gasped beside her and stood up straight. He turned to her, the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. Clary frowned for a moment until she heard the music playing in the background. She stepped back. "Oh no. Not here, Simon."

He grinned larger. "Come on! You know you wanna!"

Clary shook her head and shrank back against the bar. "I don't want to play your game here."

"What game?" Sebastian asked.

"A video game," Isabelle answered. "You know, one of those ones you have to dance along with? Simon's obsessed with it."

"I'm not obsessed! It's fun." He looked at Clary once more. "Come on."

She shook her head again, and he started to dance, stomping his foot and snapping his fingers. To her horror, he even started singing the song.

"This here's a tale for all the fellas, try to do what those ladies tell us. Get shot down 'cause you're overzealous. Play hard to get and females get jealous."

"Oh, God." Clary covered her eyes as Simon continued, now snapping and doing "The King". She peeked through her fingers just as he started "The Snake" and burst out laughing.

He smiled and tweaked his finger at her. "You know you want to." Clary waved him away, but he leaned into her and whispered, "It'll make you feel better."

She looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes and felt her chest squeeze. Simon held out his hand and she placed hers inside, letting him lead her out onto the dance floor. To her surprise, Isabelle joined them, standing next to Clary as Simon stood in front.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Follow me, ladies."

Clary and Isabelle couldn't help snickering when he started back in.

"Next day's function, high class luncheon, food is served, and you're stone cold munchin'." Simon sang as he did "The Chicken" and "The Shoulder Roll."

Clary and Isabelle tried to follow along, but both girls were laughing so hard they could barely see what Simon was doing. Clary's stomach hurt and she grabbed it, doubling over while trying to catch her breath. Simon continued dancing and singing, not paying her a bit of attention. Finally, she regained enough control to partially do each move while Simon called out, "Snake! Bust a Move! Cabbage Patch!" When he yelled out, "Freestyle!" Clary closed her eyes and let her body move, hands above her head, hips swaying from side-to-side.

She felt the crowd swarm around her, heat and the smell of sweat saturating the air. For a moment, she felt better. The frustration over her and Jace's argument melted away, leaving only her, her best friend, and about a hundred strangers doing old school dance moves to a song from the late eighties. It felt good. She missed being so free and uninhibited. But even so, it didn't take long for her unease to settle back in. What was she going to do about Jace? What was she going to say when she saw him? Did she even want to see him?

Opening her eyes, Clary felt the burden of her worries settle back on her shoulders. The reprieve was nice while it lasted, even briefly. She left Simon and Isabelle out on the dance floor and moved back to the bar, gathering her tray and cashing out the last of her tickets. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. He must have left, she thought to herself. Just as she'd finished the last bill, she felt someone move up beside her. Clary looked to her side and watched Isabelle slide into the stool. She didn't look at Clary.

"She's my mom's assistant," Isabelle said quietly after a few moments, still staring out at the crowd.

Clary stopped what she was doing, her hand frozen with several receipts clutched inside. "What? Who?"

Isabelle turned slowly toward Clary, her eyes dark and guarded. "The girl in the picture. The one you accused Jace of cheating with. She works for my mom. Mom was called into a last minute meeting, so Sydney came in her place. Jace hugged her because she'd been gone on maternity leave for the past six months and he hadn't seen her in awhile. We've all known each other for years."

"I—I never said—" Clary sputtered.

"You didn't have to say the words. He knew what you thought." She paused. "We all know what you thought."

Clary swallowed and looked down at her hands. Shame twisted in her stomach. The things Jace had said in the alley came flooding back to her. She'd been so upset at the time that she hadn't listened to a word. Not once had he sounded guilty or like he was trying to backpedal anything. He'd been trying to tell her, but she hadn't listened. She hadn't wanted to. At that time, her brain had convinced her of the one thing her heart told her couldn't be true. Everything they'd been through together, everything they'd said and done, proved to her that he wouldn't—couldn't have done what she'd accused him of.

"I'm so stupid," Clary whispered.

"Yeah, you are," Isabelle said.

Clary raised her gaze to Isabelle's, feeling the protectiveness flowing out of her.

"If you're looking for me to sugar-coat it for you, I'm not going to do that," Izzy said.

Clary shook her head, her heart pounding hard against her ribs and her stomach churning. What had she done? "I'm not."

Isabelle sighed. "Look, I know how Jace can be. I know he can be the world's biggest dick, believe me. But—he's like a brother to me, and I don't like seeing him hurt." She caught Clary's eyes. "Make it right, or I swear to God I will bitch-slap you."

Simon stepped up beside Clary and tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "What's going on?" His body stiffened, and Clary could feel the defensiveness in his posture.

She shook her head. "Nothing, I—I just need to get home."

But Simon didn't loosen his grip. In fact, if Clary weren't mistaken, he actually held her tighter. "Wait a minute." His gaze slid from Clary to Isabelle, and his eyes hardened. "I don't know what you said to her, but I'm assuming you're sticking up for your cousin."

"Simon—"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Isabelle stared up at him. "I don't care what he did or didn't do, but don't threaten her. She has a right to feel whatever she felt."

"And so does he." Isabelle stood from her chair, her eyes glued to Simon's.

"It's not like it takes a big leap of imagination anyway. I mean, he did have a lot of gir—"

Clary didn't want to hear anymore. With a shake of her head, she broke away from them and started toward the back. She didn't want to listen them argue either her or Jace's side. In her mind, it didn't matter who was right or wrong. All that mattered was fixing it. If that was possible.

Simon called out to her, but she didn't turn back. Now that she knew for certain what she should have known all along, she couldn't spend another moment thinking. She needed to act. God, what Jace must be thinking. Clary knew the things he'd said to her couldn't have been easy for him. Just last night he'd confessed so much about himself, about the ways his parents had doubted and mistreated him. And she'd done the same. Even though, in her mind, he was damn near perfect, she'd gone and made him feel less. She'd allowed a sliver of doubt to take over everything she knew. Everything.

After weaving her way through the crowd, Clary finally found herself in Magnus's office. With trembling hands, she punched her timecard, grabbed her jacket and bag, and started back toward the front of the club. Simon and Isabelle waited in the same spot she'd left them in. Clary moved past them without stopping. They hurried after her, Simon trying to talk to her as they went. But Clary didn't respond. He mind was full of things she needed to say, but didn't know if she could. Would he be able to forgive her for jumping to conclusions? He would understand, right? Right?

The ride back to the apartment took forever. Clary stared out the windows, watching the blur of the tunnels pass by. Simon and Izzy conversed softly beside her, but she didn't hear a word. The things she'd said earlier haunted her. I never gave you a reason to.

Clary closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass. I never gave you a reason to. As if he'd given her one. As if everything he'd done in his past had been to her personally. The words echoed and echoed through her mind, filling her heart with ice. How could she have said that? How could she have let herself say all of those things? Anger was no excuse. Sure, she had a right to wonder, to feel doubt. But she had no right to not give him a chance. To walk away and say the things she'd said.

After all the time and energy he'd spent trying to show her. The way he'd held her, kissed her, breathed the words onto her skin. And at the first sign of anything, she'd thrown the one thing in his face she knew would hurt him most.

The train slowed and Clary heard her stop called over the speaker. She opened her eyes to find Simon staring at her.

"What?" she asked, rising from her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "You've just been really quiet all the way home. I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

Isabelle eyed them both.

"I'm fine." Clary sighed. "I'm just . . . thinking."

The doors slid open and she made her way toward them, stepping out into the crowded subway tunnel. People shoved past her, trying to be the first into the car to enable a good seat. She shoved back. A couple of people gave her the evil eye, but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was getting home. Getting to him.

Simon and Isabelle followed her out of the tunnel and up onto the street. Traffic buzzed by, making Clary feel more anxious to get there. Being a city kid, she'd always had the movement and busyness of the city as the backdrop to her life. And she had never minded it before. But tonight, the cars, the people, the street performers, were all just obstacles between her and Jace.

She hurried through the crowds, ignoring the calls for spare change and aggravated grunts. Her building came into view a few short minutes later and her heart started to pound. He was there; his bike was parked in the alley beside the complex and lights burned in the window of the apartment just above hers. She sucked in a breath and crossed the street, aware of but paying no attention to her friends on her heels.

Her hand wrapped around the cold metal door handle, and she pulled. The familiar musty scent of the foyer washed over her, sending a jolt of nervousness right into the pit of her stomach. Determined to do this, she started toward the stairs, having no idea what she would say, but figuring she would just say whatever she felt. If she over thought it, she'd say something stupid and meaningless. This had to come from someplace private, vulnerable.

Clary clutched the banister and climbed the stairs, one flight, two, three. Footsteps echoed behind her, Simon and Isabelle following her all the way. She rolled her eyes at how far they were going to "escort" her home. It wasn't like she couldn't get herself to Jace's apartment without being abducted or something, but still, she said nothing and let them do their "job." It made them feel better, so why not?

Jace's hallway stretched out before her, seeming so endless as she stared at his door. Closing her eyes briefly, she swallowed and started toward it. With each step, her anxiety rose. She shouldn't feel this nervous. It was just a silly fight. A simple misunderstanding. If that were so, why did she feel so scared? It was ridiculous.

Before she knew it, Clary stood before his door, only it standing between her and him. She felt Simon and Izzy at her back. Taking in another breath, she raised her fist and knocked three times. After a moment, she heard the chain slide. Her heart nearly stopped. The lock clicked. Her heart started again. With a creek, the door opened, and blue eyes stared down on her. They flashed and then widened. Clary said nothing, just stared up at Alec, asking him with her gaze for entrance. He swallowed and took a step back, widening the door enough for her to enter.

She glanced past him, her breath leaving her in a rush when she spotted Jace. He stood across the room, bare-chested and sweaty, with his shirt slung over his shoulder and wet curls falling over his forehead. He'd been working out. Jace's eyes fell on hers and she saw it all, everything she'd been afraid of, yet everything she'd expected. Hurt, anger, uncertainty.

"We'll just . . . leave you two . . ." Alec said.

Simon protested, but his words muted to nothing as Clary held Jace's gaze. She wanted to go to him, to hold him, kiss him, tell him how stupid she was, but the look in his eyes told her to be cautious. The door clicked behind her and they were alone. The room filled with oppressive tension, pressing in on her at every point.

She took one tentative step forward, then another, and another. One at a time until she'd crossed the room and stood just before him. Her hands trembled slightly and she clasped them in front of her to hold them still. God, she ached to touch him, to run her fingers over his jaw, to brush her lips against his. If she could do that, maybe she could force out the words stuck in her throat.

Jace didn't move, didn't speak, didn't reach out. Clary's chest squeezed and her eyes stung. Drawing in a breath, she closed them and tried to speak.

"Jace—"

His name was all she got out before she felt his hand wrap around the back of her neck and pull her toward him. She let out a gasp as his mouth crashed down on hers, his lips devouring hers in a way that was both passionate and desperate.

"Jace," she tried again, wanting to make it right, wanting him to know that she knew.

"Clary, please," he said, his hands clutching her face, fingers digging into her flesh. "I don't want to fight anymore."

Clary's breath released in a gush and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn't care that he was sweaty or that his kiss tasted slightly of salt. He was kissing her, holding her, wanting her.

"God, I'm sorry," she said against his mouth. "So sorry."

His fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to his. "Me too."

"No," Clary shook her head and pulled back. "You don't need to be sorry, you didn't do anything wrong. It—it was me." She lowered her hands to his neck, her thumbs brushing the edge of his jaw. His eyes were still pained, still cautious. "I should've just let you talk. I—I don't know what happened. I got the messages and, yeah, it shocked me but I never—I never meant to . . ."

Jace let out a breath and rested his forehead against hers. "I get it, Clary. No one would blame you for questioning it. It's my own fault for being such an ass for so long, but I'd hoped," he closed his eyes, "I'd hoped I had proven myself enough. That I'd done enough, but I guess . . . I guess I haven't."

Clary shook her head, but he stopped her by gripping her face tightly between his hands, his eyes intent on hers.

"But I promise you, I will. I will, baby." His voice was pleading, begging for her to believe him. As if he needed to. As if he hadn't owned her from the moment she'd walked through that door. The moment their eyes met. As if he wouldn't own her for the rest of her life. "Because I'm positive I'll disappoint you. I'll hurt you and I'll make you mad, but I never want you to doubt this." Jace lowered his hand and gestured between the two of them. "Because this . . . this is the one thing I can give you that I'm sure of. That I know I can never screw up. That my past or my future can never take away." He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently, his breath flowing warm and delicious over her mouth. "I want you, only you. No one else. There's no one else. There could never be anyone else."

Clary's throat tightened and tears stung her eyes, spilling over. "Stop," she said, reaching up to quickly wipe the moisture from her cheeks. "You're making me act like a girl."

Jace brushed his fingers over her face, clearing the last remnants of wetness from her skin. "You are a girl." He bent, pressing his lips to one cheek, "My girl," then the other. "My beautiful girl." Slowly, he moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "La mia bella ragazza."

Clary closed her eyes and ran her lips over his cheek until she reached his mouth. Her hands came up to cup his face. "Te amo, Jace," she said, her fingers trailing over his skin and her lips brushing his. "Te amo."

His mouth curled up into a grin under hers. He knew the significance of those words. How they meant so much more than a simple, "I love you" in English. "Ti amo così tanto, bella ragazza." He pulled back and met her gaze, his eyes moving between hers. So intense. So gold. So beautiful. "Sempre."

It didn't seem strange to Clary that they were confessing themselves to each other in languages other than their own, and still different from one another. It didn't matter because somehow, it meant more, and it felt right. This was them. The way they were together that was unlike how they were with anyone else.

"Siempre," she breathed.

Jace leaned in, coming closer and closer, until he was kissing her. Kissing her soft and slow, and then hard and fast. Kissing her until she had no more air to breathe, and had no choice but to share his.

No relationship is perfect and all have moments like this. Jace and Clary are no different. Not sure why so many thought this was "the moment" when everything was going to blow up. No, we're not there quite yet. Are you all happier now? You had to know I couldn't keep them mad for long. And some of you doubted me. ;) You know you love it.

XOXO ~ddpjclaf

Lots of love to LLWB. I so enjoyed all of the angry venting and squealing from your comments on this chapter. ;) You be wack, yo! ;) Love you! *muah*

A special thanks to Niniadepapa for helping me decide which version of "I love you" I needed. (I still miss you so much!)

And of course to Smiley, thank you for speaking to me in Italian and letting me steal your pretty words. Te adoro, mi niño dulce. *besos*

Translations:

"la mia bella ragazza." (Italian) – my beautiful girl

"Te amo." (Spanish) – I love you. (There is great significance to Clary using this way to tell Jace she loves him. In Spanish, when one is saying "I love you" to a friend or even boyfriend/girlfriend, they will often use "Te quiero." Using "Te amo" signifies a deep, deep love for someone. Clary and Jace both know this, being familiar with the language. ;))

"Ti amo così tanto, bella ragazza." (Italian) – I love you so much, beautiful girl.

"Sempre." (Italian)– always

"Siempre." (Spanish)- always