AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here you go! Chapter 26! I can't believe I'm still writing for this story. But it's fun. :)

DISCLAIMER: The Mortal Instruments Characters are owned by miss Cassie Clare. I only own this fanfic. If I can even own that.

Chapter 26: Big Brother

Alec was grabbing his coat the second the call ended – and the call didn't even last for very long. Isabelle. Isabelle was in trouble. And he didn't even know where she was. He tried to call for Jace, but nothing. He tried to phone their house, but nothing, still. Could it be that both of them had encountered an accident? Alec's stomach dropped at the thought.

Magnus was beside him, one hand on the hand that still held his phone. Alec tried not to jerk back. There was an emergency.

"Magnus, I need to go." Alec said, and Magnus grabbed his coat. "Magnus,"

"Alec, you don't have a ride. We'll get there faster," He jingled his keys in one hand and opened the door, and Alec was surprised and shocked for a moment. Magnus was offering to help, not so much as asking what had happened but jumping to the rescue. Alec was relieved.

When they got to the car and Magnus was backing out, Alec tried to call for Isabelle again. This time, she took the call, but didn't answer. In the background he could hear a cat. A cat! Was it Church? So she was at home! But she wasn't answering, and it worried him. Worried him even more.

"I think she's home," Alec said, and Magnus nodded, eyes fixed on the road.

"She said she needed my help." Alec went on, even without Magnus asking. Magnus nodded, and his eyes softened. He wanted to reach for Alec's hand in the darkness and give it a reassuring squeeze and tell him that it would be okay, but Magnus knew that he couldn't give false reassurances, not until he saw the damage, or until they both found out about the problem.

"Jace isn't answering his phone, and neither is Isabelle. Nobody's answering the house phone, too." Alec tried to hold it together. He was the big brother. This was why he was the responsible one, why he was the one to pick after his siblings. He closed his eyes and finally, Magnus took his hand.

Alec thought that driving with one hand could be hard, and if it was, well, Magnus didn't show any signs of it. He looked at Alec and gave him a smile, a smile that said all the things Alec really couldn't say. A smile that said that he would help, even if it was just for the ride. And Alec knew, really knew, that Magnus was helping – and the car ride was only one of them.

Jace tried to sit up.

And then wish he didn't.

Stars burst into his vision and he felt his head start to swim. Had he hit the wall too hard? Did he fall down and break too many bones? He hissed at the pain but managed to stand up. Jonathan Morgenstern was a bastard. Jace spat out blood and he staggered towards the front door, sure he had heard screams earlier.

Could it have been Clary? Had Jonathan hurt her? But he had thrown her out of the room the moment he got there. Clary had tried to get between them, pleading with her brother, but it didn't get her far. Jonathan dragged her away, locking her outside the house to deal with Jace. And Jace could deal with him. But Jonathan, he had to admit, was bigger than him and punched harder.

He tried not to grind his teeth – he was sure his jaw would protest at that. And his entire body was screaming at him to lie down or else it'll shut off and he'd faint, but he kept on, wanting to make sure if Jonathan was still around and if he was then he'd kick his ass out of the house – even if it meant lifting a leg that pained him too much.

But instead of the familiar red hair, he saw an even familiar mass of dark hair. Crumpled and on the ground. Forgetting about the throbbing pain in his head and how standing up made him want to throw up and how his legs would give in and how he spat out blood again, Jace came running to Isabelle's side – as fast as his running went, anyway.

He stopped by her side and lifted her up to his legs, her head on his lap. She didn't look hurt, but the way her wrist looked red only meant that Jonathan did touch his sister.

And it was the sort of touching that drove Jace back to his feet, his fingers curling into his palm. Isabelle, noticing Jace's movements now, shot up a hand and then pulled him to the ground. A little part of Jace was thankful for that – he felt like he was going to black out the moment he stood up too fast.

"Are you okay?" Isabelle said, and the sarcasm they associated with each other was gone – her tone stripped of any bitterness. There was only concern, and Jace, with a pang of relief and of hurt, noticed how her mascara ran and how the tears had not quite dried.

Isabelle who never cried. Who was the last to show hurt. Who could throw a guy all the way to the next city had cried. And whether it was because she was worried about him or because Jonathan had hurt her, Jace didn't really care. All he cared about was Isabelle had been in pain – was still in pain – and had cried.

"I'm fine." Jace said, voice rough.

Isabelle looked at him from where she lay and closed her eyes.

"Jace," She started to get up, and instead of push her back down to lie some more, Jace helped her sit up. "Just tell me how bad it is."

And she knew he was lying. But was it even necessary? Did he even need to try to hide the pain – the physical pain – just because he was beaten up? Because somebody had gotten the upper-hand? And it wasn't like he was the only one hurting. It wasn't like he was the only one who had been deceived.

Jonathan. Jonathan that god damn bastard.

The next time she saw him would be too soon. She wouldn't even think if the hate that boiled up in her could be dosed. He had hurt her brother, and Jace, being the idiot that he was, would still not admit to the pain.

"'S not so bad…" Jace said and coughed. Even the cough made his body shudder, and he felt pain shoot from his ribs and then down to his feet. Was he that much of a mess? Isabelle touched his forehead and he winced. When she drew back, he noticed the blood.

Yeah, he was a horrifying mess.

"Jonathan! Jonathan!" Clary yelled as soon as Jonathan slammed the car door shut and drove like the maniac he was. Clary closed her eyes, the tears coming.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Jace wasn't supposed to get hurt.

"Jace…Jace didn't do anything," Clary said, and Jonathan spared her a glance. His eyes burned, and Clary just looked away.

This was all her fault. She was at fault here. If she hadn't agreed to get a late lunch with Jace and just went back to her classes, then maybe he wouldn't have ended up hurt. She would be with Simon, and she wouldn't even have to kiss him.

But it all happened, and Jonathan had felt like he needed to protect her.

It wasn't so bad when she was with Simon. But when it came to Jace, Jonathan did feel like he needed to get his sister away from him. That was always the case. Simon was an exception because Simon couldn't hurt his sister like someone like Jace could. Jace Lightwood – The Golden Boy, the boy who killed dozens with his smile, who could break hearts. Who never bothered with a proper girl-friend because he was too good for any of the girls in TBA.

He was the type to hurt his little sister. Simon was not.

Jonathan walked into the house, Clary following. She noticed how her father's car was parked outside, and that he was home. She tried not to cry, lest he saw her.

She also tried not to scream at Jonathan. Not to call him a monster. He was a monster. A monster for playing with her own feelings – he would be sweet at times, and then he would turn into somebody she didn't even recognize if things didn't go his way.

"Stay away from me!" Clary said, and she shoved him away. Jonathan had approached her, and Clary's only response was to push him away.

She ran up the stairs and into her room, Jonathan following behind her.

Her fingers curled around the knob and she looked up at her older brother.

"I want you out of my life. I don't want you anymore big brother." Clary said, venom lacing her every word. "And I mean it this time. I want to live with Luke again," And Clary turned around, brushing Jonathan's cold hand off her shoulder and slamming the door in his face and locking it before she slid to the ground, her head buried in her hands, her phone buzzing in her pocket.

If she checked, then she would know that it was Jace – that Jace just wanted to know if she was okay. And then if she had picked it up, then she would have heard Isabelle screaming in the background, shrieking at him for calling her – her, of all people. Whose older brother had knocked him out.