Okay, so I don't know how I did this, but all the reviews and followers and favorites I got since I posted the last chapter made me really want to write some more, so I cranked this out for you all. I wrote it all today, and I didn't edit it, so I'm really hoping it's good.

To those who reviewed: thank you so much! Especially to the guest who said they stayed up all night reading: you're awesome!

Anyways, here's this chapter. Let me know what you all think!

I do not own TMI

Jace

"What happened? Where are you?" His words are level and calm, but behind them I hear the barely contained fury.

I abandon my usual cocky speech in favor or what almost sounds like pleading. If I actually want his help, he needs to hear how much I need him, or else there's no way in hell he'd abandon his sick son for the smart-ass fuck-up he agreed to house. "There's been a… there's been an accident," I start, allowing some of my carefully concealed fear to show through my voice. "You need to come help me out."

"Jace, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robert's words have become exasperated, and I picture him pacing on the phone, trying desperately to piece together my dilemma. Good luck with that. "You do realize that we're all home with Max who has cancer, yes? You said you would be home shortly after us. Where are you?"

"Yes, yes, I know. And I know I usually don't face problems like Max's head-on, but I seriously would prefer being there at home over where I am now, all right? So please, for the love of God, help me out here. I'm in Idris."

"Idris?" All his confusion is conveyed in that short word. "As in Idris, Minnesota? Jace, you need to be home. Max's condition is life-threatening; do you not understand that?"

"Robert, I'm at the hospital with a concussion and god-knows how many breaks in my wrist. And I got this way trying to defend someone who's also currently in a life-threatening situation, except her situation is a little bit more pressing than cancer. So yes, I want to be home, and yes, I understand Max could die, but if you don't help me out someone will die. Please, all I need is for you to come out and help me. Just put a little faith in me. I know I don't deserve it from the years I've spent with you, but please, take a chance?"

The line is silent for a moment. And another moment. And another, until I worry he has just walked away from the phone. But then his voice cuts through the silence, his words turning my world around. "I'll catch the next plane out."

As he hangs up the phone, I lie back on the hospital pillows, and I allow a small smile to tug at the sides of my lips.

After a moment of relaxed happiness, I buzz in one of the nurses and ask for Officer Niles. He comes in silently, with a nod in my direction, and I sigh. "Sit down," I direct him. "This is gonna be a long story."

Clary

I wake to keys jangling in the door. Cracking one eye open, I direct my attention to the door. If it's my father, I don't want to get up: doing so will mean I've resigned myself to my fate, but on this small, smelly mattress I can at least pretend I'm just dreaming. If it's Jonathan, well, who knows where that will go, but either way staying in bed means I can pretend for a little bit longer that I'm still safe with Jace and Simon, that neither one is hurt, that they're both alive.

I dreamt about Jace last night. He was watching me as Jonathan came into the room. He watched as I allowed Jonathan to take me. He shook his head in disapproval. He didn't believe Jonathan's words. Maybe I did make the wrong decision; maybe I gave up too soon. But at least now I have a chance. And if it falls through, it's never too late to start fighting. Giving Jonathan what he wanted only increased my chances. I just wish I could tell Jace that.

He'd be so ashamed. He would never give up like that. But then again, he's never had to live with my father or listen to Jonathan.

It's my father who unlocks the door, and I snap my eye shut before he sees it open. If he thinks I'm asleep, maybe he'll wait a little longer. More time might calm him down.

No such luck comes my way. I grit my teeth as my father grabs me by the hair and pulls me into a sitting position. Swiftly, his hand cracks across my face, shocking my eyes open as a small yelp escapes my lips. I drag my eyes timidly up to meet his. He's squatting in front of me, lips pressed into an angry line. There's no humor in his eyes, none of the usual sadistic glee in watching me suffer. I wonder if that's a good or bad thing.

"You've really fucked my life up this time, haven't you?" His voice is harsh and serious.

I fucked his life up? I want to scream at him. He's not the one locked up in a dank, dark basement. He's not the one at the mercy of two men twice his weight. I bite my tongue for now, though. Let him speak. The longer he's speaking, the longer he's not hurting me.

"I do not appreciate the stunts you've been pulling since we moved to New York, Clarissa." I try not to flinch as his spit flies at my face with each word. "You've destroyed my job, my reputation, my relationship with my wife. Why couldn't you just do as you were told?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "What are you talking about?" I'm terrified of what wrath my words will incite in my father, but I refuse to allow his delusional thoughts to convince me that I'm to blame for this sudden change in scenery. Maybe I did deserve his beatings, maybe I led Jonathan on and he had the right to kiss me, but these extremities – the branding, the kidnapping – those weren't my fault. "YOU brought this upon yourself. The beatings and housework and Jonathan I could handle – and maybe you were right about those being my fault – but you're the one who's started acting differently. You're the one who nearly killed Mom. You decided to brand me, and you decided to bring me out here. This isn't my-"

"And who do you think caused me to act that way?" He cuts me off, carefully enunciating each of his words. His face has tinted red with rage, and I know that I only have a matter of moments before he bursts. "Your mother deserves all the pain she received for giving birth to you. If she hadn't done that, if you hadn't been born, she'd still love me, and I never would have hurt her. And you started going off with your little boy toy, so I had no choice but to brand you – to claim you. And I wouldn't have had to bring you here if you hadn't run off with him! But the second you did that, you sealed both my fate and yours. I can't contact anybody from work without the police finding us, I had to leave Jocelyn behind to take you, and everybody is going to look at me as the villain when really, it's all. Your. Fault. And now, you're going to pay for all the pain you caused me."

With these words, he wraps a hand around my throat and stands, pulling me with him. Instantly, my hands reach up to my neck, desperately trying to release the choke hold, but his grip only tightens. His free hand, balled into a fist, smashes into my jaw and is followed by a knee to my gut. My body flies backward, stopped only from the vise around my neck. Black spots begin dancing in front of me, clouding my vision, and I open my mouth, desperately mouthing to my father, Please. Please, let me breathe.

He only smirks at my pitiful attempts and sends another fist to my mouth.

The blows continue, but just before the sweet, sweet calling of unconsciousness can claim me and end my suffering, at least momentarily, he lets go of my neck, and I drop to the floor, clutching my neck.

"You didn't think I'd let you end your suffering just yet, did you?" My father asks. "No, you deserve this punishment. And you need to feel it every step of the way."

I close my eyes and cover my head, and suddenly, the beating stops. I turn my face upwards, praying that it has finished, but what I see only increases my fear. He slides his belt from his jeans, smirking as he does so. "Didn't think you'd be dealing with this again, did you?" he asks. "Well, I rather liked watching you beg for mercy underneath it. So you can beg again, but this time, it's not going to stop what's coming."

I curl up into the fetal position as he raises his arm, whimpering quietly. I won't beg, not this time. Not if it won't help me. I tense as his arm begins its descent.

As the belt lands on my side, sending shocks of fire-y pain through my body, the pain suddenly ceases. I feel light, like I'm floating, and I watch, stupefied, as I lift up and away from the bloody ground around me. But something isn't right: my body doesn't come with me. I watch in horror as my father continues to beat my crumpled body, the sadistic light in his eyes gleaming with each bloody strike of the belt.

Is this it? Am I going to die like this? Will my father finally finish the job he's been working on since I was a small girl? And what happened to Jonathan? Did he simply lie to me about stopping my father? Did he just want to fuck me once before he stepped back and allowed my father to kill me? Will they ever be caught, or will they go back to their normal lives after this is all over? At least I don't feel anything. At least my death will be painless.

My mind flits briefly to Jace. If he's still alive, he'll be crushed by my death. Unless it was all just a game. Unless he never really cared about me. Maybe he was actually working with Jonathan and my father. It would make sense; he is named after Jonathan. Maybe this was all just a ploy to get rid of me so my father can go back to his life before he had me. I hope it was all a set-up. At least that way he won't be upset over something so insignificant as my death. He can go back to his normal life as well and never have to worry about the tiny, beaten red-head who naively believed in him, who clung to him like a gnat.

I'm getting tired. The room around me is losing its color, fading out. Is this it? Does that mean I'm dying? There certainly is a lot of blood: around my body, on the belt, on my father's shirt. I wouldn't be surprised if this were it.

And I'm not upset, either. Dying now will save me from a life of pain in this basement. Nothingness, even hell, is a great alternative to what's happening in my real life.

I feel happy, euphoric even, as the room gets darker and darker.

Jace

Officer Niles sits, stunned, as I finish my monologue. He abandoned his pen and paper a while ago, instead turning to a voice recorder when he realized it wasn't going to be a ten-minute story. I filled him in on everything, from when she first moved and I questioned why she never ate lunch to calling the police after bandaging up Simon. I left out all my mental breakdowns, of course, but otherwise I told him everything.

He doesn't move or speak, but I don't mind the silence. I lie back on the bed, and I'm ashamed to admit it feels good to know I'm no longer the only one carrying this story; somebody else is now weighed down by it. We can share the burden.

A nurse steps into the room, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting," she says, "But I just got a call saying that your lawyer has landed. Officer Niles, you said you would pick him up."

Officer Niles looks over at her, blinks a few times, and jolts as if he had just woken up. "Right. I'll do that. Thank you." He turns back to me. "I'll be back in a few minutes, and then we can sort this out once and for all. Meanwhile, why don't you see if you can get an x-ray of that wrist? It looks a bit less swollen now."

He stands, a bit shakily, and steps out of the room. I look down at my wrist to see that he's right. The swelling is substantially better. The nurse sees this as well and motions for me to stand. "Let's go get that checked out now, what do you say?"

I push myself to my feet, ignoring the swirling dizziness in my head, and follow her out of the room.

By the time they finish setting my wrist, which is broken in three places, and they get a cast on it, it's been nearly an hour. The doctor tried to joke about how he'd never seen somebody seem so unbothered by such a bad break, but I couldn't bring myself to smile at him. Watching the doctors fix my wrist only reminded me of Clary's position: whatever they're doing to her, she has nobody to tend to her injuries. If her father doesn't kill her himself, infections from his beatings might do the job. I need to find her, and I need to find her quickly.

Bringing myself back to the current situation, I step into my hospital room, where Robert and Officer Niles sit and talk in hushed voices. The moment he sees me, Robert jumps up, and if I weren't so overwhelmed by my need to save Clary, the look on his face would have terrified me.

"I can't fucking believe you, Jace!" he yells, causing a new burst of nausea and a new pounding in my head to overcome me. I guess my concussion was a little worse than I thought. I push past him and sit down on my bed in an attempt to stop the pain, but I don't let Robert see my discomfort. "Why didn't you tell us about what was going on?"

"She wouldn't let me," I shoot back. "I wanted to go to the police, but if I did anything too soon, she would have freaked out and denied it all, and then her father would have just taken her away again. I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want this to happen!" My voice has risen steadily as I continued speaking, and I know it's not right to yell at Robert; this information is all just hitting him at the same time as he's trying to process that his youngest son is dying, but I can't bring myself to care about his feelings.

"Oh, but you just decided that now would be a good time? After your brother was just diagnosed with cancer, for God's sake?"

"Right, I'm sorry," I bite back. "I totally planned on Valentine branding Clary, or on the police officer at the hospital working for him. I guess I should have just asked nicely for them all to wait another couple of months, yes? That definitely would have fixed everything. Or maybe I should have just told Clary to deal with it, that I'd help her when it was convenient for me. Is that what you want me to have done?"

Robert breathes in sharply. His hands move to his face and box the sides of his head, just as they always do when he is nervous or upset. As he exhales, he brings his eyes back up to meet mine.

"You're right. I'm being unreasonable." He sighs. "Just, with everything going on… I didn't want to admit there was another problem. Look, this isn't really my area of expertise. I've never worked on child abuse cases, but if you really want me to, I'll help."

I smile. "Thanks."

In most families, this would be the part where I'd give him a hug, refer to him as 'dad,' or told him I couldn't think of anyone in the world I'd rather have work on this case, but I've never been one for all that mushy crap. So instead I get to work right away.

"What do you know about them? Valentine and Jonathan?"

He sighs. "I knew both of them, I suppose, as you've probably gathered by now. Valentine and I used to be close. We met in college, along with your father, and for many years we were inseparable. We were still friends for a good while, but when I saw the way he was raising Jonathan, we drifted apart. Jonathan wasn't even his son, but he looked up to him as a father, and I could tell Valentine was teaching him that his own, selfish desires should always take precedence: money, fame, good status, and the like. He had no regard for character, as long as you appeared amicable, but I didn't understand that until he began teaching Jonathan the same traits. I figured if he could be that influential on Jonathan, he could easily be just as influential on my own children, so I moved. I haven't talked to him since… well, since Michael died. I didn't even know he had moved back to New York

"As for Jonathan, I never really got to know him. We interacted every so often, since we're both lawyers, but I could always see past the persona he displayed. I knew it was just an act, and I figured he'd get himself into trouble at some point, so I didn't want to be associated with him. I was thinking more along the lines of fraud or spoliation of evidence, though. I never imagined it would be something like this." He looks down, and I wonder if he blames himself for not acting on his worry about Jonathan.

I nod. "All right. So what's our next step?"

Officer Niles stands, ready to finally act rather than sit back and listen. He may be young and naïve, but I have a feeling that naivety is going to be our biggest asset: he's not giving up the hope that we'll save Clary, and neither am I. That has to count for something. "I'll call to assemble a search party. The station's already doing a background check on Valentine, Jonathan, and Clary, but if there's anyone you think would be helpful to call, I'd suggest doing so. They may be able to give us hints as to where Clary's been taken."

"Clary mentioned her mother once," I say. "She sounded like she cared about her. If she knows Valentine abducted her, I'll bet her mom will help us."

"Jocelyn," Robert says. "That's right. I should still have her number from when we first met, assuming it hasn't changed." He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts. "Ah-ha!" With a triumphant grin, he presses the name.

"Jocelyn?" He says a few moments later. "It's Robert, Robert Lightwood. Do you remember—Luke?"

I don't know who Luke is, but I assume he's a friend as well, from the way Robert's face lights up when he says his name. Maybe Luke knew Valentine, too. Maybe he sees he's a bad person, just like Robert does. Another person would only help our search.

I turn my attention to Officer Niles, only to find he's on the phone with the station, organizing a search team. I drop my head to my hands, feeling utterly useless. Now that things are actually starting to get moving, I realize, I won't be able to do much. I'm just a minor, after all, and even if I were older, I have no training in any sort of search-and-rescue or investigation-type stuff. They're going to want me to just sit back and watch. I'll have to figure out what to do about that.

But that doesn't mean I can't do something now. I think about checking on Simon, but the doctor told me he'd come get me when Simon wakes up, and I can't imagine talking to him would make me feel much better anyway. So I settle for grabbing my phone to scroll through social media. I don't bother looking at the multiple texts from Izzy, no doubt asking where the hell I am and why Robert had to leave so suddenly. I don't want to deal with her right now, either.

Just before I throw my phone at the wall in frustration, Officer Niles catches my eye and motions me towards him. I hop up, aching to be useful, and walk over to his spot in the corner of the room.

"Could you give me a detailed description of Clary, please? And if you can, of Valentine and Jonathan as well."

"Yeah. Clary's short, about 5'1. She's super skinny, has bright red hair…

After I describe Clary, I go on to Valentine and Jonathan. When I finish, I answer a few more questions the search team has, about the details of the last time I saw her, any ideas I might have as to where she was taken (none), and how likely they were to hurt her, and in what ways. I really didn't want to answer that last question, and I could see how much it hurt Officer Niles to reiterate my words to the station, but I got through it. As Niles hangs up, we turn to Robert, who got off the phone a few minutes earlier.

"Luke's bringing her out. She sounded pretty shaken up when I gave her the news, but that's to be expected. I didn't really get any information out of her over the phone, but maybe we'll have better luck in person."

I nod. "Who's Luke?"

"He was another of our friends in college. He always loved Jocelyn, though, so Valentine never really liked him. When he began sensing that Jocelyn was falling for Luke as well, Valentine made Luke move. I'm still not sure exactly what happened between the two of them, but Luke has hated Valentine ever since. I'm amazed that he and Jocelyn kept in contact at all; I have no idea how they're together now. Anyways, you'll get to talk to him when he gets here. Now, while we wait I was thinking about getting some coffee. Do either of you want anything?"

I shake my head, and Officer Niles politely declines. When Robert leaves, I lie back down on the bed and look up at the ceiling, expecting Niles to leave as well. Instead, he sits in the chair next to the bed and looks up at the spot where my eyes are fixed.

"You're handling this pretty well," he says suddenly. I furrow my eyebrows. Why does he care?

"It's not the first time I've dealt with a police investigation. Like I said, look up my record."

"I did," he responds, which surprises me. When did he have time to do that? "And I'm surprised you haven't broken down or given up yet. Most people who have gone through as much as you aren't quite as driven as you are."

"Well if I have no drive I have no reason to live," I say, expecting that to shut him up. I'm not about to talk about my feelings right now.

That silences him for a minute or two, but then, just as suddenly as he asked his first question, he blurts out, "What is Clary like?"

I bolt upright and eye him skeptically. "Why do you care?"

He sighs. "I don't know. Was she closed off? Did she hate her life, or blame the world for her circumstances? Did her father's treatment get to her?"

I think about lying. It seems weird that he's asking these personal questions. But then again, it's probably his first time on a case like this, what with how young he looks. Maybe he's just trying to figure out how best to approach her when they find her, or how to address future victims of child abuse. So I decide to tell him the truth. I return my eyes to the point on the ceiling.

"Sometimes. When I first met her she tried to be sarcastic and forgettable. She tried to push people away, to fly under the radar so nobody would uncover her secret. But she never really hated life, I wouldn't say, so much as she was jealous of other people's happiness. I could tell she envied my sister, even before I knew about the abuse. She envied her sociability, clear disregard for others' approval, and her good relationship with her family. She wanted that for herself. But Clary never blamed the world. I think Valentine convinced her to blame herself for her circumstances, so in that way his treatment got to her, but she was kind-hearted and selfless. Valentine didn't take that away from her. She consoled me about my family problems without even hinting she had worse problems than mine. Whenever she saw my little brother, she'd entertain him for hours even when she had way better things to do with her time. So no, he didn't really get to her. I don't think he'll ever take her good-heartedness away from her. Maybe he'll bury it, so we have to work to bring it back out, but he won't destroy it."

Finishing my answer, I look back over at Niles and immediately wish I hadn't told him all that. That light in his eyes, which just yesterday held innocence, naivety, and hope, has already dimmed significantly. He's frowning, looking down at his hands. I can tell he's deeply troubled by what I've told him, but I'm not sure why. Shouldn't Clary's resilience give him more hope, not less?

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly. I've never been one for sentimental man-to-man talks, but this time I'm curious.

He shakes his head. "I just can't… I can't believe… that someone so good could be treated so poorly. It doesn't seem right, you know?"

I nod. "Believe me, I know."

Clary

My father is long gone by the time I return to my body. My body has had probably fifteen minutes to recover, but the pain I feel as I return is unmatched by anything I've felt in my life. It's too much to even scream, as doing so would require energy I simply don't have. I try to move my arm, my leg, anything to convince myself I'm still intact, but I don't have the strength. My whole body feels more on fire than it did when I was branded. I wish I could pass out, leave my body again, anything to end the pain, but apparently I haven't suffered enough. Instead, I breathe few, short breaths, trying to minimize the pain of inhaling, and stare blankly ahead at the floor splattered with blood where, not long ago, my father stood with his hideous weapon. My eyes fix on a splatter of blood not far in front of me. For some reason, it looks like my mother. I wish she really were my mother; maybe she could comfort me if she were here. Maybe she could actually stop my father, unlike Jonathan. My eyes flit heavily to the wall a little way in front of me, where a small smudge of dirt grabs my attention. It looks just like the Brooklyn Bridge. I wish I was there again. If I were, I would jump. Then maybe I could finally be free of my father's clutches.

I don't know how long I've looked at the Brooklyn-Bridge-dirt when I next hear rattling at the door. Fear overwhelms me – has my father not gotten enough of me? – but all I can manage is a whimper as the door opens.

It isn't my father, though. This time, it's Jonathan. I want to recoil away from him, to yell at him for breaking his promise, but I'm paralyzed by pain. So instead I watch with wide eyes as he walks over to me, a glass of water, some type of bottle, and tan gauze in hand. His eyes look pained as he sits down on the mattress near my head. Ignoring the blood around him, he sets down the bottle and gauze and holds the water up to my mouth. I don't want to accept his 'help,' not after what he took from me with nothing to show for it, but I cannot deny that I'm parched, so I grudgingly gulp some down. When I'm finished, he sits back, placing the water by his side.

"I tried to stop him, I swear I did," he whispers sadly. "He was just so mad. So inconsolable. He blames you for all of this, and he wanted to make you pay. I thought… he looked calm when he came down here. I thought I had convinced him not to hurt you too badly."

I let out a shaky breath as he clenches his teeth together, looking over my torn body. "I'm so sorry. You do know I tried, right?"

Suddenly, I don't know what to think. While my father was beating me, I had been sure Jonathan had played me, but now he seems so sincere. And for all his flaws, he has never once lied to me.

It hurts like hell, but I force myself to speak. My voice is barely audible, and I can only speak slowly, but I manage to say, "All I'm sure of right now is I can't imagine being in more pain."

"I know, Clarissa, and I'm so, so sorry. I don't want you to be in pain." He holds up the bottle. "This is antibiotic ointment. It will keep your cuts from getting infected. Then I'll wrap it in gauze. The pressure is going to hurt though."

"Great, so you'll prove me wrong. I can be in more pain." My voice is still weak, but it's easier to push through the pain this time, since I knew what was coming.

Jonathan looks at me with sad eyes. "This is better than waiting for it to get infected. I don't want to hurt you, I promise."

I don't want him to touch me, but I can't imagine trying to run from him right now, so instead I lie quietly as he dresses my wounds, just as Jace did only a few days ago. That feels like another lifetime, but in some ways it's exactly the same: I'm having my belt wounds bandaged by a boy I don't really know all that well, who I'm not sure if I can trust. I try to hold back my yelps; I don't want Jonathan to think he's hurting me.

"Why are you helping me?" I get out as he wraps my arm. "You were helping my father when we were in New York."

He sighs, keeping his focus on his work. "I know. But I never wanted to hurt you." He pauses for a moment to look me in the eyes, and I see nothing but sincerity behind them. "I really want you to know that. I didn't want to help Valentine that day in the apartment, but I was butt-hurt about you denying me and he fed on that. He was so convincing, and I… I just gave in." He turns back to my arm. "But I knew when I heard your scream that I had fucked up. And I don't expect you to forgive you for that, but I want you to know that I want to make it up to you. I'm only here to keep Valentine tamed, and if I can figure out how to do it, then we'll escape. But I don't know how long that will take."

I lie quietly as he finishes bandaging me – which takes quite a long time. Finally, when the last bandage has been placed, he slides his hands beneath me and lifts me into the air. Before I can question him, he lifts me up and lays me gently on the bed.

"There, that's better. Now you're away from all the blood. Maybe you can get some sleep." He runs a hand through my hair, and when he realizes what a knotted mess it is, begins combing through it, working the knots out carefully.

What is he doing? I've never experienced anything so innocently caring yet somewhat intimate as his sitting next to me in silence combing through my hair. Could he possibly be telling the truth? Does he really care for me? Will he really try to get me out of here? He sounds honest, but his story doesn't quite add up. He didn't have to be so violent with Jace and Simon if he were trying to help me. Hell, he should have just refused to help my father and called me to warn that my father was coming. But maybe that wasn't possible for him. Maybe this was his best chance of helping me. And if it is, I should be grateful.

Plus, there's that other factor. He hasn't pulled any sort of move the entire time he's been down here. He didn't cop a feel while bandaging me, he didn't try to kiss me, he hasn't even hinted at wanting sex. If he were simply trying to convince me he was helping me, he surely wouldn't have acted so kindly, so platonically.

"Hey," Jonathan says gently, realizing I haven't closed my eyes yet. "It's okay. You can sleep. I won't let Valentine hurt you." When I don't heed his suggestion, he speaks again, his voice tinged with sadness. "I won't hurt you either, if that's what you're scared of."

I hold his gaze for another few moments. What is he trying to pull? Where do his loyalties really lie?

I have no idea, but looking at him right now won't help me figure it out. He's telling me to sleep, which is a much better option than being beaten by my father or succumbing to sex with him. So I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of his warm hands stroking through my hair. They're steady, reassuring, and they stay in my mind as I slip off to sleep.

So what do you all think? Is Jonathan sincere? Review with what you think!

Or just review to let me know what you're thinking of the story, or anything else, really. I love reviews! :D