I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the Characters.
They are all property of Cassandra Clare.
All that I take credit for is the twist in the storyline and any original characters that may pop up.
A/N: Hello Everyone! So, guess what? Me, being the genius that I am, originally wrote this chapter in first person rather than third -.- SO, if you see any changes of narrative, please let me know so I can go back and fix it! I think that I got them all, but there is a possibility that there are a few "I" and "mines" swimming about. As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoy :)
And this cup of yours tastes holy
but a brush with the Devil can clear your mind
and strengthen your spine
Clary sighed heavily, my breath blowing the hair out of her face only for it to settle in her line of vision once again. With a frustrated swipe of the hand, she tucked the wanton hair behind her ear once more. Her head was throbbing. The pounding at the base of her skull hadn't relented since she'd awoken after her and Jace' trip to the graveyard.
She couldn't get that woman's face out of her head. Her eyes had been so wide with fear as they had locked onto hers.
She had begged Clary to help her, and she couldn't even bring herself to move.
She'd just watched, completely dumbstruck by the fact that Jace could be holding a woman by her throat with a blade in her gut. He'd always been the one to protect others – the one to protect her. That seraph blade didn't belong in his hands against a warlock that wasn't fighting back.
She swallowed heard, willing back the bile that threatened. It made her sick to think of that afternoon, of the darkness that had claimed his golden eyes.
Never in my life, aside from first meeting him, had I been afraid of Jace.
No, you're not afraid of Jace. Clary told herself, her teeth grating over her lower lip anxiously, Jonathan did something. That wasn't Jace. It was Jonathan.
"What did I do, now?"
She froze, the pen that had been in my grasp falling to the paper. She hadn't even realized that she had been thinking allowed or that, looking down at the sketchpad resting on my lap, she had been drawing those same haunted eyes that plagued her thoughts. Clary ripped the sheet away and crumpled it between her shaking hands. "What?" She asked dumbly, tucking the ball of paper into the front pocket of her sweatshirt.
"You said," Jonathan began, sauntering forward until he stood above her where she sat at the foot of the stairs, "and I quote, 'it was Jonathan'. Tell me, Clarissa, what unspeakable evil have I done now?"
Clary steeled herself the moment he moved within touching distance from her and instantly began to coil back. Her hands fumbled to close her sketchbook and brush her hair over my shoulder as I stood, taking a step up on the stairs – a step away from him – and rolled her eyes in his direction. "You're imagining things," She lied, hopefully smoothly, and took another step upward.
"Oh, I can assure you," he said, reaching out and gripping her elbow, "my imagination is running wild."
With a quick yank, he pulled her down the few steps that she'd managed to climb and pulled her against him, forcing the breath out of her lungs with the impact. She turned my face away from him as she attempted to unscrew her arm from his bruising grip. Her struggle only caused that sickening sneer to slither into spot on his face.
"Tsk, tsk," he said and gripped her tighter as if he were scolding a child, "There's no need to be so jumpy. You could get yourself hurt." He reached into the front pocket of her sweatshirt before releasing his hold on her and taking a few slow steps back, holing up the balled up piece of paper as he did so. "I just get rid of this for you. We wouldn't want Jace to find it, now would we?"
Her hand reached up to massage the sore spots that his fingers had left on her elbow, his fingertips already showing in small dark spots against her skin.
With her lack of response, his smirk grew even wider. With the slight nod of his head and tossing the crumpled sketch about like a ball, he disappeared through the front door, clapping Jace on the shoulder as they passed each other through the threshold.
"You're up early," Jace greeted when he spotted her, a brilliant grin painted across his features. He quickly closed the space between them and pulled her into him, his embrace all warmth and comfort.
"Couldn't sleep," She told him simply, slipping her arms around his middle between him and the leather jacket that he was wearing. "I figured I could get some sketching in so that I'd have something to show Simon when we get back."
His hand that rubbed her back slowly, causing her to look up just in time to see the slight shadow that crossed his expression. But, just as quickly as it had come, the darkness was gone once again and she was graced with a slightly dazed smile.
"That sounds great, babe." He reached for the sketchbook that she still clutched and flipped through the first few pages, his arrogant playfulness rearing up when he realized just how often he acted as her inspiration. "Eight? That's it?" He raised a brow at her and began counting through the sketches once more. "Really, I mean, there's six of containing various members of the Scooby gang alone," he said, referring to Izzy, Simon, Magnus, Alec, and all of the other faces back home that Clary craved to see, "There are three wedding gown sketches for your mother, one giant wolf, and at least a million runes on these two pages alone. But, there are only eight of me. Eight? I'm offended, Clary." He placed his hand over his heart, as if she had wounded him. "I thought you loved me? But, obviously not enough to completely obsess over my rugged good looks day in and day out."
Clarissa couldn't help but to laugh, her unease brought on by Jonathan's presence all but faded away. "I'm running out of paper!" She said in her own defense, flipping to the few empty pages left and fanning them dramatically.
"I'll buy you a new sketchbook," he said, as if the solution should have been obvious. When she ducked her head in attempts to hold in her laughter, he just shook his head and pursed his lips. "I guess it's true what they say: no one can love you as much as you love you."
"You're insatiable," She said, rolling her eyes playfully.
Jace slipped his hand around hers, their fingers lacing together, as he started to lead her up the stairs, "What a weird way to say irresistible. We really need to work on that stutter."
"I don't have a-" She began, only to have her words silenced by his lips against hers.
She laughed softly into the kiss, allowing him to reel her into him until their bodies were mere centimeters apart.
With so many moments that didn't fit, it was easy to become caught up in the ones that did.
"See? Irresistible," he purred as his lips moved from mine and traced a beeline across her cheek to her neck.
Clary bit her lip when he pulled back enough to look at her before pressing his forehead to hers, something in my heart tingling. He gingerly took her hand that was still in his and pressed it against his chest, just above his heart. He smiled down at her before his other hand slipped to cup the back of her neck.
"I do love you, you know." He shook his head, silencing her before she could respond, then continued, "I don't know what's going on," he said, his tone now just above a hushed whisper, "but I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Jonathan won't control me forever."
Clary flinched back in surprise, her eyes going wide as she stared up at him.
Of course, his only reply was a smirk.
"Jace?" She gaped up at him before turning her eyes to her hand on his chest. Much like the night that he had come to Luke's house, she focused on the feel of the slightly raised skin, only to find a major flaw in the design. She quickly undid the first few buttons of his shirt before pulling it aside, revealing the rune that –though still in place – appeared to be partially melted.
"Jon sent me out to find that group of warlocks again early this morning," he explained, his hand on her neck sliding down to her shoulder before capturing a rogue lock of hair and curling it around his fingers. "When I finally found them, they were waiting for me. The next thing I know, I was being yelled at in gibberish and they were tossing glitter at me. Only, it wasn't like the stuff Magnus is so fond of. When it landed on my skin, it burned." He lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve, exposing what looked like a small grease burn. "One of the braver ones got close enough to grab me and tossed some right down my shirt. I don't know how, but I think that they guessed what was wrong with me…"
Jace's words trailed off and brought her attention back to his face, only to find a war going on within his golden eyes. "I never would have done that to that woman, Clary…" He said, his voice broken, "I wouldn't have put you in danger by taking you out there and I wouldn't have killed someone for no reason."
"I know," She said quickly, moving her hand to his cheek so that he focused on her once more. "You aren't like him. You're not a monster."
He shook his head, "Whatever they threw on the rune, it burned it. I don't know how, but it brought me back. I don't know for how long, but you need to find them, Clary. Or you need to get Magnus, or go to the Institute. You need to figure out how to fix me before he makes me hurt you."
She could feel the tears budding in her eyes and she shook my head, stretching up until she could wrap her arms around his neck. "You won't hurt me."
"I don't know how long this is going to last," he said, pressing his own hand to the marred rune, "Once it's healed, I can't control what I do. I'm a goddamn puppet, no matter how hard I fight it." He gripped my body to his, kissing my forehead before tilting her head upwards, "We'll find a way around this," he promised, "I'll find a way to come back to you."
Clary nodded so that he knew that she understood before claiming his lips with her own once more.
Then, she could feel his lips on her skin.
They were warm and soft, despite the hard line that they'd worn almost constantly for the past few weeks, and left a tingling sensation in their path as they made their way across her collarbone.
Then, her backside was pressed against her bedroom door and she was hyperaware of the pair of hands that held her in place. She could count his fingers that gripped the bare skin at the small of her back where her sweatshirt had risen slightly while his other hand slid slowly down her side before tugging her body into an arch against him.
He smelled like leather and mint and Jace, a mixture that had become her favorite scent in the entire world. His eyes were liquid onyx, his breathing slow and deep, while she was suspended between his hard frame and the door with her breathing anything but slow.
Taking her lack of pause as a sign, Jace quickly opened the door and carried her into the room, only to use her back to close it and leaving her against the door once more.
"Don't make me regret this," she pleaded, breathless, as she finally gave into her own desires and curled her fingers into his shirt to remove the miniscule bit of space that remained between them. Words couldn't describe how it felt to have him close again, without Jonathan's intruding gaze or a furrow etched into place on his brow – how much she'd simply missed him. She didn't think that she'd even noticed until that moment just how she had been craving his presence; that easy going, infuriatingly amazing air that used to cling to him.
"Never," he said in his usual cocky way that left no room for argument before his lips were upon hers once again.
Clary answered hungrily, her fingers curling in his hair and pulling him even closer. All of the messy and complicated emotions that she'd sifted through since they had met seemed to dissolve as she drowned herself in him.
She was pretty sure the only thing keeping her from exploding was his hands under her sweatshirt and the door that she was braced against.
She released his hair from her grip and trailed it down his broad chest before fumbling with the buttons of his shirt only to peel the material down his shoulders.
For once, Clarissa Fray wasn't thinking.
She didn't want to think.
If she did, she would only talk myself out of it, see what a huge mistake that she was making, and she didn't want to hear it. Not even from herself. She knew that she was setting myself up for more pain, but she couldn't resist him. All she could think was that – in this moment - Jace was here, the real Jace. Her Jace.
This whole ordeal could be their secret – one thing that belonged to them alone and that couldn't be tainted by whatever hold Jonathan had over him. Here, all of the rules and the red tape went up in smoke. Here, they were free to do whatever they wanted without fear, if only for just a moment, and her brother would never find out. No one would. It would just be theirs.
Jace met her halfway, shedding the shirt and tossing it aside as she traced the contours of his perfectly toned chest. They were beyond carried away, but she told herself that love was driving their actions now. She told herself that their love was enough.
She didn't allow herself to think about what would happen when he returned to the obedient shell that Jonathan's rune had reduced him to.
She didn't allow herself to think about how much or how little this might mean to him or how long we had together.
He lifted her then and she followed suit, wrapping her legs around his waist, as she saw his gaze flickered to the bed. Her heart was beating so rapidly that she was sure that he could feel it. Rational thought had abandoned her. Everything was happening way too fast.
"We shouldn't," she managed to say in a breathy whisper, his hands on her keeping her train of thought thoroughly muddled.
He gave a half grunt, his teeth grazing her earlobe and nearly sending her to pieces.
"Jace," Clary tried once more, running her hands up his chest, around the back of his neck, and curling her fingers into his hair. She tugged gently, pulling his devilish lips away from her skin so that they could both think more clearly. "What if Jonathan comes back?" She ran careful fingertips of her freehand over the exposed, and currently half-ruined, rune just over his heart. "What if this heals and-" she swallowed, unable to complete the sentence and state her real fears.
What if Jonathan somehow saw them through their bond?
What if the rune healed and Jace forgot everything?
What if he forgot her? Them? This.
The idea alone was enough to make her begin to untangle herself from him.
With a soft sigh, he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her in my place. After a moment of thought, he pressed a gently kiss to her lips and slid his hands down her legs, unwinding them from around his waist, and slowly lowered her so that she was standing once again. He fixed her sweater and captured her hand with his. "Come on," he smiled gently, tugging her out of the room.
She looked up at him with confusion but followed him. After leaning over the railing and listening for a sign of Jonathan's return, he lead her down the small hallway and carefully pushed open the door to Jonathan's room.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a whisper, despite them being alone.
Jace disappeared through the doorway and into the archaic madness that was Jonathan's bedroom. He returned a few moments later with a ripped sheet of paper that bore a quickly scrawled note. He held it out to her, using his index finger to point to the various bits of information.
"This," he said, pointing to the first name and address, "is the woman who tossed the magic acid at me." He slid his finger to the next name and address a few lines down, "this is the High Warlock of San Francisco. If all goes as planned, Jon needs to stop there in a few days before we head for Europe. He's tough, but he's got a soft spot for red-heads. If you can find him, he has a portal. You can use that to get to the Institute."
"What? Jace, no, I won't-"
"You will," He cut her off sternly, "You will go home, you will tell the Lightwoods what's going on, hell, tell the entire Clave, and you will let them form their army of misfit toys to come save me."
"I can't just leave you here," she protested, a new panic rising within her.
"You can, and that's exactly what you're going to do. I need you to be safe."
It was moments like these when she loved him most: when his eyes glittered with intensity and the hard mask that he wore for everyone else was completely forgotten and replaced by raw emotion.
The moments when she could convince herself that they would end up together, despite the world being against them.
Those were the moments that made it all worth it, even if they broke her heart at the same time.
"Thank you," he sighed in relief when she finally nodded in agreement. He carefully folded the sheet into a small square and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. "I love you, Clary. Just do this, and I'll come back to you."
And just like that, there was nothing else to say.
