A/N: I'm back, my pretties! Sorry I took so long to update :P I hope you'll all like this chapter, because I think that it's pretty darn good! XD

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Also, check out my new MI oneshot, "Hiding My Heart Away" :)

~I Heart Herondale Boys

Make You Feel My Love
~Chapter Five: Nightmare~

"Jace!" Isabelle called from somewhere close, startling them. They broke apart, shocked expressions on their faces. Jace heard Alec call for him next, and sighed. He scooped Clary up in his arms, and they went to find the others.

"Jace! Oh, you found Clary!" Isabelle exclaimed, looking relieved. Then, a dark eyebrow shot up. "Why does she have your shirt on?" Then, with closer inspection, she gasped. "And why is she covered in bruises?"

Clary cleared her throat. "Well, my dress was destroyed, and, um, I'll explain the rest back at the house," she replied, shivering. Jace held her tighter, and she smiled appreciatively at him.

"Why not now?" Alec asked.

Jace shot him a look. "Just not now, Alec."

Alec nodded in understanding, but stupid goddamn Ratface wouldn't let it go. "What happened, Clary?" he demanded.

Clary sighed. "Please, Simon, not now. I-I can't talk about it right now," she said quietly, her green eyes pleading with him to understand.

Simon looked angry. "Fine. Whatever. Call me when—or if—you're ready," he said before storming off.

"Simon!" Clary called weakly, but he didn't stop.

Clary began to cry softly into Jace's chest. He rocked her slowly, trying to calm her.

"Come on, let's get her home so you two can explain," Isabelle said softly. Jace nodded, and they made their way home.

~MYFML~

When they got back, Jace left Clary on her own to get changed, which she was grateful for. She needed time to gather her thoughts.

She'd almost been raped. Raped. The thought was terrifying, and she was still shaken. She was sure she'd have nightmares about it.

Those men had been trying to take her to someone named Valentine. She'd never heard the name in her life, and all she could picture when she thought of it was a ridiculous little Cupid or hearts.

Jace had kissed her—well, she kissed him, but that was beside the point. He'd made her feel warm and tingly on the inside, and she liked it.

Simon hadn't given her a chance to explain back here at the house, and stormed off. She was still clueless about how to fix that.

It had surely been an eventful day for her.

She pulled her favorite, holey pyjamas pants on, not bothering to change out of Jace's shirt. It was warm and it smelled like him. She pulled her still straight hair into a ponytail, wincing as she touched the back of her head. She looked in the mirror and gasped.

For the first time, she saw the bruises that dotted her skin, looking like angry ink splatters. One on her cheek stood out, seeing as it was hand shaped. Her bottom lip was split. Her arms were covered in bruises.

Groaning, she left the room.

She found the others in the kitchen. They gasped as they saw her in full light, taking in her battered appearance.

"Living room," Isabelle said, handing Clary a cup of chamomile tea. She grabbed her elbow and led her to a spacious living room, sitting her down on one of the couches. She sat on the couch opposite Clary's couch, soon joined by Alec.

Jace settled in beside Clary, resting a hand on her thigh in a comforting gesture.

Clary sighed. "I guess I'd better start from the beginning."

"Sounds like a good idea," replied Jace, rubbing soothing circles into her leg.

She sighed again. "He took me from the bathroom and knocked me out. When I came to, I asked where he was taking me, but all he'd say was 'Valentine would very much like to finally meet you, Clarissa.' I didn't know how he knew my name, or who Valentine was. I still don't. When I asked who Valentine was, he wouldn't tell me."

Alec, Jace and Isabelle exchanged a look.

"What?" Clary asked. "Do you guys know something about this?"

"Um, Clary, now might not be the best time . . ." Isabelle murmured.

"Just continue with your story," Alec added.

Nodding, she continued. "He dragged me into an alley," she said, voice trembling. Jace held out his hand to her, and she gladly took it, squeezing. "He pinned me down and started . . . touching me." A wave of revulsion swept through Clary, and she had to close her eyes and take deep breaths to calm herself. "He tore my dress, and I-I begged him to stop. He wouldn't though, he wouldn't stop . . .

"Then, I heard Jace's voice, and I called out to him. The guy slapped me really hard"—she touched a hand to her cheek—"and I flew into the wall. I think I must have blacked out for a few minutes, because when I woke up, Jace was holding me and I had his shirt on. The guy was knocked out a few feet away." She squeezed Jace's hand gently. "He saved me from being raped."

Silence followed Clary's story, no one able to think of something to say.

Finally, Isabelle spoke. "Oh my God, Clary . . . are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Clary replied honestly. "A little sore, but I'm fine."

"That's good. You're lucky that Jace got there when he did, though," Alec said quickly.

Clary glanced at Jace and found him looking at her. "I know," she replied, not taking her eyes off him.

Jace wrapped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders, rubbing the skin of her arm with his thumb.

They stayed there for a bit longer before they decided to go to bed. Clary was especially tired, and starting to get a major headache.

Jace walked her to her room, stopping in the doorway.

Clary turned to face him. "Thanks again, Jace. For . . . everything," she said, reaching out to lay her hand on his forearm.

Jace grinned. "No problem. Remember? Saving girls on the streets of New York from muggers is my specialty."

Clary giggled and pushed him lightly. "I guess it is."

Jace's face suddenly turned serious. "Clary, I can stay with you tonight if you want me to," he said earnestly.

Clary cracked a smile. "Trying to get into my bed, Herondale?"

Jace rolled his eyes, but smiled. "I'd sleep on the floor, Fray." Then, he added, "Unless you want me in your bed . . ." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Sleep where you want, Jace. Whether it's your room, my floor, my bed . . ." she trailed off, giggling.

"Is that a formal invitation?"

"Maybe," she replied with a wink.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Clarissa Fray is actually bold!"

"Shut up or I'll rescind the invitation."

"Ooh, rescind . . . such an intellectual word! You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

She gave him the finger and slammed the door in his face. She heard his muffled protests, but she didn't care. She was physically and emotionally drained, and so not in the mood to banter.

She walked over to the big bed—she had a hard time believing it was actually hers—and curled up under the duvet.

The day's events started bearing down on her, and she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

She was walking down an unfamiliar street. Snow fell all around her, and cold wind lashed at her face. She shivered, rubbing her bare arms for friction. She was wearing the dress from earlier, so she had no protection from the cold.

Suddenly, she heard smooth laughter coming from behind her. It chilled her far more than the wind, though she didn't know why.

She was grabbed around the waist from behind, and she screamed. She thrashed wildly, trying to free herself.

He dragged her into an alley and threw her roughly on the ground, making her cry out in pain.

She looked up and saw his face for the first time.

He looked to be around her age. His halo of white-blond hair was falling into his eyes. His skin was a creamy white. His eyes were black as coals. He was beautiful, other than the cruel smirk on his face.

He took a step toward her, and she hastily scrambled backward. This only made him laugh more.

Her back hit a wall, and she panicked. He laughed manically at her fear.

"What do you want?" she asked fearfully, tears prickling her eyes.

"You," he replied smoothly before pouncing.

She was roughly shaken awake, still screaming. Without thinking, her arm flew out and connected with something warm and hard.

"Ouch! Dammit, Clary, it's me!" Jace hissed, rubbing the side of his head where her forearm hit.

She sagged with relief. "Jace," she whispered.

His golden eyes bore into hers. "Are you okay?" he asked, the pain in his head seemingly forgotten.

She nodded shakily. "It was just a dream. A bad one."

"I gathered that much," he said sarcastically, then sighed. "Was it about tonight?" he asked.

"Kind of, I guess."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head. "It's fine."

He didn't look convinced, but decided not to push her.

Suddenly, she heard a thump, followed by laughter outside her door. She turned her head to find Alec in a heap on the floor, tangled in blankets, with Isabelle laughing at him.

"It's not funny, Izzy!" Alec whined, pouting.

Isabelle snorted. "Of course it's funny." Then, she turned to Clary. "Okay, I see that you're not dead, so I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, sweet dreams, whatever," she said, walking away.

Alec pulled himself up off the floor. "Everything okay?" he asked, peering around her room.

"Yeah, it was just a dream. Thank you for checking on me, Alec," Clary said, smiling.

He waved his hand dismissively. "No problem. If you don't mind, though, I'm going back to bed."

"Go ahead," Clary replied.

Alec left, stifling a yawn.

"Were you sleeping outside my door?" she asked Jace.

He nodded. "I wanted to be close in case you needed me," he replied.

Clary was touched. "Jace, that has got to be the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

He grinned. "No problem, Clare. And, hey, don't tell anyone that I'm not a complete bastard. I have a reputation to uphold," he said, grinning crookedly.

"Your secret's safe with me," she whispered.

Jace started to get up, but Clary grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back out to the hallway. I need my beauty sleep, because all of this"—he gestured to himself—"doesn't just happen naturally." He paused. "Well, it does, but it doesn't hurt to have a little extra boost."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Stay here."

His golden eyes flicked down to her green ones. "You sure?"

"Positive," she replied firmly.

Shrugging, he slipped under the covers with her.

"Night, Jace," she said, yawning.

"Goodnight, Clare."

~MYFML~

Jace stayed awake long after Clary had gone to sleep. He felt the overwhelming need to protect her, even from bad dreams. So he watched vigilantly, but she slept soundly.

She'd unconsciously curled into him, her puff of red hair tickling his chin. He held her close and stroked her hair.

He would protect Clary from anything and everything. Especially from her father, Valentine.

The one thing that Jace had never told anyone was that Valentine had been his foster father, as his own parents had died when he was a baby. As a child, he had looked up to Valentine and had been friends with Valentine's son, Jonathan, but as he grew older, he grew to hate them.

One day, when Jace was twelve, he'd gone home to find that Valentine and Jonathan had left. There had been a note telling him to go to the Lightwoods' home, though he had no idea who they were. But he had no other options, since he had no family. So he packed his bags with whatever he could get his hands on and showed up on the doorstep of the Lightwoods' home, and they welcomed him in with open arms. He'd become fast friends with their son, Alec. He now saw Robert and Maryse as his parents, and Alec, Isabelle and Max as his siblings. He thought of himself mostly as Jace Lightwood, though he sometimes still referred to himself as Jace Herondale, his true last name. But never, ever as Jace Morgenstern.

Jace knew what Valentine was like. He lived with him for over ten years. He was trained to fight by Valentine, and was taught different battle tactics and strategies. He knew exactly how Valentine worked. And what he was capable of. So he knew exactly what he had to protect her from. He knew how to protect her.

As he thought about all of this, he let his eyes wander around the room. They landed on an open sketchbook, and it was laying on the floor beside the bed. Carefully, he reached down to pick it up.

Using his phone as a light, he looked at the picture on the open page. With a start, he saw that it was a drawing of him. The detail was amazing, especially the giant angel wings that sprouted from his back.

As he stared at the picture, all he could think was, Wow, this is amazing!

After a while, his eyelids started to droop, and he laid the sketchbook back on the floor.

He kissed Clary lightly on the forehead and pulled her tighter to his chest, holding her gently and tenderly.

No, he'd never let anything happen to her again.

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Until next time, my pretties!

~Sarah