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Chapter 4 is here with a tiny time jump. There's a little information on her mourning and a few hints about what happened with the fire and a friend from Rome. I wonder who could have been involved? So we're going to have some Clace in this chapter. It's a bit steamy, so yeah (rated M).
Just an FYI - I'm going to be gone the rest of this week because my awesome daughter is competing in our state's Special Olympics Winter Games! So, I won't be updating until the weekend.
Enjoy and THANK YOU for reading!
I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.
Previously: "They were dead. Gone. Did they suffer? They had to have been terrified. My parents are dead. Gone. But I'm home. Mama. Daddy. Sick. I'm going to be sick."
Late October
Clary Fray closed her eyes and blew out a slow, measured breath. Do not punch this man in the dick. Do not punch this man in the dick. She slid the file back across the–her father's– desk to Interim Chief Detective Hodge Starkweather. He had replaced her dad's name plate on the door, sat at his desk, pushed his papers, but could never, ever fill his shoes. Dad never liked this guy. Said he was a hack, sketchy, no depth, ass-kisser, shitty-cop. He was giving her the run-around. Again. Clary didn't like him either.
"So that's it? You're not going to call it arson? Case closed?" Clary uncrossed her legs, stood up and placed her hands on the desk, looking down at Starkweather. When is this prick going to listen to me? It's like he doesn't want to solve this case. "Why are you still not considering or acting on what I told you and the other investigators about the candles?" Clary's voice rose to a shrill yell, reverberating off of Starkweather's freshly hung pictures. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it hurt his ears. She had been to see him multiple times to discuss the house fire case that had killed her parents. The fire that burned her mother's body beyond recognition and caused her dad to die of smoke inhalation as he tried to reach his wife. He died a hero. It was so obvious that it was arson that took the lives of her parents. "This is complete bullshit and you know it, Hodge!" She screamed. Starkweather closed his eyes and swiped his hand up over his face, and through his graying blonde crew cut. He opened his steel blue eyes and locked them onto Clary, exhaling in frustration.
"Look Clary, we've exhausted every resource. Our team of detectives, arson investigators, the fire chief, and the medical examiner all agree." Hodge gestured to the case file laying on his desk and looked down, avoiding her eyes. "Accidental fire due to human error. We've all done our job to the best of our abilities. I wish we could have done more. Luke was loved here. Shit! We all lost him. It was the candles, okay? Again, Clary. It was the candles. There is no evidence indicating foul play! None. We can't base anything on your opinion! The case is closed and my hands are tied."
Clary rolled her eyes and grit her teeth, feeling her heart pounding and palms sweating. Unbelievable. This guy never liked my dad. Mom said he and Hodge had a falling out years ago when Dad called him out over cut-corners and planted evidence or something. She gathered her bag and long red wool coat, licked her lips, then clenched her fists. I'm going to blow. Slapping the case file off of Starweather's desk to the floor, Clary turned and stomped to his–her father's– office door.
Clary tore the door open and several of the detectives working at the desks outside the office looked over at her, the room went silent. She whirled around and faced Hodge with angry, bright green eyes. My mother's eyes. Her voice shook. "Again, Hodge. My mother would never place or burn candles on her work table. Never. She was rigidly, systematically safe when working in her home-studio because of all of the paints, thinners, and other chemicals that being a professional artist requires." Hodge sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, which ignited Clary's fury even more. "She practically preached fire-safety to me my whole life, especially when it came to handling paints and chemicals. How can you all just close this case and ignore that? How can you be such fucking cowards?" She screamed.
"Okay, Red, times up. Come on." Clary heard a familiar voice behind her as hands grabbed her waist and pulled her out of the office and into the crowded, yet silent detective's workroom. Clary stumbled back into the person's chest and turned to yell some more when she saw who grabbed her. Jace fucking Herondale.
"Let go of me Jace! I'm not finished!" she struggled out of his arms and stepped away from him back towards the door. "I'm gonna tell that mother fu-Jace! Stop it!" She lunged. Jace reached for her again, wrapping both arms around her, pulling her back flush against him. His right hand clumsily landed on her left breast. Clary heard several male chuckles and a few whistles from the lines of desks in the workroom. She blushed and slapped his hands down.
"Yes you are, Miss Fray. You are finished." Hodge stood at the office door, opening a bottle of ibuprofen, looking exhausted. "Clary, don't come in here again about this case. It's done. It's over. I hope you can move on…Herondale, try to keep your girlfriend under control." He slammed the door.
Jace wrapped an arm around Clary's waist and quickly ushered her towards the elevators. "Let's get out of here, Clary. Come on." He turned away from her and nodded to Alec Lightwood, who was standing with his hands in his pockets about 10 feet behind them. Great. Alec's here too, which means Izzy will find out I flipped my shit at Hodge Starkweather. Alec gave him a small salute and turned back to his desk. Clary shook her head and rolled her eyes, but let Jace lead her away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was not in the mood for another lecture from Iz. Jace punched the down button and gently pulled her into the elevator. After the doors closed she pulled away from him, leaned against the wall and sighed. She dropped her coat and bag on the floor of the elevator and looked at Jace.
"Did you enjoy getting to second base up there, Herondale? I didn't come here to get manhandled. No more Taki's for you." She weakly quipped, then sighed again."Case. Fucking. Closed. It's over." she murmured. Jace looked back at her and nodded solemnly.
She had hoped today would never happen, but on a more rational level Clary understood, of course. She had read the reports over and over. There was no empirical evidence to indicate foul play. Just her gut feeling. The flames had consumed any possibility of that. All that had remained in her mother's home studio were charred remnants of several large glass votive candles, tins of paint, aerosol cans, and thinners on Jocelyn's large metal work table. It was as if someone piled up as much flammable shit as possible. Her mother's remains were found in the corner of the room. The investigators reported that the studio was the source of the fire and suggested her mother may have tried to put out the fire instead of fleeing. Traces of paint thinner found on her body had accelerated the flames that took her life. Her phone had never been recovered. Her father had come home to find the house in flames with neighbors gathering and firetrucks approaching. He had run into the home to find his wife, only to be blocked by burning debris. He had collapsed on the stairs leading up to her studio. That is where the firefighters had found him. After retrieving him, efforts to resuscitate Chief Luke Garroway had been unsuccessful and he was reported dead at the scene.
Clary had lost her phone sometime after arriving back in New York, the day she found out they were gone. Probably when she bashed into that guy and her bag spilled everywhere. She wished she had her phone. She would give anything to be able to listen to her mother's voicemails from that day; to hear her voice again. Just two months later it was over. No more investigation. No more police work. No more hope of catching whoever the fuck burned my mother to death. I'll never believe it was an accident. Case closed. She had to get herself together. No more tears. She had to move on and try to live without them. But how? Jace cleared his throat, pulling her from her thoughts.
"I'll drive you home, Red. I wouldn't want you to beat anyone's ass over a cab. Hmm? You're a bit agro today…" He ran his hand through his blonde hair and smiled at her teasingly, then hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. His badge was clipped on his belt the same way her father had worn his. Jace's sidearm harness accented his muscular chest. Stop it. He wore a tight black short-sleeved tee and gray dress pants. His golden blonde hair swept back from his face, reaching his ears. He needed a haircut. Clary could see the edge of his arm tats as she flicked her eyes over him. God, he's so hot. Jace cocked an eyebrow at her and skimmed his eyes over her from head to toe, his eyes pausing on her chest, then back to her face. Did I say that out loud?
Clary nodded and looked shyly down at the floor. "Sure. Thanks. That would be nice." Don't fucking blush. She blushed. I need to feel something other than this pain and emptiness. Like Izzy said I need distractions, something to help me move on, she thought to herself.
The elevator doors opened. "After you, milady." Jace gestured grandly towards the door, picking up Clary's coat and bag. Clary pursed her lips and exited into the lobby. Jace came up behind her. "Here, let me help you." He slipped her coat over her shoulders, holding it while she shimmied into the sleeves. Clary shivered. What is wrong with me? Keep your hormones under control, Fray! His hands lingered on her arms, squeezing them, before slowly slipping the bag strap over her shoulder. Clary clenched her thighs together as her stomach tightened, way down low. She looked back at him and he leaned forward, smelling her hair and whispering in her ear, "You look so good in red. It suits you. We could just go to my place, you know. Don't you think it's time we quit dancing around each other, Clary? I can help you with all of that pent-up stress, if you would just let me." Oh shit. There he is. Sexprotz…
She hadn't seen Jace much after she returned from New York until recently when she had started to show up two to three times a week to question the progress of the investigation. She would bring takeout from Taki's for Jace and Alec. Jace would flirt with her mercilessly and try to make her feel better. Who was she kidding, she flirted right back at him. The trauma of losing her parents and the time Jace spent on the investigation into the fire had kept them both busy those first weeks afterward her return. She had deferred returning to school until January to give herself time to mourn and handle her parent's estate. Clary thought back to how tender he had been when he, Izzy, and Simon first brought her back to her apartment that day. Jace had scooped her up and carried her up to her apartment, when she had broken down, sobbing at seeing the building that her parents had owned. He had removed her boots and jacket, while Izzy ran her a bath and Simon brought in her luggage. It was then that she realized she didn't have her phone, after she wished she could call her mom. She and Simon had torn through her bags and luggage, but it was nowhere to be found. Jace had excused himself to go to work at the police station after he hugged her tight, kissed her head, promising to do everything he could to find out what happened to Jocelyn and Luke. Izzy had waited on her hand and foot, getting her favorite Thai takeout and making her cup after cup of herbal tea, while Simon held her as they cried together, spooning her in her bed until she fell asleep, just as she had for him years before. This comfort cycle repeated over the coming weeks and thanks to her best friends, she had slowly become functional again, somehow. I'm Jocelyn Fray and Luke Garroway's daughter, that's how.
Jace cleared his throat. "Are you going to leave me hanging, Fray? I don't think my fragile ego can handle such rejection." He joked half-heartedly. Clary looked at him and he did it. He gave her the Herondale Smirk. Goodbye panties.
"Okay. Let's go." Clary said softly, biting her lip. Jace raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking down at her lips, licking his own. He then reached for her hand and they walked together to his car.
Clary leaned back in the heated leather seats of Jace's car. He placed his hand on her knee while he drove and they rode in silence to his apartment. Was she ready to do this with Jace? They weren't dating or anything. She wasn't looking for a relationship. Did he want a relationship? Everything Izzy told her about his womanizing ways flooded back into her brain. Probably not. Oh, what the hell. It's just going to be sex. I'm not ready for anything serious anyway. I've got this. Thank god I shaved this morning…
It hadn't been too long since Clary had been intimate with anyone. She had been seeing a guy she met in Rome in class over the summer. Jordan Kyle; UCLA student, tall, dark and handsome, with beautiful hazel eyes. He was great in bed, but strangely he stopped coming to class and calling in early July. Clary hadn't been able to reach him at all, which was weird because he had been such a sweet, considerate guy. Her calls went straight to voicemail. It was as if he dropped off the earth. She later overheard he had a family emergency and had to go back to California. It had hurt Clary that he couldn't even return one phone call. Jerk. The last time she saw him, they had spent the entire day in her bedroom, enjoying each other's bodies. Per his request, she had sketched herself in bed, nude, after he had given her multiple mind blowing orgasms. He had watched her work from across the room, holding her full length mirror as she drew her reflection. He had then asked that she take her time on her breasts as they were 'perfection'. Kinky boy. Then he focused on her breasts for a while, with his mouth, after she finished the picture. She hadn't been able to find the sketch when she unpacked after her return to New York. Maybe he took it before he left…and ghosted her. I hope you enjoy jerking off to it, asshole.
"We're here, Red." Jace's low voice startled her from her memories and Clary jumped. They got out of the car and entered his building, riding the elevator up to his and Alec's apartment in silence. Clary's stomach roiled with nervous anticipation and her heart rate increased as they approached the door. Jace wrapped his right arm around her waist and unlocked the door with his left, tugging her into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind them. He stood very tall, tilted his head and looked down at her. Clary was pretty sure her underwear was soaking wet from that look alone. He tossed his keys into a glass bowl on the entryway table and started taking his shoes off, lining them up perfectly by the door. He removed his service weapon and harness and placed them on a shelf in the closet. Watching him, Clary set her bag on the table and unzipped her high-heeled boots, removing them. She stepped down onto the wood floors, placing her boots next to his, feeling much shorter. Jace laughed lightly as he took her coat from her and hung it in the closet. I'm totally doing this.
Clary closed her eyes, sighed heavily, and pulled her hair out of her clip, shaking it out. She felt her heavy curls settle down her back and opened her eyes. "Make me forget, Jace. I don't want to think about it anymore today." He took a deep, measured breath and nodded then reached out and stroked her cheek. His thumb running over her lips. She shivered.
She looked down at her clothes, straightening her purple v-neck sweater. The neckline was pulled down and stretched out, with a small rip from her struggle with Jace, earlier. It was kind of a turn on and Clary felt her nipples harden. Caveman. The tear exposed her cleavage and the top of her black lace bra. "You ripped my favorite sweater." She said coyly, and raised her eyes to look at Jace as she slowly adjusted it back in place. Jace watched her hands move the material back over her chest. His eyes dropped to her breasts, lingered, then back up to her eyes. He stared at her hard, with a stoic expression on his face, his gold eyes seemed darker somehow. Clary swallowed and bit her lip, blushing. Oh shit.
"Stop biting your lip, Clary." Jace growled. Looking down at her mouth, he reached over and grasped a red curl from her shoulder, curling it around his finger. "I don't want to lose control. At least not yet." Clary swallowed and reached her arms around his neck and pulled him into a quick kiss and bit his bottom lip releasing it with a flirtatious smile. I'll bite yours then.
Jace groaned and shoved her hard against the apartment door. He returned her kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth, exploring it wildly. Clary felt dizzy as he ran his hands down her back. He placed his hands on her hips and squeezed tightly, then palming her ass, he squeezed even harder. I'm going to be bruised tomorrow, Clary thought. Good. She felt electric jolts of desire shoot through her abdomen as they continued kissing. Clary moaned, into his mouth and moved her left hand to his chest, running it down to the front of his pants, she rubbed his arousal, cupping him, teasing him. Jace inhaled sharply and stepped back from her, smirking. "Bad girl, Red." He reached forward and grabbed the torn v-neck of her sweater and ripped it open to her waist, baring her chest and stomach.
"What the fuck, Jace!" Clary yelled as he tore off the rest and threw it on the floor at her bare feet. Clary stood against the door in her black lace bra and leggings, her breath coming out in pants. "You owe me a sweater, caveman." She looked down at her ruined top and reached forward, grabbing the waist of his pants, her hand grazing his badge. She needed him now. "Take me to your bed, Jace. Now." Jace grinned, lunged towards her and scooped her over his shoulder. She squealed and slapped his ass playfully with her hands. He turned and bounded down the hallway to his bedroom, pushing the door open. He tossed her on the bed and then kicked it shut.