Possession

What a fucking prick.

That motherfucker couldn't find himself out of a children's hay maze if you gave him all day. The moment he brought Clary into our very public quarrel, it became personal and fire burned through my body near uncontrollably.

I don't know what she saw in him—no, I knew for a fact that she didn't like him the same way but she was in such obvious denial. Her body language was nowhere near the same with him as it was with me.

I raked my fingers through my hair before lacing them behind my head as I paced outside of the gates where Clary had collapsed earlier—remembering that made my jaw tighten. I noticed how overstimulated she was during the drive so I had tried to drive faster but maybe that stressed her out more. Of course, Bill Nye came to her rescue before I could.

I knew what really stressed her to begin with—I hadn't been in the best mood with her when I swung by her house and I took it out on her when I shouldn't have.

Truth be told, I hadn't slept after I came back from Eugene. I tried but I couldn't. My theory kept me awake all night through the next day and even tonight I didn't get a single minute of rest. I was glad I got a call to distract myself but I didn't realize how my fatigue would have affected my temper.

Don't get me wrong, I would've fought Simon even with eight hours of sleep under my belt. But I would have been more patient with Clary, that was for sure.

Footsteps broke me from my train of thought and I turned to see Clary approaching with her arms angrily crossed over her chest. I deserved the wrath that the little spitfire was coming to throw at me.

I unlaced my hands and opened my arms out in surrender. "Clare, I'm sorry—"

She shoved against my chest with all her might, making her ponytail whip erratically and her t-shirt jostle with the movement.

"What the fuck is going on with you lately? Why do you insist on being such a brute? First, you're an asshole to me—which at this point, I've grown used to—then you pick a fight with Simon like you're both two hormonal teenagers in high school fighting over a lunch table. You condescended him for dragging me into the fight but you immediately turned around and asked for my agreement on his 'inadequacy'? What the fuck, Jace?" I could hear her teeth clench together as she gave me another shove, and I let her while keeping quiet.

She continued. "That was so fucking embarrassing. In front of several of my dad's officers—in front of a man who had his throat slit just hours earlier in some killer's sick game and you find time to whip out your cock to assert dominance. Tell me what your thought process was because I'm genuinely curious."

Man, she was pissed. She rarely cursed and never used vulgar words as often as she had in the last five minutes. I didn't want to tell her that I overheard her tear into Simon, either, but she was just as brutal—rightfully so.

She turned around with her hands braced against her head as another frustrated growl left her throat. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her. Angry green irises made me weak to the point where I nearly dropped to my knees in submission when she glared up at me.

The truth was bound to be the best way out of the hole I had dug for myself. "I've been going through a bit of a crisis lately and I let it seep into my temper but I hadn't meant to embarrass or upset you. I could've handled casual bickering with him like usual but it just set me off when he brought you into it completely unwarranted. I'm sorry—for the fight and for taking out my anger on you earlier," I said in a near whisper, not wanting any vulnerability to be overheard by nosey Uniforms.

Her face softened with a sigh and her voice dropped to match mine. "What crisis are you trying to battle by yourself?"

I subconsciously set her wrists against my chest. "I haven't slept in a couple days. It's starting to get to me."

"Why?" she asked in an incredulous whisper, splaying her hands on my chest intimately.

I swallowed and held back a shudder. "It doesn't matter."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"I've just been on edge since I found your bruises," I admitted begrudgingly. "It's been hard to sleep not knowing if you're safe."

"But I have been—"

"No…you haven't."

A dark look crossed her face as she let her hands fall to her sides and took a step backward. "You know something, don't you? Earlier, you implied that Simon has never seen any of my bruises."

I scratched the back of my head. "I was just being malicious."

"No," she shook her head with another step backward but I could see desperation in her face. "Say it. I dare you—I beg you." She was begging because she knew I had figured it out, that made my insides twist painfully.

I couldn't bring my voice above a strained whisper. "How long has Valentine been abusing you?"

Once the question was out, she fell into a heap on the grass with a sob. Watching her crumble gave me confirmation, I fell to my knees—half to console her, half because my legs lost the ability to hold myself up at the revelation. Vomit threatened to rise in my throat but I choked it down as I grabbed under her arms and pulled her onto my lap against my chest. Her body racked with strained sobs while mine shook with unbridled rage that was growing by the second.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," I hissed through a tight jaw.

"No," she breathed through tears. "He doesn't know he does it. He doesn't realize it's me." Just like that, the final piece clicked into place. They had both gone to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting all the way in Eugene the day after she got her bruises—not for Clary, but for Valentine.

The Captain of Salem Police was an addict—and during his episodes, he would beat his daughter to the brink of death…and it's happened more than once.

I swallowed past the hot barbed wire wrapping around my esophagus and held her closer. "He never remembers," I said as a statement. That would explain why she covers up the evidence around him. "Clary, we have to tell someone."

"No!" She shot upright to straddle my thighs. A small hand hooked around the back of my neck while the other grabbed my jaw as she got close with trembling lips. "No, you can't. You will single handedly implode my already fragile life. I have him in a program now—"

"And how many times has he been in the program?" I growled, wrapping my hands around her waist with a squeeze.

Her breath hitched and her hands tightened. "Jace…I'm so sorry, but if you tell another living soul about this—about anything, I will kill you." There was a part of me that wanted to see the threat as empty, but the smarter half of me believed her. Her father was the only family she had left and I could see in her eyes that she would fight tooth and nail to keep him close.

"I need you to promise me," she muttered and loosened her hold. A thumb stroked my cheek and suddenly I felt like I would do anything this woman told me to regardless of the consequences. Perhaps she knew that.

I smoothed a lingering tear from her face. "If I promise this to you, then I can't let you be alone tonight."

Her eyes scanned my face in her hand. "Will that help you sleep at night?"

"Yes," I answered immediately.

She looked hesitant and shifted on my lap slightly, making my body thrum at her close proximity. "Alright you can sleep over—after you give me your word."

This time, I hesitated, but I didn't have much of a choice. "I promise," it came out in a whisper but that was the best I could muster as I fist fought against all of my morals as an officer of the law.

Her chest thumped against mine and thin arms wrapped around my neck in a hold that nearly melded our bodies together with hearts beating in unison.

My skin flushed with heat—deep heat that hadn't been satisfied for days but I knew that wasn't what she needed right now. She needed someone to comfort her, someone that knew her secret and would keep it locked safe. I hated that I had to, but I loved that I was that someone.

My hands worked on their own, smoothing up and down her back while I rested my head in the crook of her neck. I couldn't stop myself from placing a light brush of lips against the concealed bruises, making her turn rigid in my grasp for only a moment before she relaxed again. I tried not to take that as encouragement because we were still at an active crime scene. Though, I wanted nothing more than to taste every inch of her body and absolutely would have succumbed if we were alone.

Maybe that thought wasn't a safe one to have if I was going to spend the rest of the night at her place.

She leaned back again after getting control of her tears, wiping under her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Maybe we should get back before people start thinking we left."

I gave a nod but it was forced because I wanted to stay holding her like that forever.

She swiftly stood and offered her hand to help me to my feet as if she could lift my weight, but I took it anyway. I ignored the way my heart went erratic for a few beats before calming again. Her fingers slipped from mine, and I could have swore they were hesitant to do so but I figured I had imagined it as she turned on her heel and walked to the taped off gates like we hadn't just been locked together at our hips.

The firemen that had stayed to watch the investigation eventually got bored and left while Clary and I had our talk, leaving a couple police officers on the ledge and a gaggle of forensic analysts sweeping the inside of the bowl around the body in their plastic suits. Simon was crouched beside the victim, sampling under his nails with a cotton swab. I tried to keep a neutral face for Clary's sake.

We waited at the ledge for the Tyveks to hop back out, including Bill Nye himself. He shot me a glare as he walked past, but I was truly proud of myself for ignoring it. Clary sat and slid down the bowl like a slide with me hot on her heels.

I handed her a pair of latex gloves and slipped my own over my hands with a snap. "We should flip him over onto his back to get a better look at the damage."

She paled and twisted her fingers in front of her. "Christ, do we have to?"

I shot her a sympathetic look as an answer and crouched on the victim's opposite side. Clary snapped on the gloves with pallid features and mirrored my movements. She lifted and pushed Jacob's side while I pulled.

In a chaotic chain of events that I hadn't anticipated, the body gave a death rattle through the slit in his throat—effectively spraying the front of Clary's white t-shirt in an arch of crimson. She gave a short scream and stood with outstretched arms as she took in the state of her clothes. Everyone on high ground ran to the ledge to see what the issue was, they all grimaced when they saw what had happened.

"Fucking gross!" She snapped in irritation.

"Oh shit," Simon said in alarm and slid down into the bowl. "Let me clean that up."

"Please, don't touch." She held her shaking hands up with a thick swallow and a green face. I knew she was getting overstimulated with the blood but also with the many pairs of watchful eyes.

She tore the shirt over her head and threw it onto the concrete as if it was on fire. I raised my eyebrows in surprise as she stood there in a black bra—with incredible breasts. Her flat stomach was clean of blood, but it did harbor a diamond belly button ring that I hadn't noticed before. Her hands smoothed over the flesh in a panic as if to wipe off invisible gore.

Simon was staring—really, everybody was, which knocked me from my own stupor. I quickly ran over, shucked off my jacket, and wrapped it around her body. A sense of possession washed over me as I held her backside against me and shot the watching eyes a sneer that I was sure loudly said 'mine'. They all turned around awkwardly with a cacophony of coughs and murmurs until they dispersed.

Clary twisted to face me with a deep inhale. "Thank you," she uttered and slipped her arms through the sleeves. I zipped it up, perhaps a bit slowly around her breasts since she flicked her eyes up under her lashes until it was pulled all the way closed. She seemed to calm down at that, so we'll just call it a good distraction from her situation.

I stifled a smirk. "No problem at all, princess."

Simon cleared his throat from behind her, snapping her from whatever she was thinking about. "Are you ok, Clare?"

She sighed, "Yeah, I'm better now. This night couldn't end soon enough."

I handed her my car keys. "Go ahead and sit in the car, I'll just be a few more minutes then I'll take you home."

She plucked the keys with half covered hands and raised an eyebrow. "Will you tell me how to open my door?"

"It was never broken." I gave her a smirk and lifted her by the waist until she sat on the ledge. An incredulous look phased over her face as realization took over before giving me an eyeroll and taking her leave.

I chuckled to myself.

"What do you think you're doing?" An annoying voice asked behind me.

I turned back to the victim, but only gave a glance to Einstein who had his arms crossed over his chest. "My job, tracking down a serial killer, talking to a particularly painful thorn in my side."

I inspected the throat wound. It was exactly the same as Thompson's from ear to ear.

"I mean with Clary," the thorn grit.

"Oh, my partner? Well, while everyone—including yourself—was thoroughly enjoying her breakdown, I felt I had to swoop in and rescue her because she was obviously uncomfortable. Is that a problem? Please tell me how I should've let her stand there suffering under your gaze." The fire I tampered down earlier was slowly making its way back to my veins.

He scoffed bitterly. "You're not subtle. She hardly knows you, so why don't you stop eye-fucking my girlfriend any chance you get?"

A laugh burst from my lips unexpectedly. "'Girlfriend'? Does she know about that title?" I made a point not to deny his accusation because it was true, I stared at Clary all the time imagining everything I wanted to do to her. Did I want him to notice? I sure did, but I doubted he would if he was too dim to see how often Clary struggles internally.

"We're dating," he growled.

"Ah, of course, apologies." I didn't want to admit out loud that I was antagonizing him, but goddamn I wanted him to know it.

"So we're at an understanding, then," he turned and hopped out of the bowl before I could think of something witty to say back.

Yeah, sure, we're at an understanding. But who's the one that's been driving her everywhere? Feeding her? Giving her physical support when she's stimming and mental comfort when she's overstimulated? Inadequate was not a harsh enough word for how utterly useless Simon was.

After finding nothing substantial from the body, I left to let the coroner and biohazard cleanup crew do their jobs. I considered picking up Clary's shirt, but something told me she would never want to wear it again anyway.

Goosebumps spread over my bare arms as a gust of wind blew by. God, I hated the cold. But the thought of Clary wearing my jacket warmed me on the inside, especially since I knew there wasn't anything under it either.

The parking lot was lit up by various headlights of cruisers and panel vans, casting long shadows over the asphalt. The red haired beauty sat in the passenger seat of my car, leaning back against the headrest with tired eyes and a weak smile. Beside her, with hands braced against the open window, stood her 'boyfriend' with a smirk as they chatted between each other.

"Hands off the paint, Bill Nye," I said rather abrasively as I strode over to the driver's side. He rolled his eyes but let go of the panel at the same time I swung in and shut my door.

"You sure I can't drive you home?" he asked her, but I knew it was a subtle jab at me.

"I'm okay. My place is on the way to his house anyway," she responded.

I quirked an eyebrow. That wasn't true at all, my house was only right around the corner while hers was a couple miles in the opposite direction. Was she mistaken or did she just lie?

She couldn't have been mistaken, she had no idea where I lived. Not to mention she seemed to avoid telling him that I'll be sleeping over at her place tonight.

"Alright," he mumbled back and leaned his head in before kissing her deeply. She went rigid and fisted her hands on her lap in discomfort. I started the car and revved it loudly—albeit annoyingly—until he let go. The same smug smirk pasted across his face when he threw me a satisfied look. "I'll see you later," he added in her direction.

I threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. She finally relaxed again, her fingers unraveling against her thighs.

"You okay?" I asked into the silence.

"What did he say to you when you were in the bowl?" she asked in confusion.

"Hey, I was civil, right hand to God," I raised my right hand before setting it back on the gearshift. "He told me to stay away from his girlfriend."

"Oh," she huffed and looked out the window. "Well, that's news to me."

"Is that something you want?" I don't know why my chest tightened with anticipation for her response. Maybe because her answer could change our entire dynamic.

"I…" she trailed off, twisting her fingers in her lap once more. "I don't think that's something I could decide after just one date. Not to mention it had kinda crashed and burned and was the opposite of what I wanted it to be. That should be a sign, right?"

I wanted to tell her that it was a clear sign. I wanted to tell her that kissing him shouldn't make her recoil the way it usually does with him, and instead be relaxed like she was with me. That came with the threat of being called biased, and maybe I was, but Simon was a horrible lover.

I gave a halfhearted shrug. "What did your fortune cookie say the other day? 'Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life'?" I didn't have to ask what it was, I had been thinking about that phrase word for word at least every other hour. My intuition was telling me to be there for Clary, even if she didn't want me—but I couldn't tell her that.

"That's vague," she sighed like she did when she first read it. She was quiet for the rest of the drive, most likely thinking over how she felt, until I finally parked along her curb. Her manicured hand reached for the handle.

"Hey, no," I said with a grasp of the jacket sleeve and shook my head.

"But you said it's not broken."

"Doesn't change anything." I hopped from my seat before she could retort and sprinted around to let her out.

She stood close once her shoes planted on the grass. "You've just been opening my door for me this entire time because you wanted to?" A sadness took over her face.

I forced air into my lungs. "Yeah."

"Even all those times you were angry with me?"

"Even then."

"And you're still doing it even though the jig is up?"

"I just did, didn't I?" I absently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"But why?" She looked like she couldn't comprehend why somebody would ever do something like this for her, but this wasn't even skimming the surface of things I would do for her.

I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment while I decided whether to tell the truth or fabricate an excuse—I chose the truth. "If anybody is willing to do less, then they don't deserve you."

After a beat, she spoke again. "Simon didn't hold any door open, not once." This was true. At the bar, he opened the door for himself. Then the same thing happened at the office.

I only looked at her as I let the car door close, enabling her to come to her own conclusions for the night. A war took place behind her eyes, but she eventually looked away and made her way up the sidewalk without another word. I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets and followed.