Give and Take

Sunlight pierced my eyelids through a slit in the curtains, rudely waking me from the deepest sleep of my life. I sat up with a yawn and looked around.

In a daze, I realized I wasn't in my bedroom, but in a much smaller untidier room with green walls and lavender bedspread. Events from the ungodly hours earlier this morning washed over my sleep riddled mind, making the bridge of my nose flush red. I looked beside me, expecting to see a sleeping redhead, but the space was empty.

In a panic, I shot out of the bed and looked in the bathroom—nothing.

I took long strides to the bedroom door and flung it open on its hinges.

"Clary," I called through the apartment. The living room was empty as well as the kitchen and no sign of her was immediately visible other than her phone on the table and her backpack that still hung on the hook by the door. The sight made my guts clench.

I mumbled a curse and picked up my shirt from the couch before slipping it hastily over my head. I made a beeline for the front door and stopped in my tracks when I saw Clary sitting on the front step, leaning against the railing.

She tilted her head back with tired eyes. "Hey," she uttered and leaned against the railing once more.

I sighed and plopped down beside her. A crackling sound made my gaze flick beside me to see her taking a puff of a joint.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

Her eyes closed while smoke trailed from her lips. "I didn't." Ashes fell to the ground with a flick of her thumb against the filter.

"Is that why you're out here?" The question was referring to the early morning toke, but I was sure I didn't need to clarify that out loud.

She shrugged. "I had pretty bad nightmares."

A sick feeling twisted my insides at my failure to be there for her last night. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

She scoffed lightly. "You haven't slept for two days. You think I was going to wake you up because I had a bad dream? You were out cold when I got out of the shower."

I slung my arm over her shoulders and pulled her to lean against my chest. She dug her face into my shirt and inhaled, all while brushing the skin of her thigh. "Wake me up next time," I muttered.

She froze then sat up straight, pulling herself from my grasp with tense shoulders. After another drag, she tapped the ember out onto the railing and stood to go inside.

I grabbed her hand. "Wait," I begged, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered gently and avoided my eyes.

I swallowed and replayed the words that she had said last night in my mind. There's so much I don't know, she had said. It was true. I always had her tell me things about herself and her experiences and traumas, but I was never as willing to spill my personal stories. Maybe that's part of the reason why she is conflicted about everything that has happened.

"I was a dumpster baby," I spewed suddenly past a lump in my throat. Her brows stitched together but she finally met my eyes, causing a wave of vulnerability to take over.

"What?" she asked in a whisper.

I tugged her hand, beckoning her to sit beside me once more. She obeyed warily but didn't pull her hand from mine.

"I was only a couple hours old when a Uniform found me inside of a dumpster. I was wrapped up in a thin blanket, like one from a hospital. My umbilical cord was medically cut and tied, like after the hospital my mother just decided on a whim that she didn't want me anymore," I was speaking quickly and staring down at our linked hands because I knew that if I looked at her, I was going to break down into a million glass shards. She shifted closer in encouragement, warmth from her legs seeped into my own.

"Child Protective Services tossed me into an orphanage and didn't look back. The people running it weren't the nicest. I suppose that's where I developed my OCD quirks since they ran the place like a military—like a prison. Keep things clean and neat and you won't get thrown into the time-out closet for the rest of the night," I chuckled darkly but my face defied me by twisting into a pained grimace. "I was in that closet quite often since I always seemed to get into fights with the other kids over stupid things. They didn't care that it was because I was lashing out due to my resentment for the mother that left me. They used to say 'no wonder you were thrown away'."

"Jace, you don't have to—" she started.

"No, please let me finish," I interrupted, the frog sitting heavy in my throat. "Eventually that orphanage got shut down when I was eleven, for obvious reasons, and we were all scattered into foster homes. As much as the change frightened me initially, it ended up being a huge improvement. I went from sleeping on a bunk bed and sharing a room with ten other kids to having my own bed and only sharing a room with one. The foster parents were really nice, too, and didn't shove me into a closet any chance they got but instead found me a therapist to work out my issues. They always made sure to tell me 'I'm glad that officer found you' and that stuck with me, until one day I decided I wanted to be an officer, too."

Her other hand came up and wrapped around my bicep as she rested her head against my shoulder. "Did you enjoy it? Being an officer?" she asked quietly.

I finally looked down at her while she gazed up at me with her big doe eyes full of interest. My free hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I did. I feel like I helped a lot of people but I still wanted to be more—do more."

"So you became a detective," she chimed.

My nerves suddenly went rigid and I swallowed. "Uhm, not that easy, no. I had to earn it. To prove my worth." I wasn't sure I was ready to tell her the truth about how I earned my title—not many people other than the Captain knew how I got to this point.

"Did you have to do a weird initiation thing or what? Sounds like Fight Club," she giggled softly and rubbed her hand on my arm while the other laced through my fingers. I closed my eyes, wanting to bathe in this sensation forever but I knew once the truth was out she would recoil.

"More like I figured out a case that had been ongoing for years," I chewed the inside of my cheek.

She paused for a few moments, sitting with that fact. The moment she opened her mouth with stitched brows, a black car screeched to a halt behind mine, nearly hitting the back end. Our heads snapped to the vehicle as I instinctively wrapped a protective arm around Clary, since my first thought was that the car could be harboring someone with a gun ready to make us victims of a drive-by.

But Clary tensed beside me just as Simon left the driver seat. She slipped from my hold with shaking limbs and stood to bend over the railing.

"Simon?" she called down at the steaming man on the lawn whose eyes were burning holes into me.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" he shouted angrily up to the third floor.

"We're working on the cases," she lied, making me roll my eyes and cringe at how I had let myself be vulnerable for nothing. I stood and casually leaned my elbows on the railing, staring down at the tech with a smirk.

"Everybody has been trying to call both of you for over an hour! There's another body," he gnashed. My blood drained down to my feet. Both Clary and I snapped our panicked gazes to each other and I patted my pockets—my phone must've been inside. "Clary, get down here, let's go." He was pissed—no, more than that, he was livid.

I hooked my arm around her possessively, but she subtly shook it off as she replied, "I have to get ready, we'll just meet you there—"

"No," he bellowed, making her flinch. "Get in the car, you're coming with me. He will meet us there." I didn't like that—not one bit.

"Go fuck yourself, she's my partner," I snapped. I noticed she backed up from the railing with her hands in the back pockets of her skirt.

"Jace, I'll just go with him," she said in defeat. I looked at her like she had grown a second head. Green eyes shifted side to side. "He's really angry right now, I think he saw us…talking. I'm just going to go with him and explain, help him cool off to avoid conflict."

"His need for conflict shouldn't be your problem. He does not have the right to order you around like that," I grit, wanting to reach out to comfort her nervous stimming but refraining because she was right. It would only antagonize him and hurt her more, and I was only really willing to antagonize him when she wasn't around.

"Let's go," the prick demanded impatiently.

Her eyes were sad. "I have to go. I'll see you in just a few minutes, wherever the body is, okay?" She surprised me by running a hand down my bare arm, silently telling me she had this handled more than I was giving her credit for.

"Fine," I huffed and went inside to collect my stuff. She followed behind me, frantically grabbing her backpack and inhaling a hiss through her teeth at the notifications on her phone screen. She gave me a weak smile and turned to walk out but I stopped her.

"Wait," I said suddenly. She turned with wide eyes watching me stalk up to her, though she didn't move. I began to lean in but stopped, opting instead to brush my hand along her arm, knowing her and I had a lot to talk about before becoming more…comfortable. "Remember what we talked about last night. Call me if anything happens."

Her cheeks were pink as she nodded and sprinted out the door. I snatched my jacket and my phone, noticing I had several missed calls and texts from Uniforms and even one from the Captain himself. I took off, locking the door behind me with a press of the automatic deadbolt.

Clary and Simon were visibly tense as they stalked off to his car, where he of course didn't open the door for her. My legs moved faster, making me break out into a sprint to my car. I got in and sped up to follow them, which wasn't hard since Simon looked to be driving the speed limit.

My skin was on fire with the fact that Clary wasn't with me. He was probably tearing her a new one if he really did see us in our embrace, or he was spouting how he didn't want her hanging around me.

Little did he know we did more than just hang out last night.

The thought brought me some comfort knowing that Clary could finally see that she wasn't into Simon as much as she had tried to be. The memory of the mess she made from our rendezvous also stroked my batshit ego. It had caught me off guard when it happened, because what I didn't admit to her was that I was so close to busting in my own jeans and thought the wetness between us was from me.

God, my dick still hurt from not finishing—but I wasn't about to make that her problem. I had considered finishing myself off while she was in the shower, but I succumbed to my fatigue once my head had hit her pillow.

Even now, I could still smell the intoxicating and familiar scent of raspberries all over my skin from rolling in her sheets and it was practically making me feral not having the source sitting beside me.

Finally after ten minutes, I spotted police lights and yellow tape boxing off a white car that was parked along a curb of a blocked off street. I quickly parallel parked before stepping out and immediately gluing my eyes to Clary as she hopped out, looking generally uncomfortable but safe.

"Jace," a voice called from several feet beside me. I turned, snapping out of my trance to see the Captain coming toward me with a frustrated expression. My guts distorted in my stomach at the sight of the man that had bruised what was mine but I forced my face to remain neutral.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked once he got close enough.

"I was at Clary's," I answered simply, albeit a bit bluntly.

"Clary's? Why?" He looked me up and down suspiciously. If I had seen him yesterday or at the skatepark crime scene this morning, he would have noticed I was wearing the same clothes.

"We had a crime scene early this morning. I took her home but stayed to review the clues with her. Sorry, Cap, I didn't have my ringer on and wasn't expecting another body so soon," I lied and looked away from him to the sedan that was taped off from the public. "What happened?"

He sighed. "A couple were on a walk when they noticed blood inside the vehicle as well as a body. We were waiting for you before we opened it, but uh…it looks like there's something in his hand." That caught my attention—and Clary's as she walked up behind her dad.

"His hand?" she repeated, suddenly frantic as she dove a hand into my jeans pocket.

"Whoa," her father mumbled with shocked brows.

I rolled my eyes but my face suddenly felt warm across the bridge of my nose. "I could've gotten it for you," I said but couldn't hold back a grin as she came back out with a glove in hand.

"No time," she huffed, snapping the latex over her fingers. "This will probably be the only time I ask for it, but can you open the door for me, please?"

I gave her a wink while I ducked under the tape, holding it for her to swoop under as well, then braced myself as I popped open the passenger door. A wave of stagnant smelling blood invaded our noses, making Clary turn a little green and clap her sweater sleeve to her face to avoid the stench.

"Let me do it, princess," I said, pulling gloves from my pockets and slipping them on.

"No, no, I'm ok I got it," she said warily. I raised an eyebrow in doubt, but some natural color returned to her face. "I promise."

I sighed and waved her on. The victim was slumped back into the passenger seat with a large slit across his throat like the other two victims from the past three days. Brown curly hair and his Sublime t-shirt was drenched in fresh blood. His hand was curled in his lap but we both had a fairly good idea of what was tucked into the palm—the question was: what color will it be?

She suddenly drew back with wide deer-in-a-headlight eyes and pale face like all the blood was leached from her. Her Chucks caught on the curb as she took a step back, making her fall back onto her ass but she didn't seem phased, green eyes still bolted to the scene inside the car.

"Clary," I called, lurching forward and grabbing her face in my hands.

She blinked a dozen times before speaking robotically. "That's Ethan."

My brow furrowed. "Ethan? Ethan who?"

"That's Ethan," she repeated in a trancelike state. "From jail."

I turned on a heel and stared at the death slackened face in the cabin. Sure enough, the scraggly beard and t-shirt matched the hippy man I had spotted chatting with Clary outside of the precinct more than a week ago. Just like the first two victims, a gnarly slash ripped his throat from ear to ear. His soulless eyes were frozen in surprise.

I swallowed, backing out from the cramped space and offered a hand down to Clary. The shock dissipated from her face, replaced by sympathetic acceptance.

"Are you okay?" I asked, willing myself to keep an arms distance away as she stood with my help.

She nodded stiffly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…caught me off guard."

"I know he was your friend, I'm sorry."

"He was really more of an acquaintance," she breathed. "Whoever did this is sick. We have a job to do." She ducked down through the driver seat, carefully prying Ethan's fingers open. "Oh God."

"Don't leave me in suspense," I urged.

She cradled the item in her hand. A yellow rose sat on her palm against the black latex. A look of adrenaline was pasted to her face while her chest took quick shallow breaths.

Her wide eyes met mine. "Orange, green—"

"Now, yellow," I finished, plucking the flower from her hand and placing it deep into an evidence bag. "Maybe our killer is an artist with a color palette."

"An artist and a gardener?" She was puzzled, that was for sure. "We have to go to the precinct and run a background check on Jacob and…Ethan."

I dug into his pockets until I found his wallet. The money and all of his cards were still in there, confirming without a doubt that burglary wasn't the motive. What was the motive? All scenes were basically mirror copies of each other.

"Ethan Holt," I whispered to myself with a sigh, knowing his full name wouldn't be helpful until we got back to the precinct to check for next of kin—but I had a feeling that just like Gary Thompson and possibly Jacob, he had none.

"Why is he in the passenger seat? Where's the driver?" she chimed.

"That's a good question, princess. Go look at the license plate so we can run it against the registration to see who it belongs to."

"Do you have a pen and paper? You say that like I'm a camera." Her arms crossed and she leaned weight on one leg, looking at me with playful stubbornness.

"It seems you don't understand what 'photographic memory' means," I repeated the same statement she had said to me the first day we met. She realized that and gave me an eye roll, but she was smiling, which helped calm my fried nerves from this morning. I began thinking about how nervous she was when Simon ordered her into his car.

What did they talk about? Did she tell him how she really felt?

Where was Simon?

I stood from my crouched position and did a 360 degree spin in place, but didn't see him just as Clary came back up to me. "Where's Bill Nye?"

Her smile wavered. "He went to the precinct to work on last nights—this morning's evidence. He has a group of techs here to collect stuff for him."

"Hm," I hummed. "What did you guys talk about?"

Green eyes darted around nervously as she leaned close. "Can we talk about it later?" I put my hands up in surrender, understanding that the crime scene should be my main focus but I was fixated—blame my obsessive compulsions, sure why not.

These murders had to start making sense. I haven't been focused enough to put all the mental clues together yet, but to be fair, all of these murders happened in the span of three days. Fuck, maybe I had to distance myself from the cute redhead in order to get some work done and find out who brutally killed these people. Perhaps, but I was hooked. I believed I was good enough at multitasking to be able to watch over her and do my job—maybe having her in my sight more often would make me less worried.

"Let's get going to the precinct, princess," I called to the redhead who was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a distant look in her eyes and her hands in her back pockets as she stared at the grass. Her head perked up with a few quick blinks as she came up to my side. "You ok?" I added, slinging my arm over her shoulder in a chummy way rather than an intimate way while we walked to my car. Anything to be able to touch her at this point would work for me.

"I hate cars," she mumbled resentfully.

Oh, that's right. The last time she saw a car in a traumatic state was when she flew off the cliff. I was sure the sight of blood didn't help, either. Nor did her anxiety about the Simon situation.

"Well, I can promise you my car is one hundred percent safe," I said lowly and clicked the car door open for her. A war was actively being fought behind her hesitant eyes and her arms wrapped around her torso while she began to hum in discomfort at the sight of the car interior. It was clear she was losing the fight but she bravely slipped in anyway.

A bad feeling crept into my stomach at her physical responses, but she seemed to want to handle her thoughts alone so I gave her space. I slinked into my seat but didn't put the keys into the ignition until I was certain she was okay.

Her knee bounced and her fingers grazed over her thigh in the same place from several days ago. It took me all of three seconds to realize it was part of her stimming habits now and I tried not to show how much pride that filled me with.

"What can I do?" I mumbled into the silence. Her face contorted as she tried to think through the thoughts buzzing around negatively in her head, but her silence proved it wasn't working. Without thinking, I reached out and rested my hand on her bare thigh where she touched.

The bouncing leg stopped and her muscles relaxed while a pink tint brushed over the high points of her cheeks as she finally looked over at me. A deep breath of relief left through her nose and I had to hide my own blush when she smoothed her hand over the back of my knuckles and rested her fingers between mine.

"It gets worse when I'm tired," she mumbled sadly. "And the weed is wearing off." I remembered that she hadn't slept at all last night and realized that pot was her way of medicating the anxiety caused by triggers.

"Let me take you home," I offered, smoothing my hand up and down her thigh in soothing circles.

Goosebumps pricked her skin under my palm as she shook her head. "Let's just go to the precinct, maybe I'll take a nap in my dad's office or something."

"There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight." I subconsciously squeezed, making her jolt with parted lips and a quiet hitch in her breathing. The hand over mine guided me closer to the hem of her skirt. I gave her a look in warning that she ignored.

"Be careful, some people might believe you're possessive." Her eyes swept over me before stopping at the accumulating bulge in my jeans.

"We both know that I am," I grit, trying to hold the pieces of my composure together but failing.

"Could've fooled me," she challenged.

"Last night wasn't enough for you?" This time my hand worked on its own, moving impossibly slow until my fingers slipped just under the hem. Her thighs parted by an inch but I wasn't going to give her what she wanted that easily.

"Maybe I've forgotten," she breathed.

I chuckled darkly. "As much as I want to remind you, we're fifty feet from a crime scene and at least twenty people can see in here. I'm going to need you to behave." My cock was pressing into my zipper painfully, bringing some sense back into me before I could give in to my impulses—the very prominent impulse to yank her by her hips onto the bench so I could devour between her thighs. The thought didn't help my already sore groin.

God, I needed to behave.

She whined and reluctantly let go of my hand. I pulled my own back and clutched the gearshift with white knuckles after starting the ignition. Her legs pinched together uncomfortably as I drove, but I wasn't sure if it was because she was sexually frustrated or if she was still antsy from the crime scene.

I was beginning to think it was the former.

The passing trees seemed to hold her attention through the passenger window but her hands grasped the edge of her skirt as she squirmed, holding my attention. "Quit that," I ordered, fearing that I was untamed enough to swerve into an alleyway.

"Sorry," she huffed.

"If you really insist, I'm sure I can find a dark place and solve the issue," I smirked and side eyed her porcelain thighs where they rubbed together.

"No, no, I'm okay," a deep inhale relaxed her tense legs—I tried not to appear disappointed, but shook away the conceited thought in exchange for some casual teasing just to rile her up.

"So, you want me to sleep over again? Though, I do fear for the safety of your couch cushions," I said somewhat cheekily, pinching her thigh.

She scoffed and slapped away my offending hand. "If you keep teasing me, I'll—"

"You'll what? Give me those adorable glares while you squirm in your seat?" I poked her in her cheek this time—she slapped it away and the same defending hand suddenly grasped my erection from outside of my jeans. My body flared with the arousal I had been trying to tamper down for the last couple hours, twitching in tandem with my heartbeat.

"If you keep teasing me, I'll start teasing you," she threatened, resting more pressure against me in one long stroke, drawing the breath from my lungs.

My jaw was clenched hard enough to break teeth as I side eyed her. "That's not exactly demotivating, princess."

"It wasn't a threat, it was a promise—" Before the words were out, I had already begun swerving into a dim alleyway—and before we were fully in park, she swung up into my lap and our desperate mouths came together like two strong magnets. There was no lead up to full blown clawing at each other like there was last night. This was carnal, unrestrained lust.

Her sweater was pulled over her head at the same time my shirt was demandingly yanked off. The need to be skin to skin had me unsnapping the black bra she wore and tossing it into the back seat. My hands wandered to the thin fabric between her thighs, separating my fingers from her bare flesh even as I made circles against the slowly forming wet spot.

She threw her head back in a moan, giving me access to her neck where I licked from her collarbone to her jaw. Shudders quaked through her body as her fingers tangled in my hair. I forced my hand to slow to a teasing speed, she noticed and furrowed her brows in frustration before reaching between us and popping my button open with one hand. I swallowed a groan at how slowly she pulled the zipper, wanting her to be quicker but knowing she was doing it on purpose just as I was. Finally, my cock sprang from my boxers with a hitched breath from Clary.

She wrapped around me, warm soft hands gave slow strokes in a pace matching mine. I hooked a finger inside her panties until my fingertips were met with her soaking core, her breathing twitched with every slippery graze over her nerves. Our mouths met again, hungrily but also…longingly, almost as if we had been apart for a lifetime and have finally come together again but perhaps that was just me.

I slipped a finger into her, earning a sharp moan that was muffled by our tongues dancing with one another. God, she was tight—tighter than I had imagined.

A stray thought suddenly popped into my head: Clary said herself that Simon was her first kiss and that was recently, did that mean she was a virgin? A groan left me at the idea, both in pleasure from the possessive side of me and in worry for her comfort. I decided then that sex was off the table for the moment, she deserved better than to lose her virginity in a car.

But for now, what we were doing was enough.

I slipped my single finger against her walls, getting quicker in rhythm with the rocking of her hips and the stroking of her hands. Pleased whimpers came from her throat as heavy breaths left mine, both of us climbing to the climax in each other's grasp.

My head lolled back over the bench, trying desperately to keep myself from cracking first beneath her, but the minute her mouth met my throat and bit through her own bucking orgasm, I arched harder into her hand, spilling my release onto my stomach. We heaved together, quivering through waves of aftershocks while clinging to each other.

Her forehead rested in my neck while I stared up at the roof of my car, trying to get back some consciousness and clear my blurred vision. I rubbed up and down her back, both to settle my erratic heartbeat and give her some comfort, knowing this was the first time she'd been touched by another person.

"Are you okay?" I asked, brushing her curly hair behind her ear.

"Mhm," she hummed tiredly, snuggling deeper into my chest.

"You didn't make a mess this time," I quipped with a grin.

She sat up and scanned my face with half lidded eyes before they widened. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry." A thumb grazed at the skin of my neck where she had bit me.

"Please tell me it's bad," I chuckled, running my hand over the fresh hickey I placed on her breast last night.

She smiled, appearing drunk with her disheveled hair and tinted cheekbones as she sat in my lap. "It's…noticeable."

"Trying to make sure everybody knows I belong to you?"

She opened her mouth to retort but her phone suddenly trilled, making both of us jump in surprise. The rectangle glowed bright under her gaze. She swallowed nervously and slipped from my lap. Sensing a mood change, I tucked myself back into my jeans and zipped them before grabbing my spare hoodie from the back seat and cleaning myself off.

"Hey," she answered cheerily but I could tell she was on edge as she pulled her sweater over her head frantically and tugged her skirt back down her thighs.

A bad feeling washed over me.

"Well, I couldn't go with him so I—" she was interrupted by the person on the other side. "I can ride with whoever I want," she snapped with irritation. "Jesus, no, we just had to make a stop somewhere but we're on our way right now." She hung up the phone and slapped her face into her hands.

I had a good guess of who that was and what the issue might've been.

"Simon told you he doesn't want you riding with me anymore, didn't he?" I asked, my resentment for the tech clear in my tone. "That's what you two talked about on the drive to the crime scene."

She sighed. "Pretty much. I tried to tell him he shouldn't be calling me his girlfriend, but he immediately dodged the subject to go on a rant about how he doesn't want me around you, that you're not safe to be around. He hadn't let me get a word in after he started."

"And you agree with him because of what just happened, right? Because he believes I'll take advantage of you. Which I guess he's not wrong, considering I dragged you into this sketchy alley to relieve my own needs," I assumed bitterly.

She looked at me with disbelief. "It's extremely demeaning that both of you believe I'm incapable of making my own choices." Any bitterness faded with the hurt look across her face. I looked down at my lap guiltily, feeling remorseful that I immediately jumped the gun. "Let's get back," she added, smoothing her hair back into place with the reflection from the visor. Her shoulders were tense and a frown line was visible between her brows.

"Clary—"

"No, apparently I'm not capable of having my own feelings and making my own decisions, right? I'm always doing something because somebody else made me. Because God forbid I act on my own, feel on my own. I'm fully aware that I'm not neurotypical but I'm not as easily taken advantage of as you may think."

"That is not what I meant," I put my hand on her thigh but she gently pushed it away, making a strange panic zing through my intestines.

"Please, don't touch," she strained, avoiding my eyes while she stared out the window with crossed arms. "I just want to go to work."

I swallowed past my guilt and replaced it with rage specifically directed at the forensic tech as I threw the car into drive and left the alleyway behind—as well as deserting the act of vulnerability we had divulged to each other.