This is an All Human FanFic.

Characters are OOC.

Pairings: Clary/Mute!Jace

Rating: M for underage drug use/violence/language/suggestive dialogue/smut.

Genres: Angst/Romance/Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I really should be working on Crazy, but this idea would not go away...

Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments. Bummer, isn't it? :(

Clary

...

...

I pushed the apartment door open, tripping over the G R E E T I N G S rug as I did.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Gasping, I scrambled back up to my ffet, glancing over my shoulder in panic. He was standing in the hallway, his bloodshot eyes red and angry, broken beer bottle in his hand. Twenty seconds earlier, it had been in one piece. Till the bastard had thrown it mercilessly at my head.

I backed up, holding my hand up to the back of my head, my curls beginning to dampen with blood from the shards of glass piercing my scalp. Ouch.

"Get your skinny ass back in here, Clarissa," he spat out, his body shaking with his rage, which he never seemed to run out of. he was like a car running on gasoline; Except instead of gas, he ran on his hate for me. Always hate.

I shook my head, unable to speak, knowing it would only make things worse, and turned and began running.

The apartment I lived in didn't have an elevator, unfortunately, so I was running barefoot down eight flights of stairs, two steps at a time.

By the time I stumbled down to the sidewalk, where the only person standing outside in the freezing December winter, was Isabelle. Her three inch mini and too small halter top were the only things covering her, aside from the twenty pounds of makeup covering her face.

She was around my age, and she'd "worked" on this curb since she was nine. I would've offered her a place in my apartment, but I figured she was better off out here. Besides, she had a little hole-in-the wall she would spend the night at, if no one picked her up. Which was rare, since she was gorgeous.

Her dark hair was greasy from days without showering, which I knew probably upset her; Her hair was the only thing she had left that she was proud of.

"Hey Izzy," I whispered, my lower lip stinging from the punch it'd recieved this morning. Luckily, though, the cold was beginning to numb it. I pointed to her freshly-bruised cheek. "Rough day?"

She nodded, giving me one of her small, rare smiles. "Some rich asshole banged my face into the wall while we were..." She waved her hand. "But s'cool. Just make a snowball and you've got a free ice pouch." She wasn't allowed to complain, she'd told me once. If she couldn't take it, she wouldn't do it. But bruises didn't attract more customers, so she didn't exactly welcome them, either.

I grinned back at her, wincing inwardly as my tender lip split. "Val was in an especially great mood today."

Izzy shook her head, and reached into her bra. "Here. Only take one, though," she warned.

She popped open a small container of pain killers, and tapped one into my open hand. "This'll make you feel better," she murmured. "Always helps me."

I smiled gratefully at her, and tossed it into my mouth. "Thanks."

Izzy nodded. "You gonna stay here with me?"

I looked around; Nothing but ice and snow and Izzy with her promising numbing pills. Speaking of which, I was beginning to feel a warming numbness spread through me like hot chocolate. Ahh, yes.

"Sure." I sat down, back pressed against the wall. Izzy slid down next to me, spreading out her legs, I'm guessing to attract more buyers.

She sighed, a white cloud forming in the air in front of her blue lips. "I hate it out here," she said. "I'm going to leave, someday." Izzy handed me over a small rusty flask I knew she carried around everywhere ever since she was thirteen, and poured two more pills into my hand.

I downed the pills with a heavy gulp of the whiskey. "And go where?" I asked quietly, a drowsiness flooding me.

Izzy rested her head on mine, and gave a soft, wistful sigh. "Somewhere better. Meet someone who won't have sex with me for twenty minutes and drop me off at a Dumpster behind McDonalds so his wife won't see me. Get a real job."

I nodded. "And I'll go with you."

She laughed. "We'll stick together."

I fell asleep with my head resting on her lap.

Jace

...

...

I was laying on my stomach on the floor in my living room, my cat curled in my elbow, when I heard it.

The clock striking twelve.

I glanced down at my watch. It was the fifteenth of December. The anniversary of the car crash.

Elbowing away the cat, I slowly stood up, stretching my arms over my head lazily. My older brother and his boyfriend were somewhere in How-The-Hell-Do-You-Pronounce-That, so I didn't have to worry about getting caught. One time I'd tried to sneak out through my bedroom window Magnus, my brother's partner, thought I was a boyfriend because I was sloppy with trying to be silent, and damn near beat me to death with a baseball bat till Alec flipped on the light and he realized who he was about to pound out the three-story window.

Church meowed, but I ignored him, striding across the room and grabbing my jacket and the keys to my motorcycle. The damn cat padded after me, nipping at my heels as I slid on my sneakers. Stupid Church. I lifted him up, tossing him into the living room and ran out the door, slamming it shut behind me.

Shit, it was cold. I rubbed my hands together, cursing at myself for forgetting my gloves. Sighing, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat and walked down the porch steps, wondering idly if Magnus and Alec had sent a postcard. They probably didn't, and I wasn't about to waste my time treading the thick ice of the driveway to the mailbox just to check. Instead, I headed straight for my precious baby, wasting no time straddling her and sticking the key in the ignition.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I felt a forlorness wash over me; I could see why they hadn't invited me on the trip. I was moody, never made any indication that I was grateful they'd let me move in with them after Mother and Father had died. I was an asshole, really.

I turned my head to the right, the icy wind hitting my cheek harshly, but it didn't really make much of a difference. I was already cold.

Pushing the speed a little faster, I headed to the cemetery where my parents were buried at, noticing two girls sitting against an apartment building about three miles away from the graveyard. One was a redhead, the other with dark hair and not enough clothes. I didn't bother stopping. What could I do? Girls like them never made it, anyway. From my experience, they'd be dead by tomorrow morning.

Especially if they fell asleep outside in the snow.

Clary

...

...

"Clary!" Faintly, I felt a slight pressure somewhere on my icy numb body, but I couldn't place my finger on where it was coming from..."Clary! Fuck. Clary, wake up."

I felt-barely-a sharp pinch at my ribs, and I forced my heavy eyelids open. Though what I really wanted to do was go back to sleep. I was so tired...

Izzy's panicky face rose in my vision. "We fell asleep while it was snowing," she said urgently, slapping at my cheeks, shoulders and legs. "Crap. Can you feel everything?"

I frowned, and straightened. "I think so." I wiggled my toes and my fingers. "I'm good."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

I shook my head. "Though I wish you hadn't woken me up."

Izzy wrinkled her nose. "Clary, if you died, I bet I'd be the only one to care. Good ol' Val would dump your ass in the trash."

I sighed. "Yeah, but what a way to go. In your sleep."

She patted my shoulder. "You'd regret that." She sighed, and stood up. "I need a smoke." She looked down at me. "You want?"

"Nah. I think I'm going to go for a walk."

Izzy nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." I didn't have a jacket on, since there was no time to grab one while I was running out of the apartment, so I kept my clenched hands in my jean pockets, trudging sleepily across the street.

The streets were mostly packed, on the other side of town. Nobody drove a car in this neighborhood. They usually ended up getting shot at or broken into when parked. By the time I reached the other end of the road, my teeth were chattering and goosebumps masked the freckles on my arms.

I stood still, wondering where I would go. I didn't want a repeat of what had just happened, despite what I'd told Izzy. I didn't want to end up like The Little Match Girl, and freeze to death.

Maybe I'd go hang out on that bridge...It was usually deserted, a result of the many times it'd collapsed because it could never seem to hold the weight of all the cars and taxis...And Izzy hung out there all the time. Well, under the bridge. I'd actually spent the night under it, whenever Valentine was in an especially bad mood.

I headed towards the direction of the bridge, ignoring the catcalls of some junkies hanging out on the window ledges of store windows that were empty. I kept my eyes firmly glued to the ground, cursing myself for not bringing shoes. It was a wonder I hadn't gotten frostbite, yet.

I passed the old cemetery that Izzy and I would play hide-and-seek at when we were twelve, and spotted a tall silhouette standing in the middle of it, head down.

Weird. I didn't realize anyone ever visited that place anymore.

Shrugging, I continued walking, soon forgetting about the person in the cemetery.

Jace

...

...

I had my head bent down, like my Father had always taught me. He'd always been strict about manners and discipline, and many of my old friends had considered him a hard ass. Alec understood. But Father never...Showed affection to us, Alec least of all, especially after he came out of the closet.

I didn't say anything. I hadn't even brought any flowers. They wouldn't have survived overnight, even if I had. They were like those two girls I'd seen on my way over; Powerless to the cold. Needed to be nursed.

I did what I'd done for the past five years; Just stood in silence, thinking.

I hated my Father. Truly. I respected him, definitely. But he was cruel in a way, that if you weren't strong enough, he'd break you premanently. Not the best role model of a father.

I mean, I didn't want him to die. But I can't say I'm heartbroken that he was gone.

Mother...She let Father walk all over her. Didn't stop him from treating me, Alec and Max like dog shit. I loved her, plenty. But I couldn't forgive her for not bothering to parent us.

I kicked at the snow with my shoes, remembering the night of the accident.

I was fourteen, Alec fifteen and Max was eight. Father wanted to teach Alec how to drive, claiming the faster he knew how, the faster he could move the hell out.

Mother insisted on coming along, sliding into the backseat of our Toyota with Max and I. Alec climbed in the passenger's seat, and Father began.

Everything went smoothly, for the first fifteen minutes.

Until that fucking trucker came out of nowhere.

Max was the first to see it. Tried to yell at Father to stop, but of course he told him to shut the hell up and ignored him when he wouldn't.

By the time Mother finally whispered that there was a truck about to hit him, it was too late.

I remember it clearly. Every expression, every noise.

Max's face was surprised and scared; His round eyes looking several times bigger from beneath his too-big glasses.

Mother's face, as always, was calm and serene. Staring straight ahead with her hands folded neatly on her lap.

Father looked tired, his hands curled into tight fists around the steering wheel, as if it would safe him.

Alec had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands clutching onto the "oh, shit" handle.

I don't know what I looked like. Calm like mother, perhaps? I thought I was going to die, so maybe I just look accepting.

But I didn't. Die, I mean.

I wish I had died, sometimes.

Anything rather than listen to my eight-year-old brother scream as our car flipped and the windows shattered, the car catching on fire. I watched him burn to death, screaming and crying, begging through mouthfuls of blood from where his face slammed against Father's seat for help.

Mother's was the worst of all. Alec liked to joke and say I got everything from her: Looks and the impassiveness. So when she began shrieking and throwing her head back and forth, I knew I would never forget that sight. She burnt, too. So did Father. Alec and I were trapped; He because his seatbelt had somehow managed to twist around his neck when the car flipped, so whenever he moved, he would be choked. My legs were trapped beneath his seat in front of me, both of them broken.

I don't know how we survived, with burns and scars covering every inch of us, the doctors mentioned how the only reason we were alive were our seatbelts. Bullshit. Sure, they kept us in the car, but that didn't stop the burning.

I stroked lightly at the scars covering my throat, scars from the broken glass that had come from the shattered window. The reason why I was unable to speak.

My cell buzzed, which was weird, since Alec never texted. Magnus never bothered, saying I was too emo and I made him depressed. As if anyone wearing that amount of glitter could feel depressed.

Get out of the damn cemetery and do something fun for once.

I rolled my eyes at his text. Had I really become that predictable?

Whatever. I dropped the phone back into my pocket, and climbed back on my bike. What was something fun to do? If I asked Alec, he'd probably just say something like sit next to the fire and read a book. Magnus would just tell me to stop by a strip club or pick up a hooker.

I kicked up my kickstand, and drove out of the cemetery.

.

.

.

.

I ended up at some abandoned bridge. Or I was guessing it was abandoned, judging from the lack of cars or people there.

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk along the railing, I stood still for a minute. Nope, nothing interesting about this place, either. Oh, well. I guess I could always just-

"Hey! Watch where you're going, dumbass!"

I flinched back, and widened my eyes in surprise at the very...Short redhead standing a few feet in front of me, her tiny fists planted on her hips, a deep scowl on her face.

I gave her an apologetic shrug.

The girl had to be crazy: She was wearing nothing but a short-sleeved shirt and ripped jeans, no shoes.

"Well?" She crossed her arms. "Were you trying to trample me? Just 'cause I'm short doesn't mean you're better than me, ya know."

I nodded.

She raised her eyebrows. "Not going to talk?"

I shook my head.

She blinked; She clearly hadn't expected that.

"Uh, alright." She thrusted her hand out; As she did, I couldn't help but notice the many bruises covering her pale, freckly arms. Actually, she had bruises on her face, also. One of her eyes had a shiner, and some dried blood stained her shirt. Poor girl. I knew what that was like. "I'm Clarissa. But if you call me that, I'll have to kick your ass. Call me Clary."

I smiled at her, and shook her hand. Her nose was very red, and her hand was freezing cold, as if she'd left it in a bucket full of cold water for three hours.

"What's your name?"

I looked down at my feet, unsure how to answer. I physically wasn't able to answer her, but I didn't like to be rude. I used to be, but that usually earned me a box in the ear. Or a kick in the stomach. So I'd found it easier to remain quiet.

She, Clary, sighed and lifted herself on the icy railing of the bridge.

But since I didn't want her to fall, mainly because she was the closest thing to human company I'd had in years, I grabbed her by the hips without thinking of it, and easily placed her firmly back on the sidewalk.

Clary looked indignant. "Why'd you do that for?" She demanded. "You can't tell me what to do! You aren't my father!"

I raised an eyebrow at the finger-shaped bruises marking her skin, letting her know I most certainly wasn't her father.

She huffed, but didn't say anything else.

We stood in silence: Clary in her exasperated one, me in my content one.

I noticed her begin to shiver, so I slid off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, which she immediately shrugged off defiantly.

I bent over, and scooped it back up, and hung it back over her shoulders. She knocked it off with the palm of her hand.

Once again, I leaned down and picked it back up, dusted the flakes of ice off, and placed it securely around her shoulders. This time she let me.

"What are you doing out here?" She finally asked, her breath coming out in puffs. "You certainly don't look like you don't have a place to stay. Am I right?"

I pointed to the graveyard, which was still visible, even from the middle of the bridge.

Clary nodded. "Ah." She gave me a timid look. "I guess you know why I'm here, huh?"

I reached over, and lightly tapped one particularly large bruise circling around her wrist. In the shape of a whole hand.

She gave a forced laugh. "Yeah. Life's a bitch."

I gave her a small smile, hoping she could see how sorry I was.

Clary patted my arm. "Thanks, man." She hopped off the railing. She spun around. "Hey...Not to sound like a desperate whore or anything, but do you want to meet up here tomorrow?"

Masking my delight that she actually wanted to see me again, despite the fact I hadn't spoken at all, I nodded once.

She grinned. "Cool. See you later, then."

Then she turned and ran.

Clary

...

...

When I'd first seen the Cinderella story, I hated it. I personally thought Beauty and the Beast was better.

Cinderella...She and the prince didn't even know eachother. I mean, c'mon. Love at first sight? He didn't realize it was her until a stupid shoe fit? What kind of life could they have? What future? They could end up hating eachother and divorcing, after realizing there was more to life than dancing in silence once a night.

But that guy at the bridge...Damn, he was gorgeous. And he seemed sweet enough. Gave me his jacket like a classy gentlemen, instead of stealing my clothes, like most of the guys I've met.

Golden curls and sad yellow eyes, he was kind of like a lion. But quieter.

I didn't see Izzy at her little spot on the sidewalk, so I assumed she must've been picked up while I'd been gone.

Sighing, I climbed up the steps, inwardly praying that Valentine wasn't awake...

Jace

...

...

I dreamt of her.

I know that sounds kind of weird, seeing as I'd only met her for about thirty minutes, but she was just so interesting. Beautiful. Crazy.

When I ate, showered, slept, and read, her name was a repeated mantra in my head: Clary. Clary. Clary.

.

.

.

.

Alec and Magnus finally came back home the next morning.

Magnus took one look at me and demanded to know if I'd been taking drugs. Alec looked shocked, and I personally had no idea what they were freaking out about.

Alec finally chuckled and said: "He met someone."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "A horomonal, brooding teenager in love. Wonderful."

At twelve that night, I crawled out my window, this time with a pad and pen. So I could actually respond to Clary.

Alec saw me climb down the ladder that connected to my little balcony, but didn't say anything. Thank God. I think I was becoming a little obsessed with Clary. If I didn't see her soon, I think I would crawl out of my skin.

I road my motorcycle down to the same bridge. And Clary was already there.

Before I was even completely off my bike, she'd thrown herself at me, wrapping her thin arms around my waist and pressing her face into my chest.

I blinked; I hadn't been hugged...Well, since Max. And some girls I'd slept with in the past, but they were random girls I didn't even know the names of. She was warm. Warmer than yesterday, probably because she was wearing my jacket-which filled me with elation when I noticed-and soft. So, so soft.

I hesitantly slid my arms around her slim waist, and hugged her back.

"You came." She pulled away too soon, and beamed at me. "Awesome."

I smiled back, and held up my little notebook.

Clary clapped her hands. "Great. Write down your name so I can carry a normal conversation."

Taking one of her small hands in mine, I quickly scrawled down the nickname Max had given me when he was two because he couldn't pronounce "Jonathon".

"Jace?"

I nodded.

Clary smiled. "Nice to meet you, Jace."

I was about to smile back, when I noticed a fresh cut on her face. Slicing right through her left eyebrow. Scowling fiercly at her, causing her eyes to widen in surprise, I reached a hand out towards her face.

Clary flinched away, and I felt something inside me clench. Dammit. She's scared of me.

Sighing, I flipped open my pad, and quickly scribbled: What happened to your eyebrow?

She looked down, and nodded in understanding. "Cut it on the corner of the coffee table," she explained. "I tripped."

Clary, you really expect me to believe that?

"Fine. I was pushed. Happy?"

Absolutely delighted that your head was smashed into a coffee table.

She rolled her eyes. "Smartass."

I smiled sweetly at her. Would you like to come to my house?

Clary looked startled. "Uh..."

To let my brother's boyfriend check out your injuries. He's a doctor. And if I WERE to invite you for a sexy visit to my house, it'd be more suave than that, believe me.

Clary turned red, and it wasn't from the cold. "Oh, yeah. Sure. I knew that."

I raised an eyebrow. And I can get you something to eat.

"I get plenty-" Her stomach growled, cutting off her protest. She scowled, and dropped her arms around her abdomen. "Whatever," she snarked under her breath.

I'll give you a ride.

Clary shook her head. "No, thanks. Just tell me the address and I'll walk there."

Get on the motorcycle.

She straightened her back with indignitation. "You can't tell me what to do," she said stubbornly.

I shrugged and turned my back on her, heading towards my bike.

"Hey!" She shrieked, jumping out and grabbing a fistful of my shirt. "Where're you going?"

Home.

"But..." Clary's eyes narrowed. "You sneaky bastard. Fine. I'll ride with you."

My lips twitched with amusement as I watched her stomp around to the other side of my baby, and jutted out her lower lip petulantly.

If you're too miserable, I can always push you off when we turn a corner, I wrote with a straight face.

"Smartass."

I smiled charmingly at her, and straddled the motorcycle, indicating for her to do the same.

Clary smiled back, despite the little fit she'd just thrown.

"Alright." She swung a leg over the cycle, and settled down. "You'd better be a good driver," she warned.

I shrugged, and kicked off, delighting in the way Clary squealed in surprise and clutched around his waist, her small fingers wrapping in the cloth of my shirt.

"Jaa-ace!" She screamed in my ear. "Watch out for that curb!"

Just to piss her off, I went over the curb, slippery with ice, causing us to skid across the street and narrowly missing a stop sign.

Clary swore and I felt her press her face into my back, her grip on me tightening. I opened my mouth in a silent laugh at her reaction, despite the fact I was enjoying her touch a little too much.

I slowed down to thirty miles under the limit, something I'd never done before. Sure, I've gone thirty over. Sometimes even more than that. Because it didn't matter to me if I were to crash and die, or not.

Selfish. I was a selfish person. Thinking about nothing other than my depression.

But now I had Clary on here.

So I would be extra careful. For her.

Clary

...

...

Jace wore a scarf.

I'd noticed that the first day I'd met him, but thought nothing of it, because it was snowing, and hey, whatever keeps him warm.

But he wore it, literally, all the time. Like inside his house, with a T-shirt, near the fireplace...Hell, I'd be surprised if he didn't wear it in the shower.

I was staying at his house, four days from when we were first met, laying on my stomach and drinking hot chocolate with Jace. His brother's boyfriend, Magnus, took one look at me and had immediately instructed me to go put on some of his clothes. I, of course, was nervous, because...You'd have to see Magnus in one of his outfits to completely understand...but was relieved when he ended up letting me wear some of his old green flannel pajamas.

Relieved. About wearing flannel.

Yeah. That bad.

Jace scribbled onto a pad he carried around, the easiest way for us to communicate, his eyebrows crinkled in an adorable way. You know it's true when I start using words like "adorable".

Why do you keep hugging yourself? Are you not warm enough?

Aw...How thoughtful.

"No," I grumbled, pulling at the fuzzy fabric. "It's flannel, Jace. Like, lumberjack flannel."

It looks lovely on you.

Now, I would've considered that a sweet gesture, had he not been snickering as he'd wrote that down.

"You're too kind. Dick."

Jace smiled at me; that brilliant, wide smile that revealed his dimples.

Something, according to Alec and Magnus, didn't happen that very often.

We pulled into a driveway, and I couldn't help but gawke: He lived in a house. I mean, I hadn't thought he was homeless or anything, but damn. It wasn't even a small house. It was quite large, actually.

But it looked cozy. If it wasn't located in New York, I could easily picture a garden surrounding the house, birds singing around the trees. A picture-perfect, modern day house for fairy-tale creatures.

Jace swung himself off the bike, and held out a hand to help me off, but I ignored him.

...Which resulted me slipping on the icy driveway, with only one foot off the cycle.

I swore loudly, humiliated. I was pretty sure my cheeks were red, too, with embarassment.

Jace's mouth was open and his body was shaking...Laughing. Soundlessly.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, trying to scramble back up. "Whatever." I slipped again, but this time, Jace's hands shot out and gripped me by the shoulders before I could fall.

He led me into the house, his grip not loosening; I guess he thought I was going to fall again.

But I mean, I wasn't complaining. His touch was warm, and comforting. Soothing.

My first impression, when I stepped in the house, was that Jace was painsakingly rich. Persian rug, China plates and bowls thrown around primly as decorations, and paintings that looked as if they were worth at least ten thousand dollars.

Jace didn't look comfortable, surrounded by such expensive things, I realized, as he led me further through the house. Neither was I. It was beautiful, sure, but it didn't scream "homely" like the outside did.

Until he showed me the living room.

Couch was ugly, the rug looked out of place, and there was gray and white cat hairs covering every inch of the floor.

He waved his arms, and I giggled. He looked like he fit in this room. Relaxed, happy.

Two men walked in; both tall and thin. Except one was Asian, and he was slightly thinner.

Their appearances were also different. The Asian was wearing brightly colored, tight clothes, makeup and glitter. The other, the one who had some of Jace's features-delicate cheekbones and nose shape-was wearing a faded sweater and jeans.

Jace made some hand-motions at them-sign language?-and the Asian beamed at me. "So you're the one that's caused our little prince to become a lovesick puppy. Kudos for that. I was beginning to think he was barking up the other tree, if you catch my drift..."

Jace rolled his eyes, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink.

The man elbowed him. "Ignore him," he said. "It's nice to meet you, Clary. I'm Alec, and this My Little Pony-Lover is my boyfriend, Magnus."

I waved. They seemed nice.

"You two can stay in here..." Magnus gave Jace a look. "I don't want you two going up to his room and start slapping skins-"

"Magnus!" Alec scowled.

Magnus held up his hands. "I'm just saying. We did the same thing when my parents forgot to tell us to leave the door open-"

I raised my eyebrows. "Skip the details. If I wanted to know all about your sex life, I'm sure there's plenty of that same thing on gay porno." I turned to look at Jace. "And don't worry. There's plenty we can do in here without having a door closed."

Jace grinned at me, the biggest one I'd seen him wear. And because of that, I grinned back.

Magnus made a vomiting sound. "Wow, you two are going to make me bulimic," he said disgustedly.

Alec smiled. "Well, I think it's wonderful. I haven't seen Jace smile like that in years."

Hearing that, Jace ducked his head.

I frowned at him; he smiled plenty around me...

"Have fun. But not, you know, "fun"..." Alec grabbed Magnus and dragged him out of the room.

I poked at the black scarf that was wrapped tightly around his neck. He was dressed simply enough; white tee-shirt, black darkwash jeans. Except that damn scarf. I couldn't understand why he kept wearing it.

"What's with the scarf?"

Jace blinked at me. I get colds easily, he explained. And I hate being sick for Christmas. Ruins the taste of egg nog and hot chocolate.

"Cut the crap." I sighed. "C'mon. Please...?"

Sighing, he unwrapped the scarf.

Scars. They littered around his throat. Some deep, some shallow. Some were thick, some were thin.

I blinked, my eyes watering.

Jace's face was expressionless, but his golden eyes were wary and tense, gauging my reaction.

A shaky finger raised, and I lightly touched one of them. "Do they still hurt?" Why was I whispering?

He shook his head, unblinking.

I ran a finger down, tracing the winding scars edged into his skin.

I snuck a peek at his face. His eyelids had fallen shut.

Leaning down, stealing the chance, I pressed my lips to his throat.

He gasped.

His skin was warm. Like the fire that was next to us.

I pressed another kiss, this time letting my tongue slip from between my lips, darting out and licking up and around one of the scars. I hummed proudly when I felt his body tense, and his hands tighten into fists against the hideous red rug.

The only lights in the room came from the fire and the Christmas tree, and his eyes, which had once again open and were literally glowing with something...something foreign. Unfamiliar.

"I'm sorry, Jace," I whispered against his skin, dragging my lips up to his ear, my teeth biting into his earlobe. His chest vibrated, and I giggled, despite myself.

I wiggled down, throwing a leg over his hips, and pushing his shirt up. "Are there more?"

His gaze hungry, he nodded.

His chest, too, was covering with the scars. I saddened, despite the fact he looked absolutely delicious, laying on the floor shirtless, the firelight flickering against his honey skin.

I brought my head down, and kiss and licked each one of them. Sweet, not-so-innocent gestures.

Jace's breathing was coming in quicker pants now, and I simply couldn't resist the opportunity; when I reached his pecs, which had a scar slicing through it, I licked up the scar, pausing at his nipple, and closing my lips around the bud.

His hiss reached my ears, and I smiled around him, pulling away to lap at his pec like a kitten would milk, and took satisfaction in the way his back arched up, as if straining to feel my mouth again.

I smirked at his reaction, and gave his nipple a little nip.

His hands, which were always gentle whenever he would help me on and off his cycle, or hold my hand whenever Magnus sent us grocery shopping-I had taken it upon myself to stay for dinner at the Bane household, because it wasn't as if I ever got fed at home, were suddenly tangled in my hair, and he forcefully brought my face down to his, his lips on mine, hungrily.

Jace growled against my mouth, and I felt his legs slide out from beneath mine and wrap themselve around my waist, grinding me against the bulge in his jeans.

I mewled, because hey, that boy was big and that just felt too good.

His teeth nipped at mine, and his hand, which had been in my hair, refusing to let me go-not that I wanted to, slid down my ribs and under my shirt, his large hand cupping around my breast.

I tore my lips away and whimpered. "God, Jace," I hissed. "Please." Stop teasing me!

He smirked crookedly at me with swollen lips, and his fingers nimbly slid beneath the cup and gave my nipple a sharp flick, and I cried out, bucking against him. "Fu-uck."

Jace nodded in agreement, and pushed my shirt up with his other hand.

I suddenly felt shy, because like him, I had scars and bruises covering my torso. But he let me see his, so it wouldn't be fair if I didn't. Plus, I cared about Jace. Probably more than I should. I wanted him to see. Because I knew he wouldn't be disgusted with me.

His eyes widened, and his mouth shaped my name. Beautiful, he mouthed.

I blushed, and he smiled sweetly at me, tugging down my bra so that my small-yet another reason I was slightly shy about being half-naked-breasts.

I didn't have much time to wallow about being small in the boob-department, because suddenly his mouth was devouring one, his hand squeezing the neglected one.

I was moaning and rubbing against him, frantically trying to get myself to just come already-I think his touch was literally driving me insane.

"Jace," I whimpered. "Shit, Jace. You feel so good..."

He growled around my nipple, and the vibration finally-finally made me fall over the edge.

But he didn't stop. He moved over to my other breast, his mouth covering the whole mound and suckling, his lustfilled eyes looking up at me as I bucked against him.

He sat up, never stopping his thrust or his sucking.

God, he was constantly making me ache! I was already aroused again, and I wrapped my fingers in his curls grinding myself harder, never stopping my bouncing on his still-hard cock.

The stamina this guy has is freaking unbelievable.

Since I was still a virgin-shocking, considering the way I was acting-I wasn't sure if that was normal. According to Izzy, it probably wasn't. She told me most teenaged boys came in their pants within usually fifteen seconds.

...And even through my orgasmic-high, I knew it was past fifteen seconds.

His free hand dropped to his lap, where I was bouncing like a maniac. He purred around my breast, and his hand cupped my flannel-covered mound-that sounded so weird-and I lost it.

Screaming my head off, I came so hard I was pretty sure I blacked out.

I fell onto his bare chest, panting.

Jace's pants were sticky, with my come or his, not sure, and he was grinning down lazily at me.

"That was fun."

He silently laughed, his chest trembling.

Laying back down, with me still sprawled on top of him, he reached over and grabbed his pad.

Are you a virgin? He looked concerned.

I nodded my head. "You?"

He shook his head. I'm sorry. I should've been more gentle.

I smiled at him. He was too cute, sometimes. "Don't be," I reassured him. "That was wonderful."

He smiled. You aren't disgusted? With my scars and everything?

I nuzzled my face into his neck. "Are you grossed out about mine?" I threw back at him.

No. I think they're beautiful. I just wish you didn't have to hurt.

"Same here." I rubbed a finger softly against his scarred neck. "I just humped you like a porn star, Jace. Believe me, if I was disgusted by them, I probably wouldn't have done that."

He grinned and rolled his eyes.

"So you don't need to wear that scarf anymore." I pressed my forehead against his, and he gazed at me. "You look like a recreation of Magnus."

He pushed me off of him, and I laughed.

Isabelle gave me a frosty look as I sat down next to her. "Where've you been?" She asked.

"Jace."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

I blinked, taken aback by her cold tone. "What?"

Izzy sighed. "Nothing. Just wondering when he'll realize that you two are from two totally different social classes and dump your ass back over to Valentine."

Ouch, that hurt. "He isn't like that, Izzy," I whispered. "He cares about me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

I watched her pull a joint out of her pocket. "You want?" She held it out to me.

I shook my head, not the least bit tempted. The only reason I'd started with her was because I honestly hadn't cared whether I killed myself with the nasy things or not. But now I had Jace. Jace, who needed me as much as I needed him.

It held no point, now.

Isabelle gave me a disgusted look. "You've changed," she muttered, taking a deep draw.

Looking down, I thought of something I'd read on a bathroom stall wall, among all the phone numbers.

When somebody says "You've changed", it simply means you've stopped living their way.

"It's because I love him," I said, not realizing it myself until I uttered it out loud.

She scoffed, smoke escaping from her nostrils. "I had a doctor tell me he loved me, once," she said.

I looked at her.

"And then," she said, her voice flat and her eyes angry. "After I finished blowing him, he slapped me across the face, and his wedding ring cut my cheek. He only gave me ten dollars and left me on my knees behind a Dumpster."

I noticed a bruise around her neck. "What happened here?" I asked, after being silent for five minutes.

She chuckled. "Grabbing my hair wasn't enough. Bastard nearly strangled me."

"I'm sorry, Izzy. Do you want me to-"

"I don't want you to do anything," she spat out, bitterly. "You don't need me anymore, so there's obviously no reason for you to be here. You can leave."

I stared. "Izzy-"

"Go." She sneered at me. "With your mute little boyfriend. But when it all blows up in your face, don't come running back to me. I won't care."

That was the last time I ever spoke to her.

I kept my hands in my pockets. It was four days till Christmas Eve, and I was on my way to Jace's house, limping a little. For the last week, I'd been pretty good at avoiding Valentine. Except he caught me trying to sneak some eggs out of the fridge, since I knew Magnus and Alec were out, and went ballistic.

The eggs were cracked. And I'm pretty sure my knee cap was cracked, also.

I knocked.

Magnus opened the door, green and red glitter covering his face and clothes. He smiled. "CLARISSA!" He picked me up.

I winced as he squeezed my bruised ribs, but didn't say anything. "Hey, Magnus."

He put me down. "Got the eggs?"

I swallowed. "Er, no. Sorry. We were out."

Magnus shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine without the eggs."

I walked in, shutting the door behind me. "Where's Jace?" I wanted to see him. Hug him. Kiss him. We hadn't done anything since the fireplace...incident, but we had admittedly grown closer. He didn't know I loved him, but I figured not to throw that at him and scare him off, or anything.

Magnus frowned. "I have no idea," he said. "He went out thirty minutes ago, for a ride. Hasn't called."

"Huh." I felt a little worried, but brushed it off. He was probably fine.

Jace

...

...

I was going too fast.

I was scared. Not because I was going 110 mph, but because I'd just realized something.

I loved her.

I was a coward, driving around at breakneck speed, instead of back at my house, where she probably was by now, holding her. But it couldn't be helped. She couldn't love me back. I couldn't even talk to her. I had to write out my feelings and thoughts to her, instead of whispering in her ear or yelling at her when we argued. Like she would to me.

What if she could love me?

She already had enough problems at home, with her father repeatedly hurting her, and refused my offer of living with me. She said she wasn't a begger. Or a parasite. She could handle herself.

I wasn't wearing a helmet or my scarf, for once. I no longer felt the need to wear it, thanks to her.

Someone honked at me as I cut them off, but I barely glanced back.

I would turn around. Go home. To Clary.

Smiling at that thought, I went even faster...

...And collided into the side of a building.

Clary

...

...

I was curled up on the couch, sipping my hot chocolate and wondering where the hell Jace was.

He'd been gone for, according to Magnus, an hour now.

"Clary."

I looked up. Alec was standing in the doorway, and even Magnus tore his eyes away from the Frosty the Snowman movie he was watching.

Alec's face was pale, and his hand was clutched tightly around the phone he held.

An uneasy feeling stirred in my stomach. "What?"

He bit his lip. "The hospital. Ah...they called."

No. No. No. NO!

"It's Jace."

The drive to the hospital was silent and tense. Even Magnus was quiet. All of us scared for the news we'd get when we reached the hospital.

Everything was a blur.

The doctor's voice sounded slurred and faint, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from Jace, who was laying pitifully on the hospital bed, tubes and needles poking in and out of him. Dried blood crusting the side of his face. His chest barely moving with too-slow breaths.

My eyesight was a little hazy.

The room was quiet as the doctor fell silent, the only sound was the occasional beep of the heart monitor.

Not fast enough.

Eight more scars for my beautiful boy. One slicing through his eyebrow and another running down his cheek. The others were on his back and chest.

My poor Jace.

Coma.

The longer he was out, the less likely it was he'd wake up.

One day passed.

Then a second.

Three more days till Christmas.

The holiday suddenly seem so jolly, anymore.

I hadn't left the hospital.

I'm pretty sure I smelled and looked horrible, but I couldn't leave him.

I was nothing without him.

And I hadn't even told him.

Christmas Eve.

Magnus finally made me leave the hospital, and Alec told me I could stay with them for Christmas, if my parents didn't mind. I didn't even bother pretending to call and ask, and just threw my few clothes in their guest room drawer.

I went for a walk, feeling like I was bringing Alec and Magnus down even more with my sullen mood. Especially Alec. Apparently his and Jace's family died in a car accident-the cause of Jace's scars-and now his only living family member is in a coma.

I saw Izzy. But I didn't say anything, because as soon as she saw me, she pointedly turned away.

Instead, I walked into the coffee shop across from her "hang-out and pick-up" spot.

A tall, cute boy with glasses gave me my coffee. He kept looking like he wanted to say something, but never did.

Then, when he came by to give me my check, he finally blurted, "Are you friends with her?"

I stared at him. "Who?"

Red tinged through his dark skin, and he scuffed his shoes. "That-that girl. Across the street." He jerked his head in the direction of...Izzy?

I hid a smile. "You do realize Isabelle's a prostitute?"

He nodded. "Isabelle?" His dark eyes glazed over. "Perfect name for her." He shook his head, as if to clear. "I don't care if she's a prostitute. I love her."

I raised my eyebrows. "You sure? She's a hard person to love. And you don't even know her."

I glanced at his nametag. S I M O N.

Simon looked a little saddened when I said that.

"Listen, Simon." I leaned forward. "Walk out there, and invite her in. Give her free coffee. Talk to her. Don't sleep with her, or she'll hate you."

He looked hopeful. "Really?"

I nodded. He was shy and awkward. Opposite of her. Also opposite of the guys that picked her up. She'd be crazy about him after the first stutter.

"Thanks." He ran out of the cafe, and over to where she was sitting.

I left the cafe, but as I passed one of the windows, I spotted Izzy in there, with Simon speaking with her. She was smiling. Smiling a smile I'd never seen on her.

I headed straight for the hospital, and crawled into Jace's bed.

I rested my head on his shoulder, my hand holding his cold one. Wrong. He was always warm. Never cold.

"I miss you, already," I murmured, my voice muffled. "Christmas is in, like, three hours. Why were you stupid enough to be going over a hundred, Jace?"

Silence.

Unmoving.

Cold.

My teeth began chattering, and I felt a traitorous tear run down my cheek. "Did you do it on purpose?" My voice broke. How embarassing.

I turned my head to look at him. "You're lucky all you got was a concussion," I muttered. "If you died, I would've kicked your ass. You know that?"

I rested my head back down on his shoulder. "I'm staying at your house. Like you wanted."

I played with his fingers. "It isn't the same, with you not in there, though."

I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, where he'd gotten a fresh scar from the accident. It was in the shape of a star. "I love you, Jace," I whispered against his skin.

The heart monitor stopped.

I sobbed.

But then it beeped again.

Faster.

Beepbeepbeepbeep.

I inhaled shakily. His heart skipped a beat? Was that a bad thing? Was he going to die-I felt fingers tighten around mine.

Blinking, I looked over at Jace.

His eyes were open.

He smiled at me.

Then his mouth moved. Silently, as always.

I love you, too.

Review...