Hi guys! So I loved (and hated) the last bit of Clockwork Princess, when Jem played out their lives, and he played out all the things that had happened. And one part really struck me—when he said he played how at James's protection ceremony. That part just got me. So I decided to write it out instead of just listening to the general description. Enjoy.

The silent brother's carriage had always made Tessa feel anxious. The way it drove through objects and over landforms like a ghost—and though she knew that they would pass through the closed gates of the institute, in never ceased to unsettle her.

Today was different though, as she was already anxious, but for another reason entirely.

She was done up in a simple olive dress that unbuttoned down the front—though it had to be, Tessa mused, little James seemed to eat more than his father did—and her hair was braided simply and held at the back of her neck by a silver hair pin. She saw no need to dress up for the Silent City, even if Jem was there. He hardly cared for her physically appearance now, she thought bitterly.

Across from her sat her husband, his face obscured by dark curls as his head was bent looking at a small swaddled up bundle in his arms. He had been that way the entire ride—looking up briefly at Tessa when James would open his eyes or coo the way babies did. Three times already had Will jerked up to exclaim, "Tess. Tessa, look. Look at him. Watch."

She had smiled and shared his joy, though her mind was elsewhere. Jem. Her mind ran over every though that he might have about her and Will's small son. Happiness for one she was sure. It was Jem, he would always be happy for anything that brought happiness to Will or herself. Though she wondered, that in his secret heart of hearts, if maybe there would be some sadness, or worse, he would feel betrayed by them. And she worried what he would think of her baby's name, James. If he would look at it and think they had named him that as a memoir. That he was only a memory to them, and that they had forgotten he lived still.

Jem had not seen James yet, though he had been to the Institute on account of Will's broken arm—that obviously couldn't have been healed with an iratze—when Tessa was eight months with James. He had known of the child before of course. He was the one who had told her when she visited him on Blackfriers Bridge as they did every year.

They had sat against the railing of the bridge, hands laced, and had talked of everything—about her and Will, all the new children that just kept popping up—Cecily and Gabriel's, Charlotte and Henry's, Sophie and Gideon's. She told tell him all the stories she had stored in her mind over the last year. Every one that she had wished to tell him then but could not, so she saved them for that day. They had sat almost the whole hour before his voice came in her mind suddenly—different from the tone he had used before. She didn't imagine that silent brothers really had a tone, and perhaps that was true for most, but she could always tell even the slightest change in Jem's.

Tessa, he had said. And then he had said it. It had been blunt, and she had sat still, her hand going stiff in his, her mind racing, worries of what he would think spreading like wildfire. And of course Jem was there to comfort her. I do not think ill of you, he said. Neither do I think ill of Will. If there are two people who deserve happiness any more than you both, I could not name them. Then he added, as an afterthought, It is a boy.

James cooed again and Will let out a laugh and his face broke out into an even larger grin than the constant smile that he had worn for the past few days. "Tess. Tess, look."

She did. Little Jamie had both eyes open, and though they were unfocused as a newborns were, he was staring up at Will, two pink chubby arms reaching out. Will laughed as James grabbed at one of his wayward curls, gripping and pulling his father's head down.

It wasn't hard for him to grab, Tessa mused. Will hadn't cut his hair, and had hardly shaved in the last months of her pregnancy and the days following the delivery. He had been so worried and anxious and excited—more so than even herself.

"He's got a good grip," Will said, still laughing. Tessa moved over to the side he was seated on and leaned on him to peer down at their son. What they had created together.

"Hello Jamie," she said rubbing back his dark wisps, the same color as his father's, from his face. She would have held him but she could not bear to take him away from Will. Ever since he had arrived Will had hardly set him down or given anyone else a turn, except for Tessa, though she had let him keep James for the most part, which usually included any time he wasn't eating or sleeping, and even then he liked to hold him as he slept. And anyway, she had had nine months with him after all. It was only fair.

James pulled at his fathers curls again, this time harder so that Will's head was further down and he could reach up and get another handful of black hair.

"Now why didn't I think of that," Tessa said, still petting at her son. "James, I might have to steal your idea. It seems to keep him in line doesn't it." And it had. The whole-time James was having his fun gripping and pulling, Will had set still, smiling down through his winces.

The carriage lurched to a halt, James fists losing from Will's hair and a cry tearing from his throat. It appeared he had not liked the sudden stop anymore that Tessa did, though, like his father, he was quite inclined to share his opinion on the subject.

"Hey," Will said pulling him up to hold him close and rock him. It was such a funny sight, Tessa thought. Will had only grown broader since they had married, his arms now larger and more muscular than ever, and James looked so tiny in them. Though there was something else, less funny about the position. The muscular arms around their son spoke a silent vow to keep him safe, to guard him from anything that might try to hurt him, and to comfort him should he need it. "There's no reason to cry," he held the child away from his body now, his hands under James arms. The baby still wailed. Will looked at him straight in the eyes, a fierce look in his blue orbs, "it's okay," he conspired, as if telling a secret, "when we exit, I will tear this blasted carriage apart piece by piece and we will have Henry make you a stroller out of the remains, and then we'll put Uncle Gabriel inside and roll him down a hill a few times to make sure it doesn't blow up."

James had stopped crying somewhere in his father's speech and looked at Will strangely.

The door to the carriage opened and a silent brother stood, hood drawn back. Welcome to the City of Bones, Herondale family. Please, he held a stiff arm out towards the entrance, enter.

Tessa held her breath. Will handed James over to her, carefully so that his head did not bob, and then exited the carriage. When he was down he helped her out, more help than was required by propriety, but Will had been nervous about her after the birth anyway, as it had not been an easy one, and she held his child in her arms.

The brother led them into the silent city and into the stone halls. Tessa was used to them by now though, and they no longer made her feel ill at ease. They shouldn't have. She had been here enough time over the past years, since Jem had joined them, because of Will and his antics to see his parabatai. And though she never minded seeing him, and was glad at any chance, she sometimes wished she did not have to discuss her husband's broken green toe with Brother Enoch, who took it in an uncomfortably serious manner.

I suspect, said Brother Enoch in front of them, having been the one to lead them in, that you wish for Brother Zachariah to perform the ceremony.

"I will have no one else," Will sounded absolute.

Brother Enoch did not respond, only led them down a series of winding hallways to a far door in one corridor.

Sister Magdalen and Brother Zachariah await you, was all he said.

Tessa and Will stopped outside the door. Will did not look at her, only straight ahead at the stone door. Tessa could see the excitement—it was the same look on his face every time he got to see Jem—but she could also see the worry in his posture and his blue eyes and she wondered if perhaps he had the same fears she did.

Holding James tighter to her bosom, she walked forward to the door. Will, seeming to come out of his daze, opened the door for her and allowed her to enter first before doing the same and then closing it behind himself.

The room was ill lit by which light, as everything in the Silent City was, giving it an eerie glow and cast shadows in every corner. In the middle of the room was a stone table, where she assumed she was to set her son, though it looked so very hard and unwelcoming to a newborn.

"Brother Zachariah," said Will, even though he detested calling Jem that, this was a serious affair, "Sister Magdalen. We are here for the protection ritual for our son."

"We are aware what you are here for, William and Theresa Herondale," Sister Magdalen had said, though there was nothing harsh in her tone, neither was there anything welcoming. "Place the child on the stone slab and we shall begin."

Jem had stood in the background, though when Tessa walked forward with the child he did the same, stopping at the table and pulling his hood back. She wrapped her sons blanket around him tighter as she went to place him on the table, though Will held up a hand to halt her and, as quick as fire, took his jacket off and placed it on the table in a bundle so that it made a cradle of sort.

Smiling at the gesture, she pulled her son from her chest and laid him down on Will's jacket. Jem stayed on one side of the table while Sister Magdalen moved to the other.

Then Jem spoke for the first time since they had entered the room.

And what is his name, he asked.

Tessa went still and looked to Will. It was his parabatai after all.

"His name is James," he said at last. "James Herondale."

The room seemed to go quitter than it already was, even the howling dead seemed to still. Sister Magdalen did not seem to notice anything special about the name, though she had not been very loud to begin with, her feet as silent as any of the brother's.

Little James cooed then and outstretched his tiny arms upward towards Jem, something his did often to Will and Tessa, yet hardly to anyone else.

Jem stood stonily above him, his closed eyes staring down at James. Though Tessa did not doubt that he saw. He saw more than anyone else, she believed. He had always seen her, he had seen Will, and the brother hood could not change that.

Then he turned, slowly, away from the table. Tessa was about to go forward but then he took his scarred hands and covered his equally scarred face, and though he made no sound, Tessa knew he was weeping.

James continued to make baby noises in the background and no one else said a word.

Thank you if you got to the end. Tell me if you guys liked it and want more. There were a few more I wanted to do that were mentioned in the epilogue of Clockwork Princess and even some that I just wanted to write about. If you guys have any suggestions feel free to review and I'll try to write them. Thank you!