Author's Note: Thank you all, so much, for the wonderful reviews! Please, keep them coming. I appreciate your kind thoughts very much and I love your opinions. Please enjoy this chapter, and perhaps, let me know what you think?

Chapter 11: Thought & Memory

Once all of the shopping was done, Stephen and Celine sat down at a cafe for a quick snack with Robert and Maryse. Maryse and Celine spent the time gossiping. Stephen barely spoke; Robert glared at him over a cup of black coffee. Stephen didn't bother asking Robert why he hated him so much. There was some sort of animosity towards Herondales that was bred into every Lightwood. With the exception of Stephen's great-great grandfather, Will, who married a Lightwood, Herondales and Lightwoods went together like oil and water: they never mixed and never saw a reason to mix.

Robert sipped his coffee, staring directly into Stephen's eyes. Alec lay in his arms, sleeping peacefully, having finished a bottle not long before.

"Do you want to hold him?" Robert asked. There was something in his tone that belittled Stephen, whether on purpose or not. Maryse and Celine stopped talking and turned to Stephen, waiting for his reply. Stephen's face got hot as he looked down at the cheese Danish on his plate. His throat was starting to feel sore and scratchy and no amount of tea would make it feel any better.

"I need air," Stephen said abruptly. He stood up and walked out of the café. Once outside, he took deep breathes of cool, fresh air. He sat down on a bench, glad to be free of the stuffy café.

A woman with long brown hair walked by and continued into a small store. Stephen jumped up after a second and hurried in after her only to find that the woman wasn't Amatis, she wasn't even close to Amatis's age, but Amatis couldn't have gone home. She was upset and whenever she was upset, she liked to walk. She couldn't have left Market Square. Stephen left the shop and went to some open air market stalls, looking for Amatis, but never saw her. There were people selling handmade jewelry at one stall.

One afternoon in early spring Stephen and Amatis had cut out of the only class they took together (Advanced Runes for Defense and Battle) and came to Market Square. They got fried dough covered in cinnamon and sugar from one vendor, then walked around, until they came to this particular market stall.

Stephen had been thinking about asking Amatis to marry him but hadn't worked up the nerve to tell her that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Saying words like that- the words that meant the most- was something Stephen struggled with. He just wasn't good with grand gestures and confessing his love. They'd been together four months, which was when most Shadowhunters began to discuss marriage, but Amatis hadn't brought up that topic and Stephen wasn't even sure she wanted to get married. So when Amatis began gushing over a gorgeous vintage bloodstone ring at the market stall, Stephen saw an opportunity, however, he had no money to purchase the ring Amatis desired.

When they returned to campus, Stephen skipped another class (History of Demons- 950A.D.-1500A.D.), returned to Market Square, and spent an entire two weeks allowance on the ring. That night, when Stephen walked Amatis home from school, he pulled the ring out and offered it to her. Stephen didn't need to say that he'd never given a girl a ring before, that he'd never felt this way for a girl before, Amatis just understood. Even though it was another two months before Stephen summoned the nerve to drop to one knee and ask Amatis to marry him, he always believed their engagement had started the day he gave her a ring and said nothing at all.

Amatis had been wearing the bloodstone ring yesterday as she stood beside him, crying, her heart broken beyond repair.

"Stephen!" A girl exclaimed. Stephen spun around quickly, a smile on his face. Celine stomped over, carrying a bag from the bakery. "You just left. I've been looking for you for the past twenty minutes! Where have you been?"

"I was hot. I needed air. Robert's an insufferable prick," Stephen said. Celine folded her arms. "And… I don't feel good."

"So heal yourself," Celine said. She frowned and laid the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're sick, let's go home. You'll need more than a rune." Celine grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. Stephen turned around once more, searching the crowd for Amatis, before following.

Once in the carriage, Stephen fell asleep with his head in Celine's lap. Midway through the ride home he sneezed into his hand.

"God bless you," Celine said.

"I beg your pardon?" Stephen asked. He sat up and grabbed the thermos of apple cider and rum. He took a sip and offered it to Celine, who shook her head. "God bless me?"

"Mundanes say it because they think the devil can claim your soul when you sneeze. It's cute. God bless you. Angel bless you. Whatever," Celine said.

"I sneezed. I don't need blessed, I need a handkerchief," Stephen said. Celine tossed him one that smelled like her perfume. Stephen blew his nose, then leaned back against the seat and sighed. "I don't believe in God. I barely believe in the Angel."

"I beg your pardon?" Celine asked. She closed her book and sat up as well, taking notice. "Why not?"

"If God… or the Angel… were the all-loving, all-controlling deities we've learned them to be, why would they allow Luke to be killed by hellish creatures?" Stephen asked. "If God and/or the Angel actually exist, why do we need to kill demons at all? Shouldn't God or the Angel take care of them for us? It seems to me like we, as Shadowhunters, are sort of unnecessary here."

"That's not true," Celine said. Her voice shook. "We have a heavenly mandate…"

"Says who? One man saw the Angel. How do we know he even saw a heavenly being? Our entire culture could be built on lies!" Stephen exclaimed. Celine looked unsettled.

"I don't see how you of all people can dispute the existence of the Angel," Celine said. "You have to know what people say about Herondales."

"That we're emotionally tortured but blessed in many different ways?" Stephen asked. Celine snorted but didn't get distracted.

"People say that someone in your family encountered an Angel, and that you carry evidence of that encounter in a birthmark," Celine said. "I've seen it, you know."

"You were eye level with it," Stephen said. He took another sip of apple cider and finally began to feel the effects of the rum. "You can sit there and tell me how we all have a purpose. You can tell me that the Angel exists; I don't care. You never saw the Angel, and neither did I, and I'm not believing in something I can't see."

"So strip your runes and melt into mundane society, if you don't think there's a reason for being here," Celine said. "It's called faith, Stephen. For someone people, all they have is faith that there is a higher power, that we aren't just tossed onto this earth for God, or the Angel to manipulate. Some people believe that there has got to be something more than just… this."

Stephen sniffed and wiped his nose. He looked out the window at the country side they were traveling through. He took another sip of the apple cider. The rum certainly wasn't making him feel any better but that was beside the point.

"Evil exists. I believe we were put on this earth to fight evil in whatever form it may be," Celine said. "The Angel exists. We have a purpose. Why are you disputing this?"

"I just… Never mind," Stephen said. "My head hurts and I just…"

"Stephen." Celine said, softly. She touched his hand.

"If the Angel exists, if he wants us to continue to fight and populate the word with more Shadowhunters… why did he take my son to soon? Why did he make it so Amatis couldn't have any more children?" Stephen asked. His eyes filled up with tears as he thought about Amatis standing beside him, holding some apples and falling apart.

"It's wrong to question the will of the Angel," Celine said, because she wasn't sure what else to say. Stephen felt something tight and painful well up in his throat. He let out a choked sounding sob.

"I just want to know why my son had to die," Stephen said. "Is it me? Did I do something wrong? I only did what I had to do. I did nothing wrong."

"You did nothing wrong," Celine said. "Sometimes, things just happen that are beyond our control. You must have faith, Stephen. There's a reason for everything."

Not long after they arrived home, Stephen found himself up in his bedroom, having been brought there by Celine and Mr. Fairchild. He had slept the entire rest of the ride home after falling into a drunken stupor. Celine was now waving a stele at him, menacingly. Stephen was backed into a corner.

"Just take the rune, Stephen," Celine said.

"NO! You keep away from me warlock!" Stephen cried. He had drank most of the apple cider and rum and was now caught somewhere between staggering drunk and delirious with a fever.

"Just open your shirt so I can apply a rune," Celine said. "I'll make you feel all better."

"WITCHCRAFT!" Stephen screamed. "You're violating the Accords! She-devil! Spawn of Lilith!"

Celine gave Stephen one last even glare before she kneed him in the crotch. Stephen fell onto the bed, coughing, gagging, and grabbing himself in a most unsightly way. Celine seized the collar of his shirt and pulled it in opposite directions so that the material shredded down the middle, completely baring Stephen's chest. Stephen sobered instantly.

"Oh, sweetheart," Stephen gasped, "You next?" Celine pressed the tip of her stele to Stephen's chest and drew one rune, followed by another. Stephen looked down at the runes as they sunk into his skin. "But isn't that rune for…?" And then there was blackness.

It was dark outside when Stephen opened his eyes again. His body felt heavy and painful, as if he had laid flat on his back for an undetermined amount of time. He turned his head to see Celine reading beside the bed. Her hair was pulled up and back into a messy bun, just the way he liked it. He had seen her so many different ways but would have never expected to wake up to her at his bedside.

It had been several days since Stephen woke up with anyone. Without Amatis, Stephen should have been alone, but then there was Celine, who knew all of his dirty secrets and didn't hate him for it. They made mistakes together, and yet, Celine was still there. Stephen imagined pulling Celine into his bed, holding her tight, and falling back to sleep with her.

Stephen glanced down at his chest to see the scars of the two runes Celine drew on him. The first was a potent healing rune, and the second was a sedation rune, meant to knock someone unconscious for the better part of 36 hours.

"You're awake," Celine said. She closed her book and leaned over to brush some hair off of Stephen's forehead. "It was just a common cold. You really didn't need sedated after all." Stephen rolled his eyes. He remembered Celine's gleeful look right before the darkness covered his eyes.

"She-devil," Stephen groaned. "Give me tea or leave me to die." Celine poured a cup of tea and gave it to Stephen. He had several sips and felt his energy return, slowly. Celine was smiling. "What?"

"You British boys and your love of tea," Celine said. "I like it."

"Don't lie. It's the accent that makes you want to lose your panties," Stephen said. He climbed out of bed and crossed the room. Celine remained in her chair, speechless. Stephen brushed his teeth and was washing his face when Celine walked over to the bathroom door.

"You missed breakfast, so I can make you something for lunch. Or you can have breakfast. I'm sure I can put together some bacon and eggs," Celine said. She leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms.

"Were you at my bedside the entire time I was sleeping?" Stephen asked.

"Well, some of the time…. I wasn't sure when you would wake up and if you would need anything," Celine said.

"I was sedated for 36 hours. I wasn't going anywhere," Stephen said. Celine looked down at the floor, not making eye contact. She was showing her vulnerability now, which was such a contrast to the way she had been before at the market. "You care for me. I was more than just a quick fuck to you."

"Of course I care about you," Celine said. "But what happened before meant nothing. It shouldn't have happened. You were married and you still are and you…"

"And I'm standing in my bathroom, shirtless, and you're still here," Stephen said. "I must have something impressive if you keep coming back."

Celine's cheeks took on a most delightful blush. "That's hardly the case," she said, not daring to look at any part of Stephen's body.

Stephen walked over and twirled his fingers around a few strands of Celine's hair. He kissed her once on the neck. Celine placed her hands on his stomach, just beneath his ribs. She never could decide whether to push him away or pull him close. Stephen took her by the hips and pulled her warm body against his.

"So are you going to lose your panties or do I need to keep talking?" Stephen asked. Celine's mouth fell open. "I said, do I need to keep talking, or…"

"You're a married man," Celine said. "You will be married for the next 28 days, and then…" Stephen gave her a Cheshire grin. "We aren't having this conversation. You loved her and I refuse to do anything with you until you decide whether or not you still love her."

"So you do want to do something with me; I just have to wait 28 days?" Stephen asked.

"Do you want breakfast or lunch?" Celine retorted. Stephen kissed Celine gently on the lips and looked into her eyes.

"Toast and jam," Stephen whispered. Celine backed up slowly and hurried from the room.

Twenty minutes later, Stephen left his room dressed in pants and a new sweater which had suspiciously appeared in his closet. There were other new clothes in there as well. Stephen knew he had a closet full of clothes back at the canal house (or, he hoped to) and he knew he would need to go back sometime to retrieve them. He had left most of his weapons there, however, going back to the house meant facing Amatis and Stephen wasn't ready for that.

Celine was already in the kitchen when Stephen walked in. She had brewed another pot of tea and made some toast which she covered with red jam. A glass of gold toned liquid sat beside the plate on the table. Stephen sat down and regarded the beverage.

"Valentine said that it should restore your strength," Celine said. Stephen drank the beverage and ate all of his toast as Celine made preparations for dinner.

When Stephen finished eating, he remained at the table, watching Celine. He hated to admit it, but Valentine was right: Celine would make an excellent wife. She was good at taking care of people, and also seemed to be good in the kitchen. Celine wasn't difficult to look at either. When she tied her hair back and leaned against the counter to look over a recipe, Stephen swore he was becoming aroused.

"Stephen?" Jocelyn asked, walking into the kitchen. Stephen tore his eyes from Celine's backside and looked up at Jocelyn, guilty without her having to say a word. "Valentine wants to see you. He's up in the aviary."

"Beg pardon?" Stephen asked.

"His bird room. It's up on the third floor, where the attic should be," Celine said. Stephen nodded and left the room when Jocelyn's back was turned. He settled himself on the long climb up the flight of stairs to the second floor, and then found more stairs that took him to the third floor. From there he found a door marked "Aviary" and knocked.

"Come in," Valentine called. Stephen opened the door and walked inside.

The Aviary was a large room which contained several large bird cages, as well as a few smaller ones. One wall was lined with windows. Valentine was standing in front of the windows, a large black bird perched on his shoulder.

"You asked for me?" Stephen asked.

"Ah, my son, you're alive," Valentine said. He walked over and touched Stephen's forehead.

"It was just a case of the sniffles," Stephen said. "Jocelyn said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Right, of course," Valentine said. "I'd like you to meet Hugin." Valentine pointed to the large bird that sat on his shoulder. "Did you know that birds can live for decades? They're one of the most faithful pets you can have." Valentine walked across the room and locked Hugin into a cage. Stephen noted that the bird had massive claws and took a step backwards.

"Is that so?" Stephen asked.

"Absolutely. If trained properly, a bird can faithfully serve its master for many years," Valentine said. "I've had Hugin since I was sixteen and his brother Munin since I was fourteen." As if it was waiting for an opportunity to make an entrance, a large black raven flew into an open window and landed in an empty cage. There was a tiny, squeaking mouse caught in the raven's claw. The raven released the mouse onto the floor of the cage, then pounced on it and began to tear the tiny mouse to shreds. Valentine smiled. "The name Hugin means "thought" and the name Munin means "memory." I was philosophical in my younger days. The names fit, though. One cannot have memories without thoughts."

Stephen nodded and looked over at a cage filled with several small finches which leapt from perch to perch, unable to stop and rest for more than a second. There were an uneven number of finches in the cage, and more females than males. Stephen wondered why.

"I wanted to offer you something. A gift, of sorts," Valentine continued. He led Stephen over to a small cage which held a thick blanket. Nestled within the fabric lay a tiny bird covered with downy soft feathers. Valentine opened the cage and brought the bird out. "He's a peregrine falcon. These falcons are known for their speed. He'll hunt just about anything and do whatever you ask. This type of bird learns very quickly and never forgets a command. I want you to have him." Valentine held the bird out to Stephen, who stepped back. "I thought you could train him, make him your own."

"Oh," Stephen said. "You want to give me a bird."

"A peregrine falcon," Valentine clarified. "I thought I could help you train him. It's something we could do together, just you and I." Valentine again offered the bird to Stephen.

"That's so kind of you," Stephen said. The baby bird had opened its eyes and looked up at Stephen warily. The bird's eyes were black, beady, and never blinked. "I'm not really… Birds aren't my thing. Thank you, though."

"You don't want the falcon?" Valentine asked. He seemed confused and Stephen felt awkward turning down a gift. "But… I thought…"

"I would love it, don't get me wrong, but I would never find a use for… a falcon. Nothing personal," Stephen said quickly. "One time birds built a nest in the garden at the Institute and I got to close one day, and…." He pointed to a small scar above his eye brow.

"By the Angel," Valentine said. He put the falcon back in its cage. "I would never force you into something you didn't want…"

"Thank you," Stephen said.

"You're welcome," Valentine said. Hugin cawed and bit at the wire bars of his cage.

"Is that all you wanted to discuss?" Stephen asked.

"Well, there's one more thing," Valentine replied. He walked over to a window and Stephen followed. "I just wanted to know… what do you think of Celine?"

"Celine?" Stephen asked. He had been asked about her four weeks before, however, his opinion of her had changed. "She's a lovely girl."

"Lovely, yes," Valentine said. "Does she arouse you?"

"Arouse… me?" Stephen asked.

"I know you had sex with her, it's why you're here now. I just want to know, do you plan on having sex with her again?" Valentine asked.

"Ummm…." Stephen said. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"So does she or does she not arouse you?" Valentine asked. He stepped closer to Stephen. Stephen felt himself start to sweat.

"I don't know what she does to me," Stephen said. "I don't know how I should feel for her. I know I feel things I shouldn't, not now, and perhaps, not ever." Valentine appeared barely satisfied with that answer.

"Allow me to be blunt," Valentine said. "You thought your marriage would last forever and now it won't. You're heartbroken and on the rebound. You might want to go out and fool around. You shouldn't feel guilty about doing that. I want you to go out and have fun. Find some girl to go home with. Live your life with no strings attached. Fuck anyone you want. Just keep your cock out of my sister." Hugin screeched and banged his foot against the cage. Valentine walked over to the cage and got the bird out, mumbling to it.

Everything Valentine had said was true. Stephen was feeling heartbroken and he did want someone to have mindless, numbing sex with just to make the next 28 days bearable. Then there was Celine, who sat by his bed for 36 hours, who had offered herself to him twice, and who he had amazing sex with. Celine felt something for him, be it love or lust, Stephen did not care. He remembered being in the kitchen with her, watching as she leaned against the counter, her perfect little backside within his reach… he felt aroused by her just standing there. Now, Valentine was forbidding Stephen from doing anything with Celine. Stephen bit his lip and exhaled softly.

This changed everything.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review? Thank you!