Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it. Also, welcome to new readers, I'm happy you have chosen to check out this story. Please continue to review. If you like it, love it, or hate it, I want to know, okay? Please enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters

Chapter 12: Mercy

The next night, Stephen rode into Alicante to work a night shift in the prison. He walked into the locker room to find a mix of guards who were either starting their shift or finishing it. Stephen dressed slowly, listening to the quiet gossip around him. It had been nearly a week since he and Michael had stolen the Mortal Cup. It was possible that the Clave didn't know the Cup was missing, but it was more likely that they knew knew about the theft and weren't saying anything. Regardless, the Mortal Cup was never mentioned in any of the conversations.

Michael should have been getting dressed beside Stephen, but he wasn't. Stephen looked over to Michael's locker and mourned their friendship. He had been looking forward to spending the night with Michael. Celine had packed Stephen a snack which consisted of a green apple (which Stephen disliked) a chunk of white cheddar cheese, and a few slices of bread. Michael brought the best snacks and his wife always sent extra for Michael to share.

Stephen sat down on the bench in front of his locker and closed his eyes. He tried to take a nap earlier in the day but hadn't slept the best. Celine remained elusive, which was a blessing and curse. Stephen desired her, suddenly, in a most acute way. When he lay in bed during the day, he'd wished for her body beside his.

"Sorry I'm late," a voice whispered. Stephen looked up as Michael dropped a paper bag into his lap. He opened the bag to find a turkey sandwich, a bag of oatmeal cookies, and a small jar of orange marmalade. "Are you feeling better? Robert said you looked terrible the other day."

"Robert hates me," Stephen said.

"He's jealous of you and I," Michael said. "Robert and I were close… before he married Maryse and I married Josie. Now we're just…" Michael shrugged. "He's sore about us working together and he's not pleased with your… promotion."

"Tell him it's not my fault," Stephen said.

"I rather like my men fighting over me," Michael said with a smirk. He stood up, pulled off his shirt, and tossed it into his locker. Michael's skin smelled warm and spicy. There was a cluster of tan freckles on his lower back, remnants from a spring spent training outside with his shirt off. Stephen resisted running his fingers over them, just to feel Michael's skin. Michael pulled open his belt, dropped his pants, and tossed them into his locker. Stephen looked away. When he looked back after a moment, Michael had pulled his uniform pants on and was now dropping his uniform coat over his head. "I was in talking to the boss. Tonight's my last night here."

"You're quitting?" Stephen asked. He had only take the job because Valentine told him to and because he felt he was doing penance for killing the vampires. The prison was dark and miserable; it would be unbearable without Michael.

"Josie and I were talking about having another baby. She doesn't want me working with Downworlders anymore," Michael said. He glanced around to see that the locker room was emptying out. "I've done my work here, you know. I did what I had to do."

"I'll miss you," Stephen said. Michael smiled and touched Stephen on the cheek.

"I'll miss you too, pumpkin," Michael said. "Come visit me at my manor any time, day or night, alright?" Stephen blushed and bit his lip, looking down at the floor.

Once Michael was dressed, they left the locker room and started down a flight of stairs to the prison cells below the Gard. Stephen felt his arm brush against Michael's despite the layers of cloth between them. He remembered how close they used to be, but then Stephen slept with Celine and nothing was ever the same after that.

"I'm sorry about before, with Celine," Stephen said. "I know I shouldn't have been with her. I can't explain it. You know when something feels right at the wrong time? That's how I felt."

"And now you're getting divorced, so Robert has told me," Michael said. He sighed. "You loved Amatis. What changed?"

"I don't know," Stephen said. "I just can't be with her, knowing everything that happened. She deserves someone better than me. She can find someone better. She should be allowed to."

"I was never raised to believe that divorce is the answer to marital troubles. I think the six month rule is bullshit. If you want to annul your marriage after only six months, you should have never gotten married in the first place," Michael said. "But that being said… does it feel right? Does divorcing Amatis feel like the right thing to do?"

"I don't know what the right thing is anymore," Stephen whispered. Michael grabbed Stephen by the hand and pushed him against the wall. Stephen felt the air leave his lungs. His lips parted as he searched for more breath. Michael rested his hand on Stephen's waist.

"Does it feel right in your heart?" Michael asked. He touched Stephen on the chest. "In here, does it feel right, for you to leave Amatis because you can't be the man she deserves anymore?"

"She deserves a better man than me," Stephen said.

"Then I have to support your decision," Michael said. He released Stephen and continued down the steps. "It sucks, I won't lie, and it's a shitty thing you're doing, but if it feels right…"

"I love her enough to let her find someone who will love her more," Stephen said.

"Then I've got your back on it, until the end," Michael said. He gave Stephen a smile.

"So we're okay? We're friends again?" Stephen asked.

"We were never not friends," Michael said. "You think I would give this up because we disagreed on what you did with a woman? You can't rid of me that quick." Stephen smiled. He wasn't sure what "this" was, but wasn't in any hurry to give it up.

After securing the prison and making sure all occupants were locked in their cells, Stephan and Michael were assigned to patrol the vampire wing. Their first order of business was to feed the vampires. They went to a storage room to receive bags of fresh blood they then distributed.

"So did you really mean it? We're friends again?" Stephen asked.

"Best friends until the very end," Michael said. Stephen took a bag of blood and slid it between the bars of a cell. He felt cold fingers touch his and recoiled, though it was best not to show fear.

"I need your help," Stephen said. "When I left Amatis, I didn't bring much of my stuff. I need to move my things out of the canal house. Would you be able to help me with that?" Michael was silent. They continued down the long, dark corridor and stopped at the door to another cell. Stephen brought out another bag of blood and gave it to another vampire.

"Sure, I can help," Michael said.

"But you don't want to," Stephen said.

"No, I don't want to see your nice, sweet wife cry because you're divorcing her," Michael said. "But if it's what you have to do, I'll help you."

"It will be quick and painless, I promise. I just need to get some clothes and all of my weapons," Stephen said. Michael shrugged. They stopped at another cell and Stephen again offered a bag of blood. The vampire held in the cell looked up at him, then spit in his face. "OUCH!" The saliva burned Stephen's skin as he wiped it away.

"What the hell was that for?" Michael demanded. Stephen threw the blood at the vampire and kicked the cell bars angrily.

"You can bet I'm reporting you," Stephen said.

"Not like I'm going anywhere," the vampire mumbled. He took his blood and went to the corner of his cell.

"Let me see," Michael said. He touched Stephen's cheek and held his witch light up.

"It's nothing," Stephen said. "It just stings a little."

"I know," Michael mumbled. "I'll patch you up when we're finished." Stephen pulled away and continued down the corridor. All around them, there were quiet whispers Stephen couldn't quite hear, much as he strained his ears. Usually, the wing was so quiet, Stephen could only hear Michael's breathing beside him.

"Let's get out of here," Stephen mumbled. Michael nodded.

As they continued down to the far end of the wing, the prisoners shrunk back from their cell doors. These were the prison's long time occupants, vampires who committed heinous crimes and were in prison because the Clave wasn't sure what to do with them. They could have been put to death but then other vampires would protest the execution and half the time, it was just easy to leave the vampires in the dark under belly of the prison for all of eternity. It was hard to threaten the undead with death.

The vampire who had been there the longest, Romulus Alabaster, was housed in the last cell of the vampire wing. He had been there for 40 years and was imprisoned for breaking into a Paris orphanage and draining well over fifty children of blood. When they were all dead, he then used their bodies in horrible, sadistic ways until the Clave finally stepped in. Stephen was unsure of how or why Romulus was still alive, as he could justify killing Romulus himself.

"Evening, Romulus," Michael said. Romulus was sitting beside the cell door, down on the floor. He seemed so old compared to the other vampires. Most of the time, he never spoke. Stephen shrugged and brought out one last bag of blood. He pushed it beneath the cell door.

"I'm weak, child," Romulus mumbled. "Push it closer."

"Get it yourself," Stephen said. Michael frowned. Romulus never gave them any trouble. Stephen knelt down onto the ground and pushed the blood closer.

"Stephen!" Michael exclaimed. Romulus leapt from the floor and sunk his razor sharp finger nails into Stephen's palm.

Stephen's chest slammed into the metal bars of the cell as Romulus pulled him closer. The flesh at his wrist ripped along the scar Valentine left behind. Romulus groaned lustfully and teased his tongue over the scar, tasting Stephen's blood. There was a light slurping noise, then the vampire latched on and began to drink.

Somewhere, someone was screaming hysterically. Michael was panicking, botching rune after rune before he finally opened the cell door. He pulled a blade off his belt and cried out the name of an angel. Stephen saw a flash of blinding light before Michael brought the blade down, stabbing it into the vampire's back.

"Thank you," Romulus whispered, and died, still holding Stephen's bleeding wrist to his mouth.

Stephen moaned and collapsed on his back on the wing's floor. Michael was beside him then, wrapping his hand around Stephen's arm, cradling him the way Valentine had. Stephen heard pounding feet high above his head, and more rushing towards him. Someone must have heard the commotion on the vampire wing and was coming to assist.

"I did nothing wrong," Michael said.

"He deserved to die," Stephen said. He would look back on this moment and realize that this was the moment he agreed with everything Valentine ever said.

Most prison guards lasted about three months before quitting their job. This was why the prison was always looking for new guards, and why the head prison guard wasn't surprised when Stephen walked into his office, bleeding and half hysterical, and resigned from his position. Marcus would be so proud; his son only held a job for two and a half weeks.

"Have some chocolate, pumpkin," Michael said. He pushed a mug of hot cocoa over to Stephen. They were back at the bakery where they had met before stealing the Mortal Cup. Michael and Stephen were still dressed in their guard uniforms, the contents of their lockers scattered on the table.

Michael wouldn't be blamed for Romulus's death, as it was obvious why Romulus had to die. The Clave would look the other way and pretend the incident never happened, however, Valentine once told Michael that the Clave was always suspicious of Circle activities. It was best that Michael and Stephen stay out of Alicante to prevent an inquiries into the Circle.

Stephen had taken all of the healing runes he could and was now trying to recover from what little vampire saliva ended up in the ripped open wound on his arm. His nerves felt shot; his mind spinning and agitated. He couldn't sit still for more than a second. Even being in the bakery was painful.

Stephen picked up the mug of hot chocolate and carried it out of the bakery. Michael hurried after him, carrying two éclairs.

"You can't… just…" Michael said. Stephen drank some of the hot chocolate and threw the mug at the first brick wall he could find. He accepted an éclair from Michael and ate it on the walk to the canal house. Once there, they stopped on the front sidewalk and looked inside.

Amatis was sitting on the couch, curled in a blanket, reading a book. It looked like she was still waiting for him to come back home, to make up with her, to pretend that his cheating on her never occurred. She always did look for the best in him.

Stephen climbed up the front steps and pushed open the front door. He felt Michael's hand on his back, pushing him, reminding Stephen that he was there. Amatis looked up and took in Stephen's tattered, blood stained and bruised appearance.

"What happened to you?" Amatis asked.

"This is what I've become," Stephen said. He held his arms out at his sides. The palm of his left hand was stained with his own blood, and the jacket of his coat was wet with it as well. "I've killed, Amatis, and I'll kill again. I've done horrible things and you deserve better than me. Marrying you was a mistake. You deserve more."

"Yes, I do," Amatis said. She didn't cry, she only looked Stephen in the eyes, as if she already resigned herself to this.

Stephen walked up stairs and began to throw his clothes into a trunk. When it was full Michael hauled it downstairs and Stephen moved on to pack his arsenal of weapons. He had so many which had been amassed from school. There were blades of all sizes, daggers and knives and swords and even a crossbow from Luke, who had insisted Stephen could excel at archery despite Stephen's barely passing grade in the subject. He might have failed that class, had it not been for Luke's patient tutoring. Amatis would want Luke's crossbow, and so Stephen left the crossbow behind.

The last order of business was a silver box adorned with birds which sat on the dresser. Stephen opened the box and pulled out his family ring first, then a short dagger which was decorated with more swooping birds and his initials. Like so many Herondales who came before him, Stephen received the dagger from his father on his 16th birthday. Every Herondale male had a dagger made the same way, with their initials, and following their death, every Herondale male was to be burned with their dagger clutched in their right hand. It was tradition.

"Anything else?" Michael asked. Stephen shoved the dagger back into the box and followed Michael from the room.

Amatis remained in the living room. She wasn't crying but looked ready to collapse. Stephen didn't want to cause her any more pain. He didn't want to delay the inevitable.

"I'm sorry," Stephen whispered. He took her face in his hands and kissed her one last time on the lips. "I'll see you in 27 days."

"Goodbye, Stephen," Amatis whispered.

Stephen followed Michael out of the house.

They got back to Fairchild Manor in the middle of the night. Valentine was sitting outside at the fire circle with Hodge and Robert when Michael and Stephen walked outside. Together, they managed to move Stephen's possessions into his room, and then Michael departed for home.

Stephen took a long, hot shower and crawled into bed. He was still awake an hour later and decided to go downstairs for a glass of water. Celine had been absent from all of the evening's events, but Stephen knew she was probably in bed. He left his room, snuck downstairs, went to the kitchen, and drank four glasses of water. When his thirst was satisfied, Stephen decided to go for a walk around the house.

Fairchild Manor didn't seem that large from the outside, however, Stephen found himself lost several times over as he wandered from room to room. It seemed like Jocelyn, Valentine, and Celine only used a few rooms. The rest were filled with dust covered furniture and drapery covered windows. One room contained a large pool table, five of the balls (two with stripes, three solid) still frozen in play. At the end of one hallway, there was a door framed with muted yellow light.

Stephen went down to the room and pushed open the door to find a Library, not unlike the one in the London Institute, but much smaller. There were bookshelves stacked with old books to the ceiling. The room smelled like old paper… and orange blossoms. Stephen walked between the bookshelves all the way to the far end of the library, where he found a Celine sitting on a chaise lounge in front of a fire place. She was dressed in a long white nightgown.

"You're home early," Celine said. Stephen lifted his arm and showed her his scar. "Stephen!" Celine jumped up and hurried over.

"I quit," Stephen said. Celine ran her hands over his body, feeling for other injuries. "I'm not supposed to be here. Valentine told me to keep away from you."

"You can still see me. It's not like we're going to do anything," Celine said. "I don't even want you."

Stephen wasn't sure what to say, and then, he decided not to say anything at all. He grabbed Celine by the hips and pulled her against him as he pressed his lips to hers. Celine made a noise of shock, only for a second. Then she moved her hands up his waist and lifted his shirt up and over his head. She dropped his hands to his pajama pants, pushed them down, and kicked them off.

They staggered across the room, kissing and touching, caught in each other's arms. Celine tripped backwards onto the lounge chair and pulled Stephen after her. He slammed his hips against hers and kissed her neck, biting when she least expected it. He moved a hand up her nightgown and ripped her panties down, then pushed her nightgown up but left it on.

"Did he really… say… to stay away from me?" Celine asked. She put a hand on Stephen's back and arched her back. Stephen touched her breasts through the soft silk of her nightgown.

"He told me to keep my cock out of his sister," Stephen said. Celine laughed aloud and covered her mouth. Stephen pushed her hand away and kissed her, forcing his tongue between her teeth, tasting her spit. Celine sunk her fingers into his hair. Her nails dug into his scalp, hard, but certainly not to hard. Stephen bowed his head, pulled down the straps of her nightgown, and flicked his tongue over each of her nipples.

"When are you leaving?" Celine asked. Stephen moved down between her legs and kissed the inside of her pale thighs. He kissed the spot where her leg met her body. Celine shivered and smiled.

"You tell me," Stephen mumbled. He stroked the outside of her thighs. Celine parted her knees more, opening herself, inviting him in, and Stephen could not help himself.

Watching Celine respond to his advances, wanting him this way, turned Stephen on in the worst of ways. When he moved between her thighs and began to tease his lips against her clit, Celine cried out and pulled his hair. It didn't take long before she had her knees hooked over his shoulders. His back was damp with her sweat.

Celine climaxed mere minutes later, her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming aloud. Stephen sat up and pushed her legs apart once more. He touched himself once, then leaned over and sunk himself into her.

"Stephen!" Celine exclaimed. Stephen moved his hands to her shoulders, bracing her as he started to thrust deeply. He couldn't imagine going slow, taking his time, not with Celine. The chair squeaked in protest. Valentine might have been able to hear them, but getting caught was half the fun.

"Oops," Stephen said. Celine giggled and pulled Stephen's face down to hers. They kissed passionately, biting one another's lips often. Stephen moaned and buried himself into her, forcing their bodies together, feeling them joining together.

When Stephen finally came, he cried out a curse word that echoed off the walls and bookshelves, then collapsed on top of Celine. Celine lifted her arms. Stephen thought she was going to push him away, but instead, she wrapped her arms around back and began to trace her fingers in circles over his skin.

"How was your night?" Celine asked. Stephen shook his head and kissed her neck.

"I don't want to talk about it," Stephen said. "Same time tomorrow?" Celine covered her eyes and laughed.

Early the next morning, Stephen woke up face down on the lounge chair, naked with his clothes thrown over his body. He got dressed and staggered out of the library only to encounter Valentine walking up from the basement.

"How did you end up in the Library?" Valentine asked. "No one has used that room for years. There's an inch of dust covering everything." Stephen thought about the fire light and Celine beneath him. He shrugged. "It's a poor place for sleep."

"You have no idea," Stephen said.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review it, please! Come on, it was smut! You must have an opinion on the smut! Review!
Here is a teaser:

"How?" Robert asked. "How did Luke… come to die?"