A/N: Clary and Jace share their first kiss in the greenhouse and find themselves unable to stop.

Disclaimer: All of the italicized text in the beginning is taken verbatim out of City of Bones, and thus is the property of Cassandra Clare, as are all of the characters and world. I've only used her original material in the hopes of creating a more realistic feel to the story. 100% for fun and nothing more.

She was just reaching for the sketchpad under the pillow when a knock sounded on the door.

She padded barefoot across the room and turned the doorknob quietly. It was Jace. Clean, in jeans and a gray shirt, his washed hair a halo of damp gold. The bruises on his face were already fading from purple to faint gray, and his hands were behind his back.

"Were you asleep?" he asked. There was no contrition in his voice, only curiosity.

"No." Clary stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. "Why would you think that?"

He eyed her baby blue cotton tank top and sleep shorts set. "No reason."

"I was in bed most of the day," she said, which was technically true. Seeing him, her jitter level had shot up about a thousand percent, but she saw no reason to share that information. "What about you? Aren't you exhausted?"

He shook his head. "Much like the postal service, demon hunters never sleep. 'Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these—'"

"You'd be in major trouble if gloom of night did stay you," she pointed out.

He grinned. Unlike his hair, his teeth weren't perfect. An upper incisor was slightly, endearingly chipped.

She gripped her elbows. It was chilly in the hallway and she could feel goose bumps starting up her arms. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater meta-ethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but—"

"I'm going back to bed." Clary reached for the doorknob.

He slid nimbly between her and the door. "I'm here," he said, "because Hodge reminded me it was your birthday."

Clary exhaled in exasperation. "Not until tomorrow."

"That's no reason not to start celebrating now."

She eyed him. "You're avoiding Alec and Isabelle."

He nodded. "Both of them are trying to pick fights with me."

"For the same reason?"

"I couldn't tell." He glanced furtively up and down the hallway. "Hodge, too. Everyone wants to talk to me. Except you. I bet you don't want to talk to me."

"No," said Clary. "I want to eat. I'm starving."

He brought his hand out from behind his back. In it was a slightly crumpled paper bag. "I sneaked some food from the kitchen when Isabelle wasn't looking."

Clary grinned. "A picnic? It's a little late for Central Park, don't you think? It's full of—"

He waved a hand. "Faeries. I know."

"I was going to say muggers," said Clary. "Though I pity the mugger who goes after you."

"That is a wise attitude, and I commend you for it," said Jace, looking gratified. "But I wasn't thinking of Central Park. How about the greenhouse?"

"Now? At night? Won't it be—dark?"

He smiled as if at a secret. "Come on. I'll show you."

In the half-light the big empty rooms they passed through on their way to the roof looked as deserted as stage sets, the white-draped furniture looming up out of the dimness like icebergs through fog.

When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw: the rich dark smell of earth and the stronger, soapy scent of night-blooming flowers— moonflowers, white angel's trumpet, four-o'clocks—and some she didn't recognize, like a plant bearing a star-shaped yellow blossom whose petals were medallioned with golden pollen. Through the glass walls of the enclosure she could see the lights of Manhattan burning like cold jewels.

"Wow." She turned slowly, taking it in. "It's so beautiful here at night."

Jace grinned. "And we have the place to ourselves. Alec and Isabelle hate it up here. They have allergies."

Clary shivered, though she wasn't at all cold. "What kind of flowers are these?"

Jace shrugged and sat down, carefully, next to a glossy green shrub dotted all over with tightly closed flower buds. "No idea. You think I pay attention in botany class? I'm not going to be an archivist. I don't need to know about that stuff."

"You just need to know how to kill things?"

He looked up at her and smiled. He looked like a fair-haired angel from a Rembrandt painting, except for that devilish mouth. "That's right." He took a napkin-wrapped package out of the bag and offered it to her. "Also," he added, "I make a mean cheese sandwich. Try one."

Clary smiled reluctantly and sat down across from him. The stone floor of the greenhouse was cold against her bare legs, but it was pleasant after so many days of relentless heat. Out of the paper bag Jace drew some apples, a bar of fruit and nut chocolate, and a bottle of water. "Not a bad haul," she said admiringly.

The cheese sandwich was warm and a little limp, but it tasted fine. From one of the innumerable pockets inside his jacket, Jace produced a bone-handled knife that looked capable of disemboweling a grizzly. He set to work on the apples, carving them into meticulous eighths. "Well, it's not birthday cake," he said, handing her a section, "but hopefully it's better than nothing."

"Nothing is what I was expecting, so thanks." She took a bite. The apple tasted green and cool.

"Nobody should get nothing on their birthday." He was peeling the second apple, the skin coming away in long curling strips. "Birthdays should be special. My birthday was always the one day my father said I could do or have anything I wanted."

"Anything?" She laughed. "Like what kind of anything did you want?"

"Well, when I was five, I wanted to take a bath in spaghetti."

"But he didn't let you, right?"

"No, that's the thing. He did. He said it wasn't expensive, and why not if that was what I wanted? He had the servants fill a bath with boiling water and pasta, and when it cooled down …" He shrugged. "I took a bath in it."

Servants? Clary thought. Out loud she said, "How was it?"

"Slippery."

"I'll bet." She tried to picture him as a little boy, giggling, up to his ears in pasta. The image wouldn't form. Surely Jace never giggled, not even at the age of five. "What else did you ask for?"

"Weapons, mostly," he said, "which I'm sure doesn't surprise you. Books. I read a lot on my own."

"You didn't go to school?"

"No," he said, and now he spoke slowly, almost as if they were approaching a topic he didn't want to discuss.

"But your friends—"

"I didn't have friends," he said. "Besides my father. He was all I needed."

She stared at him. "No friends at all?"

He met her look steadily. "The first time I saw Alec," he said, "when I was ten years old, that was the first time I'd ever met another child my own age. The first time I had a friend."

She dropped her gaze. Now an image was forming, unwelcome, in her head: She thought of Alec, the way he had looked at her. He wouldn't say that.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Jace said, as if guessing her thoughts, though it hadn't been him she'd been feeling sorry for. "He gave me the best education, the best training. He took me all over the world. London. Saint Petersburg. Egypt. We used to love to travel." His eyes were dark. "I haven't been anywhere since he died. Nowhere but New York."

"You're lucky," Clary said. "I've never been outside this state in my life. My mom wouldn't even let me go on field trips to D.C. I guess I know why now," she added ruefully.

"She was afraid you'd freak out? Start seeing demons in the White House?"

She nibbled a piece of chocolate. "There are demons in the White House?"

"I was kidding," said Jace. "I think." He shrugged philosophically. "I'm sure someone would have mentioned it."

"I think she just didn't want me to get too far away from her. My mom, I mean. After my dad died, she changed a lot." Luke's voice echoed in her mind. You've never been the same since it happened, but Clary isn't Jonathan.

Jace cocked an eyebrow at her. "Do you remember your father?"

She shook her head. "No. He died before I was born."

"You're lucky," he said. "That way you don't miss him."

From anyone else it would have been an appalling thing to say, but there was no bitterness in his voice for a change, only an ache of loneliness for his own father. "Does it go away?" she asked. "Missing him, I mean?"

He looked at her obliquely, but didn't answer. "Are you thinking of your mother?"

No. She wouldn't think of her mother that way. "Of Luke, actually."

"Not that that's actually his name."

He took a thoughtful bite of apple and said, "I've been thinking about him. Something about his behavior doesn't add up—"

"He's a coward." Clary's voice was bitter. "You heard him. He won't go against Valentine. Not even for my mother."

"But that's exactly—" A long clanging reverberation interrupted him. Somewhere, a bell was tolling. "Midnight," said Jace, setting the knife down. He got to his feet, holding his hand out to pull her up beside him. His fingers were slightly sticky with apple juice. "Now, watch."

His gaze was fixed on the green shrub they'd been sitting beside, with its dozens of shiny closed buds. She started to ask him what she was supposed to be looking at, but he held up a hand to forestall her. His eyes were shining. "Wait," he said.

The leaves on the shrub hung still and motionless. Suddenly one of the tightly closed buds began to quiver and tremble. It swelled to twice its size and burst open. It was like watching a speeded-up film of a flower blooming: the delicate green sepals opening outward, releasing the clustered petals inside. They were dusted with pale gold pollen as light as talcum.

"Oh!" said Clary, and looked up to find Jace watching her. "Do they bloom every night?"

"Only at midnight," he said. "Happy birthday, Clarissa Fray."

She was oddly touched. "Thank you."

"I have something for you," he said. He dug into his pocket and brought out something, which he pressed into her hand. It was a gray stone, slightly uneven, worn to smoothness in spots.

"Huh," said Clary, turning it over in her fingers. "You know, when most girls say they want a big rock, they don't mean, you know, literally a big rock."

"Very amusing, my sarcastic friend. It's not a rock, precisely. All Shadowhunters have a witchlight rune-stone."

"Oh." She looked at it with renewed interest, closing her fingers around it as she'd seen Jace do in the cellar. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see a glint of light peeking out through her fingers.

"It will bring you light," said Jace, "even among the darkest shadows of this world and others."

She slipped it into her pocket. "Well, thanks. It was nice of you to give me anything." The tension between them seemed to press down on her like humid air. "Better than a bath in spaghetti any day."

He said darkly, "If you share that little bit of personal information with anyone, I may have to kill you."

"Well, when I was five, I wanted my mother to let me go around and around inside the dryer with the clothes," Clary said. "The difference is, she didn't let me."

"Probably because going around and around inside a dryer can be fatal," Jace pointed out, "whereas pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it."

The midnight flower was already shedding petals. They drifted toward the floor, glimmering like slivers of starlight. "When I was twelve, I wanted a tattoo," Clary said. "My mom wouldn't let me have that, either."

Jace didn't laugh. "Most Shadowhunters get their first Marks at twelve. It must have been in your blood."

"Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder."

Jace looked baffled. "You wanted a turtle on your shoulder?"

"I wanted to cover my chicken pox scar." She pulled the strap of the tank top aside slightly, showing the star-shaped white mark at the top of her shoulder. "See?"

He looked away. "It's getting late," he said. "We should go back downstairs."

Clary pulled her strap back up awkwardly. As if he wanted to see her stupid scars.

The next words tumbled out of her mouth without any volition on her part. "Have you and Isabelle ever—dated?"

Now he did look at her. The moonlight leached the color out of his eyes. They were more silver than gold now. "Isabelle?" he said blankly.

"I thought—" Now she felt even more awkward. "Simon was wondering."

"Maybe he should ask her."

"I'm not sure he wants to," Clary said. "Anyway, never mind. It's none of my business."

He smiled unnervingly. "The answer is no. I mean, there may have been a time when one or the other of us considered it, but she's almost a sister to me. It would be strange."

"You mean Isabelle and you never—"

"Never," said Jace.

"She hates me," observed Clary.

"No, she doesn't," he said, to her surprise. "You just make her nervous, because she's always been the only girl in a crowd of adoring boys, and now she isn't anymore."

"But she's so beautiful."

"So are you," said Jace, "and very different from how she is, and she can't help but notice that. She's always wanted to be small and delicate, you know. She hates being taller than most boys."

Clary said nothing to this, because she had nothing to say. Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful. Nobody had ever called her that before, except her mother, which didn't count. Mothers were required to think you were beautiful. She stared at him.

"We should probably go downstairs," he said again. She was sure she was making him uncomfortable with the staring, but she didn't seem to be able to stop.

"All right," she said finally. To her relief, her voice sounded normal.

For a moment, Clary almost thought Jace had been going to kiss her. When he had told her she was beautiful, it seemed spontaneous, not calculated. It seemed as though it surprised him nearly as much as it had surprised her when he'd said it. They'd been leaning close to each other, their faces moving closer together, but when she said nothing back, his eyes grew colder, and that's when he abruptly pulled away. She was confused and wondered if it had been because of the fact that she'd said nothing back that caused him to become distant again.

Jace said nothing while he swiftly gathered everything from their picnic area and put it all back into the paper bag. Holding it in his right hand, he grabbed Clary's with his left and began to descend the stairs. This gesture startled Clary after what had just happened, but she quickly recovered, her attention shifting, as she became hyperaware of what his hand felt like in hers.

As Clary grudgingly descended the stairs after Jace, she held tightly onto his hand. She didn't want to lose the exhilarating feeling his skin on hers created. Her whole body buzzed and tingled with the electricity between them, and she felt like she was going mad with longing. Clary was frustrated that their moment had ended so abruptly and wondered if she had misread the situation.

'Doesn't he want me, too?' She worried. 'Wasn't he just going to kiss me?'

She hadn't fully let herself acknowledge the feelings she had for him before, partly because he was such a pompous jerk, and partly because she was so utterly petrified of him. She was afraid that the cocky asshole exterior wasn't actually an act, afraid that she would just become another trophy for his collection. From what Isabelle and Alec had told her, Jace didn't lie about anything, not even the sundry previous conquests he flaunted before her. All of the kills he'd made, all of the things he'd done that he always bragged about, every self-satisfied comment he'd made was true. She secretly loved their biting verbal sparring, but didn't know if he actually meant the cruel things he said so tauntingly with that s mug smirk of his.

Nevertheless, despite her apprehension, she couldn't help the fact that her heart raced every time he stood just a bit too close to her. She couldn't help the fact that she continued to hope he'd go out of his way to brush against her ever so slightly each time they passed one another. She couldn't help the fact that she wanted him so. fucking. bad. So, after rapidly cycling through her feelings of doubt and uncertainty, she felt herself back where she had started: disappointed that he hadn't made a move. After all, they were supposed to be celebrating her birthday, right?

Just as they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase in the greenhouse, however, as though he had read her mind, pulled Clary toward him domineeringly and kissed her with such an overwhelming feeling of desperation that she felt like was melting into him. She flung her arms around his neck, thrusting her hands into his messy blonde hair, grabbing handfuls of it forcefully, and gripping his head so it wouldn't move away. He let his hands run down her sides and over her ass, pausing only for a moment to grope it while grinding into her, then moved his hands right under her thighs, lifted her up onto him, and slammed her back into the center of the metal staircase.

She broke the kiss and threw her head back, eyes closed, moaning loudly as fire shot through her veins when she felt his erection pressing urgently through their clothes right at her entrance. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer to him as he ravenously devoured her neck. He started gyrating his hips, which drove them both wild, soft grunts escaping their throats, tension building so intensely they knew they wouldn't be able to handle it much longer.

Clary's right arm reached up behind her and she caught hold of a rod on the staircase, gripping it like her life depended upon it, keeping her left arm firmly around Jace's neck, and holding his head as his mouth moved down from her neck, to her collar bones, then to the exposed middle of her chest. When she felt like she couldn't take it anymore, she panted, "Ja-" but he finished her thought before she could get out the rest of his name. He spun around, holding her tightly from underneath with his left arm while agilely dropping to his knees and laying her down on the ground, supporting himself above her with his other arm. In split seconds, he had removed his gray shirt and her blue tank top, and though he had had the intention of removing the rest of their clothing at that same moment, the sight of her in nothing but her bra, beautiful breasts half exposed under the tantalizing white lace, made him forget everything else. He bent over and buried his face between her breasts, kissing every inch of exposed skin, while cupping each one in his hands. She giggled at how much he was enjoying her chest and let her hands explore his head and strong shoulders.

Jace seemed to decide that he needed more of her flesh in his mouth. In one graceful move, he shoved an arm under her, lifted her up off the ground slightly, undid her bra clasp expertly with his fingers, and then forcefully ripped the bra off of her, leaving her completely exposed under his gaze. She loved how dominant he was with her. Each move he made caused her breath to catch in her throat slightly. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of her pale breast rising and falling with anticipation. He glanced up at her for a moment, mouth slightly open as he breathed heavily through it, then he squeezed her tits together rapaciously as he bent over and took her right nipple into his mouth. Clary cried out when he did this, half in surprise, half in pleasure. She had moved her bare feet to the floor, knees bent, when he had placed himself over her, but she locked her legs around him again when he moved to the other nipple. He arched his back to press his hard-on further into her shorts. She felt the material start to push inside of her.

Although Clary was thoroughly enjoying the shameless young Shadowhunter ravishing her, he suddenly stopped and lifted his head to look at her. She furrowed her brow and shot him an inquisitive and slightly frustrated look, but when she saw the lust in his eyes as he stared fervently at her, she felt another jolt of arousal surge through her body and bit her lip seductively. He took that as the go-ahead and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She helped him push down both his pants and boxer briefs at the same time. His enormous length whipped out in front of him, finally free from the restrictive cloth. The sight of him turned her on so much that her hand immediately covered his tip and began to massage him, making him groan loudly, his face contorting violently as waves of fervor erupted in him. Before he completely lost himself in the sensation, however, Jace knocked her hand aside and tore off the rest of her clothes.

His gaze passed over her naked body with immense desire (he had never wanted anything so badly before in his life), but then he looked up into Clary's bright green eyes and smiled softly at her. He wanted to reassure her that it wouldn't be empty or meaningless. That he wasn't just using her like he had so many others in the past, that he wasn't lost in a sea of intoxication, but right there with her. It was more than that for him this time. He wanted more than that with her, and that terrified him. But he was never one to run from that which frightened him. It wasn't the Shadowhunter way. He leaned back over her gently and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

"You're breathtaking." He whispered in her ear.

She pulled him to her and hugged him tightly, reveling in the feeling of his skin on hers and the mix of wonderful new emotions she was experiencing. Relief washed over her; she felt like she could finally let her guard down with him completely. Clary barely knew Jace, but every inch of her wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she needed him, that she wanted him. She kissed him passionately, signaling him that she was ready. He slid his hand down delicately over her body, tasting her with his fingertips. When he reached her mound, he let his finger move lightly over her hood and lips, parting them slightly, grinning devilishly at how he could feel her wetness just from that. She was wetter than any girl he'd been with before, and he was harder than he had ever been before.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed his shaft at the base and positioned himself at her opening. He moved her outer lips aside and slid his head up to her clit, rubbing it with her slickness. She writhed under him in ecstasy, but within a minute, neither of them could stand it any longer. She helped guide him back down with her hips, and he slowly started to push into her. The entire tip of his cock hadn't even entered her, but they were already moaning in bliss. He continued to slide into her, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing this moment, not wanting it to end, savoring each sensation of her warm walls closing in around him. She was just a girl, but she felt like a woman to him. "Clary…" He moaned.

She grunted in response as she felt him move all the way inside of her. She had always been very sensitive and could feel him throbbing. They both marveled at the intimacy between the two of them; it felt like they fit perfectly together, like they had been made for one another. Jace started to pull out slowly but her suction around him was so good he didn't think he could bear going slow for much longer. Clary seemed to be thinking the same thing because when he was almost at her entrance again, she brought his ear to her mouth and breathed, "fuck me," in such a tone that made Jace completely lose control. He plunged into her and they both cried out noisily, not even aware of their surroundings any longer.

The world had fallen away and all that existed now was the two of them. Nothing else mattered anymore. The building could catch fire, and they wouldn't even notice. Jace pulled back out swiftly and rammed himself back into her with all his might; she practically screamed. She moved her hips in time with his to help make the impact all the more intense. They were picking up speed now, Clary clawing at his back, Jace thrusting into her savagely. They were so thirsty for each other that they didn't care how rough they'd gotten. Clary had started moaning,

"Yeah, oh, fuck yeah! Fuck me, Jace! Fuck my pussy! I want to feel your dick penetrating me!"

"Oh, fuck, Clary. You feel so fucking good." He grunted back.

"Do you like how I feel? Do you like being inside of me?"

"Oh, God, yeah. You're so fucking tight. You make me so fucking hard."

It was getting harder to speak at this point. Between pants and groans Clary said,

"You have - no idea - what you do to me, Jace… You make me - so fucking horny - whenever I see you… You just - have to be - standing next to me - and I instantly - become wet… All - I can think about - is you fucking me… I can't - concentrate -on anything… I can't – breathe - when you're around… I need your sex." Jace groaned and seemed to slam into her even harder when she said this. 'God, he's sexy,' she thought.

"I've wanted - you so - fucking bad - from the - first moment - I saw you, Clary," He responded. "That night - I couldn't - stop - thinking about you… I jacked off - four times - before I passed out from exhaustion… Every night since then - I've dreamed about - sliding my cock - into your wet pussy - fucking you - cumming in you - owning you… You're mine, Clary… You're mine..."

"I'm yours! I will… only… ever… be… yours…" Clary felt a surge of electricity running up her spine and with all of her energy screamed, "Cum for me, Jace. I want you to cum in me! Claim me as yours!" Clary bucked her hips against his and dug her nails deeper into his back.

At these words, Jace thrust one last time into her, letting out a throaty grunt as he pushed himself into her as deep as he could go, and exploded inside of her. Clary cried out as she felt him filling her up with his cum, loving how he twitched within her, loving his noises, faces, scents, and tastes. His cum face was seriously the hottest thing she'd ever seen in her life. After a few more small thrusts and softer groans, Jace collapsed on top of her, panting heavily. She moaned and panted with him, wiggling her hips around a little, feeling him relaxing inside of her. His arms were splayed on either side of her body, and she wrapped hers around his head, cradling him in her arms as he rested on her chest. She kissed the top of his head and let herself relax, too, and they both drifted off to sleep on the floor of the greenhouse.

A little while later, Clary awoke due to discomfort. When she saw the scene before her, she immediately came back to her senses. Her face broke out into a huge smile as she was filled with amusement at how hilarious and awful the fact that they had just had sex on the floor of the greenhouse was. She kissed Jace's head again and stroked his cheek while saying his name to wake him.

"Hmm?" He grunted.

"Jace, wake up. We need to go to bed. We're still in the greenhouse."

"What?" He said sleepily as he opened his eyes and looked around.

He started and sat up abruptly, remembering his surroundings. He looked back at Clary and they both started laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.

"Wow." He said after the laughter had died down.

"I know, right?" She replied, also sitting up at this point.

They groped around for their clothes and struggled to get dressed, all the while glancing at each other, completely enamored of one another. Periodically, Jace would stop what he was doing to bring her into his arms and kiss her. Clary smiled at each kiss. After they were fully clothed and about to leave, Jace drew her to him one more time. This time the kiss deepened and lasted a few minutes. As things started escalating again, he broke away and looked at her seriously.

"Holy shit, Clary. I think I fucking love you." The words had just escaped him before he could stop himself. He began to freak out internally about this sudden declaration of love, which he swore he would never ever do, but when he looked back at the red-haired girl before him who looked happier than he'd ever seen her look before, all of his anxieties flew out the window. He began to smile in spite of himself, and Clary started beaming. She flung herself into his embrace and whispered into the crook of his neck, "I love you, too, Jace… I love you, too." Jace felt his heart swell.

They kissed one more time, and he took her by the hand and guided her back to the corridor that led to their rooms. He shot her a sly look, and she knew what it meant immediately. She smirked back in assent. He took her to his room, closing the door behind them, then forcibly shoved her against the door. They started to make out again, knowing where this was leading and happily letting it happen. He picked her up effortlessly and threw her on his bed. This time, since some of the built up tension had already been released, things were a little different. They were making love as well as fucking.

The third time, Jace went down on Clary, fingering her and licking her clit until she came. As she was cumming, she begged Jace to fuck her, which prolonged her orgasm. Watching her thrashing around uncontrollably under him, sent Jace over the edge, and he came, too. He toppled off of her, lying next to her in his bed. They both gasped for air, covered in sweat and juices, the scent of sex thick in the air. They were unable to do anything but lie there and gasp for air for a few moments.

When she had mostly caught her breath again, Clary rolled over and rested her head on Jace's firm chest. She moaned contentedly and traced circles on him with her index finger. This time he kissed her head, and wrapped his arms around her, drawing him closer one last time. She looked up at him and he kissed her with all the strength he had left, telling her how much she meant to him.

"I love you, Jace."

"I love you… Clary…"

She snuggled into him, sending all the love she had into him, taking his love in kind, and they both drifted off to sleep again, comfortable, satisfied, and happier than they had ever been before. They weren't sure what the future held, what would happen next, but they couldn't have cared less. Come what may, they thought, whatever it is, we can face it… together.