Matthews P.O.V.
1901, London.
It was a surprisingly clear day in the streets of London, as Matthew and his parabatai walked besides the River Thames with Oscar Wilde (it would be an insult to refer to him as only Oscar). Matthew glanced at his parabatai and it was no surprise to see his nose shoved in a book that was thicker than the two of them combined.
"It could be raining cats and dogs and you wouldn't notice." Matthew took the book from his parabatai's hands. "Carp Deem – or whatever that Latin saying of yours is. Seize the day dear brother, it is glorious and not raining for once."
Of course, his parabatai's first response was to effortlessly take the book back – and Matthew did not stop him from doing so – before reopening it to its rightful page.
"Carpe Diem" James corrected, before asking "How is Aunt Charlotte coping?" A flicker of concern passed across his features.
This was the one topic that Matthew did not want to discuss. Only two weeks prior, he had unknowingly poisoned his mother and caused her to lose the baby she had so desperately wanted. He would do anything these days to forget and ignore the feelings of guilt that ate away at his soul.
"She's still on bed rest," Matthew replied. In truth, there was no more information he could offer as he had not visited his mother once since the dreaded incident.
Fortunately, before James could ask any further questions, Oscar Wilde began to bark. Matthew would have to remind himself to give him a treat later for causing the distraction. He followed his puppy's gaze, and his eyes widened in surprise at what he saw.
"By the Angel! James – look!" He grabbed hold of his parabatai's arm and pointed at Blackfriars's Bridge.
There appeared to be a fight, or a struggle of some sorts, and then a woman fell – or perhaps she was pushed – into the River besides them. She screamed as she hit the water.
Matthew shared a look with James, before they both ran to the edge of the river to see if there were any sign of life.
"Why is no one helping her?" Matthew asked, as the mundanes around them appeared to be oblivious to the scene.
"She must be glamoured," James told him – though they hadn't seen any marks on the woman as she fell.
Before James could say anymore, Matthew was already taking off his hat, jacket and glorious green waistcoat and passing them to his parabatai.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Matthew asked as he kicked off his shoes. "I'm being the hero of course." He then dived into the River Thames, leaving James holding his clothes standing on the riverbank.
There was nothing at first, and then a few minutes later, Matthews head appeared and he was pulling a girl along with him as they made their way to the riverbank.
James helped the two of them out.
"Is she breathing?" Matthew asked, because he could not tell for sure. The girl looked young, no older than 16. Her brown hair clung to her wet face, and she was alarmingly pale with an almost bluish tint to her skin.
James was bent over her, assessing her injuries. He nodded. "She's alive – but her head is bleeding. We need to get her to Uncle Jem."
Uncle Jem was a Silent Brother more commonly known as Brother Zachariah. They were similar to mundane doctors, but for shadowhunters.
Together, James and Matthew lifted the girl and carried her to the London Institute for Wayward Shadowhunters. Also known as, his parabatai's home.