Author's Note: Welcome to my new story! Here we go again! A few things: If you didn't read the prequel to this, Leave the Lights Off, that is perfectly alright. Everything you need to know, you will figure out pretty quickly. If you did read Lights, thanks for giving this story a chance.

Since this story starts six months after Jem's death, the prologue will serve as an explanation for everything that has transpired between the months of July, 1878, and February, 1879.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. This is a work of fiction based on the characters in Cassandra Clare's Infernal Devices series. No money is being made on this work. This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. This story will contain SLASH and M-rated situations. I will accept critiques but not flames, and reviews are most definitely encouraged. Enjoy!

Prologue

The Shanghai Institute was built into the side of the mountain. Will Herondale knew this, had heard about it, and had even seen pictures, but that didn't prepare him for the sight that greeted him when he arrived in Shanghai and found that the Institute really and truly was built into the side of a mountain. Only the front entrance could be seen and the rest of the Institute lay buried beneath the ground. There were hardly any windows and all of the passageways were lit by dim witchlight. Like the London Institute, the Shanghai Institute was a great place to get lost in, and six months after Will had experienced the most significant death of his life, all he wanted to do was get lost.

James Carstairs, Will's parabatai, had died as the sun rose on a hot July morning. Will had spent the first four months following Jem's death lying on the floor of a study alcove they had made their own. It had been the sight of many first times for them: they had shared their first kiss up there and had made love for the first time on the rough wooden floor. They had been lovers in the alcove, and so it was fitting that the alcove be the place Will would go, lay on the floor, and wallow in his sorrow.

Will had been lying in the alcove two months ago when Sophie, the girl that Jem had loved, briefly, revealed to Will that she was pregnant with a child she and Jem conceived the night before Jem had ended his love affair with her. Armed with Jem's past coming back to haunt him, Will had left the Institute without explanation.

The four months before a Shadowhunter turned 18 were to be spent traveling to Institutes, interviewing for positions within the Claves of the world, and that was what Will had said he was doing. He had gone to Paris, Madagascar, New York, Athens, Idris, New Delhi, and Tokyo. He had interviewed to be a weapons trainer, a tutor, a supervisor to younger shadowhunters, and a mentor to students who would be just two years younger than him. He was offered every position he interviewed for and he turned every one of them down. He always had an excuse at the ready but knew the real reason for his hesitation. Moving away from London meant moving on, and Will wasn't ready to move on.

Will would return to London (he had to) and he knew he should return to London (Jem would have wanted him to) but as of right now, he had something more important to do.

After Jem died, he was burned during the traditional funeral service given to all Shadowhunters who had died in service to the Clave. Most of his ashes had been cemented into the walls of the Silent City, but Henry Branwell, one of the leaders of the London Institute, had returned to the Silent City following the funeral and had collected some of Jem's ashes in a small glass bottle. Henry had given Will the ashes and suggested that Will find a place to spread them so that maybe, perhaps, Will might be able to say goodbye by himself. The ashes had been the last thing Will had placed in his knapsack before he left a note and slipped out of the London Institute on a cold, dark, November morning. Since then, he had found many places to spread the ashes, but still, he held on to them.

Time stood still in the Shanghai Institute. Will went outside often, to breathe in the crisp mountain air and to take in the picturesque views surrounding the Institute, but inside, with no windows, the only way to truly tell time was by knowing which meal had been just eaten and which meal was coming up. In Shanghai, Will found himself eating rice with nearly every meal, but he never got sick of it. He learned that he loved tofu and discovered that ginger tea helped to soothe his stomach and soul on the nights he found himself grieving Jem.

Now, it was February, just a week before Will's 18th birthday, and he had just declined a position as a weapons instructor to the Shanghai Institute. The family that ran the Shanghai Institute was currently leaving him alone, but they couldn't ask him to leave, since they were bound by Clave law to provide shelter to him. Granted, after two weeks, he should have had the manners to move on, but the obligation to spread Jem's ashes somewhere (and his home to be no better place than to do that) kept him in Shanghai.

Mr. and Mrs. Boyuan, the leaders of the Shanghai Institute, hadn't been surprised when Will had turned up on their doorstep. They had been gracious enough to never mention the Carstairs family, but Will had gone rummaging one night and had discovered a picture of Jem and his parents on the wall of a study room. The boy in the picture had appeared no older than seven and was barely taller than the jade tipped cane held by his father. Jem had taken after his mother and had long, black hair in the picture and eyes so dark Will could barely look into them. The boy in the picture looked so very different from the silver haired boy who had died in Will's arms, so Will had never looked at the picture again. The boy in the picture was not Jem, and never would be Jem.

Will was reading in the Library now, his eyes scanning a book regarding Greater Demons native to China, when a gong echoed through the Institute, signaling that another meal was about to begin. The doors to the Library opened, and a tall man dressed in black and green walked in. He could have passed as a Shadowhunter, but his green and gold cat eyes gave him away as a warlock. His name was Magnus Bane, and he had been bound to Will for the last six months, giving him support and a shoulder to cry on when Will felt like he had no one left in the world. They had been lovers at one time, and had even made plans to leave London and move to Paris with Jem, but then Jem had died and Will wasn't sure who Magnus was to him anymore.

"It's dinner time," Magnus said. He walked up behind Will and peered down at the book Will was reading. Will found the muscles in his stomach clench with dread and he thought about getting another cup of ginger tea. Once a day, Magnus suggested leaving Shanghai, and every time, Will asked for one more day.

Will took a deep breath, as he always did whenever Magnus got close enough for Will to smell the warlock's usual scent of sandalwood and vanilla. They had been one another's best lover during the few times they had made love, but when they had left London, Will found that he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of Magnus touching him. Will was crying inside for Magnus to just hold him, but being held by a man who wasn't Jem still felt wrong.

"I'm going to lay my hands on your shoulders now," Magnus said. He lifted his hands from the back of Will's chair and rested them on Will's shoulders. Will tensed, and considered pulling away, but Magnus wasn't holding him. Will could escape at any second, but he didn't. He took a quiet breath and looked down at the book to see the words swim in front of his eyes. "It's not good for you to spend six hours hunched over a book in a dark room." Magnus stretched his fingers and began to rub at the knots of tension across Will's back.

"It's a good book," Will said.

"Yes, you've been reading a lot of good books lately," Magnus said. Will closed his eyes and leaned back into Magnus's hands. "I think we have worn out our welcome. We should consider moving on…"

"To Beijing then?" Will asked. Magnus was quiet. After the funeral, Magnus had found it difficult to speak directly to Will. He preferred to dance around everything, certain that one word just might push Will over the edge for good. "Or how do you feel about Tibet? I would like to see the Himalayas."

"Charlotte sent correspondence from London. Sophie is pregnant with a boy and she is unsure of what to name him. She wanted to know what you thought of James. She's concerned that you wouldn't want the baby to have the same name as Jem," Magnus said.

"She could just call him James," Will said. "I'm named after my father. It's only fitting that the baby be named after his."

"Also, she wanted to know what you thought of William as a middle name. It's a nice name, James William Carstairs," Magnus said. Will sat forward abruptly and slammed closed the book he was reading. He stood up and collected his things.

"It is poor form to keep our hosts waiting for dinner," Will said. "Will you be joining us?" Magnus nodded and followed Will out of the Library.

Dinner was steamed rice with vegetables and fresh water crab. Will had mastered the art of using chopsticks while Magnus struggled with them and instead used a fork. Their hosts were pleasant enough and had two young children, ages five and seven, who spent every meal peering at Will with their large, dark, almond shaped eyes. Will avoided their eyes whenever he could.

"So you knew of the Carstairs family?" Will asked. Magnus dropped his fork and recovered it. Mrs. Boyuan looked up from her dinner.

"James's mother was my cousin," She said. "Do you have questions about them?"

"I wanted to know if there was a special place they ever went to as a family. You probably don't know…" Will began.

"Sometimes, when James was little, he and his father would leave late in the afternoon and hike to the summit of the mountain above us, getting to the top just before sunset," Mr. Boyuan said. "They liked the view." Will nodded and turned back to his dinner.

After dinner there was dessert, and then Will and Magnus went to their rooms for the evening. Magnus made another attempt to talk to Will but Will locked himself in his bathroom to clean up before bed, and when he walked back out, Magnus was gone.

It was warm in the Institute despite the cold temperatures outside. Will dressed in his pajamas, then sat his desk and looked at the little jar sitting on his desk. He wondered if Jem knew a small part of him was home, and then, Will stopped thinking that way. He felt his back start to ache and he realized that he was out of rice wine, which always relaxed him. He could have gone to the kitchen for tea but didn't feel like preparing it himself. A knot had slowly begun to form in his stomach, and Will found himself craving distraction. Without another thought, Will stood up and left his room.

Downworlders such as Magnus were technically not supposed to be sheltered in Institutes, but when Will and Magnus had arrived in Paris, Magnus had produced papers from two separate sources that said he was with Will on business and was to be treated the same as Will. Of course, being told to be treated the same and being treated the same were two different things. In some places they had gone, Magnus had been looked down upon as nothing more than filth from a gutter. Still, he remained at Will's side.

When they had arrived in Shanghai and had come to the Institute, they had each been given rooms. Will was given a nice room, close to the rest of the Institute's inhabitants, with a queen size bed, a huge desk, and a bathroom all his own. Magnus had been given a room down near the unconsecrated ground of the Shanghai Institute's Sanctuary, with only a single bed, a dresser, a small desk, and a thirty foot walk to the nearest bathroom. It was a quiet, subtle gesture. The Accords may have been signed, but some Shadowhunters would always believe that warlocks were beneath them.

Will smelled smoke, so he continued down the hall, past Magnus's room, and found Magnus at the end of the hallway, standing beside the door to the Sanctuary. He was dressed more plainly then he had dressed for dinner and his hair was pulled into a messy knot of black hair at the nape of his neck. In his hands he held a piece of paper.

"Just sending Charlotte a reply," Magnus explained. He snapped his fingers and the letter burst into flames and disappeared. "I told her yes to James, not sure to William, and…"

"I'm never going back there," Will said.

"You left your family ring there," Magnus said. He touched Will's right hand and Will recoiled like Magnus's hand was as hot as the letter he had just sent.

"I'm never going back to London. Again," Will insisted. Magnus sighed and looked Will in the eyes.

"I know," He said. "Is that all you needed to tell me?"

Will looked down the long, dark hallway from where he had come from and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I can't sleep," Will mumbled.

"You didn't try," Magnus said. "This is the eighth time you've done this. We get somewhere, and you're happy for a few days, and then you start to get stressed out, and before you know it, you're ready to go somewhere else. I don't mind it, but I think it's time we return to London."

"I'm not returning to London," Will said. He licked his lips. "Let's go to Australia."

"You can go an entire world away, but you won't escape Jem's memory. Or all that he left behind," Magnus said. "Besides I can't go to Australia. Back when I was just learning my powers I made a whole flock of sheep disappear. It went poorly- for me and the sheep. I'm not allowed back in the country."

Will knew this had to be a lie, but it was a game they played. Will would suggest far reaching places, and Magnus would try to get them closer to London. It never worked. One time Magnus drew a Portal and said they were headed to Dublin. He walked through and thought of Dublin, Will walked through and thought of Fiji. It had taken Magnus nearly a week to find Will laying naked and sun burnt on a beach on the other side of the world. After that, Magnus had taken to stunning Will with charms and dragging his half unconscious body through.

"Cape Town, South Africa, then," Will said.

"Berlin, Germany," Magnus argued.

"Siberia."

"Stop running away," Magnus said. "Is this what you do when people die? You just leave? At some point you have to stop running." Will gaped at Magnus for a second, and then spun around quickly, prepared to run down the hall and barricade himself into his room. Magnus grabbed him by the elbow. "Listen to me. Go to my room. I'm going to go brush my teeth. I'll stay up with you and talk until you're ready to sleep."

Will walked down to Magnus's room and went in to find a small oil lamp burning. The room was half the size of Will's room and had a low ceiling Will was in danger of hitting his head on. There were no windows, just dark walls made of plaster painted black. The rest of the Institute had a normal temperature, but this room had a chill. Will sat down on Magnus's bed and felt springs poking through the mattress beneath him.

After a few minutes, Magnus walked in, smelling of peppermint. He sat down on the chair beside the desk.

"Sit with me," Will said. Magnus looked at the bed, and then sat beside Will. "Bed isn't much to speak of, is it?"

"It's perfectly alright," Magnus said. "I've slept on worse. So why can't you sleep this time?" Will looked into the dark corners of the room where the light from the oil lamp would not reach.

"My stomach hurts," Will mumbled.

"Should I get you some ginger tea? Or maybe a cookie?" Magnus asked. Will shrugged. "You have to tell me what you want, Will. I'm not a mind reader. Just a warlock." Will continued to look into the corners. Magnus sighed. "Are you hungry? Sick? What's the matter?" Will looked Magnus in the eyes. Slowly, carefully, he reached over and took Magnus's hand. He placed it over the knot in his stomach. "I know what you need. Lay back."

Will lay down on the uncomfortable mattress, and his heart started to pound.

"I was reading this book earlier," Magnus said. He slipped his hand up Will's shirt and rested his fingertips on Will's stomach. Will felt something like a tickle, followed by warmth against his skin. His muscles tensed, forcing him to choose between fight or flight, but Will did neither. He closed his eyes and took a few breathes. His stomach hurt worse now, but Magnus's hand was growing warmer. "There was this young man… I can't remember his name. But when he found himself on the cusp of adulthood, he decided it was time to leave home and discover what he needed to spend his life doing. His destiny, so to speak. So he left his home."

"And he traveled all over the world with a 700 year old warlock who eventually got homesick?" Will asked.

"Shhhh. You have to relax or this knot will never go away," Magnus said. "The young man travelled all over the world, searching for his destiny. He looked for it beneath the pyramids in Egypt; he looked for it on top of the tallest mountains and at the bottom of the deepest seas. He searched for a long time but he never found it. Then one day he met a wise old man who asked the young man what he was searching for, and when the young man told him, the old man laughed. He said that the young man's destiny had never been lost to begin with. It was inside of him all along. The young man would know, in his heart, which path to take to follow his destiny. He hadn't even needed to leave home."

"There was once a warlock who got on the bad side of a Shadowhunter," Will said. "One day the warlock wasn't immortal anymore. Why, he wasn't anything at all."

"You don't mean that," Magnus said.

Magnus stretched out his fingers and lay his palm on Will's stomach. Slowly, the knot began to melt away. Will reached his hand down the bed and found Magnus's other hand. He laced his fingers between Magnus's and closed his eyes.

When Magnus had asked Will to come with him to Paris, and told Will to bring along Jem, Will had known, instinctively, that would never work because he was incapable of loving them both in the manner they deserved. Will had broken Magnus, and along the way had broken Jem as well. He should have been glad to have Magnus still by his side, but his feelings regarding the warlock were as muddled as ever.

"You're just angry with life," Magnus whispered. Will wanted to disagree. Being angry with life meant admitting that he felt something. Will had spent six months trying to feel numb. He wasn't about to feel only anger when instead he felt blind rage towards anyone and everything. Will's stomach tensed up again and this time it felt like he had been kicked there. "Breathe, Will. Just breathe."

Will took a few breathes as Magnus moved his hand in a slow circle on Will's stomach. Will's skin continued to warm at Magnus's touch, and soon, the warmth began to seep beneath his skin and find a home deep inside of his stomach. Will was unsure of what Magnus was doing, but he wasn't going to object. It had been so long since he had been touched this intimately.

Magnus flexed his fingers and pulled Will's hand closer to his. Will had a fleeting thought and he listened to it by pulling Magnus beside him onto the bed. Magnus had to let go of Will's hand then, but he lifted his left hand and ran it through Will's hair. Magnus continued rubbing Will's stomach, his hand drifting lower down, towards the waist band of Will's pants, as Magnus exhaled warm air against his cheek. The warmth in Will's body began to spread from his stomach up through his chest and down through his legs.

Will could imagine turning his face and kissing Magnus on the lips. He recalled Magnus giving all of himself in every kiss, but then Will remembered last pressing his lips to Jem's as Jem lay in the Infirmary in the hours after his death. Even before Jem had died, they had shared so many kisses they hadn't know would be their last. Will couldn't imagine Magnus's kiss being the first he would have since Jem death. Will opened his eyes and saw Magnus looking down on him. He closed his eyes and felt tears slip from the corners of them.

The warmth Magnus was sending through Will's body was doing all sorts of odd things to Will. He felt himself sweating but shivering, and found his hands twitching as he looked for something to hold onto.

"What are you doing to me?" Will whispered.

"I'm warming you up," Magnus said. "Your skin was cold. I can't have you getting sick."

Will squeezed his eyes shut and again fought the urge to pull away. He refused to feel this way, and refused to feel himself slowly becoming aroused. Jem was the last man Will had been with and so Will hadn't even touched himself in the last six months. He had ignored his desires and would now pay for it.

"Will," Magnus whispered. He slid his fingers down to the waistband of Will's pants.

"No!" Will cried. He rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up, then gripped the warlock's tattered pillow and stared at the wall, fighting back tears that were simmering below the surface. Will had broken down so many times in the past six months. Every time, he thought that this time would be the last time he ever cried for Jem. He always thought that sooner or later, the rawness of the wound Jem's death had given Will would just go away, but it never did. Some days were good and some days were bad and some days were like this, when Will had a plan to move forward but a need to fall backwards.

"Breathe," Magnus whispered. He placed his hand on Will's side, and then moved it down to the center of Will's stomach and kept rubbing. The knot was still there, burrowed into Will's stomach like it might never go away. "Will, you've got to breathe." Will took one shuddering breath after another. He felt himself already rock hard and he just wanted it to go away but it wouldn't. "It's perfectly alright-"

"No," Will said, but he wasn't sure who he was saying no to: Magnus for trying to find reason in this, or his own body for wanting to feel more than just aching pain and loss. Magnus stopped his rubbing but his hand remained on Will's stomach.

"I'll stop if you ask me to," Magnus said, "But I'll do what you want." Will rolled back onto his back and looked up at Magnus.

"Don't stop," Will whispered, "Please don't stop." He reached down and pushed his pajama pants down and off. Magnus remained with his hand up Will's nightshirt and looked down briefly. "Please, Magnus, make me feel good again."

"Just tell me when to stop. I don't want to upset you," Magnus said. He resumed rubbing. His hand drifted down further and gently teased at the hair on Will's lower stomach.

It had been four weeks ago, in Idris, when Will had woken up to discover that he had suddenly become much less like a boy, and more like a man. He had lost weight, and with it, the cherubic features of his face. Now, his jaw was more defined and almost always shadowed with dark stubble. His biceps had refined themselves into tight coils of sinew, and his chest and abdomen had finally filled into something resembling properly sculpted muscles. His permanent runes turned a flawless, solid black as they finally settled into his skin for life. Will had walked out of his room that morning to find Magnus sitting at the dining room table in the house they were staying in, his expression stuck somewhere between surprise and barely contained desire. He hadn't looked at Will the same since then.

Magnus had always desired Will and Will had found things to desire about Magnus as well, but Will had never asked Magnus for anything… until now.

Magnus leaned closer to Will, his lips just millimeters from Will's ear. His right hand reached towards Will's erection, slowly, nonthreatening, and then his thumb and index finger wrapped around the base. Will gasped as Magnus began to gently stroke.

Will moaned and turned his face towards Magnus as he spread his thighs a little. Already, what Magnus was doing was hurting Will. In all of his years of having sex he had never felt this sensitive. It was like Magnus was somehow pleasuring him from the inside out.

"Please don't stop," Will said, "Please, Magnus."

"You're going to feel good," Magnus said. "One day, Will, you're going to feel good again." Will pulled his knees up and turned his head so that his cheek rested against Magnus's shoulder. He looked up at Magnus, and parted his lips a little. Magnus's face hovered just over Will's. Will waited a heart beat, then another, and then grabbed Magnus's by the back of the head and forced their lips together. Magnus squeezed his eyes shut and kissed back, tangling his peppermint scented tongue with Will's as both of their defenses finally cracked. Magnus gripped Will's shaft tighter and began to move his hand up and down as they continued to kiss.

Will found himself lifting his hips and thrusting himself into Magnus's hand. He began to whimper softly as his mind began to fill with scenes and flashes of lights. After a minute, Magnus pulled his lips away from Will, and Will was shocked to find that their faces were both soaked with tears.

"You're going to be just fine," Magnus whispered. "I love you, Will. You're going to feel good again."

Magnus kissed Will again, then continued his stroking. There was so much heat flowing through his body, Will swore he was on fire. He felt coiled tightly but he began to unravel with each passing second. Will's heart kicked into an accelerated cadence and he felt his muscles clench quickly before the first bit of white hot liquid drizzled over the back of Magnus's hand. Magnus stroked again and more came forth, causing Will to cry out. As Will's mind brought him back to a cold room in a foreign Institute, the knot in his stomach melted completely away.

Magnus climbed from the bed and told Will he would be back. Will closed his eyes and shook with silent sobs until Magnus returned. Magnus apologized over and over again but Will neither accepted nor rejected his apology. He just lay on his side and Magnus held him close until he finally cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, Will climbed from the bed, went to his room, dressed for the weather, and left the Institute. The climb up the mountain took two hours, but when Will arrived at the top, he found that Jem was right, he could see for miles in all direction. This was the place where Will opened the tiny jar of ashes and shook them into the wind, whispering goodbye in his own way. The ashes never hit the ground; they just became a part of the air swirling around Will. When his tears were finally spent, Will climbed down the mountain found Magnus sitting on the front steps of the Institute, and Will asked to go home.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I know this was a lot to read but the next chapter won't be AS lengthy. Please feel free to review. If you read Lights, the teaser I put at the end of Lights shows up in the next chapter.