Riverside

The riverside was almost deserted.

When you die, you wake up on the river banks with two choices. The first is to cross the river to a unique little town of dead people, people who chose to stay there for eternity. To rejoin love ones since passed, or to rejoice in the silence and solitude of a life less world.

Then there is the second option. You could jump into the river and be reborn. You could be swallowed by the river side and become a new person, to rejoin the wheel of life.

Then there was they boy who chose neither.

He was a strange one, the towns folk said as they watched him from their side of the river. He was handsome, although when he died he'd been aged beyond his youth. Not now. Now his hair had returned to its deep black colour. His skin was one again a rosy pale colour and his cheekbones pronounced and jutting out. And his eyes, they remained the same throughout his long life and continued to do so in his death. Bright blue. Beautiful. He was truly a masterpiece.

But this wasn't why the towns people whispered, they spoke about him in hushed voices because he chose neither option. He didn't choose to take the small rowing boat across the wide watery expanse and neither did he choose to drift away in it. Instead he waited.

Sometimes, a pretty girl with beautiful blonde hair would come and they'd shout insults to and throw from different sides of the river. And as time passed, as the world continued to spin, more and more friends of the boy appeared. A girl who looked startlingly like him, a man with bright red hair. And they exchanged tales of a warlock with cat eyes, the adventures of London or the occasional mention of a clockwork angel.

The boy's friends may have all looked different, but they all asked the same thing of him. They all asked him to cross the river with him; each time he refused, leaning close and whispering something in their ears. And instantly they understood, crossing alone and leaving the boy smiling sadly after him. Time passed slowly until eventually something like a hundred years had gone by since the boy arrived. Then the townsfolk learnt what the boy was waiting for.

The meadow beyond the river bank shimmered as it had umpteen times that day. It signalled another person had died, another person would join them.

The boy who appeared was handsome. He was tall and lanky and once again returned to His youth. For a second he paused to marvel at himself, his skin was pale but with a healthy flush, his eyes a startling silver and his hair a cross between brown and silver. And then his eyes locked with the blue eyed boy and the dead watching from the far shore finally realised who he had been waiting for.

James Carstairs walked towards William Herondale at a leisurely pace. He could see no rush, they were to be together forever now, just how it was supposed to be.

Then, when they were inches apart they both grinned.

"Hello Will." Jem whispered softly, offering a smile that lit up Will's whole world, "I've missed you."

Will's eyes filled with tears, "Old age must have made me sentimental for I missed you as well, Jem."

And then they embraced.

The world went a bright white for them both as they both began to laugh, sounds of pure joy in the barren wasteland around them. Unseen to those watching the pair reunite, the parabatai rune over Will's heart glowed black like it had so many years ago. They were together again at last.

For a moment, the two Shadowhunters stood still, talking. Sharing tales of their families, of their worlds. Jem explained his transition back to himself from Brother Zachariah and then his recent life with Tessa. He told Will stories of Jace Herondale, a boy with a fiery temper and a fiery heart, of the Lightwood siblings who looked so much like Will himself it was hard to believe they weren't Herondales. Jem told Will stories of a war and a demon child who had died in the pits of hell.

And then Will told Jem his share of tales he'd been waiting more than a hundred years to tell. Tales of his life with Tessa and the life of their children, tales of ducks and demon pox, tales of romance and books. As he did, James Carstairs began to realise he was home at last.

At this point, for the first time in a hundred years, William Herondale approached the small rowing boat. He climbed inside, taking the seat at the front and his friend got in the back. The townsfolk watched in awe as the boat sailed towards them, the two boys on board full in conversation of a grey eyed girl and a life without her.

"She'll be okay. She has Magnus." Jem said faintly, "And I don't believe that we'll never see her again. No, fate is a funny thing Will and I believe the three of us are meant to be together. We'll meet again some how, some day."
"But for now, I have you." Will told Jem fondly.

Jem gave a smile and nodded, "We have an eternity together, I'm sure you'll get pretty annoying after the first day."

"An eternity together?" Will asked, "I hope we'll remain friends throughout it all."
"Of course, we'll always be friends." Jem said kindly and Will leaned back, letting the river breeze roll over him, "I like the sound of that, Jem."

That was the bond between the two boys, it was inseparable and now death separated them no longer. Will and Jem were together again at last and they'd be together for a long time, as they should be.

From Shanghai to Wales.

From one life to the next.

From one river bank to the other.

Wherever they would go, they would go together.