Will stood just outside Jem's door as the Silent Brothers worked over him.
Right after Jem had fallen to the ground, Jessamine's body had been lifted out of his arms by a pair of hands belonging to someone Will did not care to look at; his thoughts only echoed Jem, Jem, James. Free of the burden of Jessamine, Will stumbled to Jem where he had fallen, horrified at the sight before him but not daring to look away.
"Jem," Will gasped as he leaned over his parabatai, pale except for the oil, blood, and dirt mixing together as he lay on the ground. Will's heart was beating fast and out of control, his pulse roaring in his ears as the recent chaos caught up with his scattered thoughts and threatened to overwhelm him.
Jem made no response to Will's voice, even though the silent plea to awaken that escaped from Will's mouth stayed suspended in the air between them, heavy with desperation.
So silently Will had not noticed he had appeared, Cyril was kneeling at Jem's feet. With his calm eyes, he was able to ground Will from the spiral he was going into, and communicate to Will that they lift Jem together. Will moved behind Jem's head, and bent underneath him to grab him under his arms. And even though Will and Cyril moved with urgency, carrying Jem to his room while the Silent Brothers were called frantically by Charlotte felt like the longest walk of his life. Through these familiar halls of the Institute he had called home for years, his fractured thoughts tumbling through his mind as he tried to focus on the task in front of him—over the life of his parabatai in his hands with Tessa, Tessa spirited away from them right into Mortmain's clutches—threatened to be his undoing.
How has it come to this? Will's mind reeled. How could this have befallen us?
But of course, there was no answer, and not for the first time since Marbus's death, he wondered whether he was still and would always be cursed.
Will stood just outside Jem's door as the Silent Brothers tended to him.
The world as Will had known it was crumbling away to dust and carried away on a bitter wind before his very eyes, and he wanted to grasp at any sliver of comfort that could be his saving grace as he hurtled toward the end of life as he knew it.
Jem had pleaded hoarsely something unintelligible as Will and Cyril had laid Jem gently on his bed, but before Will could lean in closer, he was pulled away. He fought the hands that drove him into the corridor harder than he ever had before when Jem fell ill, but it was in vain, and now he stood uncertainly just outside the bedroom until the moment he could return to his parabatai's side. And it took every ounce of his self-control not to burst into the room, and that was wearing thin the longer Jem was being tended to with no news from the Silent Brothers on his condition. Jem had been hurt and ill before, but this time felt so very different; there seemed to be a finality in Jem's labored breaths that Will had never heard before, and it frightened him more than ever. Add to that the fact that his beloved Tessa had been snatched from the sanctuary that was the Institute, and Will was in agony like he had never known before. He did not know how he could suffer the impending doom that would be the loss of the two people he could not bear to live without, even on fear of their deaths when he believed himself cursed, and live. Bitterly, Will recalled the hope for himself that everyone seemed to express, that surely he would have, and deserved, a life filled with love. It seemed laughable now that the Angel would be so merciful, that he would not have to pay some price. Was this to be his burden, then, to go on living after those who looked upon him with love left him, now that the curse was proven false all along?
Will had never before given much care for danger, thinking death would be a release from the pain he felt of living without love. It was Jem who had made him think more of himself, for someone else, that was there to try and mend the damaged mess that had become Will Herondale.
A commotion from behind the door made Will refocus his attention away from his thoughts. The muffled sounds inside that he could discern were the rustling of fabrics and Jem's soft but agitated murmurs in what seemed like protest.
Will had never before interrupted the care administrated to his parabatai when Jem's injuries or illness were serious enough to warrant the Silent Brothers' treatment. But Jem usually never stirred during the course of these visits, let alone protested, and now was the time—Will would make sure it would not be the last time—to rally to his brother's side.
With no other care than to be with Jem, he burst through the bedroom door, the hoods of the Silent Brothers raised at his entrance.
"What is it James?" Will asked, striding over to his bedside, not caring whether anyone tried to stop him, but unaware at the moment how odd it was that no one actually attempted to block his movement.
William Herondale, you were not to interfere with the treatment of James Carstairs until we finished doing what is within our power to heal him. With this, Brother Enoch seemed to pause. However, James Carstairs is refusing further intervention, and we are to respect his request.
And to Will's horror, the other Silent Brothers left the room, with Brother Enoch making to follow behind after them.
"No, wait! Wait, please." Will was able to tear his eyes from the terrifying sight of a pale and unconscious Jem to reach out and grab the sleeve of Brother Enoch's robe, and maybe the unexpected action actually led to him stopping.
"He, he needs your help." I need your help to save him, his mind screamed. "Please, stay and do something," he said through clenched teeth, his anger and frustration threatening to spill over from a place of sheer desperation.
Brother Enoch did not react for a moment. Then, he made toward the bedroom door again, before pausing a moment at the entrance. Will was in disbelief at the cold and indifferent nature toward an ailing Shadowhunter, but before he could do anything else following the shock of that revelation, Brother Enoch closed the door.
I speak the truth to you, William Herondale. James Carstairs would not allow any of the remaining yin fen to be administered to him. And the limits of our interventions are met with the will of those we care for.
Will never would have characterized the Silent Brothers as cruel or unfeeling before, but now felt as though he loathed the creeds by which they abided by. Can't you see he is dying? That your duty, to hell with what he says, is to do everything in your power to make sure he lives?
Don't you know how much I need him?
Brother Enoch, to his credit, had retreated to a corner of the room by the bedroom door, but made no move again to open it and join his fellow Silent Brothers in leaving Jem to his fate by retreating to the Silent City. Now, however, Will turned his attention to his parabatai as Jem's face suddenly contorted with pain and he thrashed around within the sheets, rushing to sit by his side.
"James, James" croaked Will.
Jem, however, seemed unaware of his presence at first, and moaned. Beads of perspiration that had gathered on his forehead trailed down his face. But in the midst of the wave of pain he was experiencing, he latched onto Will's forearm with a feeble grip.
"No…more," Jem gritted out, seemingly determined to get the words across, and groaning with the effort of doing so.
"You promised me," Will entreated without thinking, his despair making him desperate, scrabbling to link Jem's hands with his own in the vain hope of grounding them both. His eyes were fixed on his parabatai, searching his face wondering why Jem was giving up, now when he had everything, Tessa, to live for. Jem, who always had faith in seeing things through, whose steadfast bravery even in the face of his own mortality, had carried Will through his own private hell and saved him from the doom of a life not worth living.
And now simply choosing to languish and accept his fate, to abandon hope that he could stay by the sides of those he loved and keep them sane and whole, as he always had and as only he could.
Jem's silvery eyes shone in the dim light and met Will's own, holding the gaze with an intensity he would not have thought possible in such a weakened state.
"Tessa—gone," he panted. "I won't…live…on her sacrifice." And with that, his hand fell back against the sweaty sheets, and his eyes screwed shut against the pain.
Now Will recalled the disastrous conversation from the previous night with a sickening clarity, with Jem declaring passionately to Tessa, "Even if you go to him, I still won't take the drug." The way his stomach had lurched as Tessa attempted to reason with Jem, all in vain. The peeling of Will's skin in the flames only proving to further solidify his resolve to save both Jem and Tessa, the thought of losing either of them unbearable.
And the anguish Will had felt before when he worried about Jem's or Tessa's well-being withered in comparison to this moment, when all that he had thought was tangible was in reality no more substantial than the silvery powder that was his parabatai's doom and salvation. Raw emotion threatened to clog Will's throat and overwhelm him, with any chance of hiding behind a façade crumbling.
Jem was pleading with Will to understand, and unfortunately he did, all too well. The woman they both loved was out of their reach with a madman, and the devil only knew what designs he had in store for her. And his Jem lay dying before Will, with the part of him surfacing that was unwilling to save himself while Tessa was captured, believing the yin fen to be tainted. Or perhaps all of his memories of the administration of the foul drug had caught up with him. Jem had bore with fortitude these past several years what no one should have to endure, and now on the brink of death, prepared himself for the end without resistance. He was slipping away, nearly inconsolable with the loss of Tessa, and unwilling to recover.
Will closed his eyes briefly to gather himself and prepare for something he was loathe to do: lie to his parabatai. For him, I would do this, Will thought. I can always find the strength to do what I must for Jem, Angel forgive me.
Inhaling deeply, Will responded in a surprisingly steady voice, "But James, Tessa is fine. She's just being patched up with the others, with Sophie tending to her. Just a few scrapes from routine training exercises, after throwing herself into the fray."
At the news, Jem's eyes slowly re-opened, locking onto Will's with such hope brimming beneath his silvery lashes it nearly shattered Will's heart.
"Tessa…is safe? She is all right?"
For Jem trusted Will implicitly that he would never lie to him, and in combination with his delirious state, Will's lie may prove enough to convince him to waver, if only for the moment it would take to slip more of the poison past his lips that would buy him more time.
And Will, both to his credit and shame, affirmed this without faltering in providing Jem what he needed to hear.
"She'll be waiting for you just outside when you're feeling better," Will added, and he could almost see it: Tessa waiting up for news, her nerves on edge, but with a gentle healing presence that can soothe any fear with a gentle touch. How he longed to have her here, for Jem, for himself.
Jem's relief was palpable, and exhaled with exhaustion. "I thought—I had the most horrible nightmare, Will. That she was gone…"
Will's fear returned as Jem trailed off, that he would remember the truth, and he grasped at his chance. "Tessa is here, and you must take more before you see her," reaching for the box with the remaining yin fen.
Will's heart leapt in his chest in anticipation, fervently hoping this would work; and Jem, honest and good Jem, waited patiently for the short amount of time it took for Will to get it ready and give it to him, taking it without hesitation. And he was fervently hoping that Jem would sleep again, unaware of his parabatai's deception, for Will felt as though he had just forsaken any hope that he had for redemption for what he had just done.
Jem did rest his head back against the pillow, his face no longer contorted, but seemingly content since the first time this morning upon the engagement announcement, in what felt like a lifetime ago.
Brother Enoch, witness to the whole ordeal, said nothing. Perhaps he rightly assumed that the whole affair was none of his concern.
Will, tense from the moment he became aware of the attack, leaned back on his knees by his parabatai's bedside, grateful for the reprieve, however brief, from his demise.
And so Will would keep his vigil over his brother, until the moment he broke, and would not be put back together again.