Only bromance, not romance!

YOU NEEDED ME!

…Psh, of course not. I needed you guys. I missed updating, and I feel so terrible about Love this Town that— I can't. That story at the minute… I can't.

So, I delved into my numerous one-shots and found a little bromance-y/Wessa-ry story for y'all. Enjoy!

William Herondale was nothing if not proud.

Well, there was sarcasm and cruelty and… no. Sorry.

William Herondale was nothing but proud. So imagine how wounded he was when his brother walked into Will's room and saw Will with the needle in his arm. There was no hiding it and there was no lying.

Jem was the brightest person he knew and he didn't let his intelligence go to waste.

Will remembered the look in those silver eyes. And he had never forgotten it. Never.

Will kicked at a stone on the beach, watching it fly into the water.

He'd always tried to make others think the worst of him. His plan was to get Charlotte to catch him, not Jem.

It was bad that the one person he truly cared for had found him. But worse in the fact that this one person was addicted and forced to take a drug that would have him dead by eighteen.

But it didn't have him dead by eighteen.

He had only just made seventeen.

Will's eyes didn't bother to search the marble flags for Jem's name. He knew exactly where it was.

A wave came in and soaked Will's new (and expensive) trainers, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered but Jem, and Jem was gone.

Will was twenty-eight now. He had a wife, he had a child with a second one coming. He was an international best-selling author. He was well-established and respected in society. He had a large house with beautiful grounds and a brilliant car.

But he didn't have Jem.

Depression was a cruel punishment. No fevers or blood-tests to send people scurrying into concern. Nothing but the slow erosion of time itself, with nothing else mattering.

"I never met him." Came the understanding, soft and beautiful voice of his talented, smart and beautiful wife as she laid a hand on his shoulder. Will noted that he was kneeling on the wet sand, the waves sloshing around him. He was knelt by Jem's memorial. "He must have been a good man."

She didn't miss a thing. When at each Christmas, Easter and Birthday meal of which Will's extended adoptive family would attend, a toast would be given to Jem. How when they were all sat on the sofa and stories were exchanged, Will's eyes would light up at tales of him and Jem, from running on the rooftop of 'the institute' (the care home Will and Jem had lived at) with Will falling and breaking his leg, to adventures in the park and battles with ducks.

"He was." Will spoke quietly.

"When you talk of friendship to James, you talk of him. When you talk of trust to James, you talk of him. Whatever lesson you tell him; kindness, forgiveness, love, bravery, acceptance, you speak of him." There was silence, save for the seagulls' squawks and the lapping of the waves. Time did not pause for the dead.

"There is no other man as perfect as Jem and there never will be." Will said hoarsely. "If you want me to teach Jamie life-lessons, I cannot tell them any other way."

Tessa gave him an understanding smile. "Come on, Will. You'll catch a chill out here."

Will looked to her, and forgot everything when he saw the brightness of her smile and the hope in her eyes. She was perfect. She was his.

"You're regular doctor isn't available today." The receptionist told Will. "We'll be putting you through to Zachariah."

Will wasn't complaining. He'd be lying if he said Enoch didn't terrify him. He nodded and walked to the appropriate room, giving a brisk knock before opening the door.

"You can come in, I suppose." Came an amused voice.

Will looked towards the source and saw a head of black hair, sitting at a desk. The figure span around on the chair to face Will, and gave him a grin, not a polite smile, but an alive grin.

Will immediately grinned too, before it froze on his face and it paled. No, He reminded himself. The receptionist said Zachariah. The man was younger than he (surprising, since Will was only thirty-eight), with a tall, thin, slightly-built figure, tanned skin, high cheekbones, slanted, bronze-black eyes and long, thin fingers. Will felt his heart thud. The man looked so much like Jem it hurt, if not for the obvious colouring.

"Mr Herondale, am I correct?" The man asked, visibly noting Will's freezure but not commenting on it: behaviour odd in a psychiatrist, though Will was thankful for it.

"Call me Will, please." Will told him, sitting down.

"I was going to anyway. I just presumed formalities were a nice change instead of the language used in modern society." The man informed him with a bright smile.

Even his smile is reminiscent to James, Will thought, definitely shaken.

The talk was really quite un-noteworthy, until the man reached at his neck, twirling a gold chain as he spoke. Upon Will's odd request to see it, he had obliged and showed him the smooth, uneven jade on the end of the pendant.

Will had paled to paper, stood up and left without a word, marching back to the beach that was conveniently just opposite the hospital.

That jade. He'd know it anywhere. He'd bought it for Jem himself. And an unshaped, raw rock like that shouldn't look alike to any other. It was the same, yet Jem had been cremated.

"James." Will said, upon reaching the memorial. "Please." He dropped to his knees again, the waves now further back the beach.

I believe life is a wheel. We are born, we die and we live to see the sun again.

Will was shaking. Reincarnation. Impossible, he thought to himself. But then again, was it? It couldn't really be impossible. With the billions of lives lead, there was no guarantee that you could see a re-incarnated friend again. But there was no guarantee that you wouldn't.

"I'm sorry for frightening you." Came a voice.

"James?" Will asked, looking up, finding black eyes instead of silver.

"I remind you of a James, don't I?" Zachariah said. "A woman had close to the same reaction you did the other day."

"Your mannerisms, not just the way you look." Will sighed.

"I'm sorry." Zachariah told him.

"What for?" Will asked, realising he was still kneeling. He stood hastily.

There was a silence, save for the waves sloshing over their feet. "I woke years ago in a hospital. I had been told I had lost my memory and that I would remember nothing about my past. But I did remember. Odd things. I was told they were expected hallucinations, but they were too real for that. I looked into re-incarnation, and…" He trailed off. "I knew I should have found you sooner, but I went with a practical approach, getting a degree in psychology and a job at this hospital, knowing you'd come here. I thought—"

"James. Are you telling me that…?" Will trailed off. "Sorry, Zachariah." He corrected.

The man grinned. "You needn't apologise, William Owen Herondale. I suit Jem Carstairs a lot more than Zachariah Silent."

Will didn't care that this event was damn near impossible. He leapt at the chance. "What's my favourite colour?" Will asked rapidly.

"Mauve. The same colour as the inner depth of your soul." The man sighed.

"My favourite memory?" Will asked again.

"When you and I attempted to breed a race of cannibal ducks in Hyde park."

"You were dead. I watched you die." Will whispered.

"Sometimes, you have to look beyond what you see." Jem told him wisely.

Definitely Jem, only he used phrases like that.

"Jem?" Will said with a hoarse voice.

Jem's laugh was bright and sincere as he pulled Will into an embrace.

"Yes?"

"Finally."

…I don't know, I felt like a Heronstairs reincarnation AU was needed.

And with my… break from Love this Town, I couldn't take hiatus from fanfiction without a bang. Even if it is a subtle one. And Heronstairs-y. But who cares? Not I! Mwahahaha!

Postscript: I plan to have an update for Love this Town ASAP. It'll be the shortest hiatus ever, I promise.

Mizpah, everyone!

(Disclaimer: Characters all owned by the wonderful Cassandra Clare. Inspired from a beach I visited on holiday and Cassandra Jean's Heronstairs across-the-river drawing.)