AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is directly influenced by one of my favorite movies, A Walk in the Clouds but it will not be exactly like the movie. I do not claim ownership of that movie, neither do I claim ownership of TID.

-o-

His eyes darted back and forth beneath closed lids, scanning the barren battlegrounds haunting his dreams, transforming them into nightmares the moment he began to see the ghosts of his friends trapped in an infinite, looping replay of their deaths. He heard their screams as high and piercing in the dream as he had the few weeks before; he felt the warm stickiness of blood on his hands even though they were dry, clenched beneath the bed sheets damp with sweat. They died, then came back, only to die again, repeatedly, stuck in the never-ending turmoil of pain and grief-

Will jerked once where he lay, then sat up abruptly, eyes snapping open, nostrils flaring, breathing hard. His cloudy eyes, blurred by the fear from his nightmares, cleared after a few moments, and when his heartbeat finally slowed to its regular rhythm, Will collapsed back against the pillows with an exhausted groan.

The air was dirty with smoke, and Will could very nearly taste the Thames on his tongue despite its long distance away. The cab rumbled and the harsh croons and rings of the inner circles of London filtered dully through the thin glass windows. Passersby wrapped in brown rags knocked on his door, calling for him to spare a coin or two and save the life of a poor, innocent child that probably did not even exist beyond a raspy excuse for a donation. Will closed his eyes and ears against the horrible moans of the city, wondering why he had ever been so determined to return.

As if answering his thoughts, his mind's eye shuddered to black and the nightmares that disturbed him every night for the past two years played again before him. Will gasped, trying to turn it off, and, immediately following, a much more pleasant vision overcame him. He saw a beautiful young woman with long blonde curls framing her high cheek bones and brightening her brown eyes. It had been two years since Will had seen his wife, but from what he could remember, she never truly smiled, always smirking, and if she laughed, it was sharp and short. He chuckled to himself, wondering briefly how he could have possibly fallen for a woman seeming to be so detached. He racked his brain, and realized that there was something entrancing about the way she held herself, about the gentleness with which she had embraced and kissed him before he left for the war. Will sighed to himself, deciding that once he was back in Jessamine's arms, he would be able to warm the stoniness of her heart, and she would banish his demons.

The skies were always dark and cloudy, and there was no exception now. Will raised his face to the hidden heavens and soon small droplets of rain fell onto his upturned cheeks, chilling his nose. Steadily the rain came down harder until it wasn't just drizzle but a heavy downpour, and his clothes were soaked all the way through, sticking to his skin. The cabbie had been waiting for Will to enter the flat, but now he drove away hurriedly, for it was when the weather turned harsh that the plump little man made the most profit.

Will's hand hesitated on the knob, the key turned only halfway. It was unknown to Will what stayed his hand, but it hardly mattered; the door suddenly opened. He blinked the water rapidly, and rather stupidly, out of his eyes and stared at the figure silhouetted in the doorway, who in turn stared at him. Her long hair was pinned into a bun above her neck and tucked under a hat decorated with flowers, and her coat was buttoned haphazardly, the collar folded uncomfortably beneath her chin. Her brown eyes were wide in her petite, pale face and her rose-colored lips were open in pure astonishment.

Will was the first to recover. He smiled shyly at her. "Good morning, Jessie."

The nickname appeared to spark some flame of recognition and her eyes focused on Will's damp, uncertain face. She stared at him harder, the corners of her lips pointing down in a frown. Jessamine cleared her throat, and when she spoke her voice was shaky. "Will? Is it really you?"

He gave a short laugh, trying hard not to shiver as the cold settled into his bones. "Yes, it's me." Jessamine's face crumbled, leaving her expression open and vulnerable. Will couldn't understand what he saw there; a war of emotions as sudden and violent as the one he had just left. He tried to pinpoint each: grief, relief, suspicion, joy, frustration... guilt? "It's me," he said again, hoping that by reassuring her, he could wash away all that tormented her.

"Will," Jessamine whispered weakly, and sagged against the door frame. "Will."

He tried to smile, switching the weight of his small suitcase to his other hand. "Are you going to welcome me home, Jessie?" he joked, trying for cheerfulness, but the words erupted from his lips with an unintended poison. Will flinched, but Jessamine didn't appear to notice. She continued to stare at him, dazed. He waited patiently. He had expected her surprise and disbelief.

Finally, she said, "I thought you were dead."

Will softened and opened his arms, becoming desperate for the long-awaited reunion he had been craving since he last kissed Jessamine's nose. He had had only memories to comfort him. "I'm here now," he said, placing one foot inside. "I'm alive, and well. I'm here." He hesitated to wrap his arms around her, but she fell against him anyways, sobs racking her body, tears streaming down her face. Jessamine murmured his name repeatedly in an incomprehensible current of apologies. She clung to him, wrinkling his uniform, and pressed her face into the space between his collarbone and neck. Will lifted her gently with one arm snaked around her waist, stepping fully into the flat and setting down his luggage beside the door. As he closed the door against the chill, he cooed sweet nothings into her ear, whispering promises that he would never leave her again - his throat drying and choking once the words rolled off his tongue.

Suddenly their lips met, and nothing felt more wrong. Will tensed as he felt Jessamine begin to unclasp the buttons of his coat, and dimly he remembered that he had been drafted before they could consummate their marriage. Will, forcefully but gently, pushed her away. He took a deep breath and held her at arm's length, searching for understanding in her eyes. "Jessie, sleep with me." At the look of confusion mixed with lust, he added quickly, "Sleep with me, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. When I was gone, you were the only thing that could keep me sane. Amongst all of the murder and horrors, all I had to do was think of you, and I'd remember who I was, and what was waiting for me here, back home. If there was a god, I begged him to allow me to see you again, to hold you again, and I'd make myself a better man. I am exhausted, Jessie. The war has exhausted me, and I'm back home, and all I want now is to hold you as I sleep and wake up looking into your eyes and knowing that you are truly here with me again."

Whatever response Will had been expecting, Jessamine's sour smile was not it. He tried to bury the shocked hurt. "You're quite the poet, William."

"In our vows you declared that to be my shining trait, and why you fell in love with me."

She wouldn't meet his eyes, sliding past him until she opened the door again, one foot outside. "I have plans for a day out with the girls. You remember Thalia Blackthorn and Cecily Lightwood, don't you? You go on ahead and catch up on some sleep, darling. I'll be back before nine."

Will watched her walk to the sidewalk and hail a cab before, with a sudden wave of apathetic disinterest, he simply turned away.

The flat did not change much from when he left, but still it felt like an entirely different universe, an alien world. Will shuffled through the small rooms compacted with modern furniture and delicate wall coverings: paintings and curtains and the sort. He dragged his feet across the wooden floor until he collapsed into the loveseat that he and Jessamine had picked out together. It was stiff and uncomfortable, and Will wondered idly whether Jessie had sat there at least once.

His eyelids drooped low. He struggled to keep them open, to stay awake, but exhaustion was finally catching up to him. His focus was glued to the fireplace before the loveseat. Amongst the ashes were small white-grey dots standing out amongst a background of black. Will pulled himself up and half-crawled, half-tumbled the few feet to the fireplace, his fingers outstretched. They brushed soft piles of wood ash aside, revealing beneath it the source of the grey flecks scattered throughout the dark dirt: an envelope. The lettering on the front was faded, nearly completely smudged into nonsense, but nonetheless Will recognized his penmanship. He turned the letter over in a shaking palm, his vision blurring and his limbs slow and creaking, and ran his gaze along the still-sealed flap. Besides being only slightly charred, it was perfectly intact. The heading with his name at the top and the heading with Jessamine's in the center was enough for proof. His letters had never been opened nor read; they'd all been tossed aside.

Will flung it back into the fireplace without a single word, falling into the couch again. He allowed his eyes to close, greeting the comforting emptiness of slumber like an old friend.

He awoke to Jessamine's soft touch, her fingers combing through his hair absentmindedly. Will did not open his eyes, so he did not see her as confirmation that it was Jessamine, but the way that she cradled his face in her palm and the way that her warm breath whispered across his lips as she hummed to herself was as familiar to him as his own body. He reached out and pulled her into a kiss; her humming stopped as her lips clumsily tried to sync with his. After a moment, Will broke the kiss and sat up, opening his arms to her. She moved towards him and settled with her head just under his chin, her spine against his chest.

With a low, unintentional sigh, Will glanced at the fireplace and asked, "Did you get my letters?"

"Not a single one," Jessie answered, a little too quickly. "I was afraid you had died. You told me you would write me every day. I waited every day."

"Odd," he muttered, his heart sinking. "I did write you."

She repeated, "I was afraid you had died," and so Will repeated, "I'm here." But the words fell from his tongue automatically, and he couldn't help but wonder to himself whether he actually was here, beside his wife in the home they had found and purchased together - yet, if he was not, if his mind and soul were meandering through the desolate, dark streets of London in the hours of the moon's reign, then where precisely was he?

Jessie cleared her throat. "I have spectacular news. I spoke with Cecily's husband, Gabriel - you remember him, don't you? He's convinced his brother to give you your job back on account of how brave you were to enlist. Certainly everyone believes you a hero." She clapped her hands together giddily. "But, really, Will. Can you imagine that? You'll be selling chocolates again, and it'll be like you never left at all!" Will failed to stifle the grown of contempt gurgling at the base of his throat. Jessamine heard it, and she face him with plain irritation. "What? What is it? Are you not ecstatic? This is a miracle! Just the blessing we need."

"I don't know." He tried to lighten her mood with a smile and laughed gently. "I don't know. About chocolate. Or selling it. I am in debt to the Lightwoods for their kindness, but I don't... I don't want to return to that."

"Why wouldn't you?" There was accusation in her voice. "You told me once that you wished to see the world. Is this not the most perfect way to do exactly that?"

"The grandeur of the world isn't appealing unless you're with me," Will shot back.

At that, Jessamine rolled her eyes and sniffed. "Come now, William." She sounded as if she were speaking to a child. "You know how I despise traveling."

"Which is why I don't care for this nomadic chocolate business. I barely ever was able to see you, Jessie. I'd rather continue my studies at the university."

Once the word university rolled off his tongue, Jessamine's eyes narrowed with a vicious suspicion. "Will, you would find the place a horrid monstrosity. Full of beasts, it is. I would know, I attended for a year during your absence. Really, Will, I know you'd be happier selling those dainty little treats. I cannot imagine why you don't listen to me, I am your wife. Not to mention you make such a wonderful profit, too! We cannot live off of my family's fortune, you know. Simply improper. My father gave you his blessing expecting you capable of taking care of me. He said as much."

The more she spoke, her bottom lip jutting out profoundly in a forced pout that didn't earn Will's pity like it used to, the angrier he felt. He stared hard at his wife; never had Will felt more out of place than here in this moment with Jessamine, the person he had built his home and life upon. "Do you doubt me, Jessie?"

Ever so slightly, her eyes widened, realizing the horribly rude slip-up she'd made. But, proud little creature that she was, Jessamine made no attempt for reconciliation. "Will you take the job or not? Gideon expects you to go into the office tomorrow morning, if you were to accept his gracious offer."

Will rolled his eyes and turned away from her, burying his face back into the pillows, scoffing, "Yes, most gracious of him indeed." Jessamine's feet shuffled softly out the door once more, pricking his heart like needles. He fell asleep to the numb throbbing in his chest.