PART III: Death's Door

Chapter 2

Jem dreams –

Together, the two dark-haired men took a step into the night.

Wind howls through the trees, whistling as it passes through the branches and leaves. So loud is the sound that all other noise was drowned out. The wind blows Jem's hair wildly around his head, making it hard to see what is in front of his very face. But that hardly matters. Jem does not need to see what is before him, that is not what drives him forward.

They walk and walk, for what seems like hours and days and years. Time has no meaning in the deep wood. There is no need to eat or drink or sleep. They do not stop, there is no reason.

As his hair whips around his eyes, Jem notices it is pure inky black. He feels strong, stronger than he can ever recall being, as if he had never been ill at all. It is heady, to think that the demon drugs had never run through these veins. Glancing to his right, Dream-Jem sees Will, steadfast as ever, charging forward next to him, just where he always is. Will, too, is not as he should be. The lines on his face are too smooth, his eyes carry no hurt, he seems untouched by the world.

After what seems like both seconds and centuries, the atmosphere and landscape around the two dream-men starts to change. The forest begins to lighten, the darkness receding slowly, starting to clear. But it does not look like a normal sunrise, how a new day usually begins. The sun is not coming from one horizon, lighting the sky gradually. Instead the whole world seems to be growing less dark, all at once.

The lantern no longer needed, Jem lowers it, so that there is no longer anything between himself and Will. He can see farther now, deeper into the jumbled and confusing places in front of them. The path is still unclear and the trees thick.

With the dim light passing through, the forest seems as if it is one large beast. Each tree and branch and leaf is connected and part of one great monstrosity. A giant lattice of shadows that hovers over the men, stalking, waiting for the moment to be right. Even as the air turns brighter, it only deepens the contrast, making the woods more foreboding.

"Are we nearly at the end?" Will practically yells to be heard over the wind.

Jem looks around at the trees, which are still dense and everywhere, and considers this change of illumination. Hollering to be audible through the noise he answers, "It is hard to say."

The Will in the dream just nods, taking Jem at his word, not questioning more. But something is clearly still on his mind because after just a moment he asks something else, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" Jem is not sure he heard correctly.

"Coming back to help me?" Will clarifies.

Around them, the trees are shaking and quivering in their places, everything is moving and nothing is safe. The dark shadows threaten to consume everything around them. But Jem is only looking at the man next to him, "I promised," Jem reminds him.

But Will is giving him a strange expression. As if trying to make sense, he repeats, "I promised."

Jem opened his eyes to the dull black and darkness of his cavern rooms. Instinctively, he raised his hand, but found no lantern there. Jem shivered. His arms ached, he felt as if he had been running for miles and miles only to have collapsed back to the beginning of the day.

Jem breathed in the dry cold of the Silent City caverns. Had the whole thing been a dream?

Reaching over to his small bookshelf, he blindly reached for the witchlight lamp perched there. He was the only Brother to have a witchlight in his room, the only brother who needed one, just another thing that made him undoubtedly different. His fingers skimmed the darkness, but nothing was there.

Panic flooded James as he pawed his face, searching for thread and puckered skin. Jem breathed out loudly, the sound echoing dimly against the walls. Nothing, Jem thought, nothing but skin and eyelash, breathing deeply, allowing himself to relax. He must have moved the lamp in the middle of the night and had forgotten to place it back in its proper place.

Jem went to throw off his sheets but could not. Something heavy was weighing them down. Jem, thinking it might be his lost lantern, reached out when the distinctive pale glow of a witchlight assaulted his senses, illuminating the grey-blue eyes of an exhausted Will Herondale.

Will was seated next to the bed, on one of the utilitarian wood and metal chairs that usually stayed by his door. Will looked dirty, his hair matted - how long had he been there?

They stared at each other, Jem feeling caught by the light, unable to move or speak. Jem did not know what to say, even if he could. Will was not allowed into his rooms. He didn't even think that Will knew were the Brother's personal rooms were. He swallowed, reaching with his already outstretched hand to cup the side of his parabatai's face. The movement pulled painfully at his chest - had he been injured?

His thumb had only a second to feel the sheet-creased skin before Will turned into his palm, nuzzling it, making a sound that he had never heard from Will. It was almost a cry, but softer, more hopeful, and thankful? Jem shifted along the bed, bringing Will's head to his lap, stroking his hair as Will drew comfort from his presence.

Jem didn't want to disturb the moment, but he had to know. "Are we still dreaming?"

"I think I might be," Will said softly, his voice barely audible. "Are you really awake? Are you really here with me?"

Jem did not know how to answer a question such as that. How did one know if they were really awake? How could he tell if this was still the same dream he found himself in before, or reality? It seemed an impossible question. So instead he ran the pad of his thumb over Will's cheekbones, angles rising out of his face, casting shadows onto the planes of his complexion. They were prominent under Jem's finger, sharp and pronounced. That meant Will had been losing weight, not eating, as he often did when he got caught up in a problem.

By the third pass of his thumb, Jem had lulled himself into a sort of calm. He answered Will's second question, because it seemed the most obvious and required the least thought, which was to say: none at all. "I am always here with you." He murmured what he knew beyond a doubt.

"You had me scared," Will whispered, turning his face into Jem's open palm and placing a delicate kiss on the callused lines of Jem's hand.

Jem focused on the man by the side of his bed, or at least tried to. His eyes were still a bit blurry, full of sleep and the haze that came from waking up from a long slumber. But all Jem wanted to see was Will's eyes.

And what eyes they were. Looking up at him with what could only be described as care. Care and joy. Unadulterated happiness to be meeting with Jem's own tired pair. For just a moment, Jem let himself get lost in the deep blue, which hid so much behind them and had such depth, like the seas that shared the same shade. Each fleck of grey rode through, like the foam atop waves, brightening the area and illuminating Will's face with a sense of danger.

Jem blinked twice, slowly, taking his eyes off of Will's and looking finally at his brother as a whole. He could feel the shock show on his face, seeing what he saw. Will was a mess. His clothing was rumpled and dirty, looking like he had slept in them for days. Will's hair was all askew, pointing wildly in every which direction.

What was worse was that Will was positively covered in blood and ichor. It was in his hair and on his collar and covering his rolled up sleeves. The man looked as if he had been through one hell of a battle. Scarlet flecked nearly every inch of him.

"Are you hurt?" Jem asked, searching Will for a tell-tale injury.

Will's eyes darkened a full shade, the oceans of his orbs now in the midst of a storm. "It's not my blood," Will said carefully.

Jem stared at Will, trying to understand. Surely someone who had lost that much blood had to be on death's doorstep. "Whose is it?" Jem asked

"Yours." Will said just one word.

This made sense. Of course it was his. It did explain a lot. When else did he ever get to wake up with Will by his side but when he was dying? And now that it was happening again, Jem thought he might as well take this very last chance he would ever have. Slowly, he leaned forward, tilted his head in and pressed his lips against Will's own.

He could feel Will inhale sharply, clearly not expecting the action. But Jem did not move himself farther from Will; he did the opposite, increasing the pressure between them. If this was it for him, if this was the end, he would allow himself to be this forward.

For a moment, Will did not respond. But then he softened under Jem, opening his mouth ever so slightly, kissing Jem back.

It was not the most pleasant kiss. Will's mouth tasted stale against his tongue, but it did not matter. None of it mattered as Jem gripped Will's shoulders, pulling him up onto the bed. Jem just wanted Will close, wanted to feel their hearts beating together one last time. If this was to be the end, Jem thought, he deserved this one thing.

Will did not need the motivation. As if sensing Jem's thoughts, Will's movements, moments ago so careful and gentle, became desperate. He took over the kiss, pressing his advantage, climbing onto the bed, his body imploring Jem's back onto his sheets. Will's lips and tongue teased over Jem's own, claiming his mouth. Every lick, every nip of teeth against his sensitive lips was cruel, drawing out all of Jem's carefully concealed need in the form of gasps, moans, and thrusts.

"Perhaps this is a dream," Will gasped, his hips lining up with Jem's. "I have dreamed of this many times." Jem's eyes locked onto Will's own, a vibrant electric blue in the witchlight, as hard member met hard member between layers of fabric. Jem's eyes closed tight and his gasps turned into to a needy whines as Will moved against him.

Will's lips found the sensitive dip of Jem's throat. "I don't care about the Silent Brothers." Will almost sounded angry to Jem's ears, his words punctuated with bruising bites along his collarbone. "I don't care about the Nephilim or the Law." The sudden sharp pressure of Will's teeth along his clavicle drew out a scream from Jem. One hand grasped for purchase of the sheets and the other tightened his grasp on William's dark curls. Jem felt as if he was in the middle of a storm, though he could not remember the course that brought him here. He only knew that now he would rise to meet it, damn the consequences, and face the aftermath with his brother. James held Will in place as he licked apologetically at the mark, loosening his grip to run his fingers through the twists and turns of William's hair.

Will growled, rising up until their faces were flush together, their lips meeting at the smallest points, sharing breath. "I don't care about mundane values of propriety." Will's lips moved Jem's in a shadow of a kiss. "Jem." Cold air ignited his nerves as Will pulled away to look into Jem's eyes. "I talked to Tess about this, about... I want you to know, I'm not being unfaithful, I would never..."

Jem smiled, tugging gently on Will's hair. "As if I would let you. We talked of it as well, last month, on the bridge..." Will didn't let him finish. He leaned back in plundering Jem's mouth with his own, thrusting against Jem with renewed vigor.

"By the Angel, I love that woman."

Jem chuckled. "I know."

They were like that for a while. Bodies twisting against each other, learning each other in new ways. Fabric giving way to wandering hands, fingers tracing scars along the long planes of their bodies. Will's callused thumb rested at the junction of Jem's belt and abdomen. His light touch, silently asking for permission, sent waves of fire burning a path through Jem's body.

Will's nose brushed playfully against his own and his hips stilled. "James Carstairs," Will whispered, smiling as if it was the important thing in the world, "Angel knows but, I don't want there to be any doubt in your heart." He licked his lips. Jem wanted to reach out, draw him back into their kiss; or respond in kind, but he knew Will. Will had to say it out loud, as if decades of actions, and trust, and touch weren't clear enough. It was important, to the man, to share. Sharing his love, his heart, Jem knew it to be Will's most precious gift. In the past, he always poured everything he had into Jem, but they still rarely said - "I love you."