Yes, yes, it's been a while. But here we go, next chapter! There should only be about three more, by the way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter: Will
Will looked at Jem for a moment before casting his eyes away, swearing vehemently in several languages. "James," he implored when he had finished, "Jem, I didn't mean to–"
"All I heard was that you wanted to celebrate her birthday. She didn't tell me about any kiss. Why would you– you know that I– that we–" His voice was choked with disbelief and distress.
"Jem," Will said again, the sound of the name dragging him back to reality. "I didn't mean– it was an accident, I swear it. I turned my head and she was there, and I lost myself for a minute…"
"William. I have seen you at your very worst. I have seen you stagger in at some ungodly hour of the morning, covered in blood but grinning, drugged up on victory. I have seen you barely able to stand, coming home after a few days, smelling of liquor and unshaven. I have walked in on you meeting with some nameless girl from the wrong part of London. I have seen you do terrible things, or just immoral things, but never did I think your degenerate state would directly affect me. I thought you cared enough about me to…" He looked down. Long silver lashes hid his eyes.
"You know I care about you, Jem… We're parabatai…"
"Will, parabatai means more than having my back in battle! It means we're brothers, and no brother short of Cain would do this to another."
Will's heart skipped a few painful beats. He shuddered, wondering if he was going to cry. It's true, it took a lot to pull tears from his eyes, but he hadn't seen Jem like this before. To compare them to Cain and Abel, to the man who had slain his brother out of jealousy… "I never…"
"You never think, that's the problem! You just go right ahead and do what you like without considering the consequences. You don't think about who you'll hurt. No one else expects that courtesy, but I at least thought you were slightly more human regarding me."
Now I'm not even human? Degenerate, murderous, not human? He should have been angry, and he would have been if it was anyone else, but coming from Jem, Jem, sweet, amiable Jem… He was hurting even more than he had all those times he had to clean the blood from Jem's face, all those times he heard the anguished coughing, all those times he lied to Charlotte about how Jem was feeling, all those times he thought he was going to lose the only person who could never hate him…
Not that the title applied to Jem anymore. Clearly Will had wounded him deeper than anyone else ever had, deeper than the death of his parents, deeper than impending death, deeper than the drug…
"I never thought you would hate me," Will whispered.
"You can't do things like this and expect it to be all right! I love her, Will. I try not to ask for much because you do so much for me anyway, when I'm ill, but this was the one thing I hoped you would grant me: the chance to fall in love with someone before I die. I thought I'd had it, and now… I haven't got another chance, you know. This was it, I'm not going to live long enough to–"
"Don't talk like that, Jem."
"Like what? How long do you think I have, Will?"
"A few years, at the least–"
"I haven't got six months." His voice was gentle when he said that, but got hard again as though he remembered the issue at hand. "So that's that."
"It was just a kiss," Will breathed, trying to convince himself more than anything. "Just a kiss."
"I know that. It's not… not what you did with her, it's the thought behind it. You were trying to make her happy, which I have no issue with, but then you looked at her and decided you were going to kiss her, even knowing how I feel."
"I told you it was an accident, I didn't plan it–"
"But you were only too pleased to continue, weren't you?"
"She kissed back," Will managed through a blocked throat. "Yes, I initiated it– accidentally– but she kissed back." He hated himself for throwing Belle under the bus, as it were, but he knew that what she said earlier was true; it wasn't about her, or Will. It was about Jem, and Will couldn't bear having Jem cross with him.
Jem pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, bowing over like a branch weighed down by snow. "Just let me talk to her. Please, I need to– to ask her."
"You don't believe me," Will said incredulously, standing up. "You don't believe me."
"I didn't say that. I just need to talk to Belle. Please, Will. I'm not too tired, I just have to see her." There was the faintest trace of a sob in his words, which broke Will's heart.
"I'll be back with her, I promise. Hold on, James. Wait for me." He wasn't sure why he was asking him to hold on, wasn't sure what he thought Jem would do all alone, but he felt it had to be said.
He hurried out of the room and rushed to Belle's room– empty. He ran downstairs and almost knocked over tiny Charlotte, just walking into the kitchen. "Is Jem–" she started to ask, but Will interrupted.
"He's fine, well, as fine as to be expected, but have you seen Belle?"
"She just left, actually. Mumbled something about meeting the Daylighter, I can't remember his name for the life of me. Did you need her?"
"Any idea when she'll be back?" he asked, ignoring her question because he couldn't bear to answer.
"None, but she was dressed like she would be out for a while. I don't know where she went, either, before you ask."
Will briefly considered going out to find her, but realized he couldn't. She could be anywhere, probably in some Downworlder haunt he wouldn't be permitted to enter, and he couldn't leave Jem for that long anyway. He stumbled upstairs dejectedly, wondering what he was going to tell Jem.
Chapter: Belle
"So I just had to get out of there and come talk to you," Belle finished. Riley had been strangely silent throughout her tale, and it occurred to her that he wouldn't want to hear about her kissing other boys. She forgot he had some feelings for her, same as Will did. Same as Jem.
Riley's face was stony, impassive, something Belle wasn't used to. She was used to his very expressive, animated face that always brightened when he saw her. Maybe I should have gone to Magnus or Gabriel… No, Magnus wouldn't understand and Gabriel hates Will. They wouldn't get it.
"Riley? Are you okay?" she asked tentatively.
"I guess I don't understand," he said after a bit more silence, "why you thought the best thing to do was leave."
She blinked in surprise. "Well, I certainly don't want to see Will, not for a while, not until he can apologize."
"From what I can tell, you didn't give him a chance to."
"He wasn't going to apologize, trust me. He called me a whore!"
"Frankly, he had every right to. You called him all sorts of names already, and you kissed him despite claiming to be in love with your Jem. Then you rush out to see me, you've already admitted to being involved with all the Lightwoods, and Magnus was the first one you ran to when Jem was ill."
"Magnus is a warlock, he was the only one who might be able to help Jem, the Lightwoods were ancient history by the time I met Jem, and I already told you I feel awful about Will!" she explained hurriedly, the wind scraping color into her cheeks and hiding her flush of embarrassment. "Don't berate me about this."
"You came to me for advice, I'm giving it."
"No, you're harassing me!"
"Belle!" he shouted, shocking her into silence. Riley had never raised his voice to her before, even when he probably should have. "You need to get in touch with reality, okay? You can't keep running!"
"I don't–"
"Yes, you do! It's in your blood, I suppose: your father ran from London when your mother died, and from America when something went wrong. You ran from Paris when he died, you ran to Magnus when Jem was ill despite the fact that you probably should have checked on him first, you run from Will whenever he upsets you, and now you're running again. You can't do this, just run away whenever something goes wrong!"
Belle reeled back as though she had been slapped. It had never felt like running away, it had always felt like running toward something. "I never meant to run away," she whispered.
"Don't give me that, you knew exactly what you were doing. If you feel so terrible about kissing Will, why aren't you in there apologizing?"
"It's his fault–"
"I didn't mean Will, I meant Jem. Don't you think he'll want to hear this from you?"
"He doesn't need to know."
"Yeah, because that's the way to go about things. Oh, no need to tell the man I love that I kissed his best friend, he probably won't ever find out. He'll at the very least know something's wrong, and suppose he finds out? You said Jessamine knew something was going on up there, suppose she tells him? What if Will lets it slip?"
"He won't," she said, but suddenly wasn't sure. Could he? He would have known she didn't say anything, right? Right?
"I can tell you don't know. Imagine Jem finding out you kissed Will, and maybe he wants to ask you about it, but you're not here. Why? You ran out when he was sick, for no reason but to get out of there. Do you understand how this looks?" He sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Your relationship has caused more problems than it's solved."
"Oh my God, what did I do?" she asked in realization, eyes wide and skin pale where it wasn't painted red from the wind.
"You've screwed up royally, and this time it's no one's fault but your own. You said it yourself, Will's amoral. As far as I'm concerned, Jem will be more upset by your betrayal than by Will's. Look at it from his point of view: the devilishly handsome libertine who always gets the girl and comes home drunk every other night, having a rendezvous on the roof with the girl who says she loves him, all while he's half-dead in his room below."
"He must hate me," Belle cried out, then clapped her hand to her mouth. She hated getting too upset in front of people, even Riley. Even when the situation was as potentially grave as this.
"He'd have every right to," he rumbled, sitting back and closing his eyes, folding his arms over his chest as though trying to fall asleep.
"There's just one more thing, then," she said, steeling herself to prevent the tears pricking her eyes from falling.
"Hm?"
"Why are you being so– so sharp with me? You're awfully bitter."
He sighed and sat up. His dark eyes met Belle's green ones. "I spoke to Magnus this morning because I haven't seen you in a bit and I was wondering how you are. You'll never guess what he told me." His voice was rough, with a hint of the drawling tone Will used that so annoyed Belle.
"Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, no, no, no, I told him not to tell anyone, he already told Will and now you…"
"I for one am glad he told me. What am I supposed to do without you?"
"Same as you did before me, I guess. I don't know. Meet people, find a nice girl who loves you, someone who won't go off and– and leave you…" She started to cry, not outright sobbing, just a few tears running down her cheeks as her breath shuddered. She wiped the tears away impatiently but saw Riley's eyes gleaming as well.
"Vampires aren't supposed to cry," she whispered.
"Faeries aren't supposed to die," he murmured back. "How long until– until it happens?"
"About a week. Oh, how can I last that long?"
"You want it to happen sooner?"
"No, but– but I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to see you sad, I don't want Will to be miserable, I don't want Jem to hurt anymore…"
He took a careful breath. "If you want me there when you… Well, I'll come if you want to."
She shook her head and curled up next to him on their shared park bench, patting his hand. "You can come to my funeral," she promised gently, and more than anything else, that was the saddest thing Riley had ever heard.
Chapter: Jem
Jem was in that halfway point between sleeping and waking when he saw someone strangely familiar. He knew her but he didn't… It was Belle, wasn't it? But she was wrong, she was too tall, too thin– she wasn't really so skeletal, was she?– her skin was too pale, her eyes were all black, without iris or pupil– but her eyes were green, weren't they? The color of spring grass– and she had wings, blue-green and silver, arcing out behind her, looking gauzy and delicate. That couldn't be right.
"James," she whispered. Yes, that was her voice, high and sweet. "James, please, if you're awake, say something. Please don't ignore me."
"I'm not," he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'm awake." He looked over and realized he had been half right; Belle was there, but suddenly much more normal looking. No wings, the proper height, brilliant emerald eyes… The only things that worried him were the color of her skin, whiter than usual, and the gauntness in her cheeks. Not skeletally thin, perhaps, but how long had it been since she had a proper meal?
"James…" Her voice was tight, was something wrong? Then it hit him: something was very wrong. Was she here to make amends? Explain? Make sure he was all right?
"My name is Jem," he corrected her softly. It was clear some terrible turmoil was pulling her apart.
"Jem," she said instead. "I am so, so sorry. There was– I had no right to do what I did."
"What you did?"
"I should probably explain first. Will–"
"Will already explained," he informed her. Her skin blanched further. "He was here earlier, but I… I'm afraid I was a bit harsh on him. I know it was an accident," he lied. In truth he did know it was an accident, but he had hardly forgiven either of them. He just hadn't the heart to say that, not when the poor girl already looked like she had been traumatized.
"Don't you lie to me, Jem Carstairs, you're still angry," she noted sadly. "And you have every right to be, but I want to tell you, please don't blame Will. It truly was an accident, it was not his fault. It might not have been mine either, but as I'm sure he told you, I kissed back. That is absolutely my fault, but I wasn't thinking– about anything– and I knew how he feels about me, so–"
"How– how does he feel about you?" He had suspected, of course, that Will was harboring feelings towards Belle (his Belle), but he didn't know she knew, too.
She glanced at her hands, twisting in her lap. "You know. He cares about me. I couldn't– I thought it kinder to just kiss him back, just once, then to deny him this just the week before–"
"Before what?"
"It doesn't matter," she brushed off, sounding horrified she had let something slip. It was clearly very personal, and he hadn't the inclination to pry. "But he is kind, somewhere deep down, so please don't be angry with him. We can't always control how we feel about others." She managed a watery smile, so he shot a tentative one back. Seeing him smile seemed to brighten her up considerably, which was relieving. No matter what, Jem hated to see Belle upset.
"It's all right," he said, and this time he meant it. He didn't have much of a temper, and he didn't like holding grudges. Just seeing how obviously heartbroken both of them were made him crumble. "As long as you don't…"
"Do it again? I wouldn't dream of it. Cross my heart." She relaxed visibly, though something in her eyes still made him hesitate. Was she all right?
"Are you all right, Belle?"
"Yes. Fine. Of course." Her clipped words were too obviously the hallmarks of a lie. She was almost certainly not all right, but she couldn't tell him. Why? Didn't she trust him? Perhaps she didn't want to worry him while he was ill. Kind of her, but somehow that didn't seem right. Maybe it was only he she wouldn't tell. Was she…?
"Are you pregnant?" he blurted out. She jumped in surprise, eyes wide.
"No! God, no! Why? Do I look like I am? Am I gaining weight?" She pressed her hands to her stomach and looked at it.
"No! You're already too thin, Belle. You need to eat more. No, it was just a– just a guess. I'm not very good at this deduction game." He gave her a wry smile before beckoning her closer. "C'mere."
She hesitated. "Are you sure you're…"
"Healthy enough? Yes, I'm fine. I just want to hold you." She crawled into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled her familiar scent of orange blossoms and sighed contentedly.
"Our children would have been beautiful, Jem," she murmured tiredly. It was late at night, but she had been out recently; he could smell the city on her. She had dark bruises under her eyes; how long had it been since she had slept?
"Of course they would have been," he said in a low, soothing voice, sliding down to curl up on his side, wrapped around Belle. It was sad to think they'd never share that, be able to have children together.
"You still have time. Your children could still be beautiful."
"Maybe," he said to humor her, to soothe himself as well as her, and he was so wrapped up in that thought he didn't notice that the last time, she didn't say 'our children'.