Will showed up in the kitchen at six. Bridget eyed him up and down, assessing something. He stood stock still, brows raised.

"Should I strike a pose for you?" He asked innocently.

She ignored his remark and tossed him an apron. He raised his eyebrows at Sophie, but gamely tied it on. Sophie handed him a knife and a pile of potatoes, and sat him down at the kitchen table.

"Peel," she said. He had never peeled potatoes before, but he picked one up and started to slide off the skin. It was surprisingly therapeutic, even if the slimy feel of the naked potatoes was a little disconcerting. He slipped into a rhythm, just listening to Sophie and Bridget banter with each other. They moved with such ease, bumping hips and passing utensils. Bridget hummed and teased Sophie about Gideon. Sophie merely blushed and elbowed Bridget. When Will had finished the last potato, he sat back and soaked in the warmth and comfort of the kitchen. He fell into a daze - he was so tired. His eyelids felt heavy, and he fought to keep awake.

At last, Sophie scooped up his handiwork and tossed it into a pot on the stove, taking a seat across from him. Her face turned serious, and he felt dread coursing through him.

"She didn't eat again today," Sophie told him frankly, "She tried to tell me that she had eaten part of the bread, but I saw the birds eating it outside her window."

He put his head in his hands, "Did she sleep?"

Sophie shook her head, "She just sat by the fire all day. With his violin in her lap, too."

Bridget dried her hands on her apron, "Shameful, the waste of that instrument. I've never seen a better one."

Will nodded, recalling Jem's pride, and the way he had cared for the violin. His face always softened when he held it, just like it did when he looked at Tessa.

Jem and Tessa.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and looked up at Bridget thoughtfully.

"Do you play?"

She smiled, "Not in many years. My mam taught me when I was eight, but when I started working, I had to give it up. It's a lovely instrument, but makes a god awful racket when you practice."

Will smiled slightly. He had shut Jem in the furthest bedroom when he practiced, complained about it for hours. Sophie eyed him knowingly, and he scowled.

"Does she ever read?" Will asked, changing the subject. Sophie made a disbelieving face and shook her head.

"I don't believe she even really sees anything, I doubt she could make herself read."

Will sighed and pushed his chair back from the table.

"Try to make her eat something tonight, please?"

Sophie glared at him, "I always try. What do you want me to do, force the food down her throat?"

He considered this, "Would you?"

She smacked him on the arm and stalked out. He rolled his eyes skyward, resting his hands on the back of his chair.

Bridget chuckled, "You deserved that one, Master Will. You know as well as anyone that no one works harder than Sophie to care for Miss Tessa."

He harumphed, but had no viable reply to that. He leaned there for a moment, thinking.

"Do you remember anything of the violin, Bridget?"

She shrugged and began draining the potatoes, "I suppose I could pick it up soon enough. Why d'you ask?"

"I was wondering if it might do Tessa some good to do something with that wretched violin."

Bridget considered this, elbow deep in hot water, "That's an interesting idea. I think we might try it, and see how it goes. Shall I try to see her tomorrow?"

"Yes, please Bridget," He sighed and untied his apron, "I'd better dress for dinner. It does feel a bit ridiculous to after peeling my own potatoes, you know. Can I just go as I am?"

Bridget clucked, "No, indeed, Master Will. You'd insult my cooking by showing up your training clothes? I think not."

"Would you please not call me that? It feels quite odd. If you do, I shall have to call you Miss Bridget."

She sighed and shooed him out of her kitchen.

Presuming that Tessa's screams would keep him from sleep that night, Will found himself in the library after dinner. He sank into his favorite chair, resting his head on his arms and closing his eyes. His eyes were hot and heavy, so he shut them. The room was warm. He exhaled slowly.

It was a shock, therefore, when a hand shook him awake. He started, groaning and rubbing his eyes. He blinked sleepily up at Cecily, who looked vexed and concerned simultaneously.

"Why weren't you in your room? I've been looking for you for ages!" She snapped.

"I thought I'd never sleep, so I came here. Besides, you're not supposed to be in my room. And I'm always here. Why were you looking for me, anyway?"

She perched on the arm of his chair, "Charlotte told me you left the Institute at midnight last night. What were you doing?"

He eyed her dubiously, "Charlotte told you that?"

She shrugged, "I saw you coming back with her. She told me not to ask you about it, so here I am. Where did you go?"

He shut his eyes again, "Go away, Cecily."

"You went to the graveyard again, didn't you?"

He groaned, louder this time, "Go away. If I wanted to talk to you about it, I-"

A scream sounded, sharp and pained. Will broke off, wincing. Cecily was watching him, so he tried to relax his muscles. The second scream, however, ended in a gasp and a cry, and he couldn't help himself. In a moment, he was on his feet, pacing in front of the fire. Cecily pursed her lips.

"Are you alright, Will?"

He growled, "Cessy, I don't need this right now."

Another scream, and he was doubled over, trying to push away the pain. Cecily darted over to grip his arms, holding him steady.

"Will."

He didn't respond, breathing heavily.

"Will! William Herondale, look at me. Look at me." With an effort, he did, and she gripped his hair to hold him there, "You need to go to her."

"She doesn't want me. She needs Jem…"

She tried to argue, but he looked at her with such grief that she couldn't get the words out. She tried a different tack.

"To be quite honest, brother dearest, I couldn't care less if she wants you. You need her to stop howling, that's clear. So stop her."

He turned away, "I can't just-"

"You can and you must, Will."

"How?"

She floundered, and he took pity on his younger sister.

"All right, Cessy."

He walked to a bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines. They caught on a worn book with gold lettering. He tugged it free, facing his sister.

"I'll go, but you have to go to bed if I do."

She nodded, and wrapped him in a quick hug.

Thus, he found himself at Tessa's door, aching at every scream. He knocked softly, knowing that she wouldn't wake. At the next moan, he couldn't stop himself and slipped inside. She was tossing and so tied up in her bed linens that for a moment he thought she was strangling herself. In an instant, he was beside the bed and grabbing her hot wrists. She kept shaking her head, eyes closed.

"Tessa. Tess." He pulled on her wrists, but that didn't wake her from her drugged stupor. A sharp discomfort coursed through him - hells, what was he doing here late at night in her bedroom? He considered how best to proceed, eventually, instinctively, grasping her shoulders and shaking her. He realized that he had done this with Jem many times, when his feverish dreams had become too desperate. She startled, opening her eyes. For a moment, she just stared at him. As she regained her senses, she pulled away and leaned back against the headboard, breathing heavily.

"Will. You can't be here."

He knew that already, but ignored her, reaching for a candle and matches on her nightstand. She blinked at the bright light.

"What are you doing? Please, Will, just leave. I can't do this right now."

He sat on the chair beside her bed, opening his book and then looking at her, "I couldn't sleep."

"You can't just come here! Jem…"

He gripped the arms of the chair, "Jem. You know, that's the first thing I think of when your screams wake me. Jem. I get up. I start to go to his room, and then it hits me. Every time. Every single damned time."

She watched him in the shadowy light, unspeaking. He couldn't stand the silence, so he continued, "You haven't been reading."

She looked away, taking a long while to say, "No."

"I brought this." He held up the book helplessly, "Dickens. Great Expectations. I remember you said you liked it, that first night."

She didn't respond, just sat there with the light flickering over her.

Will looked down at the page and found he couldn't focus on the words. Tessa's covers rustled, and his eyes flicked toward her instantly. She pulled the blankets around her like a cloak, with only her head visible. He didn't smile, but his face relaxed. She yawned.

"You shouldn't be here." She murmured, but didn't tell him to leave.

He nodded, "I know."

He looked back down at the page, cleared his throat, and began to read.

Please review, (If you liked it and especially if you didn't).

...If you're out there.