I'm really sorry this took so long to write and perfect. I haven't had inspiration and motivation in months, plus I've been super busy. I hope you like it anyway!
Shadowhunters and downworlders alike stand around the two parabatai, one of them dead, the other broken. Emma knows what it must look like, what they must have heard. She can't bring herself to care. Julian is gone.
She slowly becomes aware of Mark sobbing behind her, followed by the sound of Dru screaming. It's loud and hopeless and raw. She wishes she, herself, could let her pain out somehow, but she's frozen. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Ty on the ground, Kit hugging him tightly as they rock back and forth silently. Julian would be glad that they have each other. The thought burns in her chest.
Then she realizes that it's actually her parabatai rune that's burning, the source coming from its position on her upper arm, but she barely feels it. The physical pain means nothing to her, not compared to the pain of his loss. The odd thing is that she can still feel him, as if the rope that tethered them to each other hasn't yet been cut. She can still see the edges of Julian's rune, its form slowly fading from his body. She wants to reach out and trace it, one last time. But her hand doesn't seem to be responsive to her wishes. Or maybe she just can't stand the thought of touching him like she used to when the essence of what made him Julian is no longer there.
"Emma," a soft voice whispers as a hand rests on her shoulder. It's Cristina. Emma doesn't have to look up in order to know. It's the kind of wordless understanding that parabatai should share: not a psychic connection like she shared with Julian, but a gentle link between two people who care for each other deeply.
Emma wonders, not for the first time, what it would have been like if she had met Cristina earlier, if they had become parabatai instead. What would it have been like to love Julian openly? To kiss him and touch him without worrying about the consequences? It doesn't matter now. She'll never know.
An icy rage fills her body. This is not how their story ends, not with the simple, devastating blow of death, of a life cut too short and then wrapped neatly into a bow. She imagines going back to the institute, every square inch a memory of them together, the scent of him still lingering in the halls. She imagines walking along the beach where they made love for the first time, just two hearts learning that there was so much more between them than friendship. And just the thought of it, of living without him, steals the breath from her lungs. She understands now, what Julian had said after pulling her out of the water. His death should mean hers too, and she would be glad for it.
The unfairness of it all travels through her shocked veins, her blood a flowing river, Julian's a lake into which rivers empty. What she wouldn't give just to hold his hand in hers one more time. Or to hear his rare laughter spark a fire inside her chest. Or to kiss his warm lips with her own in a silent declaration. I'm here, her lips would say. Please don't go.
With this in mind, she leans over him, her body once again seeming to move without her volition, and plants a tender kiss on his parted, bloody lips. The skin there is already growing cold, not at all infused with the soul of the boy she loves. Loved. Or maybe she can still love him in the present while his life is in the past. Perhaps that is the root of grief: loving someone who can longer return that love, can no longer even receive it. A tear falls from her cheek onto his.
There's a feeling of weightlessness, as if she's floating above herself, no longer completely attached to the mortal realm. Memories, an onslaught of them, replay all at once as if she's watching a movie or in a dream. Jules chasing her on the beach while their parents laughed, sand swirling around them when she let him tackle her to the ground. Jules clinging to her the night that his mother passed away, rocking softly as his tears soaked her pajamas. Julian trailing his fingertips across her skin as they danced, the tenderness of his touch exciting her in ways she knew it shouldn't. Julian kissing her slowly as the morning light shone into her room, looking so beautiful that her heart contracted. Her whole life has been wrapped up in him. He is her life; to live without him is unfathomable.
Suddenly, she's thrust painfully back into her own body. There is a bright light behind her closed eyelids and a different, more pronounced sensation of weightlessness. She opens her eyes to find herself and Julian floating above the ground, surrounded by golden light. The light travels around them like a slow blowing tornado. She feels the burning sensation of her parabatai rune grow stronger and watches as Julian's rune glows, burning away his bloody shirt. She can feel her shirt burning away as well, the soft weight of the fabric drifting away until her skin is exposed to the increasingly heated air. A bright, golden light bursts from Julian and connects with her body.
For a moment, all she can see is that golden light as if it is shooting from her own eyes. Then, images flash before her eyes at a blinding speed. Some of them are from her life, from her childhood with her parents and her years spent with the Blackthorns. But there are others that she doesn't quite recognize, ones that she knows are not her own. Many of them have no meaning to her, though she can tell that each of them include two parabatai. Among them, there are flashes that seem familiar. There is a boy with jet black hair and crystal blue eyes dressed in old, strange clothing, Jem beside him laughing with such joy. Then there is a young boy with blonde hair in gear standing back to back with a boy who looks like a younger version of the boy she saw with Jem before. After that she sees Jace and Alec, facing each other in the light of the Parabatai ceremony. Then Simon holding a crying Clary into the night, both of them so young, no sign of runes on either of their bodies.
But she sees more than just flashes of the past. She sees visions of what she thinks is the future, things she's almost certain haven't happened yet. Dru holding her hand out to a fae boy, his ethereal green eyes full of pain and sadness. Simon and Isabelle in Alicante, dancing at the reception of their wedding, their smiles brighter than all the witchlight in the city. Clary, her bloody body on the ground, ashes all around her as Jace rocks her back and forth in his grief. A group of shadowhunters surrounding a grave, each of them dressed in white and whispering the final words of farewell: Ave Atque Vale. And finally, Emma herself, wielding Cortana on horseback across a battlefield, her runes glowing brilliantly.
All of it fades into a field of white as far as she can see. Her body falls lightly to the ground, though that, too, is white, unlike the green field she left behind. In front to her lies Julian, his body no longer covered in blood. She can almost pretend he's just sleeping. It's as if they've been transported, but to where she doesn't know.
"Purgatorium," a voice says behind her. She turns to see a young man with hair black as night, his eyes a crystalline blue. She recognizes him from one of her visions of parabatai, the one with Jem. This must be William Herondale. Or at least, something that looks like him, since she's pretty sure he died a long time ago.
"What?" she asks. Her mind is reeling, unable to hang onto anything solid.
"We are in a realm called Purgatorium," he says.
"You mean the place you go for judgement before being sent to either heaven or hell?" Emma questions, unable to wrap her brain around what is happening. Or perhaps this isn't happening. Perhaps this is her mind playing tricks on her as one last part of the parabatai curse.
The man chuckles and says, "Mundanes are strange creatures, are they not? They make up such intricate stories with only the barest of information. Though, I always did like Dante's writing. He was imaginative, I'll give him that." Emma shakes her head, not following. "Purgatory is just another realm, like Edom or Faerie. And no judgement comes to pass here. It is only a holding place."
"I've never heard of it before," Emma states. "It was never in any Shadowhunter texts or histories." The man shakes his head.
"This realm is not easily accessible, nor is it shown to those who wish to find it." The man's face lights up with a sly grin. "It is a realm between two planes of existence, between this life and what lies beyond. It is a place yet it is not. It is tangible only when it needs to be, floating in and out of existence itself." Emma takes a moment to let his words sink in.
"You're William Herondale, aren't you?" Emma asks the man, the question coming out of her without a thought. The man's blue eyes spark, and he smiles with only a touch of sadness.
"Yes, I am William Herondale," he admits. "But you may call me Will."
"You're Jem's parabatai," Emma states, not sure why she is continuing to make such obvious observations. Will smiles again, his hand reaching to cover his faded parabatai rune. The movement seems involuntary, as if just the mention of Jem's name could make him feel the presence of his friend.
"Yes, but that is not important now," Will tells her. "You are here to make a decision."
"A decision?"
"Yes, Emma Carstairs," he states. "A decision for you and your beloved."
Just as she's about to ask him what the hell he's talking about and how the hell he knows her name, she feels a familiar tug in her chest. She turns around to see Julian gazing at her from the ground, his countenance a mask of confusion and delight. Before she can even think or begin to comprehend what is happening, she rushes to him and crushes him in a hug. His arms go around her immediately, his face buried in her neck. She had thought she would never feel this again, and the elation of it all almost overwhelms her.
"Em," he breathes into her skin, and she shivers at the raw love in his voice.
"Julian," she manages to choke out, feeling tears of joy building up behind her eyes. The scent of cloves and soap floods her senses, and she feels him shudder against her. She pulls back enough to look into his eyes, his beautiful, expressive eyes she thought she'd never see again. Julian holds her, one hand pressed to her cheek, the other on her back keeping her tightly against him. In his eyes she sees his disbelief and his amazement.
"Emma, my angel." She whimpers, turning her head into his hand to press her lips to his skin. "This is the most perfect heaven I could imagine," he whispers, his voice full of wonder. But she shakes her head, willing him to understand.
"You're not in heaven, Jules," she tells him. "You're not dead." His eyes widen at that.
"Really?" he whispers, the word containing both sadness and hope. "It's truly you, Emma?"
"Yes," she assures him. "It's me. It's really me." And with that, Emma pulls him toward her and plants her lips firmly on his. Her hands grip him tightly as he lets out strangled sound between a moan and a sigh. They break apart to gaze into each other's eyes once more. She needs to make sure that this is really happening, that he is really here. Julian's expression tells her that he feels the same.
"I can see why you were sent here," Willam states. She had almost forgotten his presence. When she looks back at him, she finds him watching them with a wistful, almost pained expression. "I had a both a parabatai and a love once. Though they were separate people."
"How fortunate for you," Emma mumbles.
"Yes, I was very fortunate in life and in love," William admits in a distant tone. "But before I found happiness, I too faced a devastating curse, though mine was purely fictitious." Emma doesn't have time to ask him about this before he continues. "Yours, I'm afraid, is very much real. You are here to be tested. If you pass, you will be able to return to the mortal realm with your curse lifted."
"And if we fail?" Julian asks, his eyes hard and questioning.
"You will face a fate worse than anything you can imagine," Will says, his expression suddenly very serious. "You will be separated for all eternity. Your souls, which are now intertwined, will break apart, leaving you irrevocably broken." Emma feels Julian swallow. But she can also feel his heart beating, the sound music to her ears.
"We will not fail," she states, leaving no room for doubt as they gaze into each other's eyes. The sea green tint of his irises is more familiar to her than her own reflection, and somehow she's not afraid of this test. She doubts that she'll ever be afraid of anything as long as Julian is by her side, as long as she can hear his heart beating, as long as he still draws breath.
"Then come," William says, holding his hands out to them. They both stand up, Julian taking the man's left hand as Emma taking his right. "What you are both about to experience will be hard to believe. So let me take this opportunity to assure you: everything that happens in this realm is real. Time may not pass in the mortal realm, and the things you see may not seem possible, but believe me when I say that they are." At this, Emma feels a jolt shoot through the arm connected to Will's hand. She blinks and when she opens her eyes, an impossible wonder stands in front of her.
"Mom? Dad?" she asks, gazing at the smiling faces of her parents. For few seconds, she just stands there, unable to fathom it. But then she remembers Will's words. She remembers that this place exists between realms, between the living and the dead. Emma rushes to her parents, hugging them tightly as she feels their warmth radiate through her body. Her mother smells just like she did in Emma's memory, a combination of sunshine and flowers. Her father's laugh sings in her ears. After a moment, she steps back, looking her parents in their faces, trying to memorize every detail. Time had taken away parts of them, parts she thought she could never get back.
It's like recalling the right answer on a test, or recognizing a voice in a crowd. The layers of them that she could not remember a moment ago now seem ingrained in her mind: the golden bridge of freckles across her father's nose, the slight angle of her mother's brow. Details that she had taken for granted when she had seen them everyday, without fail. Now, she cannot look away, trying to commit each piece of them to memory, as if to make up for not doing it before.
"Oh Emma," her mother sighs, petting her daughter's hair affectionately. Did she always have those crinkles in the corners of her eyes? In her mind, Emma only ever saw the piercing blend of intelligence and kindness in them. "You're beautiful." Emma's heart is bursting, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. How many times has she dreamt of a moment like this? Too many to count. And now here it is, her dream come true, and she can't even find her voice, can't will herself to speak.
"Yes, you've grown into a wonderful young woman," her father agrees, taking her hand in his. His fingers are soft and calloused at the same time, the hands of both a warrior and a musician. It oddly reminds her of Julian, the way his hands are hard from his bow yet smooth from his paintbrush.
"I can't believe you're really here," Emma whispers, her throat tight.
"We're here to ask you to come with us," her mother says, smiling at her father softly before turning to Emma. "We can be a family again, if that is what you wish." As soon as her mother says the words, Emma can imagine it, the happiness, the joy. She'll never have to be without them again. No more missing them, no more revenge, no more grief. All she has to do is say yes. And she almost does. But then she realizes what they are asking. She would never be able to return to the mortal realm, where her life is. She would never again see Cristina or Mark or Diana or Dru. She would never see…
"Julian," she says, his name escaping her in a breath. She knows, with a fierce certainty, that she can never live without him, for she has tasted the emptiness of a world void of his presence, and it was bitter on her tongue. His death, however brief it was, caused a death within Emma herself. "I can't go with you. I'm sorry." She looks up at her parents, expecting to see sadness or disappointment. Here she is, years after their deaths, choosing the illegal love of her parabatai over reuniting with her family. Instead, both of their smiles grow even wider.
"We're so proud, Emma," her father tells her. Her mother nods in agreement, tears in her eyes. "We could not have asked for a more amazing daughter."
"We love you, honey," her mother assures her. "And we'll always be with you."
"I love you, too," she responds. Her parents turn as if to walk away and are enveloped in a light as bright as the sun until Emma can no longer see them.
"You passed," says William's voice behind her. She turns toward him, expecting to perhaps see Julian.
When she doesn't see him, she asks, "Where's Jules?"
"Your parabatai is still deciding between death and life," Will responds. "I believe the choice weighs heavily on him, as he has lost much in the mortal realm."
"So this was the test?" she asks. "We have to choose life over death?"
"Yes and no," Will says. "You must choose each other, and to do that, you must choose life." Will smiles at the thought of something. "Some might say that it is an easy choice, life or death. It is anything but. Life is hard and cruel and full of regret and grief. Death is simpler."
"Life may be complicated, but it's worth it," Emma tells him.
"Yes, it is," Will replies, a genuine smile on his face. Just at that moment, Julian appears in front of them. He blinks a few times, his eyes watery and red. Emma knows what he must have just seen, and she goes over to him hugging him tightly.
"You have passed the test," Will tells them. "You are now free to return to the mortal realm, where you will find that your parabatai runes no longer hold their power. You will be bonded still, but not by parabatai magic." Emma turns to him, catching the hitch in his voice.
"Is there anything you would like me to tell Jem?" Emma asks. "Or Tessa?" Will smiles in that sad, wistful way he does.
"Tell them that I am glad for them, glad that they have found happiness even in my absence. And tell them that I return their missing tenfold, that I am waiting for them."
"I will relay your message, Will," Emma assures him. "Thank you." Julian presses Emma into his side, kissing the top of her head.
"Oh, and one more thing," Will says. "There is a great darkness ahead. The future of the mortal world hangs in the balance, and you, Emma Carstairs, are to be at the center of it."
"What does that even mean?" Emma asks. But he just shakes his head.
"I told you, life is full of hardship." And with that, the blinding light takes over them once again.
Emma opens her eyes to a familiar, muddy battlefield and the gut wrenching sight of Julian's too-still body. She thinks for a moment that it was all a dream or hallucination. Then his chest rises, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. She smells something burning, and looks around to find a circle of shadowhunters and Downworlders all looking at Julian and herself in wonder. Cristina rushes over to her, her face matted with tears and rain. Mark rushes over to Emma's right. She senses, rather than sees, Julian move beside her. So she turns to him, to those beautiful sea green eyes of his, and catches him staring at her, the same look of wonder on his face.
"You brought me back," he whispers. And she doesn't know if it was her or some divine power, or something even further beyond her control, but she doesn't really care at the moment. Because she's looking at his bare chest, seeing the golden imprint of a fading rune, realizing that her own parabatai rune does not ache and burn the way it did before. He catches her looking and shifts his eyes there as well. "It's gone."
"What's gone?" Emma hears Cristina asks from behind her. Emma holds Julian's gaze, her hope and joy and surprise mirrored in his countenance.
"The parabatai rune, the curse," Emma tells her. "We're free." The last words come out as a whisper, barely audible, but recognition flickers in Julian's eyes, and she knows that he understands. No more hiding or running or pretending. They are free to be together, to be in love, openly. No one will get hurt or break the law or go insane.
She watches as he slowly rises, Mark helping him. Then she watches as he takes in the world around him, around them. A new world, now, one full of possibility, and love, and maybe a little hardship. He squints for a moment, scanning the crowd and cocking his head, as if contemplating something. Then, he nods, as if he's come to a decision. He takes a step towards Emma, who still sits on the muddy ground. Then he reaches his hand out to her. An offering, a gift, a promise.
"Then let us be free together," he says, in that low, deep voice he only uses with her. She doesn't hesitate. She puts her hand in his and lets him help her to her feet. There are so many things she wants to say to him, so many memories she wants to make. But right now, she just takes her free hand and caresses his cheek, watching as he relaxes into the touch immediately.
"Nothing will ever part us again," Emma tells him. Then he crashes against her, his body meeting her hers at the same time as his lips. She kisses him with all of her pain and strength and hope. She doesn't care that there are eyes everywhere, watching them. For the first time, she doesn't have to worry about it. After the sudden passion of the kiss slows, she grins into his lips.
"I love you," she whispers against his mouth. She feels his lips smile against her own, and his joyous laugh vibrates through their intertwined bodies.
"I love you, too," he responds. And it's not the first time he's said it to her, not the first time he's meant it this way, but it's different now. Because the words aren't said in desperation or longing or pain. Not whispered between sheets or hidden behind closed doors. The words are now a declaration. They are a promise. One she intends on holding him to. Forever.