(Note: I seriously suggest listening to Iris by the Goo Goo dolls after the flash back if you want to have ze best possible reading experience ~max)
"We are all the pieces of what we remember.
We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us.
As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss."
Jem was standing, wandering through a dark fog. He was in London, no- Shanghai- Wales. He'd never been to Wales before, only imagined what it would be like for - what was his name?- growing up there. He must have had a name once.
He was in London. In the rain; a broad rimmed hat caught the droplets from catching his nose. She smiled at him.
? No.
Ice filled every orifice of his body. He could feel his toes beginning to turn to ice, his eyes freezing themselves to their lids.
He was barely aware of his brain, an ever malfunctioning typewriter, spitting out wrong words onto his mindscape.
Where was he ?
Suddenly the world became bright, but not warmer. Bright, glowing, and with the glowing a. . . memory.
The music had risen to a crescendo. He was breathing hard, sweat standing out on his forehead and collarbones despite the chill of the evening air. He heard the click of his bedroom door as it opened behind him and relief spilled through him, though he did not stop playing. "Will," he said, after a moment. "Will, is that you?"
There was only silence, uncharacteristic of Will. Perhaps Will was annoyed about something. Jem lowered his bow and turned, frowning. "Will —" he began.
But it wasn't Will at all. A girl stood hesitantly in the doorway of his room. A girl in a white nightgown with a dressing-gown thrown over it. Her gray eyes were pale in the moonlight, but calm, as if nothing about his appearance startled her. She was the warlock girl, he realized suddenly; the one Will had told him about earlier, but Will had not mentioned the quality of stillness about her that made Jem feel calm despite his longing for the drug, or the small smile on her lips that lit her face. She must have been there for quite a few moments, listening to him play: the evidence that she had enjoyed it was in her expression, in the dreamy tilt of her head.
"You're not Will," he said, and immediately realized that this was a terrifically stupid thing to say. As she began to smile, he felt an answering smile beginning on his own lips — for such a long time Will had always been the person he wanted most to see when he was like this, and now, for the first time, he found himself glad not to see his parabatai, but someone else instead.
Another.
"Why can't you sleep?"
Hesitancy.
"I have bad dreams."
"I was dreaming too," she said. "I dreamed about . . .y. . .our. . . mus. . .ic." ?
I dreamed about you too. I'm dreaming about you now.
Jem started from the fog; it was fading around him. Suddenly, through the cold, there appeared a speck of warmth, it started in his fingertips. It glowed, a low burn, and he felt, though now he knew his eyes were closed in sleep or, rather, unconsciousness, he could see the light it emitted. His body was ice, but his hand was being thawed. Someone was thawing-
His eyes opened slowly.
The eyes he loved most in the world stared down at him, grey and furiously worried.
He felt he had never been happier in his life.
He remembered.
"Are you saying he'll be alright?" Tessa demanded of the doctor for the 50th time. "He just passed out in front of me, I don't-" She cut off, her eyes darting to the bed, where the boy lay, unconscious.
"As I have now said several times," the doctor said, rubbing his bald head and looking rather grumpy. "Yes. He will be fine. We have his files on hand here and he will receive the best possible treatment." He gave Tessa a skeptical look. "And I must tell you that any non-family member is required to leave. These aren't visiting hours and he's a minor."
"I'm his sister," she said automatically, not pausing for thought.
The doctor, looked at her over his glasses, quirking a brow. "That right?" he asked, voice soaked in sarcasm.
"Of course," she said firmly, blinking at him, eyes hard.
"Impressive family resemblance."
"I'm adopted." Her eyes said 'fight me'.
The doctor's eyes roved to the boy and then to her. He let out a long sigh before throwing up his hands and walking out.
Tessa let out a breath.
She moved close to the bed, tugging the single waiting chair over beside it and sitting down. She looked down at him- the nameless boy. He was slender, his cheeks now intensely pale over his arched cheekbones, so thin you'd think him a boy not a man if you hadn't seen his face. His hair had startled him when she'd walked in the diner: pure white and downy. She couldn't imagine how he'd have it if he didn't dye it.
But these things weren't really on her mind now. She swallowed back a lump in her throat at the sight of him limp and slid one hand into his own freezing one.
She didn't know this boy. There was absolutely no reason she should care so much. Absolutely no reason she felt like crying. Absolutely no reason her hand was reaching out to stroke his face, as if- As if she could do anything-
His eyes opened. She almost screamed.
She pushed back the chair several inches with a loud squeal, covering her mouth with a hand.
"You're. . . awake," she breathed lamely.
He simply smiled, as if he had all the energy in the world, reached out a hand, cupped her cheek and murmured, "Ni hen piao liang."
She stared down at him, her lips parting slightly in confusion and a sort of awe. "I don't- I don't- How do I know what that means?" she asked, her voice small and insignificant.
"You know?" he asked, looking unsurprised, the same smile staying on his lips. That was not how he'd smiled at her in the diner. This was how- She almost blushed. This was how she'd written about being smiled at, never experienced it.
She stared in wonder. "'You are beautiful'," she said slowly, her voice beginning to shake. "How on earth do I know that? How the-" She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening in fear. "Who are you?"
She sat up quickly, his hand falling away from her cheek as the door slammed open and William Herondale pounded in.
Jem had had many serious attacks in Will's living memory, as ever since Will had known Jem he had had cancer. He couldn't remember Jem ever looking healthy, only occasionally a vague 'healthier' sense where his cheeks were less pale and even his hair seemed less dulled against his sallow skin. He wouldn't admit it but it hurt him. It hurt him more than words could say.
The hospital had tried to reach someone for Jem- probably searching his phone to find a mother, but Will knew they wouldn't find anyone but him. They'd called, asking if he were a relation, and he hadn't even waited to hear the rest of the sentence. He'd known what had happened.
Races to the hospital never felt fast enough; time seemed to slow just to keep Will from getting there in time. Because each time- Every time- he was terrified that he was not just racing the clock but Jem's heartbeats as well.
His head hurt as he flung himself off the bus and pounded down the sidewalk. He couldn't remember the last thing he'd said to Jem, he couldn't remember-
He threw open the hospital doors, and the world had become an old movie again. Cuts, breaks, in all the wrong places, and the time it took for the nurses heads to turn to him seemed frighteningly unproportionate from the roaring pounding of his racing heart. He heard himself ask the nurse for James Carstairs, or possibly an unidentified boy with white hair- Yes, he was his brother, he lied as usual. No, his parents weren't available. No, he couldn't fill out any damn paperwork could she leave him be his best friend could be dying! No, she couldn't, it was mandatory. Just give me the damn room number or I swear I'll find it myself-
A key, more stairs. He was sprinting now. Floor after floor and finally floor 5. Scanning the room numbers, door knob-
He thrust open the door, breathless. He was barely aware of someone else in the room as his eyes flew to Jem, seeing his open eyes and letting his heart rise back to it's usual place in his chest. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before his eyes caught on Miss Theresa Gray sitting in a chair directly besides Jem's bed.
Charlotte looked up from her large pile of papers with a sigh to retrieve the phone from where Henry had left it- the extremely convenient spot of between two sofa cushions. She picked it up, clicking the answer button with a slight sigh. It was a break of sorts, though a rather lame one.
"Hello, Branwell residence," she answered, her voice sounding at least friendly as she messed with her hair bun that was currently falling out. Her hand fell away from her hair as she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. "This is she," she said softly, face going cold.
She sat silent.
Finally: "I'll be right there."
Hey guys! So this chapter is a bit short but that's kind of by design. I'm kind of pleased with this. Okay, seriously, for those of you who leave guest comments I love you guys, I would insanely love to respond so I'll do it here and say: THANK YOU! :)) You guys are the absolute best for reading and supporting, it means a ton. Enjoy this chapter of LIT and keep reading!