Collapsing into a wobbly kitchen chair, Jem exhaled loudly. He caught a glimpse of the microwave clock from where he sat: 10:42. Not so incredibly late and yet after speaking with Tessa his chest felt so much heavier. By not telling her where they really stood- though he did feel he'd at least hinted at the idea that they might've been more than simply friends- he'd kept the burden of who he really was completely on his shoulders, while risking infuriating her through curiosity. Keeping this from her, knowing she had no idea and therefore could not be culpable for whatever she might do or whatever she might feel for someone else. . .

He'd already been worrying about it. He had noticed the abnormal strain of anxiety in himself at the occasional sighting of her in the school halls with Gabriel Lightwood, who he now knew was the 'sarcastic idiot' she'd been waiting for in the diner on the fateful day she'd met him instead. Knowing that she'd had no idea what the words he'd just spoken to her meant, but trusted him implicitly nonetheless was as comforting as it was disconcerting. He couldn't help but glance at her collarbone at every meeting to see if the familiar pendant he'd given in another life but to the same Tessa might be suddenly hanging around her neck. It never was. But what could he do, realistically? She had little more than an inkling of just how strange their situation was, had no idea kindness she'd just received from what she must consider an acquaintance, letting her stay in his room, lending her a shirt, was really from a fiance who would gladly give her anything and everything he owned.

He could only think of one thing he really could do and that was to get them out of this paradox or whatever it might be- Jem couldn't remember the why or the when involved in how they'd landed in a time over a hundred years in the future. It was unnerving to see, though he saw the knowledge of some sort of wrongness reflected in Will's eyes often, that he really was the only one who knew exactly who they were.

He sighed and plucked his iPhone awkwardly from his pocket. It felt foreign in his grip as his gawky hands, feeling abnormally large and unskilled, plugged in the necessary numbers.

He held it to his ear and waited; the dial tone puncturing the loud silence of the house.

There was a click, then a moment of silence. Jem waited.

"James Carstairs," a voice drawled finally. "I have to say I was expecting your call a bit sooner."

"Magnus. How did you know it was me?" Jem asked surprised.

"Well, it was either going to be you or Will, and he wouldn't have waited politely for my response before demanding what he wanted from me. I know that from experience," he replied wryly.

"So you know why I'm calling then," Jem said, leaning back in his chair, glancing out the window at the lamp lit street, the knot in his chest releasing slightly.

"I do," replied Magnus promptly. "Though I'm surprised it took you this long. I would've assumed knowing exactly how far away from home you all are and how much you stand to lose if by chance you don't get back-" he heard a hint of warning in Magnus's dry tone now "you would have been particularly anxious to find out exactly what you all are doing here."

Jem sat up straighter. "I am," he said fervently. "And the time I haven't spend calling you I've spent thinking. And though I don't enjoy having to ask for favors, I will."

"See this is why the difference between you and a Herondale is so obvious," Magnus quipped, amused. "How polite a request."

Jem ignored this and let out a breath. "I don't remember how we got here, you're right. But every other memory- of Will, Tessa, the Institute, all of it- I remember. You know that."

He took the silence on the other end of the line for affirmation and continued.

"This is dark magic, I can feel it. We need to go back, but that's never going to happen if Will won't come." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his brow furrow. "If you say going to New York will get us home, I believe you. But we need Will."

Silence. Then: "What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to get Will, or find out why it is he won't come. I can see in his eyes- It's so strange because- He knows. He knows none of this is real and yet he won't do anything to change it, which is not like Will. Something's holding him back, I just wish I knew-"

A cold laugh. "Even in this timeline you miss the key that's dangling right in front of your face. I had thought you might understand your own parabatai better here given how blatantly obvious it is-" Jem felt obliged to feel insulted due to the tone in Magnus' voice. "-but I can see you're never going to see the point so I'll give it."

Jem sat in bewilderment while Magnus paused, clearly for affect.

"James, have you considered that it might not be a something but more of a someone?"

Jem leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what you mean," he said blankly.

Magnus laughed mirthlessly. "It's funny. You called for my help, but you don't even know why you need me." A pause. "But I'll do it. In this one area, I feel I am more the Will Herondale expert than you, Shadowhunter."

And Jem hung up, feeling that the knots in his chest had not subsided: they had multiplied.

"I don't need to do this," Will refuted angrily for what felt like the thousandth time. He could tell by the expression on Linette Herondale's face that she felt the same way.

"William, we are not discussing this," she replied firmly, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. "If you won't talk to me, you're going to talk to them. I'm not letting you keep this inside."

It was early afternoon the day after his horrible encounter with Tessa in the hospital and Mrs. Herondale had clearly decided drastic action was needed to deal with her son. Will had come home, drenched to the skin from a late night downpour he had run into milling about the streets alone, to his mother, sitting at the dining table with a fighting look on her face. He had now said so many vehement no's to her plan that he felt like a record caught on repeat. And yet here he was.

"Mam," he said through gritted teeth, forcing his frustration down. "Don't pretend to understand. I don't need to talk to anyone. Please, just trust me."

They had pulled up. His mother pulled the parking break up rather aggressively. "I made the mistake of letting it slide with your father, Will. I'm not letting what happened to him happen to my only son." She turned to give him a look he was sure would be pleading, but he turned away quickly.

Will bit back a bitter retort at these words and stared vaguely out the window at the dull building in front of them. The sign was clearly weather worn, the words "Ivygrove Psychiatric Center" barely legible in what must have once been stark black lettering. He stared at the muted grey office, feeling numb of all emotion.

"William?" Linette posed the question hesitantly from next to him.

Without waiting for another word or giving a response Will threw open the door and strode across the parking lot, shutting it behind him. If he was going to walk into a psychiatric ward to admit he was deranged to a stranger (which he still had not decided to do) he would not be bringing his mother with him. He didn't want her to see any more of this than she had to.

He swallowed back bile as he pushed open the doors to the sounds of a dead waiting room. It was painted a bright, supposedly meant to be cheery, orange that looked a bit like spit up and no music played, the dominating sound the clearly gossipping receptionist at the front. A large, smiling cardboard sun hung from above the reception desk. The patients in the waiting area were abnormally quiet. A chill ran down his spine.

"-yes, that's exactly what I said and she was so in love with him you wouldn't believe-"

He heard soft crying from the corner of the seating area and a loud shush. His eyes caught onto a girl, presumably the source, in a faded sweatsuit, using her oversized sleeves to dab at her swollen eyes.

Feeling utterly out of place, his legs abnormally long, his hands at a loss with what to do with themselves, he took a seat on the far left of the room, trying not to look around him. He thought for a moment his chest physically hurt, but he knew that couldn't be. He hadn't wanted to really give the question of his sanity any thought, but now, sitting in a psychiatrist's office, it was hard to ignore. The sound of the sniffs from the girl seats away from him felt like distinct, painful jabs. Was this insanity? His mind flicked back through the past few weeks, lingering on the sensation of perfect understanding he'd felt at first seeing Tessa's face. Will flinched. And yet she didn't know him. She didn't know him. He must be insane for the amount of miscalculations he was making, the things he was doing to his family. The worst of it was (and he swallowed hard as, without permission, his mind admitted it to himself) the person of Will everyone in his life seemed to think they knew, his mother, Cecily, Tatiana, even at some points Jem, he felt as if he had never met in his life. Never, in all of his discussions of their past he was subjected to by Tatiana did he feel as though the description of his past words, doings, fit who he felt he was. But who did he feel he was? A brief image of sitting on the edge of a hospital cot, candle light burning low as it illuminated the drowsy face of a smiling Tessa Gray flickered through his mind. It was as though a fist fight was taking place inside of him, and, deep down, the real William Herondale was losing.

"William Herondale?"

A punch to the gut. He stood automatically.

The gossiping receptionist was standing, having gotten off the phone, giving him an odd pitying smile. He wondered what his face looked like. . .

She gestured to the doorway on her right, leading out of the waiting area. "Third door on your right," she said in a kind tone.

He simply nodded and strode through the doorway. Staring at the blank yellow hallway gave him time to think. What was he going to say to this person? The truth? He paused for a moment at the entrance to Door 3. A part of him felt sick with guilt. His mother wanted him to talk to this person, to get the help she knew he needed because he was sick- no matter how wrong it felt to think it, he knew it was a logical explanation. If the whole world thought Will was sick, mistaken and wrong, who was he to say that he was the sole voice of reason? It was much more logical, in a way much easier, to simply give in and believe that he was just wrong, and let them fix him. . .

He had not finished his mental battle when the door flew open, his hand still a few inches from the knob.

"Were you planning on coming in or was I going to wait forever? I have other patients, you know."

Will blinked.

"What-"

He was dragged inside the room by the front of his shirt.

Extremely familiar narrow almond shaped eyes gleamed out at him. The pseudo doctor smiled.

Will pulled himself out of Magnus Bane's grip, annoyed. He stepped backwards into the wall. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What a hello," Magnus tisked, looking smug. Will glanced over him and took in his full appearance.

"Are you wearing a lab coat? What, did you get promoted?" he asked sarcastically.

"You could say that, sure," Magnus grinned, plopping himself onto the small, spinning doctor's stool. "Or you could also say I have the right. . . connections." He twirled his fingers at Will ominously, emitting blue sparks.

Will glared at him. "Are you following me?"

Magnus shrugged. "Merely doing a friend a favor. Besides its in my interest too if I get you home."

"Home?"

"Honestly, Will," said Magnus exasperatedly, his sparkly hair seeming to stand on end from annoyance, not merely an abundance of hair gel. "You listened to my spiel in the hospital, didn't you?"

"I heard it," Will said grudgingly.

Magnus rolled his eyes."You're just as hard to deal with as I remembered." A hint of a smile teased across his face. He swiveled the chair a bit, absentmindedly. "Don't pretend you didn't think about coming to New York with me, Will, because I know you did." He held up a hand quickly to silence Will's protests before they came out of his mouth. "I am giving you credit for not being the total idiot I'm sure you're trying to make yourself into." He shot Will a look. "Which is more than you deserve I'm sure."

Suddenly Will felt extremely worn. He leaned against the wall and glanced up at Magnus wearily. "It's not that I don't want to believe you," he said, voice shaken and hollow. He didn't know why he was responding to Magnus honestly. "It's that I can't. My family, my life-"

"You don't want that life and your family is just as lost as you are," Magnus replied, unmoved. "I am not going to pretend that I don't-"

He was cut off by a strange sort of muffled squeal emitted by the closet closest to Magnus and the office's desk.

Will stared. "What was that?"

Magnus flicked a finger pointedly towards the closet, a single spark flying, face expressionless. "I had to stash the doctor somewhere, didn't I?"

Will turned to leave.

Magnus was suddenly at his side, in the blink of an eye, hand on the knob, expression dangerous. "Don't run out on me yet, Will, not when I haven't had my say."

Will met his eyes aggressively. "What could you say that would change my mind?"

Magnus smiled slightly, though Will could've sworn for a moment that his eyes looked sad. "I don't think there's anything I can say," he admitted, sticking his hands in the pockets of his doctor's coat, but not looking hardly as defeated as the words expressed. "However," he pulled out a faded, ancient looking sheet of paper, holding it out to Will. "I do think there's something she can."

Will took the paper, a jolt shooting through his stomach. He unfolded it slowly, glancing up at Magnus before reading the words:

"August, 1878,

Dear Nate. . ."

Hey guys, Merry Christmas! (I promise I didn't spend my day writing this, its been in the works for a while). I hope I bring you Christmas cheer with my love of cliff hangers and the fact that I'm finally back from my weirdly long hiatus. I'm going to try my best not to do that again. . . Thanks so much to everyone who's been commenting! I've seen all of your comments and appreciated every single one :) It's because of you guys that I love doing this, so thank you for reading and caring!