Chapter 1. Fall Down Like Rain

Can't close my eyes

They're wide awake

Every hair on my body

has got a thing for this place

Oh empty my heart

I've got to make room for this feeling

so much bigger than me

It couldn't be any more beautiful - I can't take it in.

Weightless in love...unraveling

For all that's to come

and all that's ever been

We're back to the board

with every shade under the sun

Let's make it a good one

It couldn't be any more beautiful I can't take it in

All that I wanted.

All that I ever needed.

All that I wonder.

So beautiful.

~Can't Take It In, from Narnia Soundtrack

20 years later…

He missed China already in his steel cage that moved through the country like a snake through the brush, and he felt himself suffocating inside the train. However, in his exciting new adventure Jem couldn't keep his eyes from the countryside long enough to realize how far they had gone. England was so different, even the grass seemed somehow greener. The houses were funny, shaped like little round hats as they were stacked against each other in cities that were far too busy.

The train had been so empty compared to the ones at home, but it was no secret that even after the war was over England suffered through unforgiving times. Jem had been instructed to pack light, and he kept his bag settled behind his calves while the cart moved along the track. One hand held his papers, while the other rolled the strand of jade prayer beads his mother had given him, and he worried them between his frail fingers. Every time a figure would pass beside his door he would look up with nervous eyes, afraid for it all to be pulled from him at any moment. Jem had wanted this his entire life, to see the land his father loved dearly, and follow in his footsteps no matter how much his mother protested. Yet, even she knew she could not contain him, no one could hold the moon in one place.

Suddenly, men raced by his door with rifles in hand, and Jem felt his breath catch in his chest until they passed. Slowly, he eased back into his seat when the shadows of the soldiers were long gone, and he knew he would simply have to learn to accept the armed guards were there as protection. However, he was certain he could never understand a place where guns held such power over people. Jem hated that they were needed at all, and along the way wondered what was so horrid about this nation that made the people so unhappy. Had the war been that unkind? So far the country had been beautiful, but just when his silver eyes started to settle again on the small town outside of his next stop he thought he heard the train put on its breaks, but soon realized the horrid sound came from outside.

The city was like any other he had with streets carved from stone, and the homes simple. All of the pictures of London had all been the same, but nothing prepared him for this. Little cottages along a row held beautiful window boxes full of vibrant flowers that had been blooming all summer, lined the streets that seemed fairly well kept. They seemed about the same size, and Jem wondered of the lives within. Cars were parked along the sidewalks, and the further they went into the city the nicer they got. However, the deeper he went into London the further he felt himself from China as the taller buildings started to loom, and many faces rushing to their next stop passed in such a blur. Outside, it seemed so normal, but there was very little natural for what came next.

A fire was burning the inside of what looked like to be a patrol car until the steel was nothing but a skeleton in the streets, and uniformed men with guns drawn fired blindly into a crowd. Jem at first thought them to simply be controlling what seemed to be one of the riots he had heard so much about, but when he watched the face of a young man explode with one shot he gasped. As the train went further into the city bodies were crumpled on the ground, and Jem was horrified that there was as many women there as there was men—children too. They seemed so different, each dead body, except they all seemed to be wearing something red.

The knock that came at the door caused him to jump in his seat. His frail fingers stifled a cry, and the man at the door slid back the track. He looked upon the foreigner with a frown, and worried of what kind of judgment Jem was already casting on his homeland. Other than the riots, lives were lived normal. One simply had to remember what side to stay on.

"It's best you don't watch, Mr. Carstairs." The uniformed guard was pleasant to the eye with a kind face, but Jem felt himself struggling to keep his gaze. "I just wanted to inform you of your stop, and reassure you that you are safe." Jem couldn't speak, but he wanted to thank the man. He wanted to ask questions that were not allowed to be asked, but he couldn't find his voice.

When the train pulled into the station, Jem felt himself growing sick from the motion. He was still coming to terms with what happened back there in the streets, and felt his stomach tighten around the light lunch that was still unsettled. When he finally made it to the platform, he wanted to fall to his knees as his legs felt so heavy. Like a sickness, he couldn't take his eyes from where the black smoke rose in the distance. He suddenly wished he could stay on the train, and ride it all the way back to the shore where he would hire a boat to take him home. What had he been thinking?

Holding his little suitcase to his chest, Jem felt his arms squeeze around it as shots fired in the distance, and he started to search the faces around him. No one cared. Not a single person cared that people were dying on the other side of the tracks. He wanted to scream, shake that look of everyday boredom from their features, but deep down he knew they wouldn't wake up. This was every day life here, and what his mother had warned him about.

A hand fell heavy on his shoulder with fingers long yet kind, and it caused him to jump with a little gasp as he inhaled sharply in surprise. Jem turned to look so fast to who held him, that the sun glinted in a fierce line through his hair, and nearly enchanted the man holding him-nearly. Jem had never been a very tall youth, and it didn't surprise him to find the chest of the other when he was searching for eyes. Slowly, he tipped his head back to take in the youthful frame, and was stunned silent.

The first thing he noticed besides the other's height was the beautiful blue the color of his eyes were. They were as blue as the sky, but as fierce as sapphires, and a perfect contrast with his ebony black hair that was combed over his brow. His face was thin, and despite his clean-shaven face the stranger looked rough around the edges. He held his lips dangerously together, and his jaw set tight. His clothes were a mix of vintage fashion, that only bad boys could ever pull off, and leather. His jeans tightly fitted with a plain white t-shirt beneath a well-worn leather jacket, made his heart pound, and reminded Jem of modern day James Dean, with Mr. Darcy's quizzical brow. He looked the sort that got into fights in alleys, and Jem would wager he was tattooed somewhere beneath all that leather. He was young, but the lines around his eyes spoke of growing up too soon. However, the cigarette that was drawn between his lips made him look like a fool even if the smoke cast eerily beautiful shadows over his eyes.

"You Jean?" The stranger asked, and somewhere Jem prayed this wasn't the student who was going to take him to the University. He would rather walk.

"Jian." Jem corrected him, looking for any sort of badge or ID to confirm the other man's identity. They were supposed to send another student, not James Dean. Regardless, the platform was starting to empty, and they were suddenly alone. "Are you, Mr. Herondale?" Jem fumbled for the paper that had been the only instructions they had given him.

"Gin?" The youth cracked his lips in a small cat like smirk, and Jem could tell he was biting back laughter, "Like the drink?" His thin fingers came to remove the cigarette from his lips, taking a long drag before the smoke spilled from his lips like water. Jem wrinkled his nose in disgust and fanned his face to break apart the fog.

"No..Ji-an, James if you can't say it." He coughed once to clear his lungs, and gave the man a look that almost made Will laugh. He was defiantly a med student, only they cared.

"Will." The stranger said with a flick of his fingers to propel the stale cigarette, as it burnt slowly to its death as it hit the ground. "Come on." Will took hold of Jem's suitcase and started to lead them through the crowd. Jem stood silent at first, but quickly moved to follow in the taller man's wake.

"Are you here to pick me up then?" Jem called out fighting through the crowd with his polite manners, while William barreled through with his shoulders. Jem could hardly keep up with William's long strides, and called out after him, "Are we going to the university? Is it very far?" Jem was exhausted, and haunted by the events on the train. He was more then willing to rest.

Will wouldn't turn to answer him, but furrowed his brow at how ignorant the question was. Why else would he be carrying his bag, and leading him from the train? This boy was young, but he came from something important. He simply hoped Jem wasn't another student to sail through school with his parents money. He seemed so eager. Will noticed how a few faces turned to give Jem a second glance as they passed, and wondered if the white haired youth even noticed. Already strangers were labeling him as different, and judging him by what secretly Will found a look over his shoulder he watched Jem smile with warm greetings to those who openly stared, and Will wanted to roll his eyes. This boy was so naive it almost hurt his chest, but the way the sunlight painted him gold caused Will to watch him for a moment.

An elderly lady who touched his smile, while complimenting his Jade bracelet, had stopped Jem. Her hair was as white as his, but reminded Will of cotton. Her eyes were kind, slanted like Jem's, and she spoke to him in a language Will didn't understand. Her face was alive with the kindness Jem was showing her, and he could almost feel their kindred spirits.

Standing at the cross of the sidewalks, Will stopped long enough to let Jem catch up, and would light another cigarette as the white haired youth panted through his forgiveness. His pale face was painted with life, as his cheeks were rosy from the brisk walk, and the excitement still alive in his eyes.

"There are so many people here," Jem smiled before he offered to carry his own suitcase, and wondered if Will was angry. He could see the annoyance on his face by the hard lines around his mouth, and it made the smile fade from his face.

"You shouldn't talk to many strangers as weird looking as you are." Will exhaled, and the smoke passed his lips in a slow manner. He handed Jem his suitcase, and tried to ignore the annoyed, angry, and hurt look that was returned.

"At home I'm considered beautiful. I'm cherished because I'm different. It is not weird." Will could tell he had offended Jem, and almost laughed. He thought of every other Chinese man he had ever met, and how they had all resembled the same stereotype; ink black hair, and round almond eyes. Yet, when he watched Jem tuck his hair behind his ear he could almost hear the insecurities in the lull of his voice, "It's just a birth defect." He spoke quietly, "I was born this way." Jem looked up just in time to see a tall man with sparkling spikes as hair that glittered in the sunlight, that were dyed different colors, but no one paid any attention to him. Was he weird too? No one stared at that man like they were his own image, and Jem felt the weight of their gazes like anchors, "Can we just go? Please."

Will listened to the annoyance and hurt in Jem's forced manners, and felt strangely guilty when he got another good look at the white haired man. He really was beautiful, and it would not be hard to be intoxicated by his presence. However, he had a reputation to uphold, and he wasn't about to break it for anyone.

They walked a little further in silence, Jem with his suitcase, and Will smoking his cigarette. It wouldn't be until they exited the train station into the almost empty streets, and Will made his way over to an old rusty motorbike that was older then both of them combined did start his protest.

"Where is your car?" He asked looking the old motorbike over with a look of terror, and when Will straddled the seat of the old Vintage Royal Endield all the color from his face paled. "This is not funny." He clutched the suitcase again to his chest while Will set back on the seat, "I am not getting on that rusty thing."

"You chicken?" Will slurred, pulling the blunt of his smoke between his fingers to take the final drag, "She's from World War II, Jin." As if history somehow made it better, "She doesn't take much gas, and is sturdier then she looks." He could tell by how pale his companion was that it didn't make it any easier, but at least he could see it was fear crippling him-not conceit. "Come on." Will took his suitcase up, and strapped it to the back. He opened the cargo latch, and pulled out a dusty helmet. Jem wondered if it had ever been worn since the original owner. Was it supposed to make him feel better? It would hardly cover his head at all, and Jem was pretty sure it would shatter it was so old. Even the leather straps smelled musty, and cried out in threats of breaking. "Come on, it's this or walking through that." Will motioned where the black smoke rose over the building tops, and the distant guns sang out in bursts.

With a deep breath, Jem climbed behind Will, to sit where he imagined an English soldier once did in the war against Nazi Germany, and suddenly Will was right. The history did make it better. However, when Will fired the engine, and a cloud of black smoke filled his lungs. Jem started choking, and nearly fell off the back when they burst into the street. He clung to William's back, trembled like a leaf in the wind, and kept his eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Will could almost hear the little whispers of prayers every time they stopped at the light, and if it was in his character he would have laughed. Instead he kept quiet while the white haired, white knuckled youth prayed for their destination.

A/N:

So there it is, if you have any questions please feel free to ask, and reviews are gold to me. Please do it. It keeps me going.

I am so nervous to post this, so please be kind, but honest.

Thanks and have a wonderful day!