**Big thanks to Alec-Lightwoodsweirdhabit for the offer to review the chapter, but I'm too tired to do anything other than post it. Please ignore any mistake.**
Tears from the Moon
Chapter 13, Pompeii
I was left to my own devices
Many days fell away with nothing to show
And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above
But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
~Pompeii, Bastille
"Truly, I will be just fine. Go. Enjoy your family, The Professor will be home soon, and I can look after him," Jem spoke to the last remaining member of the staff as the vacant estate welcomed one of the few nights that they were able to take off. Jean-Luc didn't even keep his ghost staff this night and Jem knew that it was a rare occasion. Many times had he wandered down to the kitchens in the midst of the night only to find it fully alive and well. He knew that they hated to leave their post, but it was Christmas Eve and they could they be denied a night with their family.
"And your friend will be just fine?" The maid asked as she lingered in the open doorway and looked up at Will as he smirked down at her like the Cheshire cat from atop the stairs. The lust in his eyes Jem could feel like a ray of sunlight as it warmed his skin, and without even looking back he knew Will was staring right at him—waiting.
"Yes," Jem spoke with a small blush that painted his winter white face and he prayed that the little mousy woman couldn't hear his heart pounding from where she stood, "I trust him. Nothing will happen. I promise you." Reaching out he took the girls small hands into his and squeezed them in hopes that she would understand that he truly would be just fine and to not worry so, but there was an unspoken fear in her eyes as though she knew something he didn't.
"Morning will come, and with it Christmas. We'll all have dinner then?" He heard that Jean-Luc's Christmas lunch was something of a spectacle of his it's own, and the staff were always bragging about how the estate came to life for just one day. Instantly the little last maid's eyes lit up and she gave Jem an excited nod,
"It will then, Young Master. It will! Christmas will come, and you should invite your…" Her blush thickened as well as she looked up at Will, clearly taken with him, "Friend." Will had that sort of affect on people, but never had he imagined that even Jean-Luc's picture perfect staff would be victim to his charm.
Jem gave her his promise that William would be there in the morning and shut the door behind her as she slipped out upon the walk and they were truly alone. The wind cut off from the door and caught Jem's hair in the draft so it fell like a veil around his face. He pressed his back to the door and let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Eyes moved to seek out his lover whose figure at the top of the stairs was like a black shadow and as sinister as a sin. Truly he had found his one true match, the perfect balance between the yin and yang, and Jem couldn't wait to write home to his mother and say just that. However, that day he feared was long from now, and with the rate that the nation was crumbling he worried it would be never.
"So…" Jem started as he bit his lip and looked up at Will through his dark lashes, wondering what it was that came next. He could see the desire even from where he stood, and a large part of him wished that Will would come fuck him right here against this door.
Nail you right into that wall…
They weren't there yet, and with Will being so sick he doubted they would ever come to this point. Jem would die a virgin-he was sure of it, but every touch from Will's hand was as sacred as the act and as passionate as any desire.
"What would you like to do now? I-I can show you the library if it would please you?" He asked Will while tucking a few strands of his pale hair behind his ears in an attempt to catch his breath, but when Will stood from his perch and slipped down the stairs like a snake in the shadow Jem could tell that a room full of books was far from his mind. He stepped upon the entryway like walking out of a fire and pinned Jem right to the door with a hand on either side of his head. His natural height stole Jem from his stance and caused him to gasp as he was forced to the tips of his toes to be even with Will's body.
"I have something else in mind, James…" Will's lips assailed upon the pale column of his lover's throat causing a low moan to kiss the edges of Jem's tongue, "And we can't do it here."
"Y-you mean the door?" Jem asked nervously as he nearly lost control of his body now that it was flooded with such dominate desire, "Or you mean the Professor's h…home." His eyes were forced closed as Will started to suck on tender flesh and fingers walked over the fabric of his jeans.
"I mean this tomb," Will answered as he flat out lifted the young man so that his legs were forced around his hips and he used the door to help support his weight, "I want to take you out, Princess. Out under the stars and over the streets. My bike is out back and I saw a coat of arms down the hall." Jem wrapped his arms around Will's neck and smirked down to him.
"You want me to wear an 18th century knight's helmet on the back of your deathtrap? Truly?" He had to laugh lightly as Will only smiled, and he knew in that moment that he wouldn't have the desire to say no, "Actually, you should wear it. My knight in shining armor." Will kissed him again and shook his head,
"Not shining armor, Jem. Means it's never been used, and by now I've worn it to many wars." There was a somber truth in what Will said, and the dark shadows beneath his weather worn eyes was proof enough of that. Jem's knight was truly in the frontline and it wasn't just for his life.
The palace was a stark contrast to the world outside, in the warm winter light it held an elegance that only a history of wealth could provide. Despite all of the heartache and warfare outside the gates, inside was as regal contrast that always reminded the professor of one of the great cathedrals. Jean-Luc knew that his own home could find some of the same comparisons, but there wasn't the history and spiritual solitude that came with something that belonged to Kings.
He could not hold a candle to that of a crowned prince, but somewhere in the midst of England's revival Jean-Luc wondered if he was the last of a dying breed. The dark haired Frenchman lived in the shadows of his forefathers, while carving the paths of the future as his own man. He came from perfectly bred men with more authority in their little finger than that of some countries, and of the sort that could put the very fear of God in the most unholiest of souls. But right now Jean-Luc felt helpless as he stood between the blurred lines of morbid dreamscapes and political warfare.
Outside a revolution was on the rise, while the wealthy dined on expensive wine and careless conversations. They fed their fat lipped faces while outside these walls children starved on streets, born of less than perfect privilege and cast out like stones. However, as he made his way to the rooftop passage the cold air hit him with a new strength and a renewed faith in his salvation.
The end was coming…
Truly, this war was just as much his as it was that of the Underground, and right now he was about to apply his Black Knight to the Bishop's King. Finally, it was coming together.
Checkmate.
Outside the winter wind swept over the cold plaster of the palace, and he moved carefully over the gravel path that led between the skylights and various vents that were added with each new turn of the century. Here amongst the harsh lines of chimneys and the hazy fog of the fires he could have been mistaken at first for an opera ghost with the way his hair whipped with his cloak on the breeze, and as gloved hands tightened around the ruby tip of his cane he stood waiting like an angel over a tomb.
"I was wondering if you had changed your mind," Came a voice from behind one of the many chimneys, and Jean-Luc turned to find those same cat-like eyes burning out from the other side of the smoke. And the all too familiar feeling of vengeful protection swelled over him like the sea. He and Magnus Bane were cut from the same cloth and it was in moments like this that he got his confirmation.
Jean-Luc couldn't fathom the thought of not knowing the world to which they belonged, and it surprised him that Magnus was ever born outside it. He had known Magnus from the time that he was born, having spent many hours in heated debates with his father, and countless hours trying to win his mother out from under him. Hardly an old man but in Magnus he saw an immortal sense of youth that he had never known. It was not a childish hope of brighter suns and endless stars, but just that ability to truly capture that around him and make it all a game. Never Neverland gave birth to Magnus and like Peter Pan he pulled the children of London from their windows, but this time not to fall to their death but to welcome them home.
"Do you think I would go back on my word, Bane?" Jean-Luc answered with an authority in his voice that had the Underground King straighten his spine and square his shoulders with his feet. Magnus slipped from the shadows to stand before him as his equal, but he could not help the desire to fall to this man's feet.
"I did not, but forgive me, you had me worried with the way you sat at their table." Magnus didn't like the way Jean-Luc had the ability to sail in and out of the political world as easily as he did his classroom, but it was also a small portion of him that was slightly jealous and envious of how he had been able to escape the Underground this long. They both knew that his luck had run out.
"All wolves sleep in the same den, Bane. You should know that by now," He reached out to touch the boy's shoulder seeing the way he still stood so tense and under the warmth of the other man's hands Magnus visibly relaxed. But he still kept leery eyes on the much older Professor.
"So it is to happen then? In the morning?" Magnus asked in a quieter voice as his eyes burned in the coal black reflection of other man's vacant eyes. "I had thought they wouldn't be so willing to upset the balance of their precious savior's birthday." It was Christmas Eve after all, and while the rest of the world was going to bed with dreams of feasts and presents beneath a tree, Magnus and his people were to know suffering.
"You know as well as I do that this country is Godless, especially when it comes to flushing out their waste. They think that you would not expect it, and as brutal as it seems. I was prepared for much worse." Tenderly Jean-Luc ran his fingers back through Magnus' hair to tuck a few strands behind one ear, but it wasn't as a lover would. Magnus felt as though he was simply being tended to by his father, and despite how harsh he pretended to be there was a great part of him that was exhausted enough to want to lean into his touch.
"Flushing out the waste? Did you come up with that all on your own?" Magnus asked him with a bitter sound that tipped closer to a sinister snarl than perhaps should, but Jean-Luc didn't seem phased and responded only with the arch of a dark brow.
"You know what I mean, Bane. Do not test me. We will have much to do this night, and you heard as I did, that we don't have much time. I am ready when you are." Jean-Luc studied Magnus a moment as he saw in the young man's face a mask that from behind it he had to be grinning, and he certainly knew something that he didn't.
"My darling, Professor…" Came the Underground King's voice in a warm purr as he closed the distance between them and slid his hand over the broad shoulder of the much taller Frenchman, "You really take me as a child don't you?" From around the shoulders of the man he walked as though appraising him, and just like that all of the emotion on Jean-Luc's face faded. Seeing this Magnus wanted to crawl back into his shadow and search for any sort of warmth as now the winter's night was much too cold.
"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc, whose bad leg ached and knuckles were white from his too tight grip on the cane, but it was the pain in his chest that he was most aware of. He knew that look. He knew the way that Magnus danced with death as though he welcomed it, and his thoughts traveled to Jem home alone and defenseless.
"I got word of the attack many months ago and though I do appreciate your concern, Master. I would be quick to advise you that I did learn from the best, and in doing so I have the ability to move my pawns a few steps ahead of yours." Magnus, with his back now to the London skyline, and the beautiful Westminster Abbey he grinned as though he were the very devil himself.
"Knight to A8."
Jean-Luc ran his mind over the board of a chess game to know that position belonged to that of the Rook piece, but before he could move to defend the castle an explosion tore through the sky and filled Jean-Luc's eyes with fire.
"And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above"
In ancient Greek times, a whole city fell to the fires of a volcano, and just like Pompeii, London roared with the rattle of an explosion that would wake up an entire nation.
"You fool!" Jean-Luc snapped as he pulled his horrified face from the fire to meet Magnus' sinister grin, "My research-"
"Is safe. You leave tonight with it. It's more important to get it out of this city and onto higher ground," Just like that their roles reversed and Magnus was speaking down to him as though he was simply a subject.
"And don't worry of your little Winter Prince, Professor. He's in good hands." At that they were no longer alone as the streets beneath them came to life with the aftershock of the explosion that would bring nearly all of Westminster to their knees.
Jem's laughter was as good for the soul as any sermon and it felt like the best sort of homecoming. Will was enchanted by the way his lover had truly let go and with the aid of a few sips of a vodka drink was submerged in the night club like he was swimming at sea. Jem could ted water far better than the rest, but he certainly stood out amongst them. The silver haired youth was certainly just like the moon as he shown over a dark sea, and Will held onto him as though he was the only sense of gravity that could pull him back down.
"Having fun are ya?" His lips whispered along the warm lines of his neck as Will pressed Jem's body back against his own as they danced, and he felt Jem nod despite how all he could see was the dark room before them. His eyesight he knew was failing him, and he knew all he could blame was the infection. Yet, even as he closed his eyes he knew what was going on before him.
"I am! Why have I not been here before?" Jem answered as he turned to face Will, but with just one look upon his lover's face made his heart sink. Will looked horrible, and the moisture collecting at the base of his forehead wasn't from the heat of their dance, "Will?"
"No,"William shook his head and held up his hand refusing to ruin this night, "No Jem…not tonight. Tonight is a special occasion. Tonight marks the anniversary of something amazing, and the new beginning of something even better." He pressed his forehead to Jem's and felt the cool skin of his partner as though he truly was made of the winter. However, Jem shuttered at the heat radiating from his fevered skin and tightened his hold as though somewhere deep down he knew this was where they would say good-bye.
"But you are unwell…I can see it," He started with a small whisper not pulling away, and slowed their dance as though they were the only ones on the floor. "Let's get out of here, and go somewhere just you and I?" With that he pressed a gentle kiss to the burning temple of his blue-eyed boy, and felt him give under the touch. He knew that Will was close to giving up on his suffering, but how far he truly wasn't prepared for.
Will's eyes were closed, and for the first time he saw a vulnerability that wasn't there before. His dark lashes atop his flushed cheeks, lips as pale as any winter rise, and for the first time he was far more delicate than he let on. Will was always so strong—so defiant, and very unwilling to bend. He was the iron fist of the law as well the backhand of the criminal underground, and with a single look he could condemn a soul to hell. He had the sort of power that could rival the gods, and even Jem felt as though he didn't live with Will—he lived in Will's world. The sun and stars all aligned in this man's eyes where as they all were just little specks of light on the horizon. However…right now his lover suffered something that was made of nightmares, and Jem truly didn't know just how this truly was the end. No matter how far they went, or how hard they ran…he couldn't follow.
"I'd like that," Will whispered, his eyes still closed, and despite how the room still somewhere quiet…just you and I. There is going to be a show soon, and I want you to have front row seats.
A/N: OMG DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS NEXT RIGHT!? YOU ARE AWARE IT'S TIME RIGHT!? UGH, I already got a little misty eyed writing this, how in the hell am I going to get through the rest of it?
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