Edited by my awesome beta reader - Michelle
Enjoy!

The London Institute seemed hollow on the inside to Will Herondale. Even though he had the girl of his dreams on his arm, he often found himself seeking some lone repose. Most nights he let Tessa stay with him till he was ready to pass out and she climbed out of bed to return to her room. They were engaged, but they were not married yet. It was odd to think that they had already shared a bed, but now they didn't. It was Will's choice; he had sworn they would do this right and he would treat her like the lady that she was. Tessa had smiled at him in that way that told him that he had actually done the right thing by her.

It was a blessing when she stayed, but tonight he had told her that he wanted the night to himself to think about things. She didn't complain; Tessa merely smiled at him and kissed his cheek before wishing him a good night.

Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea because sleep didn't come till after two hours of tossing and turning with the tumultuous thoughts that ran through his mind. Every bit of him ached for the loss of his parabatai, although he promised everyone that he was getting better. It was nights like this that he felt a hole that not even Tessa could fill with all her beauty and wise words. Her understanding was not enough to know what that emptiness felt like because it was one that reached the depths of his soul. It was as if someone had taken a spoon to him and scooped out all of his insides. No, it was worse. A demon had tried to do that to him once, and this pain was infinitely worse.

The dream was laden with the sweet smell of yin fin and the soft silver glow of the drug as if his mind had been sprinkled with the silver powder. There were silver eyes looking up at him from his shoulder, silver hair spilling over his shoulder and onto his chest as Jem looked up at him. A tender smile graced his pale lips as if he were reading Will's mind and pitying him for the stupid poem he was coming up with in that moment. Jem had always enjoyed them because they were things that Will was stupidly proud of even if they were the worst.

"Play for me," he begged.

"Always," Jem said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

He was all silver and light as he moved, and Will felt a tightness in his chest. There was something beautiful about the way he looked in this dream as if he were made of the scattered silver light of the moon outside his window. Glittering goodness, Jem took hold of his violin and put his bow to the strings before he called forth a sweet melody from the strings. It was a song he played for Will all the time that they never told anyone about. It was a lullaby that his mother had sung to him when he was a child and his father had taught him to play on the violin. It was sweet and full of promise.

"Stay with me," he begged again.

"Always," Jem promised.

Will bolted upright in his bed; his black curls caked with sweat were stuck to his forehead, and he could feel tears on his face. The song should have stopped the moment that he woke up, but he could still hear that sweet song, and he looked around frantically for the source. In the corner of his room there was a gramophone in the corner settled onto a trolley, its speaker facing his bed and the disk slowly turning beneath the needle.

Despite being trained to be one of the most talented shadowhunters in the world, William Herondale lost his footing as he hurried over to the trolley and fell to his knees before scrambling up again. A piece of paper was folded next to the gramophone on the trolley, and he pulled it open slowly to be faced with Henry's rushed script:

Mundanes are so crafty don't you think, Will? They have these devices called gramophones that they use to replay recordings. Their version isn't done yet, but mine is and it was all too easy. Jem knew I was working on this and he wanted to record something for you, he made me promise to get it to you if anything happened to him. I hope it brings you peace, Will.

Henry

The disc skipped, and Will pulled the needle up to place it over it again and the lullaby started all over again. The delicate sound nearly brought tears to his eyes again, but he forced his shoulders to straighten again before he took hold of the side of the trolley. Will pushed it out of his room and headed down the hall a bit before coming to Jem's room and pushing the door open.

Everything was where Jem had left it because Will refused to let anyone turn it into a guest room. Charlotte didn't have the heart to take that last bit of Jem away from Will so the room was left alone, and Will swore he could still smell that sweetness of yin fin in the air. He pushed the trolley into the room and closed the door behind him before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around. His blue eyes reflecting the sadness that he felt deep in his soul as he gently stroked Jem's old bedding and swallowed against the thick lump in his throat.

Will turned slightly to look at the bedside table and took hold of the box that held the yin fin before flipping it open. It was empty. He swallowed again at the realization that he hadn't been able to refill it before he left Jem to get Tessa. The box clicked shut and he touched over the top of it slowly with gentle fingers because he remembered Jem telling him the story of the box. It had once been his mother's and it was something he kept close to remind him of what he lost that day. Not because he was bitter, but because he missed his mother. He held no grudge against the demon that killed his parents and made him an addict, but he did miss them as any child would.

It was odd to think that Will held more hatred for a demon that he never met and that never did him any harm than he held for Mortmain. It was even odder because he owed his meeting Jem to that very demon, because without that cruel twist of fate, he and Jem would have never met and Will would likely be dead right now.

"Cruel fate, he took you from me and gave you to me at the same time," Will said to himself and shook his head.

He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and couldn't help but laugh at the sight of a set of throwing knives. They were worn at the handles because they had been used so much, but he looked to the top of the hilt and saw the nick they had put in them when they were just kids. It was the set that Will had given Jem and the very set that Jem always took to battle with him.

They had met in the training room at the institute, and it was this set of knives that Will had been using for target practice that day. The knife with the nick in it was the very first thing that they had shared when Will had handed it to Jem and said he'd train with him. It held such significance because it was that moment that Will had decided that Jem would be the one he would be bound to for the rest of his life. They had just been children, but Will could still remember that look of timid determination that sparked in Jem's silver eyes.

Perhaps it was that moment that he truly decided that Jem would be his parabatai. The moment he realized that such a fragile looking boy could still have a will to survive, and he could do something to keep him alive. He couldn't kill him because he was already dying, but he could help keep him alive for longer. He had been so selfish then.

Will placed the throwing knives back into the drawer before standing up and moving further into the room. He was studying the pictures of the two of them in the frames on the wall and the one picture of Will by himself trying to move away from a duck at the park. Jem had always found it entertaining that Will thought himself some big, bad shadowhunter, yet would run at the first sign of a duck.

There was a night when Will had stolen that picture because he had hated it so much, but Jem had been so unimpressed and bothered that it was gone that he had to return it. Not to mention that Jem had taken something that had been very dear to Will at the same time to prove a point.

"That picture is not nearly as important as that dagger," Will had insisted with a frown on his handsome features as he held out his hand for the dagger.

"Maybe not to you, but it's very important to me."

"It's just a picture. An embarrassing one at that! Mutiny, Carstairs."

Jem looked up at him with those imploring silver eyes of his and he sighed gently before placing the dagger in Will's hand. Will watched him intently as he held the dagger to his chest and he frowned even more when he watched Jem's shoulders shake slightly.

"Why is it so important, Jem?"

"Because it shows that even the great, cold Will Herondale is human. That you have fears and you can be an idiot. It shows you when you're not putting up a front; it's my favorite picture of you. It's a picture of the boy I chose as my parabatai, William."

Jem had left him standing there after he said that, and Will had felt so bad that he replaced the picture before Jem returned to his bedroom.

Will stared at that picture now and he sighed gently. Jem had always known just who he was and had never judged him for the stupid boy he had once been. With all of his flaws and all of his anger, Jem had accepted that boy and never turned him away. Perhaps Will hadn't saved Jem at all; Jem had saved Will. Part of him had always known that, but now faced with the reality of this place, he knew that Jem had been spending all the time they'd known each other believing in the true Will Herondale.

Everything in this room had a story that was tied to their bond. There were items that they'd gotten together in the many places that they had gone in London. On the end of his desk was a copy of Will's favorite book with the different pages with his favorite quotes folded in a manner that would make Tessa cringe. Jem had it because there had been plenty of times when Will had almost gotten himself killed and left his parabatai scared out of his mind to the point that only reading to Will helped him deal with the anxiety.

Jem had grown to love the book, and the spine was so worn that Will couldn't even read the title on it. Had he really almost died that many times? Probably, he had been so stupid then, but Jem had never told him that. He merely read to him and told him that he had better heal nicely otherwise he wouldn't have his looks to save him any longer.

"For what would you have then, Will Herondale?"

"My wit."

"Hardly," Jem had said with a snort as he turned the page and continued to read.

Suddenly the room seemed quiet, and Will felt the weight of sadness pressing down on his shoulders, but he knew it was because the lullaby had stopped playing. He turned to look at the trolley and the memory of the first time he'd heard that song came to him.

"It nearly took my fingers off, Jem!"

"You shouldn't have kicked it, Will."

"Ducks are evil, Jem. Never trust a duck."

Jem had rolled his eyes as Will clutched his injured hand to his chest, holding out a stele with his free hand.

"Help me with the pain, brother."

"It's just a little bite, you don't need an iratze for that."

"You like feeling me suffer do you?!"

The silver-haired boy laughed and rolled his eyes at his parabatai before he leaned down to open his violin case. Jem was absolutely beautiful when he was training, but there was something ethereal about the way he held a violin and bow in his hands. He leaned up against the trunk of a tree and looked like some mischievous fae come to steal Will away with a piece of music that would make him a slave.

"I'm going to play a song for you that my mother sang to me when I was ill and fussy."

"I'm not fussy! By the angel, that duck could have some sort of disease."

Will was about to continue his rant when Jem started to play, and he instantly fell silent the moment the first few notes filled the air.

That song had made him forget all about his injured fingers back then and it had helped fight away that sadness that was clawing at his inside. Jem had always been able to calm him with that song, and even now when he wasn't here he managed to do so. Will took a deep breath as he fixed the needle on the disc again and let the room fill with the music. That song soothed the ache he felt in his very soul, and he smiled because once again Jem had managed to save him from himself.

Jem had not been a mischievous fae that day in the park; he had been an angel of mercy.