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Jem Carstairs was sick. He had always been sick, for as long as he could remember. But he had his days, good or bad.
He was always in that room. That bedroom. That lonely room adorned with a fireplace, where the mesmerizing flames twirl and twinkle, casting a quiet yet enchanting aura, almost of hope before death. The crackling embers whisper a symphony of warmth, the flickering glow dances upon the walls, painting a tapestry of serenity and peace. At the foot of the bed, there was that arm chair, the one where Will would sit for nights on end, watching Jem, silently crying for that he'd wake up and he'd be better.
Counting his breaths and praying for him to live.
Jem was lying in bed. He was feeling cold and clammy, unable to move. His eyes were bright with fever and his pupils dilated. Painful coughs and wheezes wrecked his body, blood sputtering and splattering on his silk white sheets. They left him weak, pale and sitting in a peculiar position, hair disheveled, crimson stains of blood all around him.
He didn't have enough yin fen left, at least not enough to support him until Will, his sweet Will, would find that cure he always searched for. Jem knew there probably wasn't a cure, but he knew Will needed to hold onto something to be sane about the cruel inevitable fact. About eventually losing Jem.
He heard the creak of the wooden door that was guarding him opening. At least that's what he thought, feverish and to the brink of hallucinations. Then he heard a voice:
"James? Are you here?" then a pause. "Jem? Oh my god. Jem." then a blood curdling scream broke out of his throat, he was yelling for someone. Charlotte?Jessamine? Jem couldn't make it out.
Next thing he knew someone was helping him. He was being propped up, blood wiped from his mouth, sheets rustling while being changed around him and words of affirmation were surrounding him. He couldn't make it out though.
Why would someone help him? He was dying. He wasn't worth saving. He was just a waste of space, just-
"James. James. You are not a waste of space. You're my brother, my parabatai." The voice next to him replied. It was crying, shaky, but very sure.
Jem realized he must have been talking out loud throughout his fever dream state. He didn't want to burden Will any longer. It was hard for the both of them. It would just be easier if Jem Carstairs disappeared, if he was left to die.
"James. Jem, don't speak like that. You'll be alright. We..." Will interrupts himself for a brief second. "I... will find a cure. I'll help you. Just don't think about going just yet."
Will climbed in the bed next to Jem. He tried snapping his fingers in his face, so he could face him, but Jem's only reaction was to lean sideways, eventually almost toppling over.
"Woah, you're fading fast, James." and then Will catches Jem's crumbling form before it hits the ground.
"William. Thank you... for all you're doing for me. Even in my last moments, you care. I owe everything to you." Will finally heard Jem reply. He had a delirious smile on his face, yet it somehow looked genuine.
"This is nor the time or place for goodbyes, brother. You're right here with me. I need you."
Will took his parabatai's head in his hands and cradled Jem's face, their foreheads touching:
"Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Angel do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me."
Jem gave him a tired smile, but for Will it was enough.
He watched Jem that evening, even into the dark hours of the night. Jem was Will's parabatai, essentially his life line and absolute truth. That meant that he could cherish him and allow himself to be loved by him, even though his curse made it plain selfish. It meant that he could watch him sleep and pray for him, even though he lost faith in The Angel the moment his sister was taken. He could and would love Jem Carstairs, for it meant that he would die for him, without him and with him.
The next day, when Jem wakes and sees Will curled up, halfway on the armchair, halfway on the bed, he says nothing and only smiles.
And for the first time in a while, Jem felt better and stronger.
Then it clicked.
It was William Herondale that gave James Carstairs all that strenght. And even though Will admitted at certain times that Jem saved him, Jem knew it was a two-way road. They both needed each other and a love like theirs conquered anything.
----
"I say there is a river that divides the dead and the living. What I do know is that if we are born again, I will meet you in another life, and if there is a river, you will wait on the shores for me to come to you, so that we can cross together."