Hi there! So this is my first fic for The Infernal Devices series but I've been meaning to write one for so long because the characters are absolutely beautiful! :) I've written for TMI though so it's not my first Cassandra Clare fic :)

It's keeping with the date today and I thought it was fitting so I hope you all enjoy! :D

It had been a long and tiring day, but that was exactly as she had planned it. As she wearily climbed the steps to her front door she briefly closed her eyes as she rummaged around at the bottom of her bag for her key. She finally opened the door only to be greeted by the darkness of the house that seemed to weep out and tug at her skirts, begging for company like a needy child. She stepped in and leaned back up against the door as she shut it and she might have blamed her sudden tiredness on her long day but she knew that was a lie. The date was to be blamed.

She thought she'd gotten past all the firsts. The first morning had been the worst. She'd woken up to the bright morning light and for one blissful, drowsy moment she'd forgotten. Something nagged at her and she felt that she was forgetting something important, something monumental, but in that moment – for the span of a breath – she'd forgotten. All at once it had come rushing back with a wildness that made her breath stutter, falter and fail. No more would she wake up to Will's arm around her, his quiet snores filling the space beside her. No more would she turn to tell him her crazy dreams from the night before. No more would she hear him mutter in Welsh while he dreamt.

No more.

The first breakfast hadn't been any better. She'd sat in her usual seat and stared numbly at the spot where Will had sat. She wondered if the kitchen had always been so dark or if it had been Will carrying the lightness around with him the whole time. Then came birthdays and anniversaries, Christmas and too many more to count, too miserable to mention.

They never did anything deemed as special to celebrate Saint Valentine. Every year they'd promised each other that they wouldn't do anything out of the ordinary, that every day was Saint Valentine's for them. Even still, every year Tessa found a red rose sitting somewhere in the house. The rose never stood alone in company, it was always joined by a quote that had captured Will's attention somewhere between the pages of a book. He'd never did tell her what book it came from when she'd asked, but over the many years she'd stumbled upon quite a few by accident as she read.

Now she looked around at the darkened, lifeless house and wondered why she stayed. She could move. Move to a house that didn't hold memories at each corner; memories that were as bittersweet as they were treasured. Sometimes she'd catch herself half expecting Will to come out of a room, book in hand and lovingly complaining about the fact that Church had once again brought a dead bird into the house. She couldn't help it, he was infused in every aspect of her life, every memory. It was like wanting to separate the flavour of tea after the leaves had been added to the water. An impossible task. They'd grown together, like two young saplings planted close to each other until the finally fused into one; like two sleeping lovers – limbs, hands and hearts completely entangled.

With a sigh of resignation, Tessa started to climb the stairs to her chambers.

Months and Months Earlier…

Will sat in his armchair in the library and watched the last rays of sunlight disappear. He noticed the way the long fingers of each ray seemed to tease at the leaves of the trees, wanting to play but not having the energy. Beside him Jem sat and strummed his fingers over the strings of his violin. Jem started to strum a tune, a soft and melancholic whisper of a tune, and Will watched the way Jem's hooded head would slowly sway with the music coursing through his mind. These were the moments where he saw his parabatai peek through from behind his Silent Brothers runes. Will shifted in his seat and felt the dull pain from his joints spread from one bone to the other, like dominos. He winced and settled into a position that seemed to lessen the throb. The years may have dampened his agility and strength but Will thanked the Angel that they hadn't stolen his mind.

He wet his throat and took in a breath.

"Something's settled into my bones," his voice slightly raspy from age, "a weariness and ache that I know won't leave." Jem's fingers stopped playing and held in place. "Tessa knows it too. I can see it in her eyes when she doesn't think I'm looking; I feel her eyes brush along me willing me to memory as if it's for the last time." Will turned his head to look out the window. All the rays of golden lights had disappeared; one moment there and next faded out of life.

"I don't begrudge death, I've had a full life filled with the love of my existence, beautiful children and greatest of friends," he looked back over at Jem with aged blue eyes the colour of the midnight sky, "greatest of brothers."

Jem kept his head downcast, his face lost behind the hood and folds of his robe. It took him a moment longer to respond, as if the strength of his emotions was warring with the strength of his runes. When he did reply his voice swayed through Will's mind, strong and firm.

Brothers we have always been and brothers we will always be, even if the different realms of this world separate us.

Will felt the words to be true and knew that they held a connection stronger than one death could sever and yet he didn't want to simply stop existing, never to see their faces again. He thought of Tessa and his heart constricted at the thought of leaving her behind.

"Jem, I need you to do one more thing for me." He reached over and with shaking hands grabbed a book off the small table next to his armchair. He parted it in the middle and pulled out a small piece of folded parchment. He reached out and held it out for Jem. Jem's scarred hands slowly reached out from beneath his sleeve and gently took the parchment. He held it in his hand for a moment, almost as if absorbing the contents, before it disappeared within his robes.

"If you could do this for me when I can't I'd be eternally grateful. If you could be quiet about it too." Will chuckled below his breath at a thought. "Then again, there's a reason why they don't call you the Rambunctious Brothers."

Will could have sworn he saw Jem's cheeks twitch behind his hood.

Present Day

All she wanted to do was climb into a warm bath and breathe in the lavender infused air. She wanted to dress in her warmest nightgown, breath life to a fire and climb beneath the comforts of her covers. When she got to her room she pushed open the door and set her bag on a chair. With a yawn, she walked over to the fire and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were still some embers left. Within no time the fire was roaring behind the grate. She turned to undress and her breath snagged when her gaze landed on her pillow. She slowly walked towards it, afraid to blink, believing it would disappear in the short time it took to open her eyes again. She stood at the head of her bed and tentatively reached a trembling hand towards the rose. She felt the silken softness of the petal and she shook her head in disbelief for she'd been sure that the flower was an apparition that her mind had conjured as a safety mechanism. She stroked the flower with her finger, marveling at the richness of the sensation, at the beauty, at the vibrant life it held. It was then she noticed the folded parchment under the flower.

"It can't be," Tessa breathed as she pulled the parchment out from underneath the rose, "it just isn't possible."

When she unfolded it all her breath left her, left her standing there speechless, completely robbed of thought. The curve of the letters, it was Will's handwriting; a handwriting Tessa would recognise between all others. One as familiar to her as her own.

For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.

My Darling, I love you.

She sat down on the bed, her shaking knees no longer willing to keep her upright. She rested the rose delicately on her lap and held the parchment with shaking hands. She closed her eyes and imagined Will sitting in his armchair in the library, staring out the window and rifling through his own library of quotes he kept in his mind. She brushed her fingers along the length of the parchment, a surface that Will's hand had also brushed as he wrote. Her fingers found and traced the last line, feeling the grooves it had left on the parchment, grooves that ran parallel to the ones on her heart. My Darling, I love you. She was so full of love, despair, melancholy that she was in no way surprised when they spilled out of her eyes and rolled down her cheek only to land, glistening and sparkling, on the petal of the rose.

On the street below he stood in the shadows, among the cold air and pale moonlight. He looked up at the room where he saw the faint glow of the fire dancing behind the window and extended his mind. He reached his mind out and connected with hers. He felt her anguish, the pain but most of all the love that rolled through her. His heart tightened for a second and he had to hold his breath to let the feeling pass.

He wanted nothing more than to go up and take her hand and sit with her. To tell her that even though it seemed like he was far away he never truly was.

But he knew he couldn't.

So Jem turned and his robes swished with a flourish through the air as he disappeared into the night.

So Will's quote obviously isn't mine. It comes from a poem called So We'll go No More A-Roving by Lord Byron. It's a short poem and when I came across it I thought it matched Will nicely! :)

So what did you think? I'd love to hear from you! :D

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! :-)