My first story for The Infernal Devices! I found myself quite intrigued by the dynamics between Will and Jem's relationship, and so this little one-shot came out.

I'm not quite sure when this is set, but Tessa won't be in this story. This scene is just between Will and Jem. And it's not Will x Jem.

Warning: character death

This is for my friend, Josie, who has stuck with me this past year.

Me specta (Latin) = look at me

"Come on…" Will said softly. "You'll be fine."

The whole room was filled with the noises of Jem's breathing.

His ragged, gasping breathing.

"It's going to be alright."

Eyes – such bright eyes that were the colour of metal – flickered wildly under the thin lids. Sweat dotted Jem's face, running down his temples and dampening the pillow upon which his head lay. His skin was ghastly pale, even more so than usual. It was pasty and had a strange tinge to it; Will was not sure what colour he would describe it as. He also wasn't sure how this recent event came upon him.

It had been a normal day at the Institute. Charlotte had been screaming, Jem had been smiling, Will had been happy. And then, everything had changed so suddenly, so drastically, that Will's mind couldn't keep up. Jem's expression twisted. One hand rose up to clap himself on the mouth, and when he drew his fingers away, they were stained a scarlet red. Jem's eyes turned to Will's, and the silver-haired boy was just about to say that everything was alright, when his brow furrowed, his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor.

What happened afterwards was crystal clear and would remain with Will for the rest of his life.

Will's body had moved instinctively, running towards his friend, his brother. He had scooped him up and hurried towards Jem's room, Charlotte keeping up with him. And after laying Jem down lightly into his bed, Charlotte had reached for the little box containing his drug, the box with Kwan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, on top of it.

But Jem had shaken his head weakly, and then he said the words that Will had heard over a thousand times before, and yet this time, his heart grew cold.

"Don't worry about it," Jem had said hoarsely, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a wan grin. "This time, it won't help. I'm dying, Will."

I'm dying, Will.

Will had stared at Jem, his mouth hanging agape despite knowing he looked like a fool. Charlotte had swallowed thickly, kissed Jem on his forehead and murmured, "I'll leave it to you, Will."

I'm dying, Will.

I'll leave it to you, Will.

And Will himself felt the ground sway and he crashed down to his knees beside Jem's head.

Two hours came and went, and Jem was still alive. Will prayed to every god and goddess he knew, hoping and wishing and begging for his brother to live. He hadn't moved by Jem's side. A tanned hand clasped over a pallid one, blue eyes locked with silver orbs, and a million messages were passed between them. Only two words were spoken out loud.

"Me specta."

Look at me.

Those words and unspoken conversations drifted into the air, shrouding the two boys in its warm embrace, reminding them of the times they shared and the apologies they had yet to utter, but didn't have to say because they didn't really need it. It took them through the silly fights and blunt words and eye-rolls they had lived through together. It took them through battles where they had watched each other's backs, jumped in front of weapons and the world itself just to protect the other.

"Me specta."

Jem's eyes held steady with Will's own, and his grip on the sick boy's hand never wavered. They had watched each other before, sensed when one of them was ill, tired, grumpy, moody, happy, sad, giddy... so many emotions and complex moods. And they watched each other now.

But Will could tell that Jem was losing to the drug.

For the first time since Will had known him, Jem was giving up.

"Don't leave me," Will snarled. The sharpness in his voice speared through the thick atmosphere, and Jem's face – his gentle, beautiful face – betrayed his shock. But, once again, like all the instances before, he smiled.

"I've always wondered how selfish you can be, Will," Jem said quietly. Though the words were meant to hurt him, the only pain Will could feel was the one in his heart, which was in the process of being broken into two. "But I suppose I'm selfish as well. I want to stay, too. I don't want Yanluo to take me just yet."

"Yanluo? The demon?"

"No. Yanluo, the Chinese God of Death."

Jem was already breathless from the short amount of talking he had to do. Will realised this.

"Don't speak. Just rest," Will said. He wondered if Jem could tell that he was desperate.

"No, I have to say something," Jem said. He was not sweating anymore. Rather, his skin had taken on a tone that was much too similar to those of the dead.

"Jem, please just–"

"William." His name was said shortly and briskly, and in that moment, Jem's voice was strong and without cracks. However, that illusion disappeared with Jem's next words. "William Herondale, listen to me."

Will fell silent and nodded, though the tightness around his lips indicated that he was not pleased.

Jem sighed and said, "Remember to take care of yourself. Don't forget to watch your back when you're in battle, because I won't be there for you."

Will didn't like the sound of this. It felt like the end. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for Jem to go. Not now, not yet, not ever.

Please don't go. Don't leave me.

"Jem, stop–"

"And don't forget to take care of Charlotte. You know how she always buries herself in work and doesn't want to eat. Also, make sure Henry doesn't bring the Institute down with his inventions. Keep on eye on him."

"Jem–" Will's voice was breaking.

"Try not to start fights, because you know how Charlotte feels about that–"

"James!"

Both boys fell silent. Will was angry. Jem was calm.

"Will," Jem said gently. There was a strange fire in his silver eyes. "You shall always be my brother."

"And you shall always be mine, Jem," Will whispered.

"Good," Jem said softly. "That's good."

With that, Jem seemed to relax. His eyes fluttered closed, and his hand loosened. But it was the smile on Jem's face that almost sent Will to tears. It was so cheerful, so pure, and so content.

For a long time, Will simply stayed there, staring at his friend with an unreadable look on his face, waiting for him to wake up. It wasn't until Charlotte came in that Will realised that Jem was gone. Dead. And he was never coming back.

Will didn't cry. While Charlotte wept behind him, Will gazed at the body in the bed, his hand still clutched in Jem's cold one.

I've always wondered how selfish you can be, Will.

Fingers tightened. A throat constricted. Teeth clenched. But still, Will didn't cry.

That night, when Will glanced at the moon, he noted that it was silver. The exact same shade as Jem's eyes. Jem. Jem, Jem, Jem. His best friend. His parabatai. His brother. It was this simple realisation that made all the grief and sorrow bubble up into one huge entity, threatening to consume and drown him.

He's gone. He's not coming back. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone...

And for the first time in many, many years, Will cried. He crumpled to the ground, burying his face into his hands. Will cried silently, without a sound, for the one who had stayed by his side, and yet was no longer here.

You shall always be my brother.

Sad, depressing, but I'm proud of it. I like it, in a morbid kind of way ;) Do you?