Throughout the night and the whole next day, Will hardly left Jem's side, rotating between kneeling by the bed and curled up into the armchair by the headboard. His face was white, bruise-like shadows blossoming under his eyes. But he wasn't tired. His mind would not silence long enough to sleep. He had always found it difficult to sleep when the room he rested in was loud. When the noise was internal, thundering in his head just as insistently deafening, regardless of the volume in the rest of the room, slumber was near impossible. As evening fell, a clock somewhere chimed seven. Will leaned forward, as he had been doing every hour on the hour since Jem had fallen sick, and took his parabatai's hands in his, Jem's slender violinist's fingers unresponsive to Will's touch. Occasionally, Jem's hand would twitch, or Will saw a flutter of movement behind the boy's papery eyelids. But, though these movements gave Will hope, Jem had not yet awoken.

"Please, Jem. Please be alright. I am so sorry. Please, wake up." Will said, as he had every hour. But the rest of the time, he kept his pleading inside. But, twenty-four times a day, he allowed himself to voice it.

A creak drew Will's attention suddenly, head jerking up and his gaze went immediately to Jem. But no. His parabatai still lay as unconscious as before, and it hurt Will's heart to see the mouth so often turned up in a smile lying as flat and emotionless as that of a statue. Will's head turned, blue eyes falling on a somewhat uncomfortable-looking Gabriel.

"Good evening." He said, awkward.

Will kept looking at him, silently questioning his presence.

"Magnus Bane would like you downstairs in his sleeping quarters." Gabriel supplied.

"I have to stay with Jem." Will replied hollowly.

"Not even a remark about Magnus wanting you in his bedchamber." Gabriel said, sounding sad and pitying. "You need to see what Magnus has to say."

"Why can he not come up?" Will demanded, too grief-stricken to care about the way his voice rose hotly. It wasn't Gabriel's fault. It was his. All his fault.

"I will sit with Jem." Gabriel responded, with such severity and a sense of responsibility that Will glanced up.

"Why are you doing this? You don't even like Jem."

"No, I find Jem quite pleasant. It is you I did not like." Gabriel retorted.

"Did not like?"

"Do not like." He amended, before looking down. "I may not know what it is to have a parabatai, but I do know what it is to lose the only person you think you have in the world." As his father's face bloomed behind his eyes, another face joined it; Gideon's. "But it is rarely the case. There are always more people who care than you think. Someone once told me, 'I know you have often felt alone. You are not.'" Gabriel flushed a little. "And besides, you look terrible, Herondale. Go and clean yourself up."

Will stood and Gabriel leaned his chin on his hand, watching Jem intently as Will left the room.

"Thank you..." Will paused. "Gabriel."

Then he set off downstairs, in search of Magnus's room.

Magnus looked up from his letter, signing off the document as Will entered.

"What is it?" the shadowhunter demanded bluntly.

Magnus held up a finger to silence the boy and threw the letter into the fire, where it burst into blue flames and disappeared. Will did not question the contents of the fire message, and he stared at Magnus, who seemed to be purposely dragging out how long he did not have to speak with Will. Eventually, the latter lost patience.

"What do you mean by taking me from Jem right now?" Will snapped. "Magnus, this isn't sport! Jem is dying! If he dies, and I'm not beside him on account of you, I swear I'll..."

"What?" Magnus asked calmly. "You'll what?"

Will sagged a little on his feet, deflated.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Sit." Magnus said. "Come on, it will be faster for you if you just comply."

Will paused and walked into the room, sitting down on the chest at the foot of the warlock's bed.

"Explain." Will ordered. "And swiftly."

Magnus's cat's eyes went to Will's hand. The long, elegant fingers drummed against the chest on which he sat. His knee bounced, balls of his foot fidgeting against the carpeted floor. The actions would usually have indicated impatience, and Magnus knew this was how Will would explain his fidgeting – boredom. But the warlock knew him, and people in general, better than that. You didn't live for centuries without getting to know a thing or two about humans. It struck him that, in emotion at least, the Nephilim and mundanes were not so different. Will's entire being thrummed with nervous energy, so clearly needing to be with Jem. Whilst his body was here, his mind – the warlock knew – was still upstairs with his parabatai.

"Will, are you alright?" Magnus asked.

Will, casting him a disdainful look, did not grace such a question with a response.

"Have you been sleeping?" Magnus tried.

Will gave his head a dull nod, enervation in his eyes answering on the contrary. Magnus sighed.

"I've just sent a fire message to Ragnor. I'll speak with Catarina as soon as we are done. Catarina is particularly skilled in healing magic." Magnus's voice softened. "I truly meant it, I will do all that is in my power to keep Jem alive."

"I know." Will said bluntly, voice tight. "Thank you."

Magnus studied the boy. Whilst, of course, Will was to be heartbroken, his grief went beyond mundane, run-of-the-mill mourning. He was slowly falling to pieces. Fissures appeared on the surface of Will's sardonic, laidback façade. But fissures, Magnus knew, could turn into cracks. And the slightest bump could send him shattered. But the warlock knew not to tiptoe, not to edge around the boy as if he were fragile. All he could do was go on, and hope not to damage the boy further. Magnus had seen grief – felt it himself – often enough in his time. The phrase often rung out from the mouths of the lovers left behind: "I'm nothing without them". But for Will, he thought, this was not the case. If Jem died, Will lost his better half, the only person who loved Will unconditionally, the only one who saw the good. Meaning that when Jem died, Will would be left with only the bad half of himself, the side everyone else saw, without Jem to present them with the caring, comforting counterweight. Will, wide-eyed and terrified, looked like a child lost from his guardian. Without Jem, Will had no one in the world. This thought struck Magnus with enough intensity to push his breath from him in a gasp. Will's eyes, damp with exhaustion and wide with fear, met Magnus's own slit-pupils.

"Tell me." Magnus urged. "What is so dreadful? What could be so terrible that no one but Jem could know of it?"

Will's stomach flipped. For a second, he contemplated it. A person in the world who knew, who had been around long enough to perhaps know how to help, to cure him. Magnus was not a judgemental man, Magnus would not shun him. Then, his mind's eye found the image that haunted Will's days – Jem, eyes closed, face as white as his bedclothes, hand curled around Will's, breathing shallow; if regular. Will could not be certain that was not his doing. Criminal. He could not condemn Magnus to a similar fate. Serial killer. Ella. Murderer.

Will sprung to his feet like he'd been shot and Magnus glanced up worriedly at the blanched, shaking figure before him.

"No. I cannot tell you." He gasped.

Magnus's hand went out to touch Will's arm, calm him down, comfort him but Will spun and rushed from the room, leaving the door hanging and Magnus grabbing at thin air.

He thought about going after Will, but Magnus knew what would bring Jem the most comfort was Jem being cured. So, it being the closest thing he could do, he Projected a message to Catarina. She appeared, in some wavering, flickering capacity, before him a couple of minutes later.

"What?" she demanded bluntly but – for once – Magnus matched her terseness. There was no time for dancing about his words; they had Jem to care for. He knew how accomplished Catarina was in the art of healing, a talent he simply did not possess to her extent. But perhaps if the two of them, and Ragnor, pooled their resources...?

"Catarina, there is a boy who is dying and I need your help."

She motioned for him to go on, unwilling to interrupt.

"He's a shadowhunter – the one I wrote you about – and he is unwell. He has a parabatai – Will, who I told you about – whose world would crumble at his feet if Jem were to die. The both of them are truly in trouble. We have to do something – us, and Ragnor. Jem cannot die. And Will cannot live life alone and ostracized by his loss of love and confidant. They are special, Catarina. They have to live. Both of them." Magnus paused. Perhaps he'd been hasty in saying he could match Catarina's forthrightness. But he hoped, in his little monologue, he might have convinced her to aid him in healing Jem.

Catarina's brow furrowed and she smiled gently, if slightly hesitantly.

"Magnus," she said kindly. "Might this perhaps be because...well...you have a penchant for broken things. Broken people."

Magnus looked at her for a long time then took a deep breath. He pondered for a second if she was right, but he knew his answer before he even opened his mouth.

"You should understand better than anyone, Catarina." He answered, and she looked questioning. He continued. "You are a healer. I could just as easily say that was why you were a nurse; because you simply liked ill people. But that isn't it, is it? You don't like the fact people are ill; you like helping them, making things better for them, making things okay. So do I. That is what I am doing, or trying to do at least. You have magic – we have magic – for a reason. What is the point of being immortal, of having magic, if I am not going to use the time and skills for anything useful? I want to help this boy. I do. Not because I 'like broken things' or because Will Herondale is handsome, but because that boy, Jem, is dying. He is going to die, and we might be able to help him. Maybe we will not succeed, but is it not worth trying?" he looked at her imploringly. "Catarina, you do this every day; help people who cannot help themselves. Just because you are fixing broken bones and I am fixing broken hearts does not mean your mission is any more important, more worthy of magical assistance. Because Will's heart will break. I'm sure of it. Your healing magic is better than mine, better than Ragnor's. Catarina you could be saving a life, which you do every day. Please, help me save this boy."

Catarina paused and opened her mouth to reply, but could not think what to say. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes." She said finally. "I will help. Summon me to wherever you are. I will get there as soon as I can."

"I love you, Catarina Loss." Magnus smiled, and her face softened, blue skin returning to sapphire after paling at his speech.

"And I you." She replied. "Though I worry you wear your heart too readily on your sleeve."

"What better place for a heart?"

Catarina shook her head, smiling. "You're a good person, Magnus."

"Better for having you beside me, my dear."

She rolled her eyes fondly and the image of her dissipated before him.