mirror shards // matthew fairchild {1}

nineteen // pascal's wager

Sydney spends the rest of that day, and a good chunk of the next one, sitting in bed waiting for her arm to heal up. It itches something awful, making her want to tear the sling and the bandaging away and scratch and scratch and scratch. She's becoming convinced that something got shaken loose in her brain when she had her crackup on the bridge – her thoughts feel suddenly sharper somehow, clearer, like she's been running on three hours of sleep for her entire life and suddenly she's well-rested and truly awake.

Sometime Wednesday afternoon, Tessa pulls Sydney into the now-empty infirmary, takes her arm down from the sling, and removes the bandaging, drawing a couple of ordinary iratzes over the now used, faded rune meant to heal a severe break.

"How does it feel?" Tessa asks, pressing on her daughter's shoulder, making sure everything's in the right place.

"Sore," Sydney admits, flexing her shoulder, testing the movement of her elbow. "Really sore." She stretches and hops off the infirmary table. "I'll put some ice on it, it should be fine."

"Just...if it really starts to hurt, let me know, alright? You didn't tell us about that –"

"I know." Sydney sighs. "And I'm sorry." She shrugs. "I'm a Herondale, Mama. I do stupid things and I think they're utterly brilliant."

< & >

Once out of the infirmary, Sydney heads down to the kitchen and it's while she's on her way there that she runs into Lucie.

"Sydney! Sydney, by the Angel –" Lucie grabs Sydney's arm and whirls her around. She's shaking, her eyes wet and red with tears.

"Lucie?" Sydney puts her hands gently on Lucie's shoulders. "What's going on?"

"It's Christopher." Lucie rubs at her nose. "He was attacked. Khora demons. He's in the Silent City, but we don't know if he'll make it."

Sydney uses some choice words that she's tried to avoid around her youngest sibling. "Where's James?" she asks.

"At the Devil Tavern," Lucie answers. "I'm going there now."

"Let's go," says Sydney. She reaches back automatically to take her hair up and put it down, and finds it already loose around her shoulders. "Let me get my boots, and we can head right out."

< & >

The Devil Tavern headquarters are deathly silent. James paces by the windows, he looks like he's the one who's ill. Sydney checks in with him silently, a hand on his shoulder, a quick hug he tries to shrug away. Then she sits down with Matthew.

They lean into each other, Matthew pressing his shoulder into Sydney's. He only moves to hold her after Sydney offers her arms first, not wanting to cross that unspoken bridge without asking. Then they collapse into each other. Someday, he promises himself, someday he'll hold her in his arms and it won't be because they're going to fight a battle they might not come back from, or because one or the both of them feels like crying.

James clears his throat. "Matthew," he says. He gestures at the way Matthew has his arms wrapped around Sydney. "Do you mind? That's my sister."

"Who is older than you," Sydney reminds him, "and offered the hug first. Excuse us for comforting each other because my cousin's on the brink of death." She sighs. "Put the shotgun down, James."

James rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Lucie, who looks like she's about to cry again.

"Christopher's the best of us," Sydney says. "He can't go." She shakes her head. "Henry told me something Christopher said once – that there are so many things wrong about this world, and that he wants to put them right. He has to live, so that he can do that."