A Leap in Time ~ An Infernal Devices Fic

Shots Fired

Tessa did not have an amazing night in Jem's room. Maybe it was the oddity of sleeping in someone else's bed, maybe it was the events of the past few weeks, but she had the strangest dreams she'd had in a long time. From the moment her head hit the pillow she seemed to go into a fog, which gradually developed into a scene. She was in an old house, desperately hunting for a pink hair ribbon. An old woman called to her, wearing a forced smile, and tried to lead her into a room with kind words, promising she would give Tessa a broken vase. Tessa protested; she did not want a broken vase, she needed a parasol, with spiked edges, to stab Gabriel with. The old woman had laughed at her perfectly reasonable request, which utterly bewildered Tessa, before pulling off her cloak to reveal that she had no body, only a head. But dream Tessa couldn't scream. The dream moved sharply and suddenly Nate was before her, chained to a chair, demanding that she give Aunt Harriet chocolates and set the curtains on fire, while Will, beside him, danced on a table singing a song about chicken pox. She woke up, startled, and in a cold sweat, to the sound of someone sawing at a phantom violin.

A trickle of sweat ran down her face as she gasped, looking around her and taking in the blank room, almost empty room. For a moment she panicked. Where was she?

The door flew open. Tessa let out a scream.

Jem knocked into the desk beside the doorway at her in surprise, cursing, before looking at her, eyes wide with alarm.

He stood there for a second. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, looking bewildered.

"No-" Tessa gasped, catching her breath, staring at him with wide eyes. "I had just- Forgotten where I was-" She cut off, looking at his face. He wore a light blue button up, with several buttons misplaced as though it was put on in a hurry, his hair mussed up as if with sleep, and, it might've been the light, but the bags under his eyes looked much less defined. Through his shock, he looked exhilarated.

"What's happened?" she asked immediately, staring at him, sliding out of the bed. "Were you coming to tell me something?"

He glanced down at her outfit quickly (his shirt, much too baggy on her, and her jeans, which she couldn't bring herself to sleep without in someone else's bed) before meeting her eyes once more with urgency. "Yes. I did. I promise I wouldn't have barged in otherwise." He paused glancing around the floor searchingly. "I forgot you didn't have any things. Is there a way to get them from your house?"

Tessa looked at him exasperatedly. "I don't know and I can't say unless you tell me what this is about."

Jem's face split into a grin. "We're leaving. Today. Will finally gave in."

-----------------------

Will stood beside Magnus next to the checking counter, beat up suitcase leaning against his calf. Magnus hummed the same three notes over and over in a cheerful tone, rocking back and forth on his heels, seeming determined to ignore Will's glare aimed at the side of his head.

"Must you make that noise?"

Magnus glanced sideways at Will. "I don't see you coming up with a better way to pass the time."

Will simply turned his gaze to the sliding doors that marked the entrance to the airport.

He was, in all actuality, not actually in a bad mood. He didn't quite know how he felt. It was as though he was in limbo, neither here nor there. He wasn't letting his thoughts drift where they might without his active intervention, with the letter burning a hole in his pocket. Will had changed that night.

He had read that letter so many times the words had come to be complete gibberish to his eyes. His bedroom had felt like a prison cell, as he was forced by his own mind to contemplate Magnus' words, what they might mean. He, William Herondale, born in a different time. A different time? What was a different time? His mind went to his strange urge to pull on suspenders, the sudden jump from a world of foggy memories to the vividly confused one he was trapped in now. Last night, he had read the signature at the bottom of the letter once more, the outline of its swirling lettering burning against his eyelids as he closed them before the glow of his desk lamp. He had taken a breath, rolling onto his back from where he lay on his mattress, and had let his mind loose.