The Infernal Devices Reimagined

In a Place of Misery

The sky was grey and overcast when Jem, Will, and Thomas arrived at the train station, though it was that way about ninety per cent of the time in London, so that wasn't worth remarking upon. Jem tapped his jade-tipped cane on the ground as he waited for Will to catch up. Though he assured him that he did not need it, Will insisted on carrying Jem's things.

"Do you regret your chivalry yet?" Jem called after him.

"Absolutely not!" Will called back.

Jem turned back to the train track and rolled his eyes. It really was typical of Will to do something like this. The bags weren't all that heavy, but Will wanted to carry them for Jem anyway. Though Will said it was because he was going on a tiring trip and should conserve his strength, Jem knew the real reason why.

"Here we are!" Will said, setting down the suitcases and pretending to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"I could have done as much myself."

"Of course you could," Will checked the time on the great clock in the station, then said, "Have you packed enough yin fen for the trip?"

There it was. "I have, Will, and I could do without you treating me as if I were a hapless boy."

"I'm most certainly not treating you as if you were a hapless boy, I've simply asked you a question. Capable gentlemen ask each other questions for clarification on their work, and what are we if not the most capable young gentlemen in Great Britain?" 

Jem rolled his eyes, "Come off it. Must I remind you that not ten minutes ago you were whinging about having to separate for an entire three days, Mr Capable Gentleman."

Will threw up his hands. "And what of it? I am a man, am I not? I have a right, nay, a duty  to decry injustices." 

"It's a pity that you decided to take up the life of a shadowhunter, William Whinge-dale, for the theatre lost a great actor in you." 

At once, their ears were attacked by a great rattling sound. Plumes of smoke blew across the land and a great contraption of metal came to a halt before them. 

"Well," Jem said, careful not to breathe the air, "It seems we must part."

"Indeed," Will pursed his lips. Jem bent down to lift his suitcase when Will grabbed his arm and said, "I must whinge one last time before you go. I still very much dislike this." 

"I like it no more than you do, but this is the way things must be," he smiled, "Don't worry, Will. We all know what a pleasant man old Starkweather is."

Will smiled back and clapped him on the shoulder, "I only hope that you may find it in your heart to disengage with the gaiety you shall enjoy in York to return to droll old London."

Jem boarded the train and found himself a compartment. When he sat down, he couldn't help but sigh. Though he loved Will dearly, sometimes he felt like a burden on him. Will was a young man and full of life. He wished to galavant across London without a care, slaying demons and winning the hearts of ladies, while Jem was an old man at age seventeen. Colourless from top to bottom, needed constant rest, medicine, had to be looked after. It was something that was first whispered around when they became parabatai, was still talked about today and had wedged itself into Jem's mind: why would someone like Will Herondale want to play caregiver for a sickly parabatai?

Jem was broken out of his thoughts when there was a noise outside his compartment. He looked to see a young girl holding a copy of Pride and Prejudice being chastised by her mother. The girl's mother made an apologetic face at Jem and dragged her daughter away. The book that the girl held in her hand brought back a memory of not too long ago, when a woman of marble skin and deep chocolate eyes told him that it was one of her favourites, and from then on, the seed of that memory burst into a gigantic tree that broke through his mind and eradicated any thought that wasn't of Miss Gray.