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"'Come, Watson,' said he, and we passed from that house of grief into the pale sunlight of the winter day."
Ty closed his book with a snap. He'd reread just about all the Sherlock Holmes books in the time since Kit had arrived - almost two weeks ago now - but he'd barely seen the new Shadowhunter. Only a flash of his hand when he opened the door to accept the meals that Ty delivered.
Meals. Ty removed his headphones and checked his phone. It was dinner time, and everyone else - even Diego, who was only just out of the infirmary - was in the kitchen eating. Ty had stayed with Kit, feeling sure that something was different. Maybe tonight, Kit would open his door.
But, it seemed, today was ordinary. Ty stood up and stretched like a cat; there was no point waiting if Kit wasn't going to show himself. He was just about to go when a voice said quietly, "Is anyone there?"
"Yes," Ty said immediately. "It's me."
"Oh." There was a pause. "You're the one who held a knife to my throat."
"Yes," Ty agreed. He crossed his arms at the door.
"Where're Tessa and Jem?"
"They had to go," Ty explained, though he was getting impatient. "I don't know when they'll be back."
"And what about the other people?" Kit asked through the door. "The blond girl - Emma - and her boyfriend?"
"Julian's not her boyfriend," Ty said frustratedly. "He's her parabatai." Scowling, he asked again, "Can I come in?"
There was silence. Then the lock clicked, and Ty was looking at the grubby face of Kit Herondale.
Ty stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He looked around, blinking.
The bed was slept-in and looked as if it had been deliberately messed up. Plates and half-eaten pizza crusts cluttered the floor, including the food Ty had brought up most recently, which sat untouched by the door. The lights were off save for a single lamp on the bedside table; the whole space had an air of malnourishment.
But the worst was Kit himself. He wore the same clothes as when he'd arrived at the Institute, but now Ty could see stains of ichor and holes where the demon's blood had soaked through. Kit probably had burns, then - ichor was practically the equivalent of acid. His mop of blond hair was disheveled and greasy, as though he hadn't showered in a week. Fine stubble lined his jaw, which irritated Ty: he'd never liked doing things by half, so it had to be either a beard or clean-shaven.
The worst things, though, were Kit's eyes. When Ty had first met him, they'd been a flame-blue, blazing with anger; but now they were broken, rimmed with red from crying. It hurt Ty a little to see him like that.
"My father's dead," Kit said sullenly.
"I know," Ty replied. "So's mine."
Kit looked up, surprised. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Ty said. "It's not your fault. He died five years ago."
Kit looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He blinked - once, twice. Then he began to cry, slowly at first, until soon tears were soaking his cheeks. He sat down on the bed, and Ty, speechless, joined him. He touched Kit's shoulder gently, and Kit leaned into him as though Ty could shield him from the world.
Ty had never been good at comforting people - that was Livvy's job. Usually he ended up saying something that just made the situation worse; more than once, he'd sent Dru to her room in a fit of tears for making an observation that seemed only natural to him. But Kit seemed so far gone, almost delusional with sadness, that Ty suddenly felt a sort of responsibility for the boy.
Gently he lifted Kit and led him into the bathroom off the bedroom. He turned on the shower and helped Kit in, fully clothed. He avoided looking at Kit as he did it, but as he was leaving the other boy said quietly, "I'm sorry."
Ty blushed. "It's okay," he said quickly. Then he closed the door and slipped out.
He searched through his and Julian's clothes (Kit was a size between them), and picked out a shirt and jeans. He also borrowed a razor from Jules, hoping Kit would get the hint. He took a towel and entered the room again.
The bathroom was foggy, and the shower rang loud as it hit the porcelain tiles. Kit's clothes littered the floor, but he'd fortunately had the wherewithal to close the shower curtain. Ty left everything stacked neatly on the toilet, then left to clean Kit's room.
He worked meticulously, stacking the plates and making the bed. He'd just barely finished when Kit came out of the bathroom, his hair damp and dripping onto his shoulders. Ty looked up at him, startled; Kit smiled half heartedly and asked, "So did we miss dinner?"
Five minutes later they entered the kitchen, to various noises of surprise.
"Kit?" Emma asked, standing up. "We didn't think you'd be down tonight -"
"I'm not hungry," Kit interrupted. He was pale, and leaning a little on Ty for support, but the flames were back in his eyes. "I'm ready." He stared and Ty, and for once Ty stared straight back - right into Kit's burning blue eyes. "Ready to be a Shadowhunter."