An Immortal Conversation

Magnus strode down the deserted subway tunnel, thoughts whirling around his head and designer boots making no noise against the tile. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that he had forgotten his pants and should be cold, but it didn't register fully. His hair felt dirty and rumpled. Yesterday's hairspray was not enough to stiffen its spikes and it kept flopping in his face. He brushed it away irritably. He hadn't bothered with makeup this morning, had been too eager to prove Camille wrong.

He wouldn't do that. My Alec would never think to do such a thing to me. Camille was lying again, of course. Manipulating him like she always had, trying to play with him like a puppet on a string. She had always treated him that way, as if he were an amusing object that for her to play with. Or perhaps a dog, trained to her beck and call. Thank the Angel he had gotten out of that relationship.

He shook his head, as if he could shake away the thoughts of Camille. The older he got, the more he found his mind wandering down rabbit trails and the harder it was to concentrate on the task at hand. He sighed and pushed his hair, which had cascaded down again, out of his face. He peered into the darkness, cat's eyes raking the gloom for any sign of the Shadowhunter he was tracking.

Nothing.

Alec isn't here.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Alec wasn't here. What would his boyfriend be doing in a place like this anyway? For that matter, what would Camille be doing down here? For as long as Magnus had known her, she had been one of those extravagant types. Not one to choose a deserted subway for a meeting place. This just proved that he couldn't trust Camille. She was only looking out for herself again, the lying—

Far ahead of him a light bloomed, where no light should be in this Godforsaken hole. White light, eerie in the gloom. Steady. Not like a flickering candle, and definitely not electric.

Witchlight.

Alec.

A warlock's anger is not like the anger of humans. Human anger is hot. It rises at a moment's notice and burns everything it its path. A warlock's anger is not hot. It does not burn. It is a cold animal with teeth of ice. An angry warlock can be the cruelest being on Earth.

Magnus kept walking until he stood just outside the illuminated circle, feeling the cold anger rise in the pit of his stomach. Alec must be very preoccupied. He didn't even look up as the warlock approached, didn't even notice him. Magnus would have been disappointed in him, if he were not too angry to care.

"Alec."

The figure holding the light stiffened.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood."

Alec turned, very slowly. "Magnus?"

Magnus said nothing.

"Magnus," the boy said again. "I thought you were asleep."

"Evidently." The word came out cold, as if chipped from ice.

Breaking up with Alec was not as hard as he had anticipated. It almost worried him, how easy it was. It should have been much harder. It was almost as if someone else said the words, someone else pulled Camille's message out of his pocket and brandished it, someone else told Alec to collect his things and leave the key on the diningroom table. Someone who, unbidden, brought up reason after reason why he should be done with the boy, and his family, and the entire race of Nephilim. He was sick of doing their dirty work, sick of being their pet warlock, sick of being the one they came running to for favors. Sick of being caught up in their stupid little war.

"There is a war coming, Alexander, and you don't want your loyalties to be questioned. Do you?"

Alec shook his head, eyes locked on Magnus's face. Magnus felt a twinge of remorse—but only a twinge. Not enough to counteract the three hundred years' worth of resentment to the Nephilim now coursing through his veins.

He turned to go. He felt stiff and sore, as if the breakup had hurt him physically even if it hadn't hurt mentally. He could also feel Alec watching him, willing him to come back, hoping that he hadn't meant what he'd said.

He didn't care.

It wasn't until the fourth or fifth deserted tunnel intersection that the cold fist of anger began to loosen somewhat and he started to wonder if maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he had spoken to hastily.

No, whispered a voice in his ear. You were right. You need to untangle yourself from the Nephilim. What have they ever done for you? You were right to take a stand, to refuse to be their lapdog anymore.

Magnus blinked, unsure for a moment if the voice was even his own. It certainly sounded like it. He was about to investigate further when his finely-tuned ear caught the tail end of a very strange sound. He stopped short, head up, pupil slits widening even further in the dark, searching for the source of the sound. It was almost familiar, almost something that he remembered. Something was tickling the back of his mind,-half a memory, mostly forgotten, from a very long time ago. A light, flashing, and that sound…

He couldn't come up with the memory completely, but something about it made him feel the need to investigate further. Besides, he didn't have anything better to do. He'd lied to Alec about having to be out all afternoon, and now it was either find something to do or wander around the park until evening.

He came to a sudden decision and wheeled around, following the left-hand tunnel from which the sound had come.

Five minutes later, nearly out of breath, Magnus stumbled around a corner and stopped, clutching the wall for support with one hand and his aching chest with the other. His wound wasn't healing as quickly as he would like it to, and any amount of exercise could set if off again. Not so silently, he cursed Amatis's dagger. Then he cursed Amatis herself, and the Dark Cup and Sebastian, and threw in Shadowhunters and demons in general just to round it out. He had just begun on Valentine's unsatisfactory origins and his mother's likely disreputable ancestors when an unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

"Hallo, who are—oh it's you again."

The warlock looked up quickly and found himself nearly nose-to-nose with a man he did not recognize.

"What do you mean, it's me again," Magnus said roughly, rather unappreciative that his cursing session had been disrupted. "I've never seen you before in my life, and if you don't mind I'd like to keep it that way."

"Oh come now, you don't really mean that, do you?" The man stood and backed away slightly, enough for Magnus to get a bit of a better look at him.

He wore a trench coat over a blue pinstriped suit—and looked rather snazzy in it too, Magnus couldn't help but notice. He also had something silver and blue sticking out of his breast pocket.

The almost-memory in Magnus's mind sharpened a bit—a memory of a man, quite different from this one, using a blue and silver stick—he had called it some sort of screwdriver, Magnus remembered, though it had been years before the modern screwdriver had been invented—to break a werewolf out of prison. Magnus had helped with that. Unknowingly, but still. He had helped, and afterword the man had made him an offer.

"Hold on…" His brain whirred and clicked through several different processes at once in an effort to reconcile what was standing in front of him with the picture in his head. He closed his eyes, then blinked twice and came up with an answer he liked. "Doctor."

"See? See? He does recognize me," the man—the Doctor—said triumphantly to no one in particular. "I knew he'd get to it eventually. He's a smart one, is our…"

"Magnus Bane."

"Magnus Bane! Right! I knew it had to start with an M." He peered at Magnus, a bit more closely than was comfortable. "You don't look good."

Magnus realized that he was still clutching his chest and dropped his hand quickly, straightening up. "I'm fine. Just…a side cramp."

"A warlock with a side cramp. I don't think I've met one of those before.."

Magnus closed his eyes again. He wasn't sure he could handle this man's energy at the moment.

"Tell you what," the Doctor said, leaning in as if it was strictly confidential. "Why don't you come back with me for a cup of tea. You do look like you could use one."

"Well…" Magnus's mind had wandered back to his last memory of the man, and the long ago offer that he had made. Not that he was considering it, not really. Just…letting himself remember. Besides, one cup of tea couldn't hurt, could it? "All right."

"Good!" The Doctor beamed at him, as if that one affirmative had truly brightened his day. Magnus didn't remember his Doctor reacting quite like this one did. "TARDIS is this way."

He led the way down the right-hand tunnel, moving with such speed that even if Magnus had not been wounded he would have had trouble keeping up. Ducking around corners and through impossibly narrow walkways, they finally reached a secluded corner, far away from where anyone in their right mind would think to come looking. It made Magnus wonder if he even was in his right mind.

"Here we are," the Doctor said proudly, stopping so quickly that Magnus nearly ran into him from behind. He waved his hand at a darkened corner. Magnus squinted and could just make out the blue box standing in the shadows.

"Rather majestic, don't you think? I parked her there specially."

"Quite," Magnus agreed, looking the police box over. It looked exactly how he remembered it, now that he thought about it, down to the ding in the paint on the lower left corner, and the sign on the door that said "Pull".

"Come on in, make yourself comfortable, " the Doctor said, ushering him inside. "I'll get the tea. Don't touch anything that looks like it needs to be touched," he added, before disappearing down one of the hallways that Magnus had not noticed before.

The warlock skirted the large octagonal control deck, giving the many inviting, shiny buttons a wide berth. He was not surprised to see that the box was much bigger on the inside than the outside. Leading the life that he did, most things had ceased to surprise him long ago. He sat gingerly on the dilapidated brown couch, avoiding the springs that stuck through the stuffing. Not exactly a mansion.

The Doctor returned, juggling a steaming teapot and two mugs managed to set them on the control deck with only one bad spill and a minimal amount of swearing. Magnus decided against asking how he had gotten the tea so fast.

"All right then," the Doctor said, painstakingly pouring them each a cup. Half-way through filling each cup to the exact same amount, he seemed to remember something and looked up in surprise. "You didn't touch anything."

"No...should I have? I was under the impression that you told me not to."

"Well, yes, but most people take it as an invitation to play with as many things as possible."

"Oh." Magnus felt as if it had disappointed the man in some way. "I was brought up to obey rules, given that in my world disobeying them generally means either a slow, painful death or a quick and still painful death."

The Doctor nodded. "I see." He handed Magnus a full mug of tea. Magnus took it, wrapping his long fingers around it. He was suddenly painfully aware of how cold he was, and that he was not wearing any pants. The Doctor seemed to have come to the same realization and glanced down at Magnus's bare, though admittedly quite handsome, legs. "I don't suppose you would be interested in looking through my wardrobe?"
Magnus nodded, self-consciously tugging on the hem of his coat. He was slightly surprised at how uncomfortable he was. Usually such attire would not bother him. Still, it wasn't everyday that he met someone who was as much his senior as the Doctor was.

"Down the hall, to the right."

Magnus turned in the direction that the Doctor pointed.

"No, wait. That's the kitchen. Down the hall to the left, second door on your right, through the pool room, third door on the left, straight ahead, up the stairsm past the bins, second door on your right."

Magnus went.

Forty-five minutes, six wrong turns and a pair of neon green pants later, he managed to find his way back to the control room. "Doctor," he said.

The Doctor turned around from where he had been studying the monitor. "Yes?"

"Why do you have a gymnasium in your bathroom?"

"Do I? That's odd, last I checked the bathroom went with the swimming pool and the gym was in the kitchen. You've been rearranging on me again, haven't you, old girl?" He gave the wall a hearty slap and a caress. Magnus gave up and picked up his mug.

"My tea's cold."

"Well, did you expect it to stay nice and hot just for you? You've been gone nearly an hour."

"It wasn't my fault that the gymnasium was in the bathroom." He looked into his mug and saw himself staring back out of the dark liquid. I look awful.

It was true. His hair was a mess, half up and half down and terribly tangled. His eyes looked like a raccoon's, mascara forming a black crescent underneath them. He looked pale, too, as if he were sick. Giving up on his reflection, he took a sip of cold tea.

"I've been watching you."

Magnus forced himself to not choke but instead swallow the tea in a civilized manner. Once he had managed that, and blinked the tear of effort from his eyes, he set the cup down. "You what."

"I've been watching you." The Doctor leaned forward, eyes on Magnus's face.

"What kind of watching, exactly?"

"The kind of watching in which I pop up randomly when I know you won't notice and make sure you're all right."

Magnus's mind flashed unbidden to that party, months ago, when he'd first laid eyes on Alec. Come to think of it, one of the vampires hadn't really been pale enough or nasty enough to be part of Raphael's clan. He'd been too busy to notice then, but…

"Do I want to know why?"

"I've met you twice in person, Magnus Bane. Do you remember that?"

He did remember. He remembered the strange man who had shown up out of nowhere, who had broken the werewolf out of the Clave prison and consequently saved the wolf's pack from entirely probable mass destruction, as well as other nasty things. He also remembered another time, so long ago he had nearly forgotten. A Charles Dickens reading that he had attended, and a demon-possessed woman, obviously dead, screaming and screaming with blue smoke pouring out of her mouth. The Doctor ad been there then, too, chasing the woman. He had disappeared that night, but had come back the next day, to talk specifically to Magnus.

"You were different then."

"I was different then. I am different now. I will continue to be different, because different is my specialty." He began to play absentmindedly with his blue stick—his sonic screwdriver, Magnus remembered suddenly. "Both times that we talked, I made you an offer. Do you remember that?"

Magnus nodded. "I do."

"And have you given any more thought to that offer?"

Magnus was silent. He remembered the offer, certainly. And he had given thought to it. Much thought, especially recently. But it had been a full century at least since he had seen the Doctor, and he had assumed that the last time he had turned him down, it was final. Now, suddenly, he was presented with the choice again, quite probably for the last time. Suddenly he had to make his decision.

"Well?" The Doctor was watching him intently, waiting on tenterhooks for his answer.

"I am old, Doctor," he said finally. "I am much older now than I was the last time you asked me."

The Doctor was silent, still watching him.

"I have seen everything there is to see on this Earth, done everything that it is possible to do. I had hoped to grow old and die with someone I loved, but it seems that will not be possible."

"And…?"

"Before I make my decision, Doctor, I would like to ask you a question."

"Shoot."

"Why me?"

The Doctor sat back, setting his mug on the control desk. "Well," he said.

Magnus waited.

"Well," he said again. Then: "I don't know. You caught my eye, I guess, that one night at the Dickens reading. You remember that?"

"Yes, you ran onto the stage shouting about a dead woman."

"Yes, then. You caught my eye and I knew you weren't human. And not only that you weren't human but that you were immortal. And, well, I figured that you would be a good match."

"But surely, Doctor, there are other warlocks. All of them are just as immortal as I am."

"Well, yes. But none of them are Magnus Bane."

Magnus thought about that for a moment. Then he thought about his past and his future. He had been bored of the Earth for some time now, wanted to get away, to do something else. He had tried to bury the feeling with glitter and parties and the occasional slaying of a demon—and, of course, Alec. Now Alec wasn't an option. Magnus was not one to go back on his word. And without Alec, the future didn't look so inviting after all.

"I am tired of this world. Tired of it's petty troubles and its humans who die to soon. I need something different. Something new."

"So you'll do it?" The Doctor was still staring at him intently, hanging on his every word. Magnus hadn't know this was so important to him, although he could see why it would be. He understood how hard it could be to be immortal, to watch your friends grow old and die without ever suffering the same fate yourself. His mind raced, weighing pros and cons, struggling to make a decision.

"I—" He stopped, still unsure.

"The TARDIS," the Doctor said.

Magnus blinked at the sudden change of subject. "What about it?"

"Did I tell you it's a time machine?"

Magnus took a moment to process this information. Then: "I'll do it," he said finally.

The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He blinked, and then stood up so fast that he dropped his mug. "You'll do it?" he repeated, as if unable to believe it. "You really mean it?"

Magnus, tired as he was, couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "I'll do it," he confirmed. "I'll travel with you. To the farthest reaches of the universe," he added, quoting what the Doctor had said when he had first asked.

"To the farthest reaches of the universe," the Doctor repeated, picking up his cup and raising it as if making a toast. "The tea's gone," he added as an afterthought, having tried to drink it.

"Here, have mine," Magnus offered, handing him his cold cup.

"No time," the Doctor said, putting the cup down and reaching for the controls. "Where to first?"

"You choose."

"Brilliant. There's this lovely little planet orbiting the star Onyxeferous with a very nice atmosphere and these beaches that are just…brilliant. What say you?"

Magnus felt a strange kind of excitement rising in him. "That sounds brilliant."

"Brilliant!" The Doctor pushed several buttons and pulled a lever. "We're off, then. Allons-y!"

The ship shuddered and shook, making that strange sound that had brought Magnus here in the first place.

"Prepare to meet the universe, Magnus Bane."