Hi everyone! I was rereading the Clockwork Princess epilogue, and it gave me this idea for this short story. Hope you enjoy!

Paris, 1938

"Perfect," Magnus declared as he set down his paintbrush and admired his new piece of work. "Let's see how much this sells for."

Giving a contented sigh, he left the painting to dry and ambled over to the window overlooking the city of light. Paris was beautiful, as beautiful as it had been when he had last been here, during the French Revolution. Of course it had changed – automobiles now rolled down the city streets, electricity made the night as bright as day, and of course, the feeling of tension hung in the air. A sense of foreboding, and dread, a coming darkness that would engulf all in its path.

Magnus shook his head. Mundane politics had never interfered in his life, and he was not about to start letting them play a role now. He had weathered the storm of the Great War in New York – he would retreat to the safety of America should the need arise.

He turned away from the window just as a knock sounded at his door.

"Qui est-ce?" he called.

The reply came in English. "Magnus? Magnus, is that you?"

Magnus paused. A voice he had not heard in thirty-five years. A voice that, last he had heard it, had been laughing and joyful, but was now the furthest thing from that. Hurrying to the door, he flung it open.

Tessa Gray stood at his doorstep. She wore a white dress, dyeing her grey eyes a shade of light blue. Her dark brown hair fell unpinned about her shoulders. By her feet stood a small brown valise. She clutched her hands together in front of her. It was clear she was nervous, but despite that she held her chin high and looked Magnus evenly in the eye. Tessa had always carried herself regally, no matter what the occasion.

"Tessa," Magnus said. "Come in!"

"Thank you," Tessa said quietly, and, picking up her valise, made her way into Magnus' small garret apartment. Magnus shut and locked the door, and studied Tessa closely.

The grey eyes that had always been wide and trusting were darker now. The vulnerability and the need for a friend which Magnus had always read so easily in Tessa's eyes were still there, but gone was the twinkling amusement, the curiosity. Even the intelligence seemed – well, not absent, but muted. A deep sadness was there to see in her eyes. Tessa had never been able to hide her emotions, and Magnus read her easily, as he always had.

Looking around, though, Magnus watched her make a brave attempt at a smile.

"You have a charming apartment," she commented.

"I've always thought so," Magnus said with a small bow. "Tell me, what brings you to Paris?"

The hints of the smile vanished, and Tessa looked down at her feet. "I couldn't stay in London," she confessed. "I had to go."

Magnus wanted to kick himself. Of course. He had heard about Will. He had known this day would come, as it must, as it always would, and he had known Tessa would be left like this. But now that the day had come, he found himself with nothing to say.

"I did not know you would be in Paris," Tessa said, continuing in Magnus' silence. "I arrived here and found a Downworld tavern. And I heard some werewolves discussing you. And so – I came."

"I am sorry I did not tell you," Magnus apologized. "We have been out of contact for far too long."

"It seems our correspondence leaves much to be desired," said Tessa. "I seem to remember myself saying the same thing thirty-five years ago."

Magnus chuckled, but Tessa did not.

"I did not know who else to go to," Tessa admitted, sinking down onto Magnus' small couch. "I thought I would come to see you. You have always been a friend to me, to our family, to – "

She cut herself off, and Magnus did not blame her. It was always difficult to lose a mortal love. He would know. He had lost enough of them.

"You're more than welcome to stay as long as you need," he told her. "I have only one bed, but you're welcome to it, and I will sleep on the couch…"

"No." Tessa shook her head. "Thank you for your kindness, but I shall not inconvenience you any more than I already have. It was good to see you, Magnus."

She rose to her feet, but Magnus caught at her sleeve. "Tessa," he said, "I insist. You will stay with me."

Tessa looked at him with wide, grey eyes, and Magnus was suddenly lost, as the memory of a foggy, gas-lit London rose around him and claimed him. He recalled a wild-haired, blue-eyed Shadowhunter boy standing desperately in Camille's living room, begging for help.

I need your help. There is absolutely no one else that I can ask.

And then Tessa spoke, and the fog and gaslight went away, and Magnus was back in Paris.

"All right," she whispered. She looked down. "I have nowhere else to go, anyway," she murmured slowly. "The Shadowhunters will not accept me in any other Institute, and I cannot return to London."

Magnus felt an overwhelming surge of sadness as he looked at Tessa. Her anchor was gone, and she was left floundering.

"Stay with me," he told her. "And mend. Stay here."

Stay tuned for the next chapter! And reviews please!