Chapter 1: The problem of memory

The first rays of dawn streaming through the open window woke Magnus up from his restless slumber. Morning brought with it an awareness he would much rather ignore than acknowledge. The bright sunlight nudged his face insistently, urging him to abandon his bed and greet the new day. Instead, he rolled over with a groan, determined to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep still clinging to the fringes of his consciousness. He was not ready to wake up yet, the sun be damned, and Magnus Bane is nothing if not stubborn. He ignored the offending sunlight and the annoying awareness poking at his mind. He was sleeping, damn it! The least his unhelpful brain could do is cooperate.

But apparently, his brain had decided to act responsibly, now of all times, and try and solve the problem of his memory, or rather the absence of it. The problem, fascinating as it was, was also significantly alarming and hence, his brilliant solution had been to drink himself into a stupor till he fell asleep and ignore the very existence of the problem. It had been a fool-proof plan, or would have been if only his brain had received the memo. In his not so humble opinion, denial was a perfectly acceptable method of solving problems and if he could just ignore the problem altogether, he was certain it would resolve itself. With that in mind, he buried himself deeper into the covers, determined to sleep the day away, only to be foiled by the impatient knocking of a guest at his front door.

Alas, it seems the fates themselves were plotting against him and his much desired rest. Grumbling under his breath, he dragged himself from the comfort of his bed, fixing his hair and make-up with a quick snap of his fingers. He made his way to the door at a leisurely pace, pointedly ignoring the unfamiliarity of the apartment despite being filled by his familiar possessions. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation, he's sure, that would make itself known if he just gave it enough time. There is absolutely no reason to be concerned. He sighed with exasperation. Accomplished liar that he is, he's still not very good at lying to himself despite the centuries of practice.

The knocking resumed much louder than before, drawing him from his thoughts. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He let a spike of irritation bleed into his voice. Really, the insolence of some people, disturbing his peaceful morning and banging on his door at such an early hour. Yanking the door open, he had half a mind to teach his ill-mannered guest a lesson, when the sight of his guest stopped him short.

"Catarina! What a pleasant surprise, my dear! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

His friend just raised an eyebrow at him in response before inviting herself in and making herself comfortable on his couch. To say that he was surprised to see her would be an understatement, though he masked his emotions well. As close as they had always been, showing up unannounced at each other's place of residence without a cause had never been their way. Not to mention it had been a while since he had seen her. Perhaps she was offended that he hadn't called on her in so long?

She is still staring at him with her eyebrow cocked as if to say 'Well?' but he can't imagine whatever it is that she is waiting for. He scrambled to figure out the correct answer to her unasked question, though it proved difficult when he doesn't know what the question is. Had he forgotten about any plans to meet with her? Had he done something to upset her? Perhaps the missing memory was a greater problem than he had earlier anticipated.

Growing tired of his silence, Catarina decided to finally speak. "How have you been, Magnus?" The question seems too pointed and heavy with subtext to be a simple enquiry as to his well-being. He wondered if it is just his over-active imagination or if his friend was genuinely looking at him as if expecting him to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"Oh, I've been wonderful. There is so much to enjoy about this wonderful city. You really should let me take you out sometime. We'll make a night of it, for old times' sake."

Judging by the concerned look on her face, it had been the wrong answer. Her gaze slid over to the mostly empty bottle of whiskey he had left on the table the previous night and then returns to him again. This time the question in her eyes is much more pronounced. He doesn't understand what her problem is. She has known him long enough to know he indulges himself sometimes.

"Ah, I might have gotten a bit carried away last night. You know how it is. I never could resist a good liqueur."

"Magnus, I've known you long enough to know when you've gotten a bit carried away and when you're using alcohol as an escape to run away from your problems."

Magnus can only stare at her in amazement because how could she possibly know? His friend was astute, he knew, but she couldn't have just guessed that something had been bothering him from just the few minutes she had been in his company. And what could he tell her, when he didn't understand it himself? How could he explain to her that he had woken last night to a gaping hole in his memory and an ache so deep in his chest that it had stolen his breath, that for a few moments he had felt a loss so painful that he had been overcome by an inexplicable grief. That he had been powerless to fight the tears in his eyes and the sobs in his chest and had spent a good half hour crying and he had absolutely no idea why. That he had been so overwhelmed by the feelings and so terrified by the confusion he had had no choice but to drown them with alcohol. No, he couldn't tell her, however much he trusted her. He would figure it out on his own.

"Catarina..." He began in the most soothing voice possible. He meant to reassure her, to put her concerns to rest. But he found himself at a loss for words.

"Magnus, I know you are hurting. I cannot imagine what you are going through. To have lost so much, and in such a short period of time. I want you to know that you're not alone. You have friends that you can rely upon, who will always support you. You don't have to do this alone."

"Ah..." Magnus made a valiant effort to not let his inner turmoil reflect on his face because what? What in the world...? What was she talking about? What had he lost? Did she know about his lost memories? Obviously, he was missing crucial pieces of information. And Catarina seemed to be much more well-informed than him. Mentally, he debated the pros and cons of telling her the truth. Should he just come clean to her, tell her everything and let her help him in making sense of whatever had happened to him?

"Magnus...?"

No, he needed more information. If he could just deduce what he couldn't remember...

"Catarina, you know I appreciate your love and your support. While I am aggrieved by my latest misfortune, I assure you I have come to terms with it. I thank you for your concern, but I do not need it." Please work, he silently prayed. It's a risky gamble, a play for gathering information. He knew from experience that refusing her help would only make her more determined to give it and that she would never leave a grieving friend to mourn alone.

"Come to terms with it?" Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and disbelief. "You just called me last night, heartbroken and in tears, telling me that you had lost everything that mattered to you."

He had called her last night? What had he told her? This was giving him a headache. Had he been attacked last night? Is that why he couldn't remember? It was hard to imagine something getting the best of him. Had his memories been lost due to an accident or trauma? Or was it possible that they had been stolen from him? And what was it that he had lost that was so important to him? He couldn't imagine anything that he could lose that he couldn't live without. Surely he was being dramatic when he had called Catarina. He had everything he had ever needed to be happy. Whatever it was that he had lost, it couldn't be that important.

"Magnus, are you listening to me?"

"What?...Oh yes, of course. My apologies, Catarina. I got distracted. What were you saying?"

Catarina was looking at him again with worry clouding her eyes and he tried to school his expression again to hide his own sharply rising worries. "I was saying that you could use some cheering up. I have a shift at the hospital right now but I thought you could babysit Madzie for today? Only if you're feeling up for it, of course. You two could spend the day together and we could meet up for dinner?"

"Er...what?" Babysitting? Madzie? What was she talking about? What had he missed? He was steadily losing any hope he had entertained of keeping this problem to himself. One thing was clear, ignoring this problem was not an option anymore.

"Magnus? Are you alright?"

"Magnus...?"

"Magnus!?"

He blinked as the hand on his shoulder pulled him from his train of thought. Catarina was standing beside him, trying to get his attention. He needed to get her out of here. He needed to figure this out. He needed to...

"Er...yeah. Yes, of course. I'm alright, Catarina. Are you leaving? Let me get your coat." He snapped his fingers, making the coat lying across the back of the couch appear in his hands so he could help her put it on.

"Magnus! How...?"

She is staring at him with such astonishment that he hears alarm bells ringing in his mind. Oh, what had he done now? He couldn't think of anything he had said or done that would cause such a reaction.

"Magnus, your magic! It's back! How?"

"Whatever do you mean, Catarina? Back from where? Where would my magic go?"

Oh dear. Catarina is looking at him like an irate school teacher who had caught a naughty child red-handed trying to cause mischief. It's an expression he has had many occasions to witness over their long friendship and had learned early on that its consequences never ended well for him. He felt a shudder down his spine and knew that the jig was up. Whoever had said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned had never met Catarina Loss when she caught someone lying to her. Or in this case, trying and failing to pull the wool over her eyes. He swallowed once, gathering his courage in the face of his friend's wrath, and surrendered himself to a tongue-lashing he grudgingly admitted was well deserved.

"Magnus Bane! What are you hiding from me!?"

"Okay, lets recapitulate what we know..."

Catarina is pacing the length of his living room, occasionally wringing her hands in frustration and very clearly agitated beyond measure. He had rarely seen this level of discomposure from her and wondered if he should offer her a drink to calm her nerves. Probably not the best idea, he thinks, the memory of her murderous 'I can't believe you'd be so stupid, Magnus Bane!' expression still fresh in his mind. One would think that after being on the receiving end of that look so many times that he'd had to rename it with his own personal moniker, at some point he would have developed an immunity for it. But no such luck; he still quailed and trembled in the face of Catarina's ire. She probably wouldn't let him have a much needed drink either despite how desperately he craved it. Why had he decided to ask her for help again? Oh right, he hadn't.

"At some point last night, you realized that you were missing huge chunks of your memory. You couldn't recall what you had been doing immediately before that. You don't know if you had been attacked or hurt. You basically have no idea what or who could have done this." She's staring at him accusingly as if this was somehow all his fault. Well, it could be, he supposes. It's not like he remembers. Still, she has no proof! He's the victim here. Probably. Most likely. Oh hell, he's reasonably certain this is not his fault. Maybe. Actually, given the long, long history of his past exploits that she had witnessed (and on several occasions, bailed him out of when he got in too far over his head, not that he would ever admit it), it's a perfectly logical assumption.

"So basically, we know nothing." He concluded with a dramatic flourish. He's trying to lighten the mood but inside he can feel the anxiety coiling in his gut. He had easily decided to skim over the part where he'd been reduced to a weeping mess by emotions he couldn't begin to comprehend. Magnus Bane does not get incapacitated by feelings, damn it. As worrisome as they may be, he was going to ignore them for as long as possible. Preferably till the end of time.

"What's the last thing that you remember?" He can't quite place the look she is giving him, as if she is expecting a particular answer but trying not to give it away if he answers incorrectly. He tries to ignore the suspicion that she knows something, something about him, that she's not telling him. It's an uncomfortable feeling, he decided, having someone know more about you than you know about yourself.

"Well, I'd just received a fire message from some insufferable shadowhunters who wanted to set up a meeting. I don't know exactly what they wanted from me but they were willing to trade the necklace I once gifted to Camille, the enchanted Burmese ruby, you remember? I couldn't decide if it was worth the risk of getting involved in shadowhunter business."

"Magnus...that...that was...you're missing months worth of memories! At least! How could this have happened?"

"I don't know, Catarina. I really don't know." When put like that, he should be more alarmed. Who knows what he had forgotten. And knowing his luck, it would come and bite him in the ass at the most unfortunate moment.

"You already met those shadowhunters. You even helped them. Don't you remember him...them? At all?"

"Help them? Shadowhunters? Doesn't sound like me at all. You know I don't like to get involved in shadowhunter business. They're nothing but trouble." Good God, what had he gotten himself into in the past few months? Helping the shadowhunters? It was sacrilege! Blasphemy! What had he been thinking? What could possibly have convinced him it was anything but a bad idea?

"Oh Magnus." Startled by the pain in her voice, he looked up at her, shocked to find her nearly in tears. Immediately, he held her hands in his.

"Catarina, what is it, darling? What has you so upset?"

"It's nothing. Nothing at all. It's just this whole business that has me concerned."

"Catarina, you know you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. We'll figure out a way to restore my memories, I'm sure." At least, he hopes so. He doesn't know why but he can't shake the feeling that its absolutely imperative that he regains his memories, recovers whatever it is that he has lost.

"Right. Of course we will." She doesn't sound too sure which is not doing much to bolster his own confidence. Regardless, he's certain of one thing; whatever happened to him, it had something to do with those damned, troublesome shadowhunters. It had to be. He never should have let himself get mixed up with them. Nothing good ever comes out of helping a shadowhunter.