Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: I'm afraid it's half a chapter again. :( Together NyQuil and I will soon defeat the Evil Cold though, so have no fear, you lovely people, full posts will return!

Total Word Count: 11,475

A few days later, Will's stomach had settled back into it's proper place and he'd decided magnanimously to forgive Declan. Evil was likely a predetermined condition.

The gray, rainy twilight found him ensconced in the London Library. He'd started out studiously enough at a long table, but time and the chill of evening's onset had caused him to relocate to a deep chair before the fire, flanked with heavy end tables. The warmth and the feeling of shutting out the night more than made up for the difficulties involved in juggling paper, tablet, and books on his lap.

He had been preoccupied with this happy task for several hours when the creaking of the side door closest to him prompted Will to focus, blinking, beyond his circle of firelight.

"Avery's been at the kitchen again," Declan said by way of explanation as he lowered a tray onto the end table between the two chairs. In response to Will's look of nervous alarm, he continued, "This time he stuck with conventional ingredients. Halfway decent, actually."

It was less than overwhelming praise, but then an errant breeze wafted cinnamon and apples past Will's nose. "Wow, it certainly smells good," he unloaded his current lap full to take a closer look.

"Think he was feeling a bit cold, too," Declan remarked as he poured the two mugs on the tray full of golden brown liquid and passed one over to Will. Taking a seat, he nudged the plateful of baked things a la Avery closer to the man currently eying his mug with dark suspicion.

"What is this?" he finally asked, looking at Declan over the tray.

"It's got cinnamon," was the helpful reply, "and apple."

"Yeah, that's not really an answer," Will pointed out, trying to look down his nose at Declan. It was a maneuver he'd seen Magnus utilize successful on numerous occasions. Often on him. Apparently his technique needed a little work, however, as Declan remained unfazed and looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Try it and then I'll tell you," he bartered.

"It's tea, isn't it?" Will asked flatly.

"Look at it as a way of simulating verisimilitude. Now you can honestly tell Magnus that you drank tea while you were here."

"Then she'd win," he fired back.

"Doesn't she always?" stopped Will in his tracks for a moment.

Flashes of the past crashed through his head. Faces and moments and tears that she would never let him see, only he didn't have to actually see them to know that they existed. "No," he said quietly. "She doesn't."

"Hey," Declan set his mug down and leaned over. "I meant with you. And me, for that matter. Not everything else." Will looked up into the tired brown eyes across from him. Of course Declan knew that - probably better than he did for that matter.

"She knew you before," he spoke as the thought crossed his mind. "Back when you were the Second here." Crap: Watson. Maybe he should have changed the subject completely

"Yeah." Despite Will's fears, Declan smiled. "Watson finally talked me into giving this gig a try and then who shows up on my first month on the job?"

"Magnus," Will found himself smiling as well. "How'd that introduction go?"

"It was memorable," he laughed. "I'm running around trying to look marginally competent and wondering what the hell I signed on for, and then this gorgeous woman shows up in the middle of me trying to figure out which end is up on Susie."

"The abnormal on Level Two? Looks like a worm?"

"That's her, only smaller then," Declan shook his head. "Magnus being, well, Magnus, immediately told me that I had her upside-down. Then asked what exactly I was trying to do. It got a bit, uh, shirty after that."

"Really?" Will tried to imagine going at Magnus on first acquaintance. Generally, her first impression was like an explosion, it was only later when a person was sorting out what actually happened that the reaction set in.

"Watson had never actually told me what she looked like," Declan snorted at his own past self. "Just that she was the Head of the Network and an old friend. Left out the bit about how old, too, come to think of it."

"Uh oh," Will snickered. "And you survived?"

"Luckily Magnus has never had much use for sycophants and loves a good challenge. Still, I would love to know how the conversation she must have had with Watson after that encounter went."

"I bet it depended on whether you would only argue with her or with the both of them. A London blockade of you both against her would have frustrated her to no end."

"Huh," Declan stared into the fire as he thought. "That would explain her cheer when Watson and I rowed over dinner that night. I always wondered why she came in on my side."

"I'm trying to imagine the two of you arguing," Will gazed off into the distance. "I'm basically getting the image of a brood-off. Lowered brows, polite cuts, heavy on the sarcasm. How am I doing?"

"Depends on the fight," Declan shrugged. "Few like that, yeah, but if you got the man going he could shout. Hated doing that though," he stretched his legs towards the fire, "it generally meant that he wasn't winning. After Magnus and I finally came to a truce, she gave me a few tips on that."

"Did you have to sign something in blood?" Will asked interestedly, smirking when Declan shot him a look. "A truce sounds intense."

"Drink your tea," he said crushingly.

Will sighed, then took a cautious sip. It tasted like autumn and apple pie and was pretty much perfect for this night. Sneakily, he snuck a look over at Declan who was watching him with a decidedly smug grin.

"Fine," he grumped. "It's delicious. Happy?"

"Will be once I get a tape of you saying that to Magnus," Declan said honestly.

"No blackmail material," Will warned.

"Buzz kill," Declan didn't seem too worried by the order, though, and turned his attention to his own neglected mug. After a few moments of mutual enjoyment, he spoke again without turning from the fire, "So, what have you been up to all evening?"

"Figuring out the parameters for that new proposal Monique turned over today. We need to negotiate between the supposed need for fewer holding facilities with the new system and the possibility of an unexpected flood of intakes at some point, or perhaps a backup in the system due to governmental proceedings," Will moved his mug to his right hand as he grabbed his notes. "So I've been analyzing past statistics to give us a better idea of intake volume over time and what we should be prepared to accommodate."

"Fluctuations due to the collapse of Hollow Earth will skew things as well," Declan added. "Fork over those reports and I'll give you a hand."

"I never say no to someone willing to take on paperwork," Will vowed and started shuffling through his collection. "You know, I get that Magnus is all anti-digital-age, she's Victorian, but what's your excuse?"

"We're working on it," Declan set his mug aside to accept the stack of reports. "But we do have the better part of a century to digitize and the task of keeping the old records preserved. It's a work in progress."

"Magnus is insisting on both Underground, too," Will smirked. "Henry's still tilting at that windmill."

"Better him than us," Declan grinned.

"Amen to that," Will echoed fervently.

Silence, not heavy, but content, settled over the library like the warmth from the fire. The only sounds were the pleasant rustle of paper, the scratch of pens after Declan stole one from Will, and the crackling of logs shifting in the fireplace set to the muted counterpoint of the rain pouring against the windows.