Silence.

None of us have heard it. There's always something to be heard. A radiator running. A breeze rustling even just a single leaf. Not to mention the blood constantly coursing through your head, past your ears.

There's no sound in space.

But the second you took of your helmet to experience that one, tiny, fracture of a second, you'd be dead.

Tragic.

Silence really is deadly.

So quiet is the correct word.

Quiet is the world Alec would have chosen to describe the night.

Just the blood rushing up to his brain.

There wasn't a leaf in sight, but there was a slight breeze.

And Alec wasn't quite sure he could tell you what a radiator was, much less how it made any noise.

The trees above them were beginning to earn back their green for the season and so for now it was producing little buds.

How they ended up in the middle of a pistachio farm in the New Mexican desert was beyond Alec. Some things just happened when you were accompanying Magnus Bane around the world. And midnight pistachio trips was just one of things that Alec described as accidental.

They were there now and that was all that mattered. Living in the moment was a key objective on this trip for Alec. For Magnus, it was his constant mantra.

Quiet was good but conversation was better tonight.

"Tell me a story," Alec said. They were laying side by side on a picnic blanket, finger tips just barely touching.

"About what?" Magnus asked.

"You," Alec said.

"I have lots of stories," Magnus said. "Shall I just pick one at random?"

"Sure," Alec said. He stared up into the stars.

They had to be at least 50 miles from any sort of civilization so the fog of the city had no effect out here.

It was clear skies and the stars were responding beautifully, sending off more light than usual, in Alec's humble astronomical opinion.

Up there, it was silent.

Down here, it was quiet.

Difference.

"Have I told you about the time I was a mundane for a year?" Magnus asked.

"No," Alec said, slowly. "Sounds interesting."

"It wasn't at first," Magnus said. "Then I discovered something called a Bucket List."

"A what?"

"Bucket List. A list of things to do before you die."

"Why is it called a 'Bucket List?'"

"It's a reference to 'kicking the bucket,'" Magnus explained.

"What? What does that have to do with death?"

"I honestly have no idea," Magnus said.

"Kicking a bucket is in no way symbolic of death," Alec said.

"Can I just tell my story?"

Quiet.

Not silent.

...........

The year was 1946.

The city was loud. Parties were constant. The War had ended.

But it was too loud after years of turmoil. The rapid shift was too much for the old soul in Magnus.

The city had to be left behind for something a bit quieter.

The Chicago Museum of History was looking for someone to head up their early 19th century exhibit.

Magnus just so happened to be an expert at early 19th century history. It was easy when you had lived it.

He took the train out of Union Station and arrived in Chicago a day later.

It was New York with more violence and yet, more class. If you were on the right side of the city. The Museum just so happened to be on the right side.

Magnus' last spell before his hiatus from magic was manipulating the head curator into thinking Magnus had a PhD.

Then he was done, swearing an oath of abstinence over a solitary meal in an empty apartment.

For awhile, Chicago was lonely.

Then the project at the Museum started with the hiring of some of the brightest historical minds in the area. They knew the facts of the times. Magnus knew the aura. He was certain that together, they could put together something.

There were five interns working under Magnus. They worshiped him like an all-knowing historical god. He unabashedly accepted the title and embraced it.

But the completely professional relationship they all had got boring quick. The twenty-somethings had energy but they didn't have fun. They were as boring as the textbooks they poured themselves into.

"We're going drinking," Magnus decided one Friday as the day came to a close. The oldest of the group, Thomas, was sketching a rough layout for a display case.

He glanced up from the drafting board.

"I don't drink."

"Everyone drinks," Magnus said. If this had been New York, there wouldn't have been a second of hesitation.

Thomas looked at his peers who were curious at the idea of partying with the boss. The god.

Ruthie was Magnus' second-in-command. She was perhaps the most loyal.

"I'd love to join you," she said, batting her pretty eyelashes. She was an embodiment of perfection.

Magnus didn't like perfect. The broken were far more interesting.

.........

"Wait," Alec said, interrupting Magnus. "You think I'm broken?"

"No," Magnus said, wiping a smudge of pistachio soil off of Alec's chin. "I think you're perfectly whole. I'm saying that there was nothing interesting about Ruthie. She was that perfect housewife type. She never did anything wrong. She wasn't interesting."

Alec wasn't sure he understood.

..........

Then there was Beth, Ruthie's foil.

Beth was everything bad about Chicago, hidden beneath clothes that matched Ruthie's cute style.

Beth took risks. She put out ideas. She didn't mind not being in charge.

And she was far more interesting.

"Sounds fun, darlin'," Beth said. She called everyone that. Magnus didn't like that.

Mark and Robert were the other two. They were out on the museum floor, scoping out the space that was being reserved for the exhibit.

"Tell the boys," Magnus said, looking at Ruthie. She bounded off, her curls bouncing with her step.

"I still don't drink, Mr. Bane," Thomas said.

"Enough with the formalities," Magnus said. "It's Magnus."

..........

"You took a bunch of college kids drinking?" Alec asked.

"Yes," Magnus said.

"That was on your bucket list?"

"No," Magnus said. "But I'm getting to that."

........

The six of them were balancing on a dangerous edge between completely smashed and giggly drunk. It made for interesting conversation.

They had even gotten a gin and tonic in Thomas after he ordered a Shirley Temple. Then another. And another.

Then they lost count.

"List of things to do before you die," Beth said, staring Magnus right in the eyes. Her blue eyes contrasted her blonde hair more than most girls.

"Never thought about it," Magnus said, setting down his drink in triumph.

"Never thought about death?" Mark asked.

"Absolutely not," Magnus said. "Live in the present. Always; no exceptions."

"Fine," Beth said. "What would you rather be doing right now?"

"Nothing," Magnus said. He put an arm around Thomas who was chasing a cherry around in his drink. "I'm spending quality time with my five best friends."

"Awww," Ruthie said. She twisted back and forth on her stool, obviously trying for Robert's attention, batting those eyelashes yet again.

"I'm serious," Beth said.

"And I am dead serious," Magnus said.

Beth didn't like that answer. But she moved on.

They all moved on in the end.

Magnus didn't though. When he woke up the next morning, thankful for Saturday and the invention of aspirin, he spent the first hour laying on the cool tile floor of his bathroom, contemplating what he had to get done before he died.

In the end, he would die.

Life, both human and Downworld, would come to an end. It was just a matter of when.

Someday he would cease to exist. And maybe tomorrow, he wouldn't be able to visit the top of the Chrysler Building because it would be destroyed by an atomic bomb.

Maybe.

Who knew?

Living in the present, yes, he could do that. But he had to consider the things he wanted between now and the end of time.

And right now, he really wanted to try escargot.

He also wanted to ride in an airplane.

Maybe visit the infamous Berlin. Steamboat down the Mississippi.

Learn how to spell the word "Mississippi" first, he noted.

There was so much to be done. He was his own limit.

And he had a year to do it all through the eyes of a mundane while working on the museum project.

..........

"You don't know how to spell 'Mississippi?'" Alec asked. Magnus rolled his eyes.

"M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I," Magnus said. "Smart-ass."

"I prefer 'smart-Alec.'"

Magnus hit Alec on the arm for such a terrible pun (which he had used before, on multiple occasions) and continued.

..........

He spent the Saturday writing a bucket list.

In the end, it came down to twenty-five items, ranked from hardest to easiest.

He knocked #25 off that night by standing on the roof of his apartment building and kicking a bucket over the edge while humming the trumpet part of a particular Louis Armstrong song.

But it was back to work on Monday and the list was put on hold.

........

"So what did you do next?" Alec asked.

Magnus had stopped talking.

"I'm starting to regret starting this story," Magnus said.

"Now you have to tell me," Alec said, rolling onto his side.

Magnus closed his eyes and sighed.

........

#14.5 was added after another Friday at the bar, born out of a debate between Robert and Mark. A story had hit the headlines recently about men cross-dressing.

So who would be the more attractive woman: Robert or Mark?

There really was no contest. Mark had the softer features and fairer hair.

Then Beth chimed in with her two cents.

"I think Magnus, here, would be even better," she said. Magnus raised an eye brow. No one was as drunk as they had been a week ago. They learned their lesson.

"I agree," Magnus said. "But there's really no way to know without trying."

Robert and Mark laughed it off as a joke.

"You believe I'm joking," Magnus said. "I'm not."

Then, inspired, he pulled out the piece of paper he had been carrying around with him and found it's place in the ranks.

"What's that?" Ruthie asked. She hung awfully close to Robert.

"A list of things to do," Magnus said.

"You're adding cross-dressing—" Mark inspected the list more.

"It's his list of things to do before he dies," Mark said. "'#12: Fly on an airplane.'"

"I heard those are death traps," Ruthie said.

"Perfectly safe," Magnus corrected.

"I'll do it," Beth said. "Say, don't you think we're about the same size?"

"Absolutely," Magnus said. 

Beth pressed her lips together. "I'll do you up just fine."

"You're going through with this?" Thomas asked.

"We'll do it in the privacy of the office next Monday," Magnus said. He pointed at Mark. "As long as you keep your cameras out of there."

Mark saluted.

........

Alec was face down, laughing into the blanket.

"Stop laughing or you won't be able to— Alec!"

"You cross-dressed?"

"Are you honestly surprised?" Magnus asked. "It was the 40's. Weird stuff happened."

"Please tell me there's pictures," Alec said, putting his hands together in a desperate beg. "Please."

Magnus remained stone-faced.

"You wanted a story. So be quiet and listen."

.........

Beth and Ruthie had shown up an hour early to prepare a little table stocked full of makeup and a rack filled with bright dresses with full skirts.

That's when Magnus started to feel some form of regret for inspiring the girls.

But it was on the list now so he had to do it.

He sat for an hour that morning, avoiding all the work that needed to be done, as Beth painted his face and complimented his complexion and cheekbones.

It got weird very quickly.

They were stumped with his hair though, both with the shortness and how he managed to make it blue. He told them it was a secret but they didn't drop it. So Ruthie just clipped on a giant bow and they called it a day.

The boys were out running errands and conferencing with other museums about borrowing pieces.

But Robert returned as Magnus was debating between a red dress with white trim or a blue one with a sailor collar.

"New York just called. They're willing to give us their fashion collection on loan—" He stopped, finally seeing the makeup. "I'm sorry— I can't—"

He shook his head.

"They're on the phone for you," Robert said. Magnus handed the two hangers off to Beth and went to answer the phone.

Robert watched with a horrified amusement as Magnus carried on a very serious conversation about prices and loans all while looking more feminine than Ruthie herself.

When he hung up, Robert finally spoke.

"You look very attractive, Mr. Bane," Robert said. Then he left the office. Magnus returned to dressing up.

The phone rang again as Ruthie was zipping up Magnus' dress. Beth was laughing too hard to function.

"Hello?" Magnus said. Ruthie struggled to get it up the last inch.

"Mr. Bane, it's the New York Public Museum."

"Yes?" Magnus asked. The dress was awfully tight.

"We'd like to proceed with our transaction face to face. Can you be in New York by tomorrow?"

Magnus looked to Ruthie.

"When does the last train to New York leave?"

"Noon," she said. He wouldn't be able to make the train. But—

"Yes, I can," Magnus said.

They finished the conversation, making arrangements.

"Call the airport," Magnus said, triumphantly. "I'm going to ride on an airplane."

Mark came in the room and there was suddenly a bright flash.

"I apologize," Mark shouted, before running out of the room again.

Magnus was going to run after him, but Beth stopped him.

"Let's get this mess off you, darlin'," she said.

Taking off the make up turned out to be a longer process than putting it on.

........

"So there is a picture?" Alec asked.

"Yes," Magnus said. "There's one. All other copies were destroyed."

"Where is it?" Alec asked.

"Secret," Magnus said. "Now let me finish."

..........

The airplane ride was horrific and Magnus had made the mistake of bringing Ruthie and Robert.

They hit turbulence almost the entire way there. When she wasn't clutching the arm rest, she was squeezing the circulation out of Robert's hand. Her rapid breathing gave Magnus a headache and the service from the stewardesses was equally horrible.

But something was off the list and they were in New York. That was all that mattered.

Magnus had kept his apartment and paid the land lady a decent amount every month to keep it clean. So they stayed there. Magnus pretended that it was a coincidence that Robert and Ruthie's rooms were connected.

Young love. It was beautiful to watch.

"So what else is on your list?" Robert asked at dinner.

"Going to Antarctica is #3," Magnus said.

"And what's #1?" Ruthie asked.

"That's a secret," Magnus said.

"Fine; then #2?" Ruthie asked.

"Yet another secret," Magnus said.

........

"Tell me," Alec demanded.

Magnus put his hand in Alec's face and continued talking.

.........

"Trying escargot is #9," Magnus said. "And I see they have that on the menu."

"Two items in one day?" Robert asked. "This list must be pretty easy."

"I'm allergic to snails," Magnus said.

"Then you can't try it!" Ruthie shouted.

"He means allergic as in an aversion," Robert pointed out.

"I could be allergic to snails," Magnus said. "How would you know?"

"No one is allergic to snails," Robert said.

Magnus rolled his eyes, setting the menu aside.

When the waiter came back around, Magnus was able to check #9 off his list.

..........

Alec rested his head on Magnus' shoulder, staring up at him.

.........

A week later, they were back in Chicago with half of the artifacts they'd need for the exhibit. Magnus had also checked using a train horn off the list on the trip home. Granted, he had done that illegally. . .

The list was coming along and so was the exhibit. Being mundane was proving to be easy and more exciting than some days back in New York and London had been.

How the Institute in Chicago had gotten his number was beyond him, but they called Magnus late one night in the middle of the week.

The Head of the Institute introduced himself as one of the Blackthorns.

"Are you operating in the Chicago area?" he asked, after the formalities.

"Um, no," Magnus said, pacing his apartment as far as the cord of the phone would let him.

"Are you in the Chicago area?"

"Yes," Magnus said.

"Then you're operating in the Chicago area, aren't you, Mr. Bane?"

"Technically. But I'm not using magic and I'm not open for business so—"

"I'm not interested in your services, Mr. Bane. We've detected a demonic presence in your area."

"I have nothing to do with it," Magnus said.

"The Chicago Museum of History? You're working there, aren't you?"

"There's nothing demonic there."

"Our Sensors are picking up activity," he said. "You can either deal with the matter yourself and we can part was diplomatically or we can go in and deal with it."

"I'll see what it is," Magnus said. "But I have nothing to do with it."

Magnus hung up. But the phone rang again. He picked it up.

"Mr. Blackthorn, I'll deal with it in the—"

"Mr. Bane?" Ruthie's voice trembled.

"Ruthie? What's wrong?"

"Something's glowing— it's a locket— the locket piece; it's glowing red—"

"I'll be there soon," Magnus said.

And he was. Within twenty minutes, he was standing in front of the locket, which was, in fact, glowing red.

The interns were huddled around Magnus, but they still stood at a distance.

Whatever magic this was, Magnus didn't recognize it.

The door to the office opened and everyone turned to see who it was.

A boy dressed in Shadowhunter gear, namely a leather jacket, entered the room, striding with the confident grace that a lot of Shadowhunters seemed to have embedded in their genes.

"Good evening," he said.

"Blackthorn," Magnus responded. His voice matched the one on the phone. Granted, he had been expecting someone older. . .

"How are you?" he asked, still walking towards them.

"I'm just fine. How are you tonight?"

"Oh just great," the Blackthorn boy said. He reached the locket, bending down in front of it. "Yep. Just what I suspected. It's a portable Pyxis. Prototype, of course."

He picked up the locket gently.

"And it looks like this one happens to be occupied."

"Portable Pyxis aren't on the Clave's list of approved devices, as far as I know," Magnus said.

"They're not," he said. He stared at it with a fascinated curiosity. "Yet."

"Something tells me it's not working anymore," Magnus said.

"You'd be right," he said.

"Mr. Bane, do you know this man?" Mark asked.

"I—"

This was the end of his mundane time.

"I can't stop it," the Blackthorn boy said, cutting Magnus off. "The demon will break out."

"Demon?" Beth's voice squeaked.

"Do you know what's inside?" Magnus asked.

"Somewhere between major and minor," he guessed. "Not too weak that they'd waste something like this on it but not strong enough to be trapped by something so feeble."

"Maybe something new?" Magnus guessed.

"Nothing's new," the Blackthorn said. "The name's Jackson, by the way."

"Jackson Blackthorn. Are you running the Institute by yourself?" Magnus asked.

"Not usually. The family is in Idris."

"And you are—?"

"Saving your life, Mr. Bane," Jackson said. The locket started vibrating in Jackson's open palm. He set it back on the velvet pillow it had sat on for probably the last hundred years.

Then Jackson looked back to the interns.

"You might want to take a few steps back. Or better yet, leave," Jackson said. He pulled two seraph blades out and they started glowing when he muttered their names.

The interns jumped back at the glowing blades, then they scurried out of the room.

"You know, I was on vacation, Blackthorn," Magnus snapped. "I was on a break."

"I wish I cared," Jackson said. His eyes were still trained on the locket when it exploded seconds later. A red mist came pouring out of it, onto the floor, dancing around their feet. Jackson and Magnus stepped back, as it materialized into the shape of a person.

As the demon took it's form, it stretched it's neck, arms crossed.

"I do so hate Pyxis," it said.

"Who are you?" Jackson asked.

"My name is irrelevant," it said. "If you're going to kill me, do it now. This dimension is so dull. And I'd like some excit—"

Jackson stuck the seraph blade through it and it evaporated into the red smoke again.

"Easy," Jackson said, sheathing his blades.

"Oh yes," Magnus said. "Easy for you to say. I've got five mundanes to deal with now."

"Just set them straight with your voodoo."

"It's magic," Magnus snapped. "And I'm not supposed to be using it."

"The Clave gave you restrictions?" Jackson asked.

"Shadowhunters," Magnus muttered. "Not everything is about the Clave."

..........

"Voodoo?"

"I've never been a fan of the Blackthorns," Magnus said. "But granted, I never really liked the Lightwoods either."

"You knew Lightwoods? Before me?" Alec asked.

"Different story," Magnus said, "and I'm almost done with this one."

..........

It was over.

He had failed his quest to be mundane for a year.

Magnus had to rewrite parts of the intern's memory. He erased himself and placed Thomas in charge.

Then he packed up his things in Chicago and returned to New York City.

........

"That's it?"

"Pretty much," Magnus said. "The day after returning though, I did a summoning and I felt incredibly powerful."

"What about the list?" Alec asked.

"I keep it with me," Magnus said, shrugging against the ground.

"Let me see it," Alec said. "Where is it?"

Magnus sighed and begrudgingly pulled out his wallet. He really didn't keep much in there.

The bucket list was a worn out piece of paper, it's edges and creases no longer sharp.

Alec unfolded it carefully. A few items had been crossed out, more than what Magnus had described in the story. So he was still following the bucket list?

But Alec wanted to know #1 and #2.

#2 was crossed off.

2) Fall in love.

A little heart was drawn in the margins in purple ink.

"That was because of you," Magnus whispered, finally pulling his eyes away from the stars and at Alexander.

Alec smiled.

Then he looked at #1.

1) Die.

Alec looked over at Magnus. It was a morbid thought. But Alec knew Magnus was curious about death, no matter how much he played it off.

"You can hold off on #1 for awhile," Alec said. He scanned through the list one last time. "And we can make pizza when we get back."

"But I have to toss it up in the air, you know?" Magnus said. Alec knew exactly what he was picturing.

"We'll buy a lot of ingredients so you can get your practice in," Alec said.

Magnus closed his eyes.

After a few minutes of watching him, Alec did the same.

They fell asleep in the quiet early morning of a pistachio farm in the desert.