Summary/Description: The 5 people that have made an impact on Magnus Bane's life. AKA: 5 people he will always remember.

NOTE: A cross between The Infernal Devices and The Mortal Instruments. And I had no idea what the theme would be so I opted for Romance (for other characters) and angst.

A/N: This marks my 100th fic! And so I offer it to none other than the magnificent Magnus Bane. :)

Five People

1. Ragnor Fell

"You're green," Was the first thing he'd ever said to the other warlock. Magnus was new to London but wasn't exactly new to Downworld. But of course, another warlock who was green would prompt him to say such a thing.

"And you've got cat's eyes." The green warlock said with a roll of his eyes. Magnus huffed, not at all gracious that somebody else had gotten the better of him in this new city. Well, it had been almost two months and that was still new. Magnus missed the way the sun shone so early in the morning in Japan, even in Korea. He had recently moved out of Asia and relocated to London.

A flair for something new. Always on the move.

"Bloody hell, you must be poisoned! You've got cat's eyes! Wait until the entire population of London gets a look at you." Magnus glowered and threatened to spell this man into oblivion until the next week but then the green warlock broke into a very playful grin and Magnus found himself laughing.

The warlock stretched his hand out in front of him and Magnus clasped it. "Ragnor Fell," He said.

"Pleased to meet you, Ragnor Fell, my green man."

That was how he had first met Ragnor Fell. Their next encounter wasn't as brief, but it was just as light. There was something in Ragnor Fell that Magnus was drawn to. Maybe because the man was foreign to London, too. He had stayed there for two decades or so but he hadn't actually started out there. Who did?

Ragnor didn't ask where he started out, only asked where he'd stopped by before London. When Magnus mentioned Korea, Ragnor looked wistful. When Magnus said that he had lived in Japan for a while, Ragnor heaved a sigh, wishing he had been to Japan for more than an hour which composed of a very boring business trip.

"You ought to travel more, then. Not as a warlock on duty but more as a tourist. I find that it's both entertaining and very relaxing," Magnus nodded one time they sat down for tea. Ragnor fell quiet after that, obviously thinking it through.

"Yes, I might as well. London's rather dreary now, is it? Nothing new. And all I've got for company is you!" Ragnor said as if Magnus was the worst of companies he could have had, aside from the assorted clients he got.

Magnus just smiled at him. "My company is highly valued, mind you. You should be grateful you're having tea with me."

"Most gracious," Ragnor said with a little bow of his head, his hair falling to his face.

Ragnor Fell was a strange warlock, he was. They had shared more of a very light friendship than anything else, enjoying the others company but never diving too deep into what was personal and of what had happened – their histories. They valued immortality, knew that the past was their own and that no amount of talking could ever change that. And so they had both agreed that they would not discuss it.

And it went by, even after a century, even after Magnus had moved out of London and into New York, even when Ragnor Fell had travelled the world not as a warlock on duty but more as a tourist (a glamour around him, for green skin was painfully obvious for Mundanes.). The times when Ragnor stopped by his place for some little chit-chat was not lost on him.

They both talked as if they had never parted. But neither of them discussed what had happened a century ago. They did not mention London, or The Pandemonium Club, or even anybody else. Of course, Ragnor might have dropped Camille's name there on accident but other than that, they said nothing.

Ragnor talked about his expeditions and talked about settling down in Idris and Magnus told him about acquiring High Warlock of Brooklyn.

When Ragnor Fell died, Magnus wasn't at all bothered that he hadn't paid more attention to Ragnor's past. It was better this way – that was what Ragnor had told him when Magnus asked of his family. It is better we not dwell on that, Magnus.

Never dwell in the past. Magnus had learned that from Ragnor. And as he gazed at the empty house, devoid of any other presence and smelling of death, Magnus knew that the less you knew about someone's past, the less the pain of loss was.

2. William Herondale

Will Herondale was an odd fellow. He was gorgeous, of course. But there was something both fragile and deadly about his beauty. It was as if Magnus could not ever lay a finger on him even if he tried. And he tried. But there were times when William would scoff at him and pull back, not wanting the warlock's pity or anything else that might be accustomed to that.

Magnus only let him be – for his beauty was the type that would always be unreachable. Admired but never fully appreciated. It was as if he was an angel that looked down upon the mortals who admired and worshipped him.

An angel, Magnus had mused. In a way, Will was an angel. Was that not why they had started to work together?

"You must try, Magnus." Will said, those blue eyes flashing. "Time is limited."

"I am aware of the time, William." Magnus snapped, his fingers rubbing circles on his temple. "This is no easy task. How about you try and look for another warlock who is willing to find a cure for the impossible. How many have turned you down? How many have said it was hopeless?"

Will did not say anything, only looked at him with such ferocity in his blue eyes. Magnus saw mortality as it was in those eyes. Saw the love the boy had for a dying friend. Saw how he was even willing to bargain with the devil.

"I will come back," Will said as Magnus closed his eyes, feeling sleep tug at him. "I will be back on Friday."

And Friday came, and Friday went. And the months passed and nothing still changed. It was when the sixth month passed that William had started to grow restless again.

"Magnus, he's running out of time." Will said, and if anybody else would have seen him, they would comment on how he was losing his wits. A total nutter. But Magnus had worked with him for six months now, had agreed to help him find a cure.

He could not say anything about William Herondale if not determined.

"I am perfectly aware." And not for the first time that day, Magnus was overcome by a great headache. "I've tried contacting Ragnor Fell but he's overseas."

"He is much worse now. He tries to hide it, tries to avoid me." Magnus didn't quirk his eyebrows when Will failed to mention a certain Tessa Gray. But he supposed whatever complications their relationship had was between them. Really, if Will was capable of a proper relationship, anyway. "He's dying. His medicine, it's not working. If he goes into battle again – and I know I cannot stop him unless I want to beat him into the ground – then that would be his breaking point."

Will left after that, leaving Magnus frustrated and determined all at once. Since when did he care about the Nephilim, anyway? Since when did he care about the mortals that died? That was their destiny – death.

But he knew that it was something else and that night he did not sleep. The next week Will had stopped coming, and for the next month he had not gone at all. Magnus had expected a Fire Message, anything, but the Shadowhunter did not ask of his progress.

Either James Carstairs was suddenly, miraculously healed, or Will had lost hope. Magnus was very doubtful of the latter. Actually, he was doubtful of the former, too. But what else could it mean?

Two months. He had not seen William Herondale for two months, had not even heard hide nor tail of Jem's condition, except once from Tessa – she had said he was better now, more colour to his cheeks. Magnus bit back the urge to say that he was faking it all, that his sickness was pulling him down into death faster than any of them had expected.

"I will be leaving London," Magnus announced one afternoon. Who he announced it to? Nobody, actually. Just his empty quarters.

Magnus left for London two weeks after that announcement – it didn't matter that nobody heard it the first time because the second time he'd said it, it was to Will's face.

Magnus passed Will a very small package and wrapped his fingers around Will's hand and nodded at the Shadowhunter. "I have tried to fight off the demon poison, but I haven't found a cure for it. I have only found a way to lengthen his life."

Will didn't take the box, instead, just let it fall to the pavement. The contents spilled out and Magnus's eyes narrowed dangerously at the dark haired Shadowhunter. He had worked hard for that! Had even risked his own reputation and magic to help him.

"Jem is dead." Will said and didn't bother to glance Magnus another look.

Magnus had never felt any colder than when he did that day. Will didn't say anything, just buttoned up his cloak and walked away, his hair bristling against the wind.

I have failed him.

Will only ever truly cared for one person. And it was Jem. And Magnus had allowed that one tie to Will's humanity to slip from his fingers, had allowed that one person that gave Will the solid ground he so needed to die. Magnus couldn't tell then if the cold symbolised grief for Jem's death or for Will's loss, for both were entirely different things.

If there was one thing Magnus had learned then it was that he would never be as foolish as to fight death for a mortal – for a human ever again. However beautiful they may be.

Pretty boys always did lead to his demise.

3. Camille Belcourt

When Magnus first met Camille, he saw power and influence. He could feel it from her. When she had approached him, a poor warlock, new to London, he had not known what to do. But she had insisted he dance with her – and that was his first step to what could only be the best and the worst of Downworld aristocracy.

She had provided, of course. Even the socks he wore were because of Camille. Every client he ever got was because of the vampire. And he supposed he did not mind, not at all, really.

Camille wasn't soft or very open about her feelings – she was as cold as vampires were, deadly and dangerous but she had a certain edge towards her that made Magnus stay.

"I love you," Camille whispered that one night and Magnus knew she did not entirely mean it. "You know that, don't you?"

Magnus merely nodded and Camille stroked his hair. "Of course you do. Do you love me too, then?"

Magnus had not said anything that night, only closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him. But part of him did love Camille. He did not love her entirely, just as she did not love him to the fullest.

But they were immortal who were basking in the sins of London and in power so what else could they want? What else could they not do?

"Magnus, love." Camille often whispered into his ear when they were tucked into their own corner during social vampire gatherings. "Hm, nothing. I just wanted you to look at me again."

Camille's touches were soft, very gentle and yet strong enough to break him apart if she so much as slipped up. But she was always soft with Magnus, always loving, in a way.

Once upon a time.

When she'd run away from De Quincey's rage and left Magnus, there was anger that ignited within him. When William Herondale had asked for help, he was close to declining. It was his lot who had drove Camille away, wasn't it? But yet he did not feel entirely empty when she had left.

Empty, perhaps, in the sense that he did not have anybody at night, that he did not have somebody whispering into his ear. Empty, maybe, because he simply missed the contact of another being.

But he still waited for her. Part of him had gotten too used to her company that he ached for her.

It was only when he decided to move out of London that she had arrived and found her manor empty except for her subjugates.

Do you love me, Magnus? A voice seemed to whisper into his mind's ear, even after the decades that had passed.

Magnus merely closed his eyes and tried not to remember how soft her caresses were, how his name upon her lips was such a cold comfort from before.

He had loved Camille Belcourt – and once in his lifetime was enough.

4. Theresa Gray

"I am leaving for The States." Tessa had looked at him with wide eyes then and her fingers around the cup she held tightened.

"You are willing to leave everything here?" Tessa said, those eyes curious.

"None of this is mine. They are Camille's. And she does not look like she would be returning soon." Magnus heaved a sigh then and Tessa nodded.

"Would you want to come?" He asked.

Slowly, her head nodded. Nothing was left for her in London. She had caused too much pain and loss to continue staying in The Institute. And it was no place for her. She knew what she was; they could not hold her in their sanctuary forever. She needed to get out and learn.

And so she had packed her belongings and for a second she allowed a tear to roll down her face at the memory of Jem and of Will, of Charlotte and Henry and even dear Sophie and Thomas, as well as Jessamine. Her tears started to fall in earnest when she realized that Jem was no more and that Will had wandered even more than he did before.

She was trouble in the Nephilim House, she did not deserve their hospitality. When she dried her tears, Magnus was already standing in front of a portal.

To say the least, Magnus had been Tessa Gray's very first instructor. He had helped her along her path as an immortal, had watched as she gasped one day and realized that she was no longer aging.

She still held onto that Clockwork Angel around her neck and sighed at times at the memory of what she had left behind.

"I believe you have just been reborn into a timeless and ageless warlock. Enjoy immortality." Tessa offered him thanks and a very small smile that fell when Magnus pulled the mask and saw the true hurt that was still buried in too deep.

They had both lived together – nothing more as 'student' and 'teacher' between them – for three years, Magnus had advised that it was high time for them to part ways. Tessa could handle herself – she wasn't as skilled as him, but he'd gotten a few centuries worth of practice to master his skills. Now it was her turn to learn on her own.

They parted with an embrace and a kiss on both cheeks and Magnus had set off for New York then while Tessa opted to head for Italy.

Again, not for the first time in that century, Magnus felt an odd sense of loneliness. He did miss Tessa, missed how she would prattle about her books to distract herself of her past and of the endless future that loomed in front of her. Missed how she would look out the window, clutching the angel close to her chest. He even missed how she would mess up the spells he was trying to teach her and how, one time, it had resulted to a fire that almost burned down the house.

Needles to say that they relocated after that incident.

But Tessa was good company. Like a little sister. Well, almost. Okay, maybe not, but she was company anyway. And he did enjoy teaching her the tricks of the ancient – most she would learn in time and by herself, but the most basics he taught her. Even educated her on history.

Her departure pained him only because he had let a very bright – and somewhat clumsy, but everybody had their days – go.

Of course, they still kept in touch. Well, maybe once or twice in a decade or so, but that was something. It was almost like how Mundanes would call each other once a day – for they were Warlocks who had eternity. A decade wasn't even that much long of a time.

5. Alexander Lightwood

Magnus had learned in his time with Ragnor that the less you knew about someone's history, the less their loss will pain you.

He learned from Will that there would always be someone to tie you down, no matter how much of a monster and how much inhuman you have become. And that he would never try to fight against mortality – it was their fate.

From Camille he learned that love would need to be given entirely to someone, not just in pieces.

What he got from Tessa was that you could never escape what you had left behind, not entirely and that even amidst all that you could create a new life for yourself.

When Magnus had met Alexander Lightwood, Magnus decided that yes he very much wanted to learn about Alec's history. The Lightwood history, his childhood – even when Alec hesitated and thought it wasn't necessary. Magnus insisted that he merely wanted to know. He, of course, divulged everything to the boy – the story he had told his stepbrother and Clary were censored, the full story only for Alec.

Ever time Magnus woke up next to Alec, the Shadowhunter's arms circled around his waist and their feet tangled, Magnus knew that he would not lose this boy to mortality. He had failed once and it had almost sent someone to their breaking point. He would not fail with Alec. He would not lose to time and to human mortality and vulnerability. Age he could handle.

"I love you," Alec said breathlessly and Magnus knew that everything between them was real and that he didn't need anything else. Alec had given him everything and before Magnus even knew about it, he had already offered Alec his everything, too.

"And I love you," Magnus said, a smile on his face as he caressed Alec's cheek.

Holding Alec felt like he was holding something very fragile, very prone to the dangers of the world. The only thing Alec was prone to was death and Magnus would not have that. But also, there was something when Alec held him and touched him.

Even with his past looming behind him – everything he had done, everything he had failed to do and not done – he had still created hope, had still renewed his life. He had built his life over and over again for the past eight centuries, and here he was, creating a life with Alec he knew he could and would not destroy.

For Alec was his life and a second life, a chance of a new beginning would only mean loneliness and hurt that would be so much for him to handle – so much that death would seem sweet.

Magnus has had people come and go in his life, but there will always be five that will have that impact on him and have a place in his heart. Considerably, Alec Lightwood had the largest piece.

NOTE: Okay, this idea hit me right before I went to bed. I couldn't sleep so I wrote it. Oh and yes, I am aware that Magnus Bane is 800 years old and as such has met a lot of interesting people but hey, I just decided to keep the time frames during TID and TMI.

Tell me what you guys think? Reviews would be wonderful.

And happy 100th fic to me.