Piano Days and Other Malec One-Shots

A Pistachio Farm in the Desert

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.