Author's Note: Not mine. I looooove Cameron and Jonathan Black and the possibilities of whump in their past. Especially since Cameron keeps mentioning serious injuries, and his team remind him frequently how many times stunts have gone wrong. So I decided to play with a head canon that Jonathan is the master mind because Cameron was adamant that he take all the risks on stage. And thus - this was born. Let me know what you think!
Kay Daniels wasn't sure what she was expecting when she met Jonathan Black. She knew he was identical, physically, anyway, to Cameron. She'd seen the news when he'd been arrested, the aftermath of the trial with Cameron vehemently protesting that his brother was innocent. She'd seen them standing next to one another, and the side by side profiles the media ran for the days after Jonathan's existence was revealed. At the time, they looked absolutely identical in every way – their hair, their clothes, the clean shaven face.
It wasn't until she met him face to face in the visitation room of the prison that she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, she would always be able to tell them apart.
It wasn't how they looked that set them apart – unless you looked at their eyes. It wasn't that Cameron wasn't smart – he was. He was a genius at what he did. But he was also one of the most genuinely happy people she'd ever met. Like a duck with water, troubles just seemed to roll off of him. Even when recounting what she considered a less than ideal childhood, he managed to put a silver lining spin on it. Sure, he was forced to lead half a life. But he got to do it in really cool places, doing really cool things. And yeah, sure, maybe the magic thing was mostly because he wanted to please his father, but he seemed to like it enough to keep doing it, long after they split from their dad.
If anyone could described as cinnamon roll of a human being, it was Cameron Black.
Jonathan, on the other hand, was like a razor. His gaze was cold, clinical, calculating, and she felt like she was under a microscope the second the guard opened the door. It occurred to her, right then and there, that it wasn't the bars that kept him behind the prison walls.
It was because he chose to be there.
Cameron was a better negotiator than she thought, if he could convince his brother to stay in a prison that was obviously a formality.
And it showed the amount of faith Jonathan must have in him.
"You must be Kay," Jonathan said, not standing from where he reclined back in his seat on the opposite side of the table.
She noticed his gaze flicker to the door when the guard closed it behind her, and narrow when he realized she was alone.
"Where's Cameron?" he asked. It was too polite to be a demand, but she could practically feel the tension in that simple question. She could see the minute change in expression as he ran through the possibilities of why she would be here, and why Cameron wouldn't.
She could tell that none of the scenarios were pleasant.
Well, that explains a little of what she wanted to know.
"Cameron's fine," she said, offering what she hoped was a friendly smile. It'd won Cameron over easily enough.
Not Jonathan.
"Your definition of fine, or his?"
Aaaand that answered another question.
"So he's always been like that?" she asked, gesturing to the opposing chair. When he relented with a slight jerk of his chin, she took a seat.
"Like what?"
She almost smiled. Both brothers were adept at dodging answers, but the difference was more telling about their personalities than anything else. Cameron tended to give vague answers and immediately switch subjects. Jonathan tested to see what you knew before he offered up any knowledge of his own.
"Reckless. Stupid. A walking testament to denial punchlines," she offered.
Jonathan snorted. "Sounds like him. Where is he?"
Kay sighed. "At Lower Manhattan hospital."
Before Jonathan could demand explanation, she continued on.
"He was helping us with a case. It required a bit of deception, and Cameron volunteered. Things went a little, uh, off script," she said.
Jonathan sighed. "Of course they did."
"He wasn't entirely clear on how part of an engine fell on his foot, but the good news is that only one bone broke. Mostly soft tissue damage, and he's going to be on crutches for a few weeks until the swelling goes down, but he should be fine. But he was insistent that someone come tell you so you didn't think he'd bailed on your visitation today."
Soft tissue damage was a bit of an understatement. She'd never seen something bruise that quickly – as soon as the EMS's arrived and pulled off Cameron's shoe and sock to see the damage, it was already darkening purple and blue. A deep, dark vein of red like a starburst on his skin was like a cartoon illustration of where the metal hit him.
And of course, Cameron promptly tried to wiggle his toes, which resulted in an aborted yelp of pain and a hasty smile of 'it's fine!' that no one believed.
"He said it wasn't broken before he even made it to the hospital," Kay said.
"Well, Cam would be the expert on broken bones," Jonathan grumbled, and Kay could see him mouthing some rather colorful words under his breath.
It was the perfect opening.
"Yeah," she said, scooting closer to the edge of the table and resting her clasped hands on the steel top. "About that. He's mentioned several pretty serious hospital stays, pretty casually too."
Jonathan said nothing. His posture remained defensive.
"Was it all just stunts gone wrong?" she asked.
Jonathan scoffed, a wry half grin twisting his lips in a scornful sneer. "You mean was any of it from Dad?"
Kay didn't answer, letting Jonathan find his own time. After several painfully long moments, Jonathan sighed, rubbing a hand over his short stubble.
"No," he said. "Dad never laid a hand on us. But magic is dangerous. Tricks go wrong. Safety wires snap. Torches malfunction. Knots slip. Buckles jam. And bones break."
"How old were you when you started performing on stage with him? With your father?"
Jonathan offered a non-committal shrug. "On stage? When we were…six, maybe? It wasn't that hard to perform the 'Disappearing Boy'. Cameron went behind one curtain, I came out from behind another. The audience cheered." He smirked. "Ta daaah."
"When did you two start doing the more advanced tricks?" Kay pressed.
"Why are you so interested on our childhood?" Jonathan asked. "It's history. What's it matter now?"
Kay sighed, struggling to put thoughts to words without sounding like she was trying to Mother Hen the two of them. "I've known Cameron for less than six months. In that time, he's been shot, thrown himself off a building trying to jump from one to another, been kidnapped and stuffed in a trunk, and almost blown up. He's the first to volunteer to go undercover, the first to go into a dangerous situation – never armed – and he just acts like…" the words escaped her, and she found herself floundering.
Jonathan had the barest hint of a smile, though. It wasn't happy. It wasn't sarcastic. It was…sad.
"If you're wondering if he's always been like that, the answer is yes. Always. And I doubt you're going to convince him to change now."
Kay waited to see if Jonathan would continue if the silence lapsed long enough.
Finally, after several moments, Jonathan shifted in his seat, uncrossing his arms and leaning forwards on the table in a direct mirroring of her own posture. "You need to know this about my brother. He will get himself killed making sure it isn't someone else who gets hurt. He has the self-preservation of a lemming. And if you keep letting him take those kind of risks, he's going to keep doing it. I have spent my life trying to keep Cameron alive. My whole life. Because Dad sure as hell didn't care about how dangerous the stunts were – whether it was him taking them or his thirteen year old kid. Cameron has damn near broken every bone in his body more than twice. His MRI scans look like a fucking Christmas tree."
Jonathan was speaking low and fast now, between clenched teeth as he punctuated every point with a jab of his index finger to the table.
"I'm stuck in here now, and Dina may have the spine to stand up to Cameron when he's in one of his moods, but Gunter and Jordan definitely do not, so someone needs to keep an eye on my brother. Because if he dies trying to help you?" Jonathan met her gaze unblinking, blue eyes piercingly boring into hers. "No prison on this Earth will hold me."
And she knew he wasn't exaggerating. He was stating facts, as confidently as someone stated the sky was blue, the grass was green, and the sun set in the west.
"That's what I'm trying to do," she said softly. "But I don't know how."
Jonathan studied her for a moment with those electric blue eyes – so cold compared to Cameron's. "You'll have to talk to the Team. Dina, Jordan, Gunter. Especially Dina. If he's using tricks to help you, it means they're designing them. Make sure they understand that no matter what my brother says – minimum risk. He's not a cop. He owes you nothing. Especially not his life. Especially when it's not his to give."
It made her think of a line from one of her favorite TV shows. Your life is not your own, so keep your hands off of it.
"Did he volunteer to be the one on stage?" she asked quietly. "When you were kids?"
Jonathan's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment she thought she'd overstepped her bounds.
"Yeah. Yeah, he did. He was always the mediator. Always trying to keep the peace. Dad and I never stopped fighting long enough to get through an act, even in practice. And Cam, Cam was so eager to stop the arguing he would do whatever stupid thing Dad told him to. He never let us swap out. And it wasn't because he wanted the glory, or he wanted to be in the spotlight, it was because he wanted it to be him that died if something went wrong. There's nothing dangerous about waiting behind a curtain, or underneath a door, or in a cabinet. Nothing ever happened to me. But you know what was worse than watching my brother almost get killed because of our father's dream? I couldn't go see him in the hospital. I couldn't go to him on stage if it happened during a performance. I had to hide when the EMS people showed up. Even when I argued I could wear a disguise, Dad refused to take the chance that someone would notice it."
Jonathan took a steadying breath, flexing his fingers that Kay noticed had gone white knuckled while he spoke.
"In short, Agent Kay Daniels, if I'm going to be okay with my brother out there, playing cops and robbers in the hopes that you and the FBI come up with something to help me, then you need to convince me that you're keeping an eye on him. And from what you've told me, that doesn't sound like it's the case."
Kay drummed her fingers against the table top in rapid succession. "I know. I know, I know, and I haven't had much luck trying to keep him out of the line of fire. Even when I try. But Jonathan, your brother is very good at what he does. He's saving lives. He's helping people, and I think he finds a purpose to it. Like maybe everything hasn't been just about performing on stage if he can help people – really help them – in real life."
Jonathan's gaze hardened, and Kay could swear she felt the temperature drop a few degrees.
"I don't care about their lives. I care about his. I care about mine. And more importantly, while he's distracted with you, it means he's not worrying about the Mystery Woman. And the two of you seem to have forgotten something pretty damn important – I wasn't the target. Which means he was, and still is until you find that woman. You have to be on guard with him, because Cam won't. All he cares about is getting me out of prison. And if this is where they intended to put him – out of the way? Then what are they willing to do to get him out of the way now?"
Kay didn't have an answer.
So. Thoughts? Opinions? Suggestions? I wrote this really quickly after tonight's episode, and it's like 2AM, so it may make less sense on paper than it does in my head, but I'm too excited not to post it now. Read and review! If interested, come find me on tumblr at disappearinginq