AN: Long time no post! This chapter was originally started well over a year ago, and I've finally had the motivation and inspiration to finish it. Hope you enjoy - leave a review if you fancy, I appreciate them greatly!

For a while in the Horsemen's earliest days, Henley truly started to think that her only role beyond escapology in the group was keeping Daniel from driving everyone else insane.

Sure, she was the token female in the group, but if any of the boys thought she was going to do all the cooking and cleaning then they would receive a few choice hand gestures and the silent treatment for days. She refused to fit the stereotype the Eye so obviously wanted her to be.

What she became instead was a human reality check for the three male horsemen, because apparently none of them had ever experienced real life before.

With Daniel, he spent the vast majority of his time being a pain in the ass and needed someone to tell him to shut up.

An example of such a time was… well, whenever they rehearsed, really, but specifically a rehearsal about nine months into their planning for their big heists. Henley wasn't sure what had happened, whether Daniel had had less sleep than usual or perhaps hadn't had enough coffee that morning, but he was grouchy, and that didn't bode well for anyone.

"No, Jack, how many times?! If you're going to do your whole card throwing thing, you have to make sure you hit every target. We're not in this to be mediocre, we have to be extraordinary."

"Oh, yeah, because it's not like you've never fluffed a trick! Obviously that little game of fifty-two card pick-up the other day was intentional, all a part of the trick, right?" Jack snapped back bitterly, "Screw you, Danny."

This disagreement had come after almost a week of Daniel criticising what appeared to be Jack's very existence; Henley couldn't blame the kid for storming out.

Daniel had proceeded to mutter to himself angrily whilst pacing around the room about how useless kids were and how the Eye had better know what they're doing because in his opinion all of this was going to go to shit if everyone else didn't get their acts together…

Henley gave him his five minutes and then crossed her arms firmly.

"Danny." She said firmly, "Shut. Up."

Daniel froze in his wandering, turning slowly to face her, "What?"

Henley simply stared at him, her expression disapproving, "Jack has as much right to be here as the rest of us. And we all have an equal right to be here. Stop acting like such a massive ass!"

"I- I'm not acting like an ass!" Daniel protested, "Someone has to keep everyone on track!"

"Look, Danny, I get that you're used to being the star of the show, but you need to stop being… well, you," Henley told him, "We're supposed to be a team, a four-person act. The group is the Four Horsemen not 'Danny and the Horsemen'."

"Well, it wouldn't be 'Danny and the Horsemen' anyway, because no one calls me 'Danny' except for you." He muttered in response, but she could see that she'd worn him down.

She gestured in the direction Jack had stormed off in, "Go and apologise," she said, "Tell him you respect him and his efforts. And if I catch you being such a dick again, I'll make sure you're introduced as 'Danny Atlas' for all of our shows."

Daniel glared at her, "You wouldn't dare."

Henley raised her eyebrows at him, "Well, we both know that's not true."

Daniel sighed quietly before moving to go after Jack, pausing in the doorway, "You know, you might have a point there… not with the Danny thing," he said quickly as her eyebrows raised a little higher, "But about changing my name… I never use the 'J' anyway, you were right, it's too pretentious. But maybe just 'Daniel Atlas'…"

He left the room still mumbling to himself about name changes and intro sequences and Henley rolled her eyes, wondering just who thought it would be a good idea to saddle her with Daniel again after so many years.

When Jack was back to idolising Daniel as much as ever within an hour, however, she couldn't help but think that it was just as well she'd been around. God forbid Merritt have to try and solve that kind of dilemma…

The group often joked about Jack being a kid (because he was a kid, no matter how hard he tried to convince them all otherwise). Sure, he had street-smarts from years having to fend for himself in the lowest parts of New York City, but in many respects he was still young.

Jack reminded Henley of a younger Daniel more than she'd admit to either of the two (because it wasn't worth the stress of having a sulking Danny who was forever insulted by the idea that, shock horror, he wasn't one of a kind, nor inimitable). Jack had all of the drive, the excitement and the talent that Daniel had had when she'd first met him.

Jack also had all of the irresponsibility that she'd forced from Daniel for fear of him accidentally killing himself one day when she wasn't around.

It was always simple things that he'd forget: hanging up his jacket when it fell off the hook to avoid a drunk Merritt tripping over it and breaking his neck; not putting a knife in the toaster when the bread got stuck; remembering to eat enough throughout the day regardless of how much he was practicing.

Henley was persistently reminding Jack to take a jacket when it was cold out, or bringing him snacks when he'd been trying to perfect a new shuffle for six hours straight without so much as a thought about food.

And sometimes… even that wasn't enough.

Jack was a bit of a free spirit a lot of the time; he was completely dedicated to the Horsemen, of course, but when they weren't rehearsing and he wasn't practicing, he liked to take himself off and do his own thing. Years of living virtually on the streets had left him with a lot of habits that just wouldn't die, so the others were happy to let him do whatever he wanted so long as he didn't get caught doing anything illegal.

One day in January, he took himself off. He ate breakfast with the other three that morning, and then disappeared.

It wasn't unheard of for him to stay out overnight; it wasn't common, and Henley had made it clear that she didn't like it, but it didn't exactly shock anyone when he didn't return home that night.

When he still wasn't back the next evening, Henley was worried. She told Daniel as much and he frowned at her.

"He isn't a kid, Henley," he scoffed, "And you've all made it quite clear that I can't keep you as prisoners in this place."

"He's been gone for almost thirty-six hours, Danny," Henley protested, "He's never been gone that long before! Besides, he is a kid and it's freezing outside!"

Daniel frowned at her, "What do you want me to do? Go searching for him at eight in the evening in the pitch black?"

Twenty minutes later, Henley, Daniel and Merritt were walking through the streets of New York, trying not to slip on icy pavements, keeping their eyes open for Jack whenever they walked past one of his usual spots.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Merritt grumbled, "I can't feel my toes. My head is killing me."

"Then you shouldn't have been drinking until seven a.m.," Henley said unsympathetically, "I'm surprised anywhere would serve you past midnight."

Merritt smirked, "I've got a kind of charm that bartenders can't say no to."

"You mean you've got a wallet that bartenders won't turn away," Daniel muttered, "But he has a point. Henley, we've been walking for ages and we can't find him. Did you try calling him?"

"Eight times," Henley snapped, because of course Daniel would assume that she hadn't tried something so simple as calling, "God, what if…"

"Maybe let's not start on the 'what-ifs' just yet," Merritt interrupted her, his tone surprisingly gentle as he rested a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure he's fine and just got caught up doing something."

They carried on walking in silence for another ten minutes until Merritt glanced down an alley and caught a glimpse of a tell-tale leather jacket buried amongst a pile of cardboard boxes.

"Er, guys?" he pointed at the black sleeve poking out and Henley was suddenly gone, sprinting towards the boxes and ripping them away.

"Oh, Jack!" she said, her tone a mix of worry and relief. He was shivering and had a cut above his eye and a split lip, but otherwise looked unscathed.

"Who'd you annoy this time, kid?" Merritt asked, offering his hand to help Jack up. Daniel had already taken his coat off (without Henley glaring at him, no less; she'd have been proud if she weren't still so concerned) and was holding it out, ready to wrap around Jack.

As Merritt effortlessly pulled Jack to his feet and he had been standing for all of half a second before Henley had wrapped him in a hug.

"Don't ever do that to us again," she said, squeezing him tightly.

Jack laughed through his shivers, "I'll t-try," he forced out. Daniel had thrown his coat around Jack's shoulders.

"Come on, kid," he said, "Let's get you home."

*. . .*

Henley wouldn't leave Jack's side when they finally got back up to their apartment. She cleaned the cuts on his face, ignoring him when he insisted he was fine. She'd dug his pyjamas out of a drawer from him (he didn't even wear pyjamas usually, not that she cared) and forced him into bed with a cup of tea and about eight blankets on top of him.

At first the company was appreciated; the questions that came with the company not so much, but Jack knew he couldn't avoid them after the stress he'd put the rest of the team through.

"Where the hell were you, Jack?" Henley asked, though the anger she'd been intending didn't quite hit its mark. She was still too relieved, too grateful, that it hadn't been worse.

"I was just… out," he murmured, staring into the mug in his hands, "Got… caught up."

"Caught up? Or just 'caught'?" Henley asked, her eyebrows raised knowingly, "Who did this to you?"

"Just… some guys," Jack replied, "I didn't even know them."

"That seems unlikely," Henley told him bluntly.

"Well, it wouldn't matter even if I did know them, would it?" Jack muttered, his tone slightly bitter, "Who am I going to go to, the police? So that in a few months' time, when we're four of the world's most wanted people, they've got my name, address and picture on file?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Just drop it, Henley," Jack said, finally looking up at her with steely resolution in his expression.

She gave him a look that she had perfected over the previous few months, one that would have made her mother proud, and after a few moments he wilted slightly.

"Look, it's not a big deal," he muttered, "I was just… I missed the old days. The street performing, tricking people, stealing a wallet or two… so I went out and was doing a little bit of what I used to do. And it was fun, I was having a great time, until… well. I guess I picked the wrong mark."

Henley sighed, "Jack…"

"Don't bother with the lecture," Jack said, "I'd do it again. I love you guys, Henley, but… sometimes this is all just a bit much. What I used to do was simpler, more secure. This is… I have no idea what I'm doing here sometimes. I needed a bit of familiarity."

"But was it really worth all this, Jack?!" Henley asked, gesturing to the injuries to his face and the fact that he was still trembling slightly from the cold, "We were worried sick, you know that? And finding you like that… god, I thought you were dead!"

Jack was silent for a moment, staring down into the cup in his hands.

"Look, I'm not going to promise not to do it again," he said eventually, "But I am sorry. And I do promise to be more careful next time."

Henley was about to argue but realised that it would probably do little good; if she'd at least made Jack think twice about who he was targeting, she supposed that was something.

"I guess that'll have to be good enough," she replied, "Just… we need you, Jack. You're a part of this team. Don't forget that, okay? We can't do this without you."

She left him be, again wondering what on Earth would have happened if she hadn't been around; the boys probably wouldn't have gone looking for Jack at all, or at the very least not until later. She shook the thoughts of what could have happened from her head, and realised that maybe there were worse things to be than the 'mother' of the group.

If you were to ask Merritt what Henley's role was in the group, he would have a list of answers as long as his arm, most of them not serious and almost all of them inappropriate.

All of that being said… he was the first to realise that she was too good for them. Even before Henley herself.

Things had been quiet for a while; the last they'd heard from Dylan was that the Eye wanted them to lay low. Frankly, after all they'd done and the high they'd got from performing, laying low was a particularly painful request to follow. And Henley did not do well without a plan.

She'd deny it to her last breath, of course; she'd insist that Daniel was the control freak, the one who always had to have a purpose, the one who pushed to get things achieved. But she and him were a relatively good match, which meant that their attributes had to line up somewhere. And needing to have something to work towards was definitely one such 'where'.

Two months down the line of 'laying low', Henley found herself sat with Merritt in the living room of the farmhouse in the back end of Virginia that Dylan had set them up in for the foreseeable future. It was completely off the radar, barely had electricity or a working phone, and was probably last properly inhabited sometime before World War Two.

She was going insane. She'd been in denial at first, trying to convince herself that after the stress of their shows, she was actually enjoying the break, the time to do whatever she wanted.

But the truth was that she wanted to be performing elaborate tricks for an audience. And the back end of Virginia was unsurprisingly low in stock of chains and piranhas. And audiences.

"You know what really passes the time?"

"Merritt, if this is yet another poorly disguised attempt to have sex with me, you can just not answer that question."

Merritt shrugged, crossing his arms as he leant back in the worn armchair he was sat in, "Your loss. It'd be more interesting than doing the crossword."

Henley shook her head, continuing to play with a trick chain in her hands. It looked ordinary at first glance but would come apart if two particular links were pushed together in the right way, making it the perfect thing to keep her hands busy whilst her brain ran round in circles.

"Hey," Merritt said, his tone so much more sincere that Henley looked up immediately, "What's on your mind?"

Henley simply shrugged, but the way he stayed silent to leave her space to talk actually did make her want to tell him.

"I just… what are we doing here, Merritt?" she asked, "We've been stuck here for weeks. We're not on the news anymore, for all we know no one's even looking for us. We've heard nothing. Is this… surely this isn't it? There must be more to it after everything we've done?"

"Well, we… we kind of knew this was coming, didn't we?" Merritt asked, "We've had our Big Reveal. You've got to let things die down, otherwise whatever comes next just isn't as impressive."

Henley shrugged, "I guess," she muttered, clearly unconvinced, "This just… isn't what I signed up for."

Merritt's curiosity was piqued by her statement, "What did you sign up for?"

Henley opened her mouth to reply, but closed it when she realised she wasn't certain of the answer.

"I guess… the chance to make something of myself," she said eventually, "I was in Danny's shadow for so long… and obviously this career wasn't one that came with my parents' full and undying support. And I guess… I wanted to prove that women can be the main attraction. That we're not just assistants or people who can be sawn in half. We can put on just as good of a show as any magician."

"And you don't think you've done that?"

"I don't know," Henley muttered, "Maybe. I do think I at least made a start, but… sitting here for all these weeks has made me realise that maybe… maybe this wasn't enough. I need… more than just three big shows, Merritt. And I can wait, but… I can't wait forever."

There was silence for a few moments before Merritt spoke again.

"You deserve better than us."

She hurried to protest, "No, Merritt, that's not what I meant-"

"I know," Merritt said gently, "But I do mean it. You are talented, Henley. You could do much more than all this. Our tricks, so far, they… they've all been to play out someone else's bigger picture. You could have a bigger picture of your own. And you'd absolute nail doing it, too. You don't need us to make your way in the world. If anything… Henley, I think we're holding you back. And I do, truly, believe that."

Henley gaped at him for a moment, "I… what would Danny say?"

"Ah," Merritt said, raising his eyebrows, "Now isn't that just the crux of all your professional issues."

"I don't know if that's fair," Henley said, frowning, "Danny has been pretty important this last year."

"True," Merritt agreed, "But… you left him for a reason, Henley. And that reason was that you identified your worth and realised that he was holding you back. You said yourself, you got tired to performing in his shadow. And now here you are again, as part of someone else's show, sticking around because you're worried about how Daniel will react."

"That's not the only reason," Henley protested, "There's you, Jack, Dylan… plus, I… what if I leave and then I look back on whatever you guys do next and realise I've made a mistake?"

"I guess… that's the risk you take. Or the motivation you use to make whatever you do next completely unbeatable."

Henley hadn't thought of it like that, and the two of them fell back into silence, neither feeling the need to say any more.

*. . .*

In the days that followed, Henley continued to try to convince herself that she was happy with the Horsemen, happy waiting for news from the Eye. It took a week for her to realise that Merritt had already given her the answer she really needed.

The night she left, she paced her room for hours trying to figure out how to have the conversation with Daniel; as much as Merritt was right, in that she didn't want him to dictate her decisions, she still didn't want to hurt him. But no matter how she tried to word it… this was going to hurt.

When a knock came on her door, she froze, momentarily terrified that it was going to be Daniel and she'd have to make something up on the spot. She was immeasurably relieved when it was Merritt on the other side.

"Get in here," Henley muttered, glancing frantically out the doorway for the others.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I could feel the vibrations of you pacing across the house," Merritt said wryly. He sat down on the end of her bed as she stood anxiously in front of him, biting the nail of her thumb and refusing to make eye contact. "Trying to work out what to say?"

She bother asking how he knew, simply groaning in response, "I can't… how can I do this to him? To Jack? After everything… they don't deserve this."

"Neither do you," Merritt reminded her, "Henley… I think you just need to go."

"No, that would be worse," Henley said defeatedly, dropping down to sit next to him, "That really would be the ultimate betrayal. I can't do that."

Merritt shrugged, "Well, then I think you need to embrace the fact that it's going to be a very uncomfortable conversation."

Henley sighed, burying her face in her hands, "This is so unfair."

Merritt simply nodded, leaning back on his elbows as he thought carefully.

"What if you wrote it?" he asked.

Henley glanced at him sideways from behind her hands, "Like reading a script?"

"More like… a letter that you could slip under his door and run away from really, really fast."

Henley immediately wanted to discount his suggestion as cowardly and childish (which it was). But the more she thought about it, the less it sounded like a terrible idea.

"I'm not going to run away from it," she said, "Well… maybe I technically am still running away a little. But… maybe you could give it to him? And maybe one to Jack, too?"

Merritt was caught off-guard just slightly, surprised at her trust to deliver the news of her departure.

"So that I get the fallout, you mean?" he tried teasingly, trying to break the sudden tension between them.

Henley shook her head, "That's not what I want," she said, "I don't want them to be mad at you, and to be honest, I don't think they would be. I just… he'll find a way to convince me to stay if I do it. And the more I think about it, the more I realise that this just isn't what I want anymore."

The desperation in her face as she looked at him pleadingly was what ultimately sealed the deal (though, who was he kidding, Henley was always going to get exactly what she wanted from him).

"Alright," he said, "I'll play messenger. I just hope that old adage about the messenger not getting shot stands true…"

And so, the next morning, Henley's bedroom was empty, and Merritt was delivering two handwritten letters to Jack and Daniel.

Daniel, predictably, disappeared into his room, and wouldn't be seen for several days afterwards. Merritt hadn't bothered to ask Henley what she had written, and Daniel certainly didn't offer it, but he was relatively happy being in the dark given the depth of their relationship.

Jack had asked questions, had repeated the same questions over and over despite Merritt not offering much of a response (mostly because he didn't have one). Thoroughly dissatisfied, Jack also disappeared, leaving Merritt alone.

He could feel Henley's absence already; obviously that made sense, given that she was absent, but it was more that her personality had always done so much to fill the space in their lives, even when she wasn't physically there.

His flawless attention for detail felt more like a curse than a blessing as he wandered through the house, effortlessly picking up on the fact that her hat was missing from the hook by the door, and the mugs in the kitchen didn't all have their handles pointing in the same direction like she would always ensure each morning, and she wasn't hogging the bathroom like she usually was at this time of day.

Merritt ran a hand over his face, glancing at his watch before deciding that essentially mourning a friend was a good enough reason to have a drink at ten a.m.

He pulled open the alcohol cabinet, but immediately stopped short when he noticed an envelope with his name on it in Henley's impeccable penmanship leaning against the bottle of whiskey. He pulled it out, the drink itself entirely forgotten as he moved to the couch where he'd sat during their conversation a week earlier and ripped the envelope open.

Dear Merritt,

You didn't really think I'd leave without a proper goodbye, did you? I think we both know that the last year of sex offers, bad jokes, and petty fights was worth much more than just a 'see you later'.

Believe it or not, I'm actually finding this letter the hardest to write. I feel like you probably know everything I want to say without me having to say it, so sorry if this just seems predictable; I suppose I should know by now that I shouldn't bother trying to surprise you. You probably found this note within ten minutes of me leaving, but I'm going to pretend that you were at least a little bit shocked, just to make myself feel better.

I can't even begin to say how much I'm going to miss having you in my life. As much as I went to every length to turn down your many, many advances, I feel like the one thing I didn't turn down was your offer of friendship. As much as we bicker, I feel like you know me on a different level to anyone else I've ever known, Danny included. You always know when I need to joke around, how to intervene when things with Danny get too tense, when to step up and be responsible for the good of the group. I don't even think I realised it until we got stuck in this weird void of nothingness for the last few months.

I realised that you understand me, sometimes better than I understand myself. And I can't help but think now, knowing how much pressure I'm putting on you to help me run away, that… your head must be quite a lonely place to be sometimes.

The one thing I do want to say to you, Merritt, other than thank you and goodbye – please don't let yourself get lonely. I know you have issues with trust because of everything with your brother, but… you can trust the others, Merritt. I think there was an ease between you and I, and I know you don't necessarily have that right now with Jack, and definitely not Danny, but… try? For me? I'd hate to think that I'm leaving the three of you to just mope and wait and wonder by yourselves. They're going to need you in the way that I so often did in my moments of crisis and insecurity over the last year. Don't shut yourself in so much that you don't notice when they need you.

You're the only one who really understands why I'm leaving, so… I'll just say that I hope whatever you guys end up doing next… it's unbeatable. God knows, I'd love the competition!

Thank you for everything. See you on the circuit.

Henley

P.S. maybe if we ever meet again, I'll get round to telling you what my most adventurous sexual experience is… if you're lucky ;)

Merritt couldn't decide if he was laughing or crying as he finished her letter; either way, tears were rolling down his face, and he knew Henley would probably be finding it hilarious if she were there.

Henley had been key to a lot of things in the group; she'd kept Daniel in check, Jack in a relatively safe and healthy state, and Merritt actually feeling things. But most of all… she'd been a good friend. Someone who challenged them, supported them, and grounded them on a daily basis. And, almost without realising it, Merritt realised she'd taught them something else by leaving, a valuable lesson that they hadn't really ever considered in as much depth as they probably should have.

The Four Horsemen were not infallible. The Eye operated on a policy of blind faith, of belief in the system. But nothing would ever be able to silence that gut feeling that something wasn't working. The difference was… she actually had the courage to follow it.

As Merritt considered this, he glanced down at the letter again, the piece of paper suddenly heavy with the weight of Henley's departure.

They were just 'the Horsemen' now, he realised. With Jack 'dead' and Dylan very much behind the scenes, their days as 'the Four Horsemen', were long since gone. But ironically… Henley leaving had encouraged him to be more blindly faithful in their group than ever before. Because even though they were a member down, and on the run from the police, and tucked away out of sight and mind with no plan…

He'd be damned if they didn't give her the competition she deserved.