Act One, Scene Three
Danny struggled violently beneath the water.
He knew, logically, that he shouldn't, that he should conserve his strength because the more panicked he got, the quicker he'd run out of oxygen.
Unfortunately, dying men were seldom logical.
He tugged at the chain, knowing it wouldn't do any good. The rust had warped the individual links, and within moments, the red of the iron was matched by the red of his blood.
The water was too cold for him to feel any pain.
He tugged and tugged and tugged but there wasn't a single ounce of give. What felt like an eternity yet simultaneously only a brief second later, the concrete block hit the bottom of the harbour and he was left suspended in the water, the fifty-pound brick winning the battle against his body's natural buoyancy.
He really regretted not going to the gym more often.
Wrapping both hands around the chain, Danny pulled himself down until he reached the padlock tying it to his ankle. It was old, very old, and even if he had a pick, he wasn't sure if he'd have enough time to open it. The concrete block, unsurprisingly, also had no give, and he slowly let go as his lungs burst for air and his vision started to blur.
He hadn't really thought about death in a while.
As a kid, growing up in the house that he did, it usually occupied his every free moment. If he'd live long enough to escape his parents, long enough to make it to New York City, long enough to become a famous magician just like that man in the library book he'd stolen when he was six did. But then he'd hear drunken laughter and the step at the top of the stairs would creak and he'd wrap himself in a threadbare blanket and actually wish for death to come and rescue him from what was about to happen.
As a magician, death was like an old friend. There were always accidents, after all, locks that got stuck or guns that held real bullets. He personally knew two guys whose shows had taken a turn for the worse. And then, of course, when he started out as a Horseman, the risk of meeting an untimely end became even higher.
On the run from the FBI, on the run from Bradley, on the run from Tressler…
Danny laughed and the sea water burned his throat.
Guess I didn't manage to actually outrun that last one.
Dylan couldn't hold back a gasp as he dived into the freezing water of the harbour, and it cost him precious seconds to return to the surface and take another breath.
He dived deep, using strong powerful strokes until he reached the last place that they'd seen Danny, and then he took another breath, prayed to whatever deity that was out there, and ducked beneath the surface.
His flashlight was dim below the water and its blue glow cast an eerie reflection against pieces of plastic and tins and what he hoped to god weren't sharks. He dove to the sea floor, thankfully not as far down as he'd expected, and frantically swung the light around in an arc trying to find-
Danny.
Dylan felt his heart stutter as he finally caught sight of the boy- because that's all he was just a boy barely in his fucking twenties and yet he'd shown more courage than Dylan who'd dragged him here who'd caused all this who'd fucking killed him -a few feet ahead.
Danny was… floating, for lack of a better word. The ends of his jacket had lifted in the water, weightless, and his arms were sort of… hovering on either side of him. His eyes were closed, expression calm and peaceful even as the water in front of him diluted the red that still poured from his skin.
It was almost as if he was already…
No.
Dylan swam forwards, putting the flashlight between his teeth as he pulled himself along the length of the chain until he found the lock keeping it tied around the boy's ankle. He gave it a harsh tug, but it remained firmly in place. He tried lifting the concrete block, but could only raise it a few inches before the weight of the water dragged it down again.
He couldn't save Danny while he was tied down, but he couldn't undo the lock either.
Letting himself float back up, he took a hold of the boy's jacket collar and tapped the side of his face. His eyes remained closed, his skin deathly pale, as he stayed unnervingly still in his grasp.
By now, Dylan's own lungs were begging for air, but he knew that if he returned to the surface now, then he'd never find Danny again.
He just had to think.
"I love you so much".
A flash of a familiar face.
"I always keep something up my sleeve".
Frantically searching his pockets, he found the one storing his father's watch. Turning it to the side, he tried to find a pick, a pin, anything.
Finally, his numb fingers closed around a small needle and he quickly pulled it out.
He could have cried in relief.
Kicking himself back down towards the padlock, he grasped for it with trembling hands and managed to insert the pick into the old-fashioned keyhole. His head was feeling heavy and his vision was starting to darken at the edges…
But he had to save Danny.
The metal bolt almost disintegrated in his hands as he yanked it open, almost hysterically forcing it through the link in the chain that was keeping it wrapped around Danny's ankle and-
There.
Tugging the metal from the boy's leg, he kicked off the sea bed with all his might and hauled them both back to the surface.
They were almost safe.
"Dylan!" Lula yelled, as they caught sight of him swimming back to the bank.
Merritt quickly jumped in, wading knee deep in water to help him carry Danny's unresponsive body. Between the two of them, they managed to haul the still figure up onto the bank, and Dylan threw both of the boy's arms around his neck as he dragged him further away from the edge.
They fell unceremoniously to the flattened grass, both Jack and Lula reaching out to try and soften their landing. He managed to half pick himself up as they all crowded around the motionless boy on the grass below.
"Danny" he gasped, shaking him.
"Atlas, come on, buddy, breathe!"
Jack's voice was shaking.
"… Danny?" Lula asked, timidly.
Dylan shook him again, "Danny!"
"Atlas, come on!" Merritt begged.
Dylan leant down and turned his head to the side in front of the boy's mouth. He paused there for one beat… two… three…
Danny wasn't breathing.
Merritt, realising what he was trying to do, quickly reached for a limp wrist, and put two fingers over his pulse.
After a moment, he clenched his jaw, looked away, and shook his head.
There was a sudden sob, but he wasn't sure who from. Lula's mascara started to run with her tears, and Jack slowly leant back, collapsing heavily on the muddy ground, uncaring of his once-pristine suit.
Dylan stared down at the motionless magician in front of him, at the sharp cheekbones now blossoming black and blue, at the water droplets that clung to long dark lashes, and at the blood starting to bubble up on his mouth again now that he was out of the harbour.
He didn't feel numb, he didn't feel sad, he didn't even feel bitter. All he could do was think of one thing, and one thing only.
"You are not fucking doing this to us!"
Rolling Danny over so he lay flat on his back, Rhodes placed the heel of his hand on his chest, and put his other hand on top of it. Pressing down, he started to count.
"One. Two. Three. Four. Five".
"Dylan".
"Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen".
"Dylan, you can't… it's-"
"Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one".
"It's too late, man".
"Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty".
Tilting back the boy's head, he lifted his chin and forced a rather breathless laugh.
"Don't make me kiss you, Atlas".
When no witty retort came in response, Lula turned and buried her head in Jack's shoulder.
Pinching Danny's nose, he took a deep breath before covering the pale mouth with his own.
One breath.
He could taste salt and water and tears, and the blood on Danny's lips smeared across his face.
Two breaths.
… Nothing.
Placing both hands on his sternum, he started again.
"One. Two. Three. Four. Five".
"Dylan…"
Merritt looked like he was physically in pain, and it was only when he saw tears in the mentalist's eyes did he realise that he was crying himself.
"Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten-"
There was a jerk, a cut-off choke, and Danny's eyes flew open.
He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe-
"Danny!"
He was pulled onto his side as he choked up one mouthful of dirty seawater after another, feeling like he was dying but alive but dying and-
"You're okay".
Was that…?
"You're okay".
Dylan.
He coughed and spluttered and then coughed some more, feeling cold and sore and strangely wet.
"Jesus! You scared the hell out of us, man!"
And- And Jack?
His entire body just ached and Danny wanted nothing more than to curl up into a tight little ball and never ever re-emerge ever again.
Instead, he found himself being manhandled onto his back which he initially groaned at but now that he was lying here and staring up at a starless sky as he panted desperately for air, he realised that he actually found it easier to breathe like this and-
"Are you all right, bro?"
Taking a deep breath, he tried to haul himself up, trembling fingers wrapping themselves around steadier hands as they helped him to sit up.
He found himself gripping Dylan's arm, Dylan who was staring back at him like he held the answer to the universe in his eyes, Dylan who's very being reassured him more than being a literal ocean away from Walter ever could, Dylan who was… also wet?
He carefully slid his hand down until he was holding onto the man's wrist instead of further dampening his blue shirt sleeves.
Their leader gave him a small but genuine smile.
"Thank you".
He wasn't talking about his shirt.
"T-This is t-the least I could do".
"No. There's a hell of a lot less you could've done".
He shivered, shifting uncomfortably under the man's intense gaze, not quite knowing how it made him feel but simultaneously knowing that this was neither the time nor place to figure that out.
"I could say t-the same for you" Danny said instead, nodding at the river that the man had undoubtedly just pulled him from.
"That was not an option" Lula said firmly, and Merritt nodded, "You took a bullet for us, it was huge".
Reaching into his pocket, Jack pulled out the stick with a little grin.
"You really did, man".
Now that he was somewhat steadier, Rhodes let go of his arm, and Danny found himself inexplicably missing the man's hold until he felt those same warm fingers wrap themselves around his ankle, grounding him in a way he didn't even realise he needed.
"T-Thanks for pulling me out" he said, softly, staring into those endless brown eyes, "Seriously".
"You got yourself out" Lula said, "We did the easy part. Literally, in my case, I was just standing on the shore while Rhodes jumped down and got you-"
Despite everything, Danny couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm serious," she continued, smiling.
"Hey, you guys, something's not right," Jack said suddenly.
"What's wrong?" Dylan asked.
"… It's fake".
"What?" Merritt immediately reached out and took it from him, the sticker peeling away in his hands, "What the hell…"
Dylan grimaced.
This was the last thing they needed.
"Okay guys, let's just get back to Iong's before we do anything else" he decided, "Tressler's still a little too close for my liking".
They reluctantly agreed and started standing up, brushing the worst of the grass and mud from their clothes. Dylan leant back on his heels and reluctantly removed his hand from Danny's ankle, moving to brush his damp hair from his face when-
His hand was red.
He froze for a split second before turning sharply to Danny, who appeared to be none the wiser as he remained on the ground, wringing out his soaking jacket, chest still rising and falling just that little bit too fast to be normal.
Glancing back at the boy's leg, he suddenly realised that it was the same one that Walter's men had tied the concrete block to. The chain had been old, rusty, and it wouldn't surprise him to find out that it had warped and splintered over the years.
Slowly reaching down, he pushed up Danny's trouser leg.
His left ankle was a mess of mangled skin and blood.
The broken metal, the too-tight padlock, the weight of a fifty-pound concrete block pulling him two dozen meters below the South China Sea…
He looked back up only to find Danny looking back at him, the pain clearly starting to catch up with him now that the humid night air was slowly warming them again.
But still, the boy brushed off his concerns, stared at his injured ankle, and then gave him a wry smirk.
"Guess I skipped leg day".