THE LESS YOU'LL SEE
NOTES: We're halfway through, unless the story writes itself out more quickly than I originally anticipated! I'm not quite ready, though, to hurry this story along, so I'm working on some interludes that will be published here and there. I foresee things to be quite hectic at work for the next few weeks, so I'm honestly not sure when the next update will be, but I hope the recent update spree and new one-shot angst-laden story (what is #shamelessplugging) will be enough until the next time. Feedback is more than welcome, so feel free to drop me a note in the comments section or email me directly at ficamaze – especially for those interested in beta-ing future chapters.
The usual drill: I cannot stress these points enough, so I will put these at the start of every chapter:
This is primarily a Lover's Death story.
I do not own anyone (i.e., characters, etc) or anything (i.e., lines, scenes, concepts, etc) from the Now You See Me series. Absolutely no copyright infringement intended. I really am just a hopeless fan girl refreshing my feed for more stories about Lover's Death and Hermit+Priestess (daily, twice a day, might I add).
Some events in this story are inspired by my own experiences, and should you see yourself in the story, then let me give you a high five, but that honestly was not my intention.
Should anyone be willing to beta read the magic technicalities in future chapters, then raise your hand so we can talk. And can more of you please share awesome Lover's Death and Hermit+Priestess stories? We would all love that.
March 2008: Repairs
It was sometimes difficult for most people to forget that The Four Horsemen did have a life outside of magic: as their teachers would remind them, they were – first and foremost – students before they became the rogue magicians that were quickly becoming famous for eluding the law. A close brush with the FBI apparently did not excuse them from deadlines and finals: in fact, it all the more meant owning up to the responsibilities and – Jack learned the hard way – the drama expected of students.
In the thick of being interrogated by the FBI, almost moving his and Danny's relationship to the next level (Jack still felt bitter about the 'almost' bit), the increasing number of arguments he's had since then with said boyfriend, and basically having to keep up with the workload and reading list of a literature major, he never had that dreaded discussion with Lula on how to move their friendship along. However, he knew there was no getting around it, not if he wanted to keep their friendship intact despite everything that happened.
When he casually brought up the matter with Danny over dinner one time, he thought Danny was going to have another panic attack or – worse – an aneurysm. Instead, his boyfriend rubbed his temples once and looked at him calmly, taking a deep breath. "Do you think this is absolutely necessary, having this conversation with her?"
Jack nodded. "She's still my best friend, Danny, and she always will be."
"Yeah, well, so was I, and look how well that ended up," Danny said almost bitterly.
Jack tensed. "I'm not sure what you're saying."
The showman sighed. "What I'm saying is that you don't know the effect you have on people. I was all set to settle for being your best friend, but against all the damn odds, here we are. And I can't help but think that maybe it's the same effect for everyone who wants you in their life," he admitted.
Jack said nothing, because really, what was he supposed to say to that? Instead, he started flipping his cards in silence, watching them whiz through the air easily, catching them with the other hand. Sometimes, he missed how relaxing magic was – it completely took him away to another place, and when he first met Danny, it took them both to another place altogether. Now, he just thought that there were too many things he had to think about in their relationship: it could definitely a bit more magical if the fights dwindled to probably zero, but on hindsight, it probably can't be any more perfect, fights and all. Still, though… what he wouldn't give for just a few minutes of simplicity and easy escape like before.
Danny intercepted the card he made to catch with his other hand. He sighed, his eyes sad and his voice soft. "Look, I'm not saying I like it. Especially not at this point that we seem to have more issues than usual. But if you think you have to do it, then do it. Just please promise me one thing." He gulped as Jack looked at him carefully. "Think of our better days when you talk to her, all right?"
The conversation that Jack and Lula finally had several days later was quite uneventful, at least from Jack's perspective. They unofficially closed the romantic chapter of their lives together and had spent most of their time talking about the upcoming school year, and how Lula was thinking of enrolling in Octa, too (Jack thought how Danny would love being in the same campus as Lula, and the thought made him chuckle).
He chose to listen rather than talk, thinking that perhaps he wasn't quite ready to share anything about Danny to Lula of all people – not now, not when everything was still quite fresh for both of them. But he was still extremely happy with her company, and he realized how much he missed having someone to talk to outside of his three daily companions. For once after a while, everything was calm in Jack's world.
Then The Eye gave him their new set of instructions.
Merritt understood the concept of balance. He found that people were in a state of constantly needing and seeking out balance in their lives: that's where mentalism came in for him. The second he finds one thing that will threaten to throw a person off balance is when said person becomes his to own. Balance was of extreme importance to every individual, and more so when it came to relationships.
From what he's been seeing, their two friends seemed to have lost their balance in their relationship.
If their rising and heated voices (usually from Daniel) or the angry storming offs (usually by Jack) weren't enough to indicate trouble in paradise, there were more signs to rely on. There was always the furtive and manic glances of one to the other when the other wasn't looking (almost always from Daniel to Jack). Merritt also saw the knee jerk attempts to comfort the upset other before catching himself and withdrawing the helping hand before the other even sees it being offered (Jack to Daniel).
The mentalist zoomed in on two key issues between the two of them. The first issue was Daniel's mounting frustration from the opening night fiasco finally getting to him. It can't possibly have been any clearer how much he wanted to pick up where he and Jack left off, but the problem is how much embarrassment seemed to have dominated his desire for Jack, the perpetual gentleman who would not touch Daniel unless explicitly asked. Which Merritt strongly suspected Daniel would refuse to do in fear of another humiliating episode.
The second issue was that Jack had a secret. At first Merritt thought it had something to do with Lula, but after observing him the last few days, he realized it had something to do with the next task. He was determined to get to the bottom of it soon, thinking it concerned all of them, and he at least had to know what was happening. But whatever the secret was, it was creating even more tension between him and Daniel, and Merritt suspected that Daniel didn't even know there was something hidden from him to begin with.
Time for him to get to work.
Henley had taken care of whisking Daniel away under the guise of needing to practice their duo act for their second show in May, leaving Merritt alone with Jack. The minute he was sure the escape artist and the showman were out, the mentalist pounced on the sleight.
"You received instructions from them, did you?"
Jack flinched, and Merritt knew he struck gold. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, Mer." Like that ever stopped him.
"You were given a set of instructions that was just for you alone, so it's something we're all pretty familiar with, but with an angle only you would know about…" Merritt trailed off thoughtfully, remembering the last phase of the plans: there was something about a close encounter with the FBI, and a fake death that was clearly Jack. But what could bother Jack so much if it was—
Click. Merritt looked at Jack, whose brown eyes were wide and scared. "Your fake death should look like it went wrong and ended up being a real death to us," the mentalist supplied. "How long, Jack-o?"
Jack hung his head, closing his eyes as though relieved to be free of the burden he carried alone. "Three months."
Merritt understood what three months meant. Three months was for Jack to focus on operationalizing the plan from behind-the-scenes, being their eye of sorts, until their task was completed. Three months was to make sure that their showman was on point and would carry out the plan flawlessly, that their showman would not have anything more to fear losing. Three months to focus entirely on their work, and not on each other.
Wow, The Eye is a fucking bitch.
"You can't tell Danny or Henley, Mer," Jack said. "They can't know. Hell, you weren't supposed to know."
Merritt shrugged. "Funny how those idiots could think they could keep something from me."
Jack chuckled darkly. "I wondered the same thing."
"And speaking of idiots who could think they could keep something from me, tell me more about what didn't happen during opening night, Jackie boy," the mentalist said aggressively, making the sleight splutter.
"Jesus, Merritt—"
Merritt shook his head. "Look, I definitely don't want to know anything remotely intimate about either you or Daniel. But I have two points, Jack: one is, you guys have been going nutty ever since opening night, and neither of you have made your move, and it's wearing everyone down. Which brings me to point number two: you just told me you don't have a lot of time until you fake a real death meant to be fake and we don't see you until after three months, so I suggest you stop wasting precious time and tap that boy, pronto. That's just me, though."
The rest of the day was spent mostly in amiable companionship between the two, and Danny and Henley returned to the apartment towards the end of the day to their laughing partners throwing cards all around the place (Jack doing so successfully, Merritt abysmally).
Danny felt a twinge of sadness seeing the happy smile on Jack's face, knowing that he has been failing to be the one to put it on that face recently. But when his boyfriend looked at him, the smile grew even wider and his brown eyes lit up, and Danny marveled in the next second how he could have possibly done that, and what good he did in his life to deserve that. He cocked his head to the side, observing Jack, who shook his head and tossed aside his pile of cards, walking briskly to where Danny stood.
"Jack?" he said questioningly.
Jack shook his head of brown hair and brought him in closer, holding him by the waist. "I'm done waiting," he said simply before his lips covered Danny's own, gently at first, but rising in cadence and heat as the seconds passed. "I want you and I'm having you now, if you let me, J. Daniel Atlas."
"Yes," Danny gasped immediately. "Yes, yes, yes."
It was like all barriers had to be torn down between them the second Danny said yes. Holding each other close, they pushed themselves into a room, and they no longer cared whose room it was. The last few weeks of frustration were flowing out, like venom extracted from their systems, leaving their bodies as quickly as their clothes were shed off.
Danny found himself thrown into the bed, and before he could even react, his arms were pinned on either side as Jack slid directly on top of him, naked bodies aligned, the tips of their noses touching.
Jack's eyes were soft as he asked, "Is this okay?"
Danny nodded. "Please, Jack," he begged.
They took the time to explore each contour and angle of their bodies with their hands and their lips. Danny's senses were on overload, unable to understand why Jack – perfect, wonderful Jack – was with him, right here and now. Why Jack was holding him so tenderly, so lovingly like he was the most fragile gem in the world. Why Jack breathed in his scent with relish, like he was the most intoxicating smell in the world. Why Jack's brown eyes were blown wide with desire and – he didn't want to think about it just now – when he pulled away to meet Danny's awed gaze.
What had he done so right in his previous lives that he was rewarded with this sort of perfection right now, perfection that couldn't possibly be topped?
"I love you, Daniel Atlas," Jack exhaled earnestly, baring his soul through his eyes.
Danny hated being wrong, but he was never happier to be wrong now about it: Jack just topped his own perfection. He smiled up at Jack, holding him by the back of the head. "Prove it," he challenged.
Jack didn't need telling twice, and for the first time in Danny's life, he thought he could define exactly what bliss was.
Almost half an hour later, they lay on their backs and next to each other, both looking at the ceiling with foolish grins on their faces. Jack chuckled and turned his head to his left to look at his boyfriend, who was equally delirious.
"All you had to do was say something, you know," he said in jest.
Danny snorted. "And risk another panic attack?"
Jack's eyebrows wagged as he took Danny's hand. "I could have calmed you down… somehow."
Blue eyes rolled to the high heavens. "I'm sure you could have."
A chuckle from Jack, and companionable silence filled the room for the next few minutes. Jack's hand was warm in his, and it seemed to fit so well, almost as though it was always supposed to be there. The corners of Danny's lips turned upward in a smile as he turned to look at Jack. "Hey, Jack?"
"Mmm?"
"I love you, too."
Jack smiled. "Damn straight you do."
Dylan had a plan, and he had to make sure he followed through. He needed to be extra careful: with The Horsemen on their guard, and now with Thaddeus Bradley sticking his fingers in the pie, he knew one wrong move could make it all fall apart. Failure was not an option for him: he had come too far for this to not work, and for him to not have The Horsemen exactly where he wanted them.
Thaddeus was devious and cunning, and he happened to know how exactly magic worked. He gained a massive online following just dissecting everything that happened last January, and the FBI was forced to accept that even knowing now how it possibly could have happened, they really had no hold on The Horsemen. They needed a new attack plan, and Dylan's superiors had brought him in countless planning sessions to prepare for the upcoming second act in May.
He didn't know what Thaddeus Bradley wanted out of it – he didn't stand to make so much with his online commentaries, and rumor even has it that the older man in his thirties was personally requested by Arthur Tressler himself to back off and not "sully his investments" for a hefty six-digit price, which he had reportedly declined. He had recommended having someone from the team watch Thaddeus Bradley, not least of all because he was already probably in Arthur Tressler's black list.
Dylan's mouth was set in a rigid line as he pored over the stolen photographs of The Four Horsemen, noting even in mere photographs how the mentalist looked at the escape artist in much the same way Atlas gazed at Jack Wilder.
It would do for them to watch their backs and keep something up their sleeves.