THE LESS YOU'LL SEE
NOTES: So, the previous chapter happened, and the long wait starts for our boys. I figured it should come sooner rather than later – the sooner we can get it over with, the sooner they can (maybe?) be reunited, and all will be well, happily ever after, yadda yadda. Maybe.
Looking at how the story's unfolding in my mind, I may possibly extend the chapters a little bit (yup, having too much fun writing this). After all, we haven't at all touched on the inclusion of Lula in the little gang – and, being Jack's ex, wouldn't we want to see just how she adds color into the group?
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.
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.
July 2008: The Wheel of Fortune
5th July
Manhattan, New York
For the first time in his life, Jack Wilder felt an overwhelming sense of freedom.
He hated it.
There was nothing ahead of him but the mission, and anything he wanted to do in between. It was better during those moments that he was completely immersed in the mission – for instance, he had started with the simplest of them all, tailing the famous Octa kick out Owen Case to confirm the rumors that he had gotten into selling information to anonymous buyers. He had found enough initial evidence, and it was a matter of sending it to The Eye to build the case for the next public stunt of the Horsemen.
But if he were being honest with himself, there was nothing much to distract him from the incessant thoughts of the few people he loved in this world: Merritt and Henley, Lula, Lara, his folks, and…
He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. He couldn't afford to think of him, not now when he wanted to see him so badly.
Jack desperately wished he could talk to someone, but given that Merritt was the only one who knew by pure accident, that left his options running quite low. He had holed himself up in the car he had driven off with, and hadn't moved for the last five days. By now, he knew that the news was ablaze with the death of the fourth Horseman. Perhaps, by now, the remaining three had released that statement as planned…
Jack sat up quite suddenly. He could see him.
Whipping out his phone, he connected to the internet and didn't have to look far: the tribute video was trending with the silly hashtag #AtlastJack. It was posted a day before, two days behind schedule, and Jack shook his head sadly. The three had gone off-plan, and he could only pray to whoever was listening that Danny would be okay.
He flinched when the video started playing.
Danny was not okay.
Even from a small screen, Jack could see the discoloration in his boyfriend's cerulean eyes: they looked clouded, grayish, as though all the waste of the world found its home in the bed of the ocean. They were the eyes of a haunted man, which were now swollen beyond recognition.
The cheekbones became even more pronounced than they normally were, and his clothes hung loosely from the frail figure – clearly, he wasn't eating much, if at all. He could see Danny's hands, hands that he missed holding and kissing, shaking violently as he grasped a card – a jack of spades.
He didn't register anything that Merritt and Henley were saying; he was far too preoccupied watching Danny's every tic and move, anything that would assure him that the showman would be okay.
4th July
Brooklyn, New York
Nothing.
There was a painful lull of silence after Merritt and Henley had finished their parts. Both were looking at him with sad eyes, and Danny hated it. They had stuck to the script, of course – they were the conscientious ones now, ensuring that they stuck to the plan because Danny—
He would swear up and down that he was going mad.
Clearing his throat, he looked at the camera. Everything seemed too bright – Jesus, why was everything so bright? Jack couldn't possibly be gone, this was just an illusion, everything was—
"More than anything, Jack wanted to be the world's greatest magician," Danny started, his voice breaking slightly on Jack's name. "I can't say… I can't…" He trailed off, wondering what the point of the script was, why they were even bothering with this, when this wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. They were just kids; they were just fucking college kids who thought it would be nice to do some magic on the side, they weren't supposed to lose anything, he wasn't supposed to lose the fucking love of his life to magic—
"Danny," Henley whispered quietly, putting a gloved hand on his own shaking one. "We can stop now."
He shook his head vigorously. He can't stop now—he never could. Stopping would mean giving up on everything Jack worked for, everything he worked for, everything they all worked for. Stopping would mean conceding defeat, that the job was far beyond their capacity, that they were the wrong people for the job. Stopping would be a painful reminder that he lost the one thing that mattered most in his life.
Danny couldn't stop now, not when he lost everything.
He did the only thing that made sense in his mind now, and J. Daniel Atlas, the control freak, went off-script.
"He wanted to be the world's greatest magician, and he was," he started, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile, his first in days. "He made you lose things – your wallet, your food, your mind at times, but he conjured up the impossible half the time. Wherever Jack was, it was, well… full of magic." Danny gulped as he heard Jack's chuckle in his mind, calling him a sap before planting a loud and wet kiss on his neck. It felt so damn real…
"Jack was my best friend, and eventually, he decided I was good enough to be more. I don't know why he did that – poor judgment that worked to my advantage, at that time, I always said. I've seen how people's lives are just a touch more magical with some other people, but with Jack, it was… astonishingly more," Danny plowed on. "Every show, every appearance, every move has always been calculated and planned, but I never could do it with Jack Wilder. But it didn't take away the magic – it just added more of it, each time he did."
The tremor in his hand was subsiding, and he felt Henley's grip on him slacken as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes to keep the images of a smiling Jack Wilder at bay. "This wasn't supposed to happen, but it did: Jack had to… I… we had to lose Jack to do what is we need to do. And if any of you think that this is the end of the Horsemen, think again. We have a mission. Jack made sure we would carry out the mission. The point is—"
Though a spark ignited in his otherwise dead eyes, his voice cracked on the last three words.
"The point is we've come too far now," Merritt supplied for him, in which Danny was grateful, as he wasn't sure if he could continue. "This is all bigger than all of us, and we cannot stop now."
25th July
Bergen, New Jersey
It was the text that he never expected.
It came in the wee hours of the morning, when he was still asleep in some dingy motel room. It took him a while to read it, because he just couldn't find the energy to do anything more than to sleep after the taxing evening he had surveying the property he had to pull a heist off for in a few weeks' time.
But the second he read it, he immediately moved.
A mere half hour later, Jack was tearing down the road as fast as the car could take him without attracting the attention of anyone – he supposes, though, that it didn't matter: he was dead, after all.
For the first time in almost a month, he felt excited, he felt the joy bubbling up inside him. He killed the engine in front of the large house, and practically raced to the door, rapping what he hoped was still a familiar rhythm.
The response was instantaneous. He heard feet race madly to the door, and before he could so much as blink, his head was buried in long locks of blonde hair and he found himself being squeezed practically to death by a pair of frail arms. His assailant took a step back, and he looked into burning blue eyes in fear.
"You were gone," came the hoarse whisper. He was alarmed at how unrecognizable it was.
"I had to stay away. I'm sorry."
18th July
Queens, New York
If Henley had any suspicions as to where they were getting the information that The Eye was sending them, she kept quiet about it.
Of course she knew where their intelligence came from: it could only be done by a sleight, a fellow magician, someone who was used to hiding in plain sight. Every time she caught Merritt's eye whenever they received a new blueprint, she knew they were of the same thought.
Their Jack was in action.
Daniel – they had fallen back into his given name, as they learned the hard way – was none the wiser. She hated how much he had detached himself from the world, from her and Merritt, and he seemed to have gone to a place where no one else could follow. More than once, she wanted to scream at him, tell him the truth, anything to get him back to their world and in their lives, but Merritt had shot her a warning look each and every time, and she had settled for sighing and walking out of the room in frustration.
He had shaved off all his hair about two weeks after the bridge. It's a shame – she really did find Daniel's long blonde locks beautiful, and without it, he looked too… she shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind.
The Eye had called them to an abandoned warehouse, saying that they were to pick up something that would help them with the upcoming mission in September.
The ride there was silent – she had volunteered to drive, and thus frequently chanced a glance at Merritt looking out his window on the passenger seat, and Daniel, who was stoically pretending to be asleep in the back seat.
"Well, isn't this nice," she said softly, turning her eyes back on the road.
They reached their destination and stepped out of the car, Daniel taking the lead into the warehouse.
"So, what do you think this is?" Henley said, wincing at how forced her attempt at conversation was.
The showman shrugged. "That's why we're here," he said in a clipped tone, as though talking couldn't be a duller activity for him right now.
Merritt cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose the floozies think we could use some help."
Daniel stopped in his tracks and turned to Merritt with flashing eyes. "What exactly are you saying, Merritt?" he snapped. "You think we aren't getting the job done properly?"
The mentalist raised an eyebrow and held up two pacifying hands. "Was there supposed to be another layer to what I said?" he said in a matter-of-fact but noticeably gentle tone.
Before Daniel could respond, an overly-cheerful voice came from the room below them. "Sorry, am I interrupting?"
Henley looked at the speaker and gaped. "What are you doing here?" she gasped.
25th July
Bergen, New Jersey
The ocean blue eyes filled with tears. "We didn't hear from you at all, Jack."
Jack hung his head. "I'm sorry, Lars."
"It was just supposed to be fake! They brought home a body!" Lara continued, her lower lip trembling.
"Lara, I will explain everything, I promise," Jack said, pulling his shaking sister into his arms. "I just have to see Mama and Pops too, please. I'll tell you everything."
His parents were waiting in the sitting room, and the second Jack walked in, Monica gave a gasp and ran to her son, pulling him in an all-encompassing hug. Ken Wilder stood up, his blue eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of his only son, pulling both he and his wife into his arms.
"Mama. Pops," Jack whispered brokenly, a heavy weight lifting from his heart.
"Joaquin," Ken said in a stern but shaky voice, one that preempted trouble on a normal day, but today it was the best sound in the world. "We will have a family dinner tonight, and you will explain to us why the hell we had to watch you die on national television without so much as a peep from you. And it goes without saying that you are in a heap of trouble, young man."
He shook his head and gasped out, "That sounds good, Pops."
25th July
Bergen, New Jersey
It felt fantastic to finally tell the truth, and to his family, no less.
Jack sat back two hours later, exhausting himself beyond means as his parents and sister digested the fantastic story that he just regaled them with. Not for the first time did he find himself incredibly grateful for having the perfect family – it was certainly not easy to be the sister or parents of a college student-turned-vigilante in the last months.
He looked at Ken and Monica, his eyes imploring. "Mama, Pops," he said gently. "I'm sorry."
Ken gave a start and frowned. "For what?"
"For worrying you. For disappointing you," he explained. "I know this isn't what you wanted for me—"
"Stop right there, Joaquin," Ken interrupted angrily. "For keeping us worried, yes. I don't know if we can ever accept your apology for that. But for disappointing us? What gave you that idea?" When Jack said nothing, the older man shook his head. "Jack, you have been… a wonderful son. Whatever we want for you would never quite be enough, but all that matters to us is that you're living with something that you want. And I have to ask now – is this it?"
For some inexplicable reason, the big smile of Daniel Atlas sprawled on their bed came to his mind, and he thought that he could answer his father's question properly. Remembering his situation, though, made him sad, and it must have shown, since his father stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you walk away, then, son?" Ken asked softly. "You know we will do everything we can to help you get your life back."
Jack shook his head, putting a hand over his father's. "Pops, the reason why I want to walk away is exactly why I want to keep going," he said gently.
Lara looked at her brother with piercing blue eyes. "You can't come back to him until it's over," she said definitively.
"Amore mio," Monica interjected. "I have—I have seen the news. Perhaps you don't need to come bck, Jack. Maybe you can stay for good this time—"
His head snapped up. "What news, Mama?"
Monica and Lara looked at each other, the latter standing up to turn on the television set on the kitchen table. Jack's eyes widened as he took in the clip that was being played.
18th July
Queens, New York
The dark brown hair was longer than he remembered and, begrudgingly, Daniel admitted the face was a lot more beautiful than he last saw it backstage, all those months ago. He choked back a horrified laugh as he put two and two together.
"Lula," he said in a choked voice. "Henley asked you a question."
She held up a tarot card, and something in him sank in dread. "I got one of these, and it had the address and time written on it. It's … uh…" she turned the card over to look at what was written on it. "It's the Wheel of Fortune. Ring a bell?" Lula looked up at them all hopefully.
The Wheel of Fortune.
Good fortune, a turning point, gambling.
Daniel let out a small laugh.
The Eye, once more, got a rise out of fucking him over, again and again.
25th July
Bergen, New Jersey
For once, Jack wasn't paying attention to Danny's face, already so cold and closed-off, as he addressed the world through his smartphone.
"The show must go on, apparently," his boyfriend was saying dryly. "As such, we want to tell you that we're still here, and we've filled our… vacancy."
Dark brown hair, red lips, blue eyes, pale skin.
Jack remembered what it was like to be acquainted with those bits of the newcomer that now appeared in between Danny and Henley.
"Our newest member, everybody – Lula May!" Henley said with some amount of enthusiasm as she looked into the camera.
Merritt clapped his hands once. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are again, the Four Horsemen! Good night!" before the screen went black.
18th July
Queens, New York
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Shit."
25th July
Bergen, New Jersey
Jack ran his fingers through his hair.
"Shit."