THE LESS YOU'LL SEE

NOTES: At last, Jack. #AtlastJack

But we didn't expect it to be that easy, did we?

This is the last part of the #AtlastJack arc, after which we will dive into the next few months (and, by extension, the last few chapters). Nothing more will be said so as not to run the risk of spoiling the chapter, except that… this may or may not have a happy ending.

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.

September 2008: #AtlastJack (Part 3)

It was fun for a while, but on hindsight, he realized that he was just too tired to take them all on. Still, though, it was the better option: Danny couldn't fight to save his own life, and probably wouldn't have lasted longer than three seconds, and with two muscled men.

And hell, the world didn't need one less Danny Atlas. He knew that better than anyone. It's only just as fucking gorgeous as it was because of that guy, went Jack's delirious thoughts.

He thought he saw the smirking faces of Walter Mabry and Arthur Tressler looking down on him, heard the sound of metal clanging on metal, and everything went black.

"Guys," Danny gasped out desperately as he reached the other three, who had tied up their would-be captors. "Guys, we have to go, they've got him, they've got Jack—"

"Atlas, shut up a minute," Merritt snapped, his head craning over the cartons before them as he heard the familiar voices from a short distance.

He frowned as he spotted the Lionel Shrike safe being loaded into the truck – why would they need the safe for –

"Take this to the river, he's waiting for it there," one of the men said.

Click.

He was in the leaky safe that caused the death of one of the most famous showmen the country had seen – Jack Wilder thought, ironically, how high an honor for him to share that very safe that marked the last stand of the great Lionel Shrike.

Funny enough, the biggest news in his mind was not the fact that he was going to die alone tonight in a safe at the bottom of the river: it was that he was able to finally hold Danny close to him again, even for just a while, even if it wasn't how he envisioned it. His ex-boyfriend's breath was cold and smelled like peppermint, and it lingered in his mind even as he felt the pull of gravity take him from his flight and crash into the water.

Danny drove like a madman, tearing through the streets like a lunatic. He was a man with a mission, and he didn't have a lot of time to do it.

"Danny, you're going to kill us!" Henley cried out.

"What's your point if he gets killed?!" Danny roared, his rage and frustration now unchecked.

"Atlas!" Lula said sharply. "Jack won't die. We won't let it."

Danny looked at her wildly, her blue eyes piercing his. He saw in her eyes the fear of losing the one person who ever mattered to either of them, but he also saw something else: he saw in her eyes the will to live, the steely determination to get out of it alive, to win no matter the cost.

It calmed him down, knowing he wasn't quite alone in the world, at least not in that sense.

He wasn't the only one who wanted Jack Wilder alive more than they wanted life itself.

The first thing Jack registered was that the water was leaking quickly into the safe.

He thought morbidly that this is probably why Lionel Shrike didn't survive that last trick, and a flash of despair filled him as he thought that he most likely couldn't survive it, either.

You're stupid, came a no-nonsense voice in his head. I'd love to blow your brains out, if you had any.

He realized the voice was Danny's, but it held no malice and venom in it. He could almost see the mischievous smirk on Danny's face, looking up at him from their bed.

You're Death itself. The fucking best sleight of hand the world has ever seen, the Danny-image continued to say. What made you think you won't survive this?

Hell, even in his hallucinations, Danny was right – he always was.

There goes that smirk again. Of course I am.

Danny killed the engine and jumped out of the car. Without thinking, without planning for anything for the first time in his life, he took off his jacket and jumped into the water.

The river was surprisingly clear, and for the next few minutes, J. Daniel Atlas swam like a madman. Cutting the surface only to gasp in a fresh supply of air, he powered through furiously, looking for any signs of the man he needed to save, the man he needed.

His search continued, and he saw the other three running around the shore, looking for any signs or any hope that he might not be under the dark water. As the minutes passed, he felt tears coming to his eyes quickly: he couldn't find him, he couldn't find Jack, and there was nothing more he feared now than to lose Jack yet again. He lost him already so many times, that maybe if he lost him once more, Danny knew he was just going to break.

He gritted his teeth and searched on. He wouldn't lose him. Not anymore.

He took another gasp of air before going even deeper.

Air.

Jack had taken a lot of things for granted in his life, and now that he was bereft of one, he wishes that he didn't. It was difficult to pick the lock without the air rushing through his lungs, helping him think, giving him focus.

But air wasn't that important. He thought of the more important things he took for granted.

He thought of Merritt's and Henley's companionship, how they seemed to find stability in each other, and how they shared the stability they had with everyone around them. He thought of Merritt's way into getting into your mind, and the many offers he made to read someone for free; he thought of Henley's pancakes, the poorly cooked pieces of shit, which she was so proud of, which he had always found an excuse to decline. He wished he had told them 'yes' more often.

He thought of Lula, his best girl, his best friend. He thought of her wavy dark hair in the sunshine, her opal eyes, and rose red lips. He thought of how he took for granted how beautiful the world was because of her cheer, and her smile, and her laugh; he thought of how he never thanked her for keeping him in her life, even if he could not quite give her what she was looking for. He thought of how he never told her that a part of him would always be a little in love with her, and he wonders if he ought to, even once.

He thought of Lara's daily texts, asking him if he had eaten his full three meals, which he often ignored. He wished he replied to each and every one of those texts, perhaps also asking her if she had done the same. Just because she was the big sister, she didn't have to be the one to constantly look out for him.

He thought of his parents, the most perfect parents in the world, who worked to give him nothing but a good life, and was happy to be with him no matter the course he chose. He wishes he thanked them every day, and that he didn't take for granted the small touches and gruff words spoken to him, about how proud they were to have him as a son.

He thought of Danny.

With his final breath, Jack Wilder smiled and slid against the safe door, which popped open.

As he closed his eyes, he thought he saw Danny's face again, and he really did know that everything was okay.

Ten feet below him, Danny saw movement, and he turned his light to it. His heart stopped as he saw a body slide out of a box and land on the bed of the river.

Jack.

The swim downward was maddening, as if he couldn't reach Jack fast enough. The body of the sleight was limp and heavy in his arms, and Danny swam up as fast as he could, holding Jack up, making sure that his head was the first to cut the surface of the dark water.

When he felt Jack leave his arms, he panicked slightly, thinking that he lost the sleight to the water again. But it had just been Merritt, who dove into the water with Henley to pull Jack to the ground.

When Danny joined them ashore, Jack's eyes were still closed, and it didn't look like he was breathing.

"Oh no, you don't," Danny hissed angrily as he pushed the other three aside. "You aren't fucking doing this to me again, Jack Wilder, not—now—not—ever!" He was pumping Jack's chest like a maniac and blowing air into his mouth, again and again, until—

There was a sharp gasp as water spewed from Jack's mouth. He coughed it out, eyes wide open, and was about to turn to his rescuers when two hands grabbed him on either side of the face and pulled him into the angriest, most desperate, most filthy kiss he's ever had in his life, rendering him breathless once more.

The world turned funny in that moment for Jack Wilder, and he and Danny were the only ones in that world. There was no other sensation that mattered, that he could process, save for the lips he craved on his, melding, fusing, coming together like it should never come apart. Nothing else mattered but everything he had now: not the long absence, not the lies, not the secrets, not the pain of losing each other, not the pain of re-finding each other, not the idea of ever losing the other. All he knew was that everything that mattered was in his hands, and he wasn't sure if it was the river water that left salty tracks on his cheeks, and that of the man in front of him. Perhaps it was.

He tried to break away, but Danny wouldn't let him. He smiled underneath the kiss, gasping, "Air."

The effect was instantaneous. Danny immediately stopped kissing him, though not letting go of his face, allowing Jack to breathe the air he did. He smiled up at Danny, who was looking at him with the most intense gaze. God, he missed those cerulean eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Danny laughed nervously. "You're asking me if I'm okay? Are you fucking crazy?"

Jack shrugged, smiling, not letting go of Danny's face either. "Maybe." An involuntary shiver ran through him, but almost immediately, a thick leather jacket wrapped him around the shoulders. He looked at the one who put the jacket there and smiled. "Hey, beautiful."

Lula's blue eyes were filled with tears as she looked at Jack. "You scared the shit out of us, Jack!"

"I know, I'm—"

"Don't say you're sorry, you stupid dork!" Lula said angrily, tears flowing freely now.

"It's the least I could have done," he said carefully.

"Oh, no, no, no, you stop right there, Jack Wilder," Henley said sharply. "There's a hell of a lot less that you could have done. That wasn't an option."

"But I—"

"YOU STUPID COW!" Lula cut in furiously. "If I never get to see your stupid face again, Jack Wilder, you have to drill it through that thick skull of yours that I will always fucking love you and I will probably never stop being ridiculously in love with you!" she said hoarsely, turning to Danny apologetically. "I'm sorry, Danny. I just had to say it."

Danny shrugged, a pained smile on his face. "I can't say I blame you," he said shortly, his grip on Jack's face tightening before he looked at Jack with the same intense gaze. "But you remember what I told you, right?"

The sleight gave a half-smile. "All the goddamned continents," he said softly.

"I don't care who loves you. Hell, I don't even care if you even remotely love them back," Danny said forcefully. "Because I will rip the world apart before I ever give you up, Jack Wilder, to anyone or anything. If I could find a way to bring you back from the dead in case you ever think about dying again, you know I would. I'm not losing you again, so if you have any stupid ideas to run off and play dead again, think again. You're not going anywhere, Jack Wilder. I won't let you." He gulped the rest of his emotions down, just focusing on the man he held in front of him. "I'm sorry I thought I could let you go."

Jack smiled weakly, planting a kiss on Danny's forehead. "I'll hold you to that."

Maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion that overtook them, or maybe they were just tired of running, but when a sleek black car picked them up minutes later, they climbed aboard without any questions. They had no such qualms in doing so, either: it just seemed like the most natural thing to do, it felt right, it felt like – for the first time – they were headed somewhere definite.

The car stopped in front of Central Park a little more than an hour later. It was mercifully empty, even for two in the morning. Henley's hand found Merritt's, and Jack's never left Danny's, as they started walking to the middle of the park, not quite sure what they were looking for. Lula shivered very slightly, and Jack gave her a warm smile as he put an arm around her shoulder.

"This whole plan isn't going to end with us getting mugged at two in the morning at Central Park, will it?" Merritt asked skeptically, looking around.

Henley shook her head. "No, this is where we're supposed to be. We just have to find—"

Lula shone her flashlight at a tree, her eyes brightening. "That?" she offered.

It was the card in the tree – not just any tree, but the Lionel Shrike tree. Danny frowned – the cards… quickly, he pulled out his tarot card. The others followed suit, putting their cards together – The Lovers, Death, The Wheel of Fortune, The High Priestess, and The Hermit forming one single organism and shining the light into a dark corner of the park. The carousel came to life as soon as the light hit it, and they all walked tentatively toward it, only to find—

"Oh my God," Merritt wheezed out when they saw who stood before them. "I did not see that coming."

"No freaking way!" Jack crowed, laughing nervously. "That… that was actually pretty good."

Agent Dylan Rhodes gave them a bashful smile from where he stood. "Thank you."

Danny had a smile on his face as he raised a finger thoughtfully. "So when I said to always be the smartest guy in the room—" he started.

"We were in agreement," Dylan finished, a twinkle in his eye.

Danny nodded. "Okay. Right."

"Henley, Lula," the agent said with a charming smile, leaving both women gaping.

"Oh, I've never seen her speechless," Danny supplied, gesturing to Henley.

"Obviously, you don't know how to—oww!" Merritt's lewd remark was cut off by an excited pinch from the redhead.

"Well, this one could catch flies with her mouth," Jack laughed, watching Lula watch their mystery leader in awe.

Dylan chuckled. "I take that as a huge compliment," he said easily, shaking the hands of both women.

Jack gave a start as he realized something. "Hey man, I'm sorry for kicking your ass, I really am," he said contritely.

"Well, you had to pretend that you really died, so I think we're quits," the older man said gently. "I'm sorry for whatever pain that caused. To all of you. It had to be done."

He was looking at Danny particularly when he said the words, and the showman felt himself swallow his anger and his despair as he looked at the man next to him. "You know what – it's cool," Danny said in a choked voice. "Just as long as this isn't over yet."

The secret magician gave a knowing smile. "It's far from over, Daniel." He gestured for them to come forward. "Come, we've got a lot of work to do."

They were taken to a safe house, with yet another set of new identities. Dylan promised to tell them all about their next mission tomorrow, but for now, persuaded them to rest—"You deserve some sleep after the insanity of the last days," he told them as he closed the door behind him.

Jack scoffed. "More like, months." He stretched and yawned, looking at his companions. "Well, I'll see you in the morning, guys… guys?"

Everyone had magically disappeared into their rooms – Henley and Merritt in one, he assumed, and he caught the whip of Lula's dark brown hair as the door to the second room closed. Only Danny was left with him outside, and he was looking anywhere but at the sleight. Jack cleared his throat.

"Danny—" he started pacifyingly, wanting to tell him that it was okay, that they didn't need to rush into this, that he wasn't counting on anything, but was immediately silenced by Danny growling, pushing him roughly against the wall so hard that he swore the apartment's walls shook.

"I know that tone," the showman said in a deadly quiet voice. "And I also hope you know what I'm going to say."

Jack let out a small breath, taking in every contour of Danny's face, the ache of missing him being abated just by his mere presence. He shook his head. "We ain't got no time to say nothing, Atlas," he said in a low voice.

Danny cocked his head to the side. "I'll show you, then." He pushed Jack into an empty room clear across the others, slamming the door behind him, his mouth never leaving Jack's even as they ripped each other's clothes off, wanting to feel skin against skin, warmth on warmth.

Dear God, after two months of freezing from the grief of loss, Danny could swear he was on fire – a god damned raging inferno of life. He pushed Jack roughly into the bed, peppering him with kisses all over his body, making sure he quivered and groaned in all the right places, desperate to re-learn every new contour and jagged edge of Jack's lithe frame.

He traced the map of New York in his mind and on Jack's body, he created a new invisible country on his back, he set fire to the sleight's soft spots with his lips—he couldn't help wanting to drown, and lose himself in the perfection that was the body of the love of his life.

He found himself shuddering in pleasure when he took Jack with his mouth – hearing his boyfriend cry out his name again and again, tugging on what little hair he had, clawing Danny down the back…

When Jack had calmed down with jagged breaths and heavy panting, there was a dangerous steely look in his eye as he looked down at Danny, who gazed up at him innocently. In the lowest voice he had ever heard come from Jack, the sleight whispered, "My turn now."

Danny never thought that coming apart at the seams could ever be as good as he did that night.

The sun had come out when they had finally settled against the bed, leaning into each other in quiet companionship. Danny was downright deliriously happy, unable to believe that he could have ever had this again, and he turned to Jack with narrowed blue eyes. Jack looked at him questioningly.

"No more secrets," the showman said menacingly.

The sleight shook his head empathically. "You think I'm nuts?"

"I think you're stupid, sometimes."

Jack chuckled. "Fair point," he acquiesced. He brought Danny closer to him, kissing his forehead. "But yes, no more secrets. No more fucked-up reconnaissance missions without you."

Danny wagged his eyebrows. "No more anything fucked-up without me, period."

Jack let out a hearty laugh. "Perv," he said with a shake of his head. He looked at Danny with all sincerity in his brown eyes. "No more secrets from you, either, Atlas. No more holding back any of those little emotions you hate to show. Not to me."

If it meant keeping Jack in his life?

It was a damn no-brainer.