Archive of Our Own

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And you can stay down here until you learn to behave. 
Lucy Daniels had tried to cheer her mother up. Something that usually, nine times out of ten, would work. But this time, she had miscalculated. The petticoat had scratched her legs, but she’d been proud of how well it sat on her waist, and how neatly the sequins fit across the bodice of the corset. The ten-year-old girl had thought that wearing the old garment would cause her mother to smile at the old days, to relish in how her daughter would carry her legacy with her. But her mother, with red around her eyes, had gasped. Not in elation- but in terror, when she saw what Lucy had dragged out from the ruins of her wardrobe. Lucy knew what was coming. That gasp was a sound she was familiar with. It told her to take cover and to call for her father for help. She needed to calm her mother, to help her down from whatever ledge her emotions were hanging off. But Lucy’s little brain flittered into overdrive, and she started to apologise again and again. Her mother’s voice reached a pitch higher and higher in response, until she, scared out of her wits by her own delusions, locked the basement door.Lucy stood staring at the clock on the wall, just barely visible. It was the light seeping under the door up the stairs, reflected on the plastic that covered delicate hands, that told Lucy it was even there. She listened to the tick tocks that reassured her that life was moving elsewhere. Lucy stood and stood, staring and staring at her one tie to the real world. And her mind started to drift away from her mother’s muffled crying and the record player in the kitchen. She started to perform her greatest trick of all - just for her. The one where she splits herself in half. Just a little while longer… she’ll stay in the half of her that floats. “Lula?”What was that? Lucy began to feel herself being sucked back in - but she didn’t want to be. Just a few more minutes away, and then she’d be okay- “Lula, what are you doing?”The lights weren’t blinding like they had been before, when her father had come down to let her out after he’d returned from work. They were soft and amber coloured. Lula shook her head wildly, forcing her focus to return to her being. “Huh? Oh, I just came down to get - to get…” her eyes darted around the room as she struggled to remember anything before completely zoning out. “Oh yeah, the wine.” She scooped up a bottle of red and a bottle of white from the barrel to her left and made her way to the source of the voice calling her name. “You were in there for like half an hour,” it was a dry sort of comment, and Lula didn’t need to look at Daniel Atlas’ face to know that his mouth was pressed into a line and his eyes were a moment away from rolling. “You know you can actually go to your room if you need to be alone, you don’t have to stand in the dark like a creep.”“Yeah, okay Mr. Totally Normal All The Time,” Lula glared at him as they walked through the hallway together. Oh, there was music playing after all. Lula had thought she’d imagined it. “Alright,” she said as she elbowed the exponentially heavy fire-door to the living room open. “I didn’t know what the hell everyone likes, so I got one of each.” Merritt McKinney looked at the pair with an incredulous aura - they had entered as if they were running on stage for the bows. “You only brought two? That’s enough for three church mice who need to drive home later.” He was still wearing his hat, Daniel noted. That hat did good things for his mostly bald head, but it was odd to see it inside. Especially because it definitely had the capacity to be wet, like the rest of them were currently still recovering from being. “Are you ever going to take your hat off?” He asked, never feeling the need to keep his thoughts to himself. “I find that question to be a little intrepid, Daniel,” Merritt replied, nonchalantly folding one leg over the other and holding his glass out. “White, please.”Lula unscrewed the metal cap off the bottle she was holding and went to pour, but paused. “You’ve still got half a glass in there-” her nose wrinkled in defiance. Merritt simply tilted his glass in response. He didn’t care. And so, his glass was filled to the brim again. “Who here drinks red?” a soft-eyed man asked, from the armchair. His dark hair, littered with sporadic greys, was still wet from the rain. Dylan Shrike held a small hand towel, but didn't use it. He also held a phone, and when he realised he was holding it, he put it face down on the table. A flippant hand belonging to a damp Jack Wilder raised slightly from the middle of the L-shaped sofa. It was lifted in a half hearted gesture, the other half of the heart having sunk deep into the couch somewhere.“Really?” Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised, Jack.” “I’m not surprised,” Lula shrugged, uncapping the red. “Man has taste.” she poured one out for herself and for Jack, and passed him his glass. She shuffled as enthusiastically as one could while wearing slippers, to the inner corner of the sofa, settling into the safe surrounding right-angle as if it were a hammock. “You two get your own, I’m sitting here now.” she gestured to Dylan and Daniel, the latter of whom glanced at her with bemusement. Two filled glasses later, an expectant silence fell over everyone, and they looked at Dylan as if he should make a toast. He noticed this, and cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes shifting between the wine to his new roommates a few times.“Well, I can hardly think of what to say,” Dylan, ironically, said. “I’m so tired I might drop dead. But hey, we did it.” It was a blissful kind of tired. The sort of tired you feel after you finally do something you’ve been worried about doing for weeks. “We did,” Merritt chimed in. “That sure was something. Actually… it might have been the most fun I’ve ever had.” He grinned, scratching his silver scruff. “I liked the theatrics, we’ve done a lot of roleplay recently.” Jack mildly choked at that, grin hidden behind his glass. “It was all pretty fun, except for the part with the knife to my throat,” Lula grimaced. Jack’s smile abruptly vanished. He cleared his throat.“That bit was dangerous,” Dylan nodded, not matching the slightly jovial tone Lula adopted. “Are you alright, by the way?” “Oh yeah, it made this part better. There were actual stakes, y’know? I got some crazy endorphins now,” Lula smiled widely, and she meant it. “It was kind of thrilling.” “Thrilling isn’t the word I’d use,” Jack muttered, and drank a large amount of wine. “Spoilsport,” Lula huffed. Then she smiled even more. “Where did you find the record player?”“How’d you know I found it?” Jack peeled off a sock. “I dunno, actually. Just kind of assumed. Maybe it’s cause we’re the least inept.” He snorted, eyes darting to hers quickly in approval and back. Her stomach turned over, and Lula, who was something of an adrenaline junkie, revelled in the butterfly swarm. She’d seen how alive his eyes were after drinking red wine. “How does being younger than us correlate with the incredibly common trait of liking music?” Daniel almost knocked his glass over on the table from waving his hands around. He saved it before his heart gave out. “Dylan, how long are we staying here? Will I have time to get any potential stains out of the carpet?” “Relax, Atlas, we’ll be here for a couple weeks at least. This place is pretty under the radar, and we need to commute to the observatory for a while.” Dylan said thoughtfully, index finger following the rim of his glass. Staring into the reflection, he saw a shape that resembled Daniel shift in his seat. He had the urge to smile at it, but resolved that that might be a little odd. “Is that Wham?” Lula thought aloud. Jack nodded. She praised herself internally for recognising a classic.“We’re going to Paris next,” Dylan continued, and this was met with several yelps of approval. “Oh really, Dylan de menthe? And what does this have to do with Interpol?” Merritt cooed, to which Dylan scowled. “Ok, ok, get it all out.” he rolled his eyes. “What does this mean? I don’t get it. Is this another inside joke?” Lula’s nostrils flared slightly. “It was from BL, yeah. Dylan and this chick from Interpol had a thing. She was his partner when-” Jack started. “BL? Before Lula? Are you serious ?” Daniel’s lips wobbled as he spoke, threatening to give away the smile that tugged at his rigid spirit. Jack’s smirk nearly broke his face in two. He threw his hands up in resignation and loud laughter erupted from the girl nestled into the cushions next to him. “It was so much quieter BL…” Merritt sighed wistfully, and Lula threw one of Jack’s socks at his face. Dylan was sent down for the next two bottles of wine. When he returned with them, he found Merritt teaching Lula how to cha-cha alongside Ella Fitzgerald, and Daniel aiming cards at Jack’s head, thanks to the forceful cardistry polishing back in Macau. It evoked the same feeling from the pit of his diaphragm that he got when he drank a smooth whiskey. It was a warmth that spread alarmingly fast, and it caused him to swallow, panicked. He wouldn’t allow himself to think this way - not yet. There was still imminent danger nearby, and most of it had been caused by him. He couldn’t allow himself to wallow in this serene footnote of the page. “I’ll have to get Li to restock the wine already.” he raised his eyebrows as he refilled glasses. A card bounced off the back of his head in response. Jack was sent to get one more bottle an hour and a half later. He stopped by his newly-acclaimed room first, to put his socks away. He simply stood there, hovering over his bed, hands flexing. He’d let his mind wander to when Big Ben struck twelve three hours ago, and - no, that was a job for future Jack. He shook off the lump that had appeared in his throat and ignored how twitchy his fingers had become. It was like this every time - his hands would move of their own accord and he’d steal a wallet, or a credit card, or a necklace, and sabotage whatever connection he had with someone. The urge to burst into Lula’s room and take something was like an itch in his throat that he couldn’t scratch by coughing. Forcing himself to move, he resisted palming the handle on her door and went downstairs to the basement. When he appeared back in the living room, the TV was on. Everyone had piled onto the sofa to watch, and Merritt was almost asleep on Lula’s shoulder. She looked to Jack with an expression that read ‘help me’. He sat down next to Dylan, shrugging, turning away in a stupid act of self preservation. Lula’s throat constricted and she looked away, a flicker of confusion at the sudden dismissal in her eyes. Daniel woke up at 4:12am. His neck was at a ridiculous angle, which he’d pay for soon if he didn’t move. Everyone had fallen asleep on the sizable sofa, like a collapsed line of dominos. No-one had wanted to be alone. Daniel standing caused Jack, not normally a light sleeper, to stir. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, noticing everyone around him. “Guess we never made it to bed.” Daniel sighed. “I’m going to get some actual sleep- I think everyone else should too.” he said, louder, as others started to sit up. Dylan seeing Daniel as the first thing when he awoke was getting more and more common. He thought it odd that his sleep deprived brain had registered that observation. He waved goodnight and set off as Merritt stood, and Jack pulled Lula up from the concave of cushion she had curled up in. He didn’t know if Lula had chosen the room opposite his at the end of the corridor on the second floor on purpose- but knowing her, she probably did. They both sleepily arrived door-adjacent and, for a moment, Jack’s pulse stuttered as he became sure that she was going to invite herself in. But Lula smiled at him instead, kissed his cheek with an air that was so fast Jack was unsure if it had happened at all, and sunk into the depths of her own room. She peeled her pillow off of her mattress and screamed into it immediately for being so ridiculous, then promptly fell unconscious. Merritt had heard her, as pillows aren’t very soundproof, and he would soon laugh himself to sleep because of it.Which wasn’t an awful way to begin a new year, Anno Domini.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They’d spent almost all day at the Observatory. By around three o’clock, brains started disintegrating, so they decided it was best to go back to the safehouse. It was over an hour drive, but Li and Thaddeus still followed behind. Mostly because the latter wanted to speak with Dylan some more - “catch up”, as he had put it.

The recent revelation that Thaddeus was not, in fact, ‘the bad guy’, and was friends (partners?) with Dylan’s father meant that the younger man had a litter of questions for him. The two went to sit in the little conservatory attached to the kitchen while groceries were unloaded by the others. Little inter-group glances were a silent agreement that they should not be disturbed.

“It wasn’t like we were friends,” Thaddeus’ rich voice bounced off the tiles underfoot as they waited for the kettle to boil, courtesy of Merritt. “We were closer than that.”

Dylan’s tired eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. “You mean you were…” he gestured with his head.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” Thaddeus chuckled. “I don’t think either of us really knew. It was odd - and your Mother vanished as quickly as she arrived in our lives. One moment she was here, the next…”

“Gone.” Dylan nodded, recalling his father telling him the exact same words time and time again. “That wasn't my mother.” He sighed. Dylan hadn’t thought of his birth mother in quite some time. His father had married a woman when he was little- a woman who had stepped up. For all intents and purposes, that woman was Dylan’s mother, not the stranger that Thaddeus referenced. And his Mother, his real Mother, was the woman who never got justice from Arthur Tressler. “And she was your friend?”

“A good one. She and her sister -” a squeal from the next room sounded through the walls. Thaddeus glanced in the direction of the sound with an almost-smile. “- worked at a carnival, they were travelling. Your mother stayed around the area to have you, then- well, she was never quite the one for staying in one place.”

Dylan hadn’t anticipated this emergence of his Mother in their talk. He’d tried to find her, of course he had, but his searches had been met with unhappy news. She had passed away twelve years after he had been born. That was, luckily, an issue he was able to discuss with his therapist when he had been Dylan Rhodes, the FBI Agent. He had since come to terms with the nature of the situation and had sought closure.

“She was a whirlwind. That’s what Dad used to call her.”

At that, Thaddeus chuckled. “That was her act. He meant it in a more practical way than you could have imagined. She was the whirlwind, and her sister was the storm - they were aerial artists.”

A silent Merritt had placed coffee in front of them and they hadn’t realised until he was out of the door. Dylan called his thanks anyway. His fingers dug into ceramic as he lifted his mug to his face. It was the most he’d ever learned about the Whirlwind. He didn’t fancy continuing the conversation, white hot rage threatening to tinge the calm blank sheet of his mind.

“So now… I’m wondering, Thaddeus, what you’d like to do. Dylan Shrike is a straightforward man, and I can’t be thinking you’d like to be a part of my life without you actually wanting to be.” It was frank, but those therapy sessions didn’t amount to nothing. Thaddeus paused, his eyes barely concealing the gears turning behind them.

“Dylan, the reason I am still here is you. So, I will remain here for you. I’m staying with the Eye, and with Bu Bu. I’m happy to help her run things,” he started. Thaddeus, lately, couldn’t stop looking at Dylan. He saw so much of Lionel in him - and had wondered what his life would have been like if he’d been permitted to raise him after his old partner had died. Days of teaching magic and healing from nightmares passed… for both Dylan and him. He regretted not having the courage to go against the Eye more and more every day as he got to know the man that that little boy had become.

“I won’t be continuing my main line of work, but the reason for that is plain and simple. I want to be free of all pretence, and I want to be a figure you can turn to, if you’ll let me, after everything.”

Dylan smiled, and sipped his coffee. 
  
“Li, I cannot believe you, dude!” Lula laughed maniacally from her spot on the floor, cross-legged and hunchbacked as she flicked through the large crate of records in front of her. Li sat, watching with a quiet mix of amusement and fear, and shrugged.

“It really was the least I could do. You have one suitcase, Lula,” he sighed, “you were done dirty.”

Merritt stood looking out over the garden, one hand on his hip, the other gripping the handle of the JD Sports mug he had made himself a builder’s tea in. He had decided (two hours prior) to fully embrace English culture while they were there. Allen had given him some pointers at the Observatory.

He made the resolute decision that he enjoyed being in this safehouse just as much as he enjoyed being alone. There was something incredibly comforting about watching misty rain outside while an open fire crackled in the house and voices he liked hearing rattled around the room. It was something he distinctly remembered looking for, this comfort. He had searched for it as a child endlessly, and he’d thought he’d found it one Christmas morning. He stood at the window, watching the rain, with the reflection of the lights strung around the tree inside decorating his view. He heard his twin brother and his parents playing Clue in the background behind him, and thought he had captured it.

But… compared to this, that feeling he had on that Christmas Day seemed tinged with the foreboding that something bad was about to happen. His stomach had been unsettled with a subtle intuition, an overturning moment was on the horizon. And it had been - Chase and his mother accused him of cheating at Clue and the day ended in ruin. This moment, running parallel, although tens of years in the future, was completely untinted. There was no trace of dread in his blood.

“What’s happening?” a voice that Merritt knew belonged to a crinkled smile carried across the room. He turned to watch with sudden interest.

“I brought Lula’s records for her, since there’s something to play them with here.” Li gestured to the vague gremlin shaped woman hanging over said records. “I met her grandmother. She thought I was her boyfriend.” he flashed a grin to the man standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t looking.

“Does this mean I get to judge you for your taste in music?” Jack immediately dropped to a crouch next to the box and deftly plucked the first record he saw from it. “Cat Stevens, huh?” he considered, head tilting. “Guess I can’t fault that.”

“Sandie Shaw, Supertramp, The Beach Boys, Fatboy Slim and... The Beatles,” Merritt had raised a finger to his temples with performative flair.

“Not bad, Derren Brown, I don’t have any Beach Boys. But this is my favourite,” Lula picked out a bright yellow record cover with orange figures dotted around. “Okay - okay so before you say anything, you have to listen to this from start to finish in a dark room with a candle burning, and I swear you’ll love it. And don't start with the whole fucking ‘The Beatles are boring’ thing. That’s because you’ve only listened to Hey Jude and Yellow Submarine, and when I tell you they’re so much more musically diverse than anyone realises I’m not lying-”

“Isn’t that the Cirque du Soleil album?” Daniel had appeared and was perched on the arm of the sofa, sandwich in hand.

“Yeah, it is, actually,” Lula blinked at him, surprised. “They mixed it to blend seamlessly together so that the performers could choreograph without having too many fade-outs.”

“It’s cool. I like it,” Daniel bit into his sandwich.

“Oh!” Lula settled back down from her current position, which had escalated into kneeling animatedly. She looked rather pleased with this revelation.

“I love Billie Holiday,” Jack muttered, lost in the tracklist of Body and Soul. Somehow, a flurry of dark hair and long fingers managed to pull the record out of the sleeve he was studying, and it was expertly flipped onto the small record player on the bookcase. Jack looked up just as the needle was being lowered, slightly impressed.

A moment later, Lula was back on the floor, rifling through the remainder of her collection. “I can’t believe my grandma thinks you’re my boyfriend,” she scowled at Li, who immediately threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Merritt laughed uproariously.

After dinner, he felt that feeling again. Sat at the head of the table, Merritt glanced down the runner at his newfound family - a term that he’d coined himself, out loud, before getting ‘thrown out of the plane’ on New Years’ Eve. There was laughter, someone was flicking peas at someone else, Dylan was pretending to be stern about it. Everything seemed to slow down as Merrit drank his wine and drank the moment. The sound blurred into one angelic chorus, and he sat back in his chair.

The evening passed quickly and the troupe of magicians found their eyes closing before ten o’clock. They supposed it was because of their unhealthy sleep schedule, but everyone was glad for the rest. 
  
The third time Daniel hit snooze on his alarm was one time too many for him to excuse. He rose quickly to shock his body into waking up - and it appeared that he’d slept for thirteen hours. Eleven on the dot, he strode into the bathroom as quickly as he could. He hated anyone seeing him before he’d had chance to rub the sleep out of his eyes, it was ‘one of his things’. There must be a little mask applied to his entire being before anyone else was to lay eyes on his raw form.

Drying his hair, he noticed there wasn’t any music playing on his way downstairs, nor was there any playing upstairs, either. Over the past few days since New Years’, there had always been some muffled beat somewhere, either in the kitchen, or from the record player, or from Lula’s or Jack’s room.

There was none this morning, which raised the tiniest of alarm bells. They grew louder as he reached the kitchen and swung the door open to find everyone sitting at the table, except one.

“Morning,” Daniel said suspiciously.

“Hey, Atlas,” Dylan waved him over.

“What’s going on?” He asked, sitting.

“You haven’t heard from Lula, have you?” Merritt’s voice was hushed, as if he didn’t want to disturb someone. Daniel’s heart dropped.

“No. No, why? Where did she go?” He started to wring his hands.

“It’s fine, it’s no big deal, we don’t know, but no one has seen her this morning.”

Daniel glanced at Dylan, whose head was bent over his phone screen, and Jack, who was scowling at the window with his arms crossed. Daniel opened his mouth, but Merritt held a hand out to stop him, shaking his head.

It’s no secret that Daniel had been the last one to warm to their newest colleague - no, friend. But that’s just it - Daniel

had

warmed up to her. As soon as she’d admitted to waiting on the sidelines while Daniel had jumped into the water to save Dylan, fondness reared its head next to moderate respect.

“In my case, I was just standing on the shore while Atlas jumped down and got you”

she’d said.

It was exactly what was needed, in that moment of relief, and he’d thanked whatever god was out there for her. She’d disturbed the silence with some form of miraculous humour, and maybe that’s what she’d always done for them.

Daniel excused himself, and retreated hastily to the downstairs bathroom. He locked the door and tried to get the image of Henley leaving out of his head. Surely, after knowing she’d walked out, Lula wouldn’t do the same- especially because she’d shown no signs whatsoever of wanting to leave. In fact, it was very much the opposite..

Daniel’s head spun, and he scolded himself for becoming attached within weeks to someone he’d sworn he’d always keep at a distance. It had been hard, after Henley, to let Lula into his circle. But he’d done it, and now she’d -

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something that made his racing mind come to a screeching halt. A crack in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't a slither of a crack- it was larger than that. It looked odd, as if there were a filler stuffed inside. Just room enough for five millimeters worth of… something.

Opening the door of the cupboard next to the shower, Daniel’s still shaking hands took hold of the tweezers strategically resting in a ceramic pot alongside other beauty based applicators. He had to try a few times to get the mysterious material out of the crack that seemed to want to keep him out. It was paper, folded four times.

The front door clicked. Daniel stuffed the paper into his pocket and slammed the bathroom door open.

“Oh, hey Atlas,” Lula stood, fully windswept, in the hallway. All at once, four men apparated in the vicinity, and they all started barking a string of words at once. Lula’s eyes flickered between them, a little worriedly. “Woah- what is happening? Chill.”

“Lula, where have you been?” Dylan sighed, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve been thinking you’d run off, or left, or were taken.”

Jack, arms still crossed, shifted.

“Wait… you thought all that?” her eyes widened, bugging out of her skull comically. “I just went on a morning walk, and I stopped at this bakery thing and got us pastries, and - I thought that was just… okay?” there was something in her babbling voice that told Dylan that she hadn’t been thinking, and still didn’t quite understand.

“Lula, listen to me. You can’t just go out without telling us, alright? This isn’t a… normal situation. We have to lay low and monitor everyone in case something happens. I know - hey.” Lula’s face had wiped out. She was in trouble and it had just sunk in - she wasn't only in trouble within the confines of the safehouse. She was in trouble with the FBI, and the world. They were all fugitives. She was a fugitive.

She couldn’t just pop round to see her Grandma anymore.

“I know you’ve never done something like this before. Just… next time, tell us.”

She nodded wildly, lips turned downward and upward again into a sort of smile, and quickly trotted to the kitchen, putting the bags down. Her movements said to the untrained eye that she had taken the lecture on the chin.

Daniel’s head had stopped spinning, but he knew Merritt could tell he had panicked.

“As spooked as we all are, let’s remember that Henley is not the villain here, and Lula is not Henley.” he said, quietly, his eyes narrowed. “We knew Henley was leaving. We know Lula isn’t. Just try and keep it cool, comrades, okay?”

The Lula in question put all of her attention on scrubbing the sink, her hair a curtain drawn over her features. It may have been the only time anyone had seen her clean anything.

Daniel took a moment, and nodded. Merritt gestured to the next room with his head, and the two sloped off into the lounge to recover their quick heartbeats. Jack, however, stayed looking at the front door, his foot twitching with another urge - the urge to lock it and to swallow the key, to swallow any objects the lock could be picked with in place of said key. Then, he wanted to run. Run far away. He wanted to fill his pockets with momentos he'd throw out in two weeks and climb out of the window.

“Jack?” Dylan put a hand on his shoulder. Jack flinched, not expecting the contact. “Sorry,” Dylan retracted his hand. “You know, talking is an option,” he shrugged, “just saying.” and Jack felt a soft breeze at his side as Dylan went somewhere he didn’t register.

Talking sure was an option,

Jack thought to himself. Taking an abrupt breath in, he battled his head and strode up to Lula. He leaned on the counter next to the sink. She smiled, but this wasn’t Lula. This was a little girl. Jack saw someone next to him that wanted to fix things but didn’t know how. Someone who had done something she thought would turn out one way, but it had turned out the opposite. This girl was unsure, and she wasn’t Lula.

“I was worried,” he admitted, “Lula. I’m glad you’re not gone.”

She stopped scrubbing for a fleeting moment, not one slow enough to really notice. But she did scoop her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, well. Fuck. I won’t do it again,” she said, waving soap suds around, and suddenly the words constricted around her throat like an ill-fitting choker. She set down the sponge. She was trapped. Her eyes darted to the kitchen door as if working out an escape route. Jack’s gaze followed her's, and instead of thinking too hard, he chuckled.

“I feel the same way, like a lot,” he jumped up to sit on the counter, and looked down at her. “It’s hard not to have... Freedom. Feels a little suffocating.” Lula met his eyes and pulled a face. “Yeah, I know, Lu. Just… stick around, ok?” he grinned and kicked off the cupboard, landing on his feet again.

He reached up and Lula grimaced when she felt his dexterous hand ruffle her hair. It was a little too greasy for her to not be embarrassed.

“Don’t say a word,” she hissed, wet hands adjusting her locks. “I need to wash it.”

“Huh?” Jack looked at her as if she’d asked him the solution to world hunger as he backed out of the room. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed. She grinned down at the bubbles in the sink, swaying in an attempt to release the endorphins Jack had caused.

Shit. She was in trouble.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The church was just as picturesque as you’d imagine - hidden between trees and behind an iron gate, surrounded by gravestones and remains of flowers that had bloomed in the summer months. Merritt had been several times over the last few weeks, just to get out and about. He liked the stillness of the air, and the walk back to the safehouse was pretty.

Daniel sat behind a large tombstone, making sure he could still hear Lula’s sensory-overload-triggering laughter, although far enough away that he was sure he was out of sight or earshot. He hadn’t touched the piece of paper he’d rescued from the crack in the mirror for a couple of weeks. He still didn't know what to make of it. Unfurling it in his fist, he mouthed the scrawled writing out loud.

You’re not who you think you are.

Daniel, immediately suspicious when he’d first unfurled the paper, had run a thousand scenarios through his problem-solving brain. He had immediately thought of Dylan. Maybe it was some tactic he’d used while in the FBI to remind himself to stay true to his real identity whilst posing as his fake one. That was a nice thought, but Daniel had doubted it. His next theory revolved around Lula- just because he didn’t know a lot about her yet. He figured she’d be hiding something, but then he'd thought about it- really thought- and came to the conclusion that she’d have told them all of her important secrets willingly.

Oversharer

. He’d shaken his head.

None of his other ideas mattered, because he'd been looking at his fellow housemates with a scrutinising eye. And yet he hadn't caught any of them off balance. He’d offhandedly mentioned the crack in the mirror- no reaction from any of them. Not a single tell, not one eyebrow quirk or finger twitch. Daniel was convinced the last people who had lived in the house had put it there or it was the Eye, for some reason or another. Li was a prime suspect.

But Daniel, being the egotist that he was, didn't outright tell anyone what he had found. Simply because he liked having this mystery to contend with. He liked holding information above his team’s head. He liked being privy to something he could work out on his own. And when he did work it out, and he

would

, he could reveal everything, and it would be…. fun.

“Atlas!”

Standing fluidly, he strode towards where everyone else hovered. He heard the slight irritation in Dylan’s voice and didn't want to push it.

The village the runaways lived adjacent to was quaint. It had a high street which consisted of a few charity shops, a florist, a butcher's and a bakery. In a little square next to the church, an open-air market sold fresh produce and trinkets every Saturday. Dylan stockpiled the cheese until they all developed a hearty lactose tolerance - after all, what goes better with wine? This was the last Saturday they had to enjoy the quiet life before journeying to Paris.

Quiet wasn’t really the word, though, as they swung the gate to the churchyard shut. Dylan and Merritt were engaged in a heated debate about the best cheese to pair with a Malbec, even though they didn’t prefer red. Jack and Daniel chipped in where they could, but it was as though a word rocket had launched and was uncontrollably spiralling down the pavement. Lula, Penny Lane coat flapping in the cold breeze, danced over the stone tiles on the floor, avoiding the cracks. She wasn’t listening to the men behind her, one earbud in, one out. Chappell Roan was loud enough for the others to hear, and she didn’t realise as she spun, looking at her feet as she did so. The song was so upbeat that Lula smiled without reason, nor did she have any cause for frowning. She was simply good, and whole, and pleasantly chilly.

The scent of bread and cinnamon swept its way over to them, and if the unconventional group didn’t know already, they’d be able to tell that they were close to the square by just the smell alone.

Dylan immediately gravitated towards the cheese stand. He and the owner, a portly fellow with a scratchy-looking white beard, launched into a jovial round of small talk. The man had come to fondly recognise the lot of them as they had explored the past few weeks, as had the group of middle-aged ladies who ran the arts and crafts corner that Jack frequented. He was their favourite, and certainly not because of his sparkling eyes and hands that could make quick work of a complicated crochet.

Daniel hadn’t made himself quite so well known, but he had a fondness for fishing, an activity that was popular with a few of the locals. In the stretch that they had been hiding there, Daniel had gone fishing four times, which was enough for the couple standing behind the tackle stall to wave at him. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, an awkward smile, and lifted his hand back at them. He made no move to stand nearer the familiar faces, instead choosing to stay near Dylan as Merritt ducked into the newsagents.

As inconspicuous and nameless as they had hoped to be (assuming new identities and vague disguises seemed nameless at the best of times), it seemed the entire village knew of them - those Americans who had occupied the second home owned by someone anonymous. They hadn’t managed to place them as the faces that aired all over the world on New Years’ Eve, but this was mainly because they had all been in the village pub when the clock struck twelve, and not many of them had the constitution to remember mugshots or replays. They were the source of both gossip and praise. Those ladies simply adored Jack and his helpful nature, and their friends, two elderly sisters who sold chicken eggs and milk, gave a bottle to Lula every few days in return for a hand with the animals. Merritt was popular at the pub, as was Dylan - both of them spinning tales cryptic enough for mystery but interesting enough for tenterhooks. Daniel was an odd fellow to most of them, but strangely enough, he had charmed half of them with a few coherent sentences.

“Oh how have I not noticed this one before?” Lula spoke half to herself as she spotted a promising Julia’s Hospice shop front. She beelined directly to it, weaving in and out of people traffic as she did so. Jack, who had been bumped into by her in the process, watched, and instinctively moved in the same direction.

“Weston, don’t think you’re getting away from us that easily!” a playful singsong voice tutted from a chair in front of the steps of the Townhall. ‘Weston’, which was the stand-in for Jack, turned back to his newfound friends and flashed that infamous smile of his.

“I’d never dream of it, ladies,” he picked up a thimble and passed over a two pound coin, which he got half of back. “Did Brian finally get you that planter, Sandra?” he asked the woman next to the one who had called out to him.

“He did, thanks to you,” she nodded vigorously, “I don’t know what you said to him, but it worked. It’s like he’s started listening to me for the first time in fifteen years!”

Jack glanced towards the shop Lula was looking into the window of again, eager to join her all of a sudden. Sandra laughed.

“She’s very confident, your girlfriend,” she raised her eyebrows at him as he looked towards her again, alarmed. "Just the other day she offered to move Ruby's p-" Jack swiftly interrupted her.

“Oh, she’s not - we’re not - nah-”

“Alright, love!” she looked poignantly at her friend, who was pretending to be engrossed in her knitting. “You get going, and say hello from us, Westie!” Jack made a little saluting gesture in response and jogged over to Dylan and Daniel, letting them know where he was going.

“We might as well sit down for a while,” Dylan suggested. “Where’s Merritt?” Daniel’s nose was in his phone at that moment, and he held up his finger.

“Walking by the river. He says he’ll make his way back here in 20.” he already had started striding towards the collection of outdoor seating, and Dylan had to jog to keep up with him.

Lula yelped, not expecting to see Jack shoulder-to-shoulder as she turned away from the window display.

“Woah, sorry-” he grinned. “Are you going in, then?”

"No, I thought I'd just stand here." she poked her tongue out and swept past the door, straight to the rack that looked like it came out of the 1960s.

Leaning on a bookshelf next to her, Jack crossed his arms and watched, amused, while she slid the coathangers along the metal bar aggressively. Lula pulled out three dresses that looked entirely the wrong sizes for her, and a coat she definitely didn’t need.

"You have a thing for vintage, huh?"

Lula shrugged. "I guess I like feeling as though I’m a part of some shared history or something. Like an old oil painting."

Jack smirked. “I wouldn’t say you were like an old oil painting, but you do you.”

Lula held up a psychedelic a-line. "What do you reckon? Could I pull off this with some go-go boots?"

Jack's eyes inconspicuously roamed over her. "Yeah."

She blinked. “... Yeah?"

Jack shrugged, eyes playful, face red. "Try it on." Lula beamed at him and ducked behind the singular curtain, but not before he could pick her wireless earbuds from her pocket and slide them into his own ears. He found his foot tapping to the song playing- it appeared it had been on repeat since the church. The woman singing sounded a bit like Lula.

She opened the curtain, spreading her arms wide in an enigmatic pose. Jack chortled, and suddenly, the music he was listening to became his new favourite song for the week. It fell into the moment like it belonged there, edited in post-production. The melody blended with his tenor laugh and with her hair flying out around her head as she spun around.
  
“Do you think you’ll see Alma Dray in Paris?” Daniel asked, abruptly. Dylan almost spat his black coffee over the iron table in front of him, his heart clenching.

“What?” He cleared his throat. “What made you think that?”

“She lives there,” Daniel shrugged, “why wouldn’t I think that?”

Dylan paused, registering that Alma was what they were going to talk about now. He was slightly opposed.

“Because I haven’t been in contact with her for over a year, that’s why.” But Dylan was thoughtful as he watched his own reflection on the surface of his coffee. “It would be nice to clear the air, but that’s all I would do.”

Daniel nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Satisfied? Daniel frowned. That was satisfying to him because?

Because Dylan wouldn’t be distracted and lead them into harm's way again. That was why.

“Well, that’s probably a good thing, considering the authorities are after us. Don’t want to risk it, do we?” he took a sip from his white Americano with a salty air about him. Dylan sighed, mind racing back to Macau.

“No. No, and I promise you we won’t risk anything,” he mumbled, and his fingers flinched around the handle of his cup. He wanted to slide his hand onto Daniel’s shoulder - or onto his hand - to stop him worrying so much. But he thought twice about the other's inward posture and his aversion to physical contact, and decided against it. Dylan couldn’t help but frown. “Danny-”

“Do you know how many geese tried to attack me?” Merritt, panting, collapsed in an empty chair. “There were at

least

ten of them, sneaky bastard birds.”

Daniel’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “There will most probably be geese in Paris, too,” he side-eyed the hat-wearer sitting down next to him. “Are we going to get a free show?”

“Please don't provoke the birds,” Dylan settled on saying, cogs still turning in Daniel’s direction. “I want us to have a peaceful, subtle time over there, nothing outlandish. No shows- at least, not until we get news from the Eye, which I'm assuming won't be for a while.”

“Well, can we at least practice? I've got some mean new routine ideas…” Merritt’s tone spiked too much suspicion for Dylan’s liking.

“If by practice you mean experiment on the company we’ll have within the confines of our apartment, then yes.”

“Oh, an apartment? That's fun, five of us in a very enclosed space in a very enclosed city,” Daniel shivered. “Heads will roll.” Dylan scoffed, and Daniel’s half smile turned full for a moment.

“How long are they going to spend looking at old clothes?” Merritt glanced at the shop across the street. “Youths…” he crossed his arms.

“I don't know. I think they enjoy each other's company,” Dylan mused. “I've been wondering what's in store for them with them since New Year's, but I don't think they even know.”

Daniel tilted his head in consideration. “Is it an issue?” He asked. “Just with us all being together so constantly, now. I know with me and Henley it was - slightly different. We were living separately.”

Dylan also considered this, briefly. He hadn’t thought about it. “If they make it a thing, I'll need to talk to them.” That wouldn't be a fun conversation. “They'll figure it out. But…”

Jack and Lula emerged from the shop, doubled over from laughter and speaking a mile a minute.

“...They look happy.”

Merritt made a mental note to interrogate his young friend later. 
  
On arrival back at the safehouse an hour later, Li and Bu Bu were waiting. They had arranged safe passage to Paris the next morning and made sure the instructions for the Horsemen were clear;

stay out of trouble and answer to your given names.

The documentation was thorough- false identities had been fully written and researched. They were to stay as a group of friends, but they had met on a cruise a few years ago. This was their annual reunion tour.

“Oliver Wilson,” Merritt read aloud. “That’s a floppy sounding name, is there anyone I can swap with?” The glare that Bu Bu met him with was enough to send him silent for ten years. The homework was to essentially come up with backstories, which Lula was particularly enthused about (“She's going to be a mess!”), but they resolved to do that on the plane. Daniel was fussing over what to pack too much for anyone to have a moment’s thought, so Li and Bu Bu took their leave, promising to return tomorrow to escort them to their flight.

Soon after they'd all left to start packing, Dylan became bored of staring at the suitcase he'd prepared that morning. There had been some concerning door-slamming sounds coming from the second floor, so he sighed and pushed himself up from his kitchen chair.

“Guys,” he called up the stairs, “what's happening?”

No answer- so he trudged up the staircase.

Passing by his own closed door, Dylan made his way down the corridor.

Merritt took his time rifling through the bits and bobs from the kitchen he'd brought up, examining each sell-by date, and Dylan watched, fascinated, from the doorway, until even he got bored. In reality, Merritt was procrastinating from the actual packing he had to do, and was grateful for the distraction from some of his clothes that he hadn't worn since his last encounter with Chase. He planned to throw them all away.

Dylan shuffled towards Daniel’s room - the door was shut, so he knocked.

“What?” Daniel, exasperated, yelled from inside.

“It's Dylan,” the other responded. After a moment, the door clicked open.

Daniel had slammed his door shut after a hyperactive interruption, courtesy of Lula. She had sat on his bed and threatened to stay there until he demanded privacy in order to pack his unmentionables. Daniel concentrated on maximising the space in the suitcases that had been picked up for him, vacuum-packing each item of clothing. Every other item was wrapped individually in matte see-through bags, including his props, and tracks, and numerous sets of playing cards. Dylan was surprised he'd let him stay as long as he did, but he could sense that Daniel was getting shifty, so he left.

Down the corridor, Lula's and Jack’s bedroom doors were propped open by cushions.

“Are you guys packing?” Dylan shouted over the two different genres of music playing from their respective speakers. He began to get a little suspicious when he couldn't see either of them and didn't get an answer, so he cleared his throat. A mop of black hair popped up from behind her bed, where she had been sitting.

“Oh hey Dyl!” She yelled.

“Dylan!” Jack waved from his own room, also sitting up from behind his bed.

“What are you two doing?” He looked between them, presuming they had played or planned some sort of trick on him.

“Packing, man,” Jack yawned and kicked his suitcase into view. Dylan narrowed his eyes, but left it alone. Lula ran around, stuffing everything she could find into any crevice she could see. She wanted to bring the record player, but Dylan convinced her that she couldn't fit it into her suitcase. Instead, he told her she could bring some vinyls and they would get a little turntable for them in Paris. She struggled to choose which ones to take with her. It was a very hard choice- even harder than narrowing down her coat selection. For some reason, she possessed six of them in the safehouse, and lots more at her home in NYC.

Dylan stayed with Lula for a little longer, enjoying being the fly on the wall to her cheerful kinetic energy. But Jack called him over, and he crossed the corridor in response.

“Yeah?” He leaned on the doorframe.

“What d’you think?” Jack held up two ties. One was a deep red with little black embellishments at the bottom, and the other was a stark white with navy blue diagonal pinstripes as the detailing.

“Red,” Dylan nodded, no hesitation. Jack tossed the white. Dylan noted that this room was messiest by far of all of the ones he'd visited, and made a mental note to ask housekeeping to make an extra round in wherever room Jack ended up staying in. Jack slammed his case shut, and Dylan frowned. “You've not got much in there.” He folded his arms over his chest. From what he'd seen, Jack had only packed clothes and roughly ten full decks of cards. He looked up at Dylan and shrugged.

“I never had much stuff,” he said, simply. “Packing light is how I get around.”

If it had been two months ago, Dylan would have been suspicious of this, and would be convinced Jack was going to leave in the middle of the night, or that he was a part of some scheme aiming to bring the Eye down. But now, he resolved to settle on the fact that Jack had been a petty criminal for years, stealing everything he could get his hands on. He was used to having the bare minimum. And he had earned Dylan's trust.

Jack had proven to him that he was safe, alongside Daniel, and Merritt, and even Lula. They had done it, they had won. The story was over - it had finished with Arthur Tressler and his son going to prison, and the Horsemen finally seeing the wizard behind the curtain. This was supposed to be the epilogue. Why did it feel like there was more story left?

Why did everything feel so

unfinished?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I’m not being a cam model.”

Dylan Shrike hated flying and usually had alcohol to sedate him. This time, he'd decided to stay sober and was in the midst of a struggle - but there was something about watching his friends come up with the wildest new identities they possibly could that calmed him down.

‘It’d be a great career move for you, Daniel,” Merritt chimed in from beside Lula (who was busy laughing her head off at Daniel's reaction to her latest suggestion) in front of them. “Just think, you could stay home and have your mortgage paid off by the time you’re thirty seven.”

“I don’t have a mortgage,” Daniel mumbled, as if Merritt wasn’t dripping in satire, and crossed his arms from his aisle seat.

“But

Michael

does.”

Dylan was oddly reassured when Daniel had suggested that he could take the middle seat. He wouldn’t say he disliked being sandwiched together between Jack and Daniel. There was now, suddenly, a certain level of inclusion within the group dynamic that his role previously hadn’t allowed for. He smiled at the strange turn the conversation had taken, exhaling into his tea with a little chuckle.

Daniel smiled, too, his previous outrage forgotten at the sound of Dylan’s amusement. Despite everything, there was something in making his friends happy. He quickly focused on the back of the seat in front of him, desperately trying to ignore his own issues (issues which felt like they were fluttering) that had just surfaced from the pit of his stomach.

“Are you alright?” Dylan muttered out of the corner of his mouth, noticing.

Of course

, Daniel thought to himself, seething.

Of course he noticed.

“Fine,” he nodded. “I think I’m going to go with Quality Assurance for Michael,” he said a little louder, so that the others could hear. “For a packaging company. Should be easy enough to research if I need to.”

The woman sitting in front of Daniel, next to Merritt in the aisle seat, adjusted her headphones. For her sake, the Horsemen were a company of actors, figuring out backstories for characters they were devising for a play. Which, Daniel supposed, wasn’t far from the truth. The woman, who Merritt had spoken to and subsequently hypnotised to forget their faces, had given up her name after a little while. She was called Diane, and she was completely immune to Merritt’s terrible chat-up lines, which Lula had found hilarious.

“So we have Michael, the head of QA, and Oliver, private chef,” Dylan listed off. “I hope you’re taking notes…”

Merritt waggled his notebook in the air.

“I do think Justin has a sort of architectural air about him-” at that, Lula whipped around, peering through the gap between her’s and Merritt’s seats.

“Now you’re talking!” she grinned at Dylan. “Maybe his brother is a lawyer hotshot and Justin has a big old inferiority complex.” Jack rolled his eyes, which were gazing out over the clouds.

Dylan, however, nodded contemplatively. “That could be interesting, actually.”

“Really?” Merritt turned around as well, both him and Lula with one eye in the gap.

“Might as well have some fun with it,” Dylan shrugged, seeming to relax a little.

“I think I’ll make my guy some kind of engineer,” Jack said, thoughtfully staring at a wisp of a cloud passing by. “Maybe for a kids’ toy manufacturer,” he decided. “That way, if we do need any materials shipped, I can run that by as an excuse.” Dylan gestured to the woman sitting in front and Jack stumbled on his own words, eyes wide. “Uh - I mean, you know. For props and everything. It’ll be fun staying in character as much as possible. Method acting.”

“That’s a great idea,

Weston

,” Dylan replied, louder, with an air of propriety.

“Meisner would be so proud,” Daniel muttered.

“I’m good with my hands, it makes sense,” a classic Jack-grade-grin made everyone looking at him a little more relaxed.

"You guys are overthinking yours. Nadia is going to be a professional cat wrangler."

Lula’s poker face was a strong one, but Merritt saw straight through it.

“I did think you were serious for a split second,” he said.

“I’m making her a failing actress who works as a freelance social media manager to pay the bills,” she studied her nails. “- and she’s got this horrible stepmom - no, stepdad, the mom trope is overdone - who never thinks she’s good enough.”

“Did you just make this up?” Daniel asked, slightly impressed and slightly concerned.

“Yeah, kinda, I’ve been thinking about it a little,” Lula mumbled in response. 
Jolting everyone on board, the plane interrupted her flow as it rocked its way through a sharp rollercoaster of turbulence.

At that moment, everything seemed to slow down. The sound around them became muted, drowned out by the ringing in Dylan’s ears as his head pounded. His fists gripped both arms of his seat, knuckles instantly bleeding into a pale cream.

The same blind panic took hold of him as the one that was forged when his father drowned in front of his eyes. Except, now, when the sensation took over, instead of lashing out, attacking - Dylan found himself unable to move. It froze him in his tracks, the cogs in his brain grinding to a halt.

A pinprick of reality appeared in Dylan’s dissolution. One that spread out to the corners of his eyes as he felt physical pressure. Someone touching him. Focusing in again, he was met with furrowed brows from Daniel and his hand resting on his arm.

“It’s all normal. It’s okay.” he said, calmly. The sound reached the receptors in his brain and it was a welcome relief from the high pitched ringing. Slowly regaining control of his muscles, Dylan exhaled slowly, nodding, and hoping Daniel could see how grateful he was. They were out of the turbulence now, anyway.

It looked like a moderate amount of time had passed since Dylan had lost himself in his blurry void. Lula, in front of them, had her headphones in, Merritt had fallen asleep (“I was just closing my eyes!”) and Jack was deep into scrolling on his phone.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long. Five minutes.” Daniel shrugged, removing his hand. Dylan missed it as soon as it went, but he wasn’t about to say that. “Do you usually have trouble flying?”

“I was okay, I got used to it for a while. But I think Tressler and the vault must have brought it back or something.” Dylan sighed, trying to force his blood pressure back to a regular reading. “Thanks, I’ll be fine.”

He was met with a look of skepticism, but Daniel turned back to his laptop screen.

The remaining hour went by quickly - they had forgotten how close to France they’d been. Getting off the plane at CDG was a nerve wracking affair. They prayed they wouldn’t have any issues with their new passports. Clearing customs was something they’d need to get used to, until they could fly private again.

Before they could even leave the airport with luggage acquired, Lula was snapping pictures on her phone, Daniel batting her away as if she were a fly. Piling into a taxi was an ordeal, the wait was a long one. Once they’d all realised how tired they were, heads were lolling in their ride to Montmartre. They barely remembered the drive there.

The apartment floor was polished dark oak parquet all the way throughout. It was the first thing Merritt noticed when he struggled with the weight of his suitcase through the front door. It emphasised every and any sound, including the wheels clacking below. It was almost overwhelming, and would have been, if not for how well decorated the place was. Mid-high ceilings, an open floor plan - Bu Bu had done splendidly with this one.

“Woah,” an elongated ‘o’ whistled through his mouth. “This is classy stuff, folks,” he called out behind him to his friends, who were still struggling up the stairs. He moved to the kitchen, inspecting the granite surfaces. The owner (of whom he assumed was the Eye itself) had put out champagne bottles next to a tea and coffee selection in front of an espresso machine. A view of the cobbled street they were staying on was dimly lit through wooden paned windows. It was something Merritt could see himself getting used to.

He slipped down the corridor to check out the bedrooms, of which there were three. They were nicely sized and subtly decorated, as was the bathroom, which was additionally full of plants. Merritt internally compared it to a greenhouse, but enjoyed the atmosphere. He was satisfied as he returned to the living room, everyone else finally having gathered there.

Oohs

and

Ahhs

filled the space as they looked around, eager to explore.

“Did we say Dylan was getting the single room 'cause of his night terrors?” Lula yelled from the bathroom. Dylan cleared his throat, embarrassed. Merritt sighed.

“Yes, Lula,” he called. “Sorry, Dyl, the girl’s got no filter.”

“I know, it’s fine." Dylan shrugged, then gestured with his head at Jack. "You sure you’re okay with…”

Jack chuckled, nodded, and grabbed two suitcases lying on the floor.

“Yeah, man. I’m easy. I know her enough, it’s all good.”

“Shouldn’t we be making sure the lady is okay bunking with a strange man?” Merritt, crossing his arms, tutted.

“Good point. Lula -” Dylan started, making his way down the corridor.

Daniel sat testing out the firmness of the couches. He wore a presently surprised expression as he bounced on a cushion.

“Comfy,” he said, “in case you need to sleep out here, Jack,” he quirked an eyebrow. “You know, if you’re a dick to her, and she gets mad, which is a very real possibility.”

Jack simply opened his mouth like a fish and shut it again, emotionally stunted by that sudden blow.

“For once, I find myself on the same page as our resident showman here,” Merritt cleared his throat and sat on the arm rest of the couch. Daniel raised both eyebrows now.
Sharing an apartment for a year had made Jack and Merritt as close as brothers - real brothers, not like Chase had pretended to be until it all fell apart. “Jack - seriously. I love you more than my own brother, literally, but don’t screw this up, ok? I know how things can get for you, and y’know, I’ve really held in my observations about you two-”

“Okay, before you get too carried away,” Jack let out a breath, scowling. “I’m really trying with this, alright?” his voice low, he slid a hand around the back of his neck, trying to still the heat that had started building. “It helps that I get on with her, and…” his voice dropped even lower, a little fire starting in the pit of his stomach. Before he knew what he was doing, he spewed words like a broken fountain. “I like her probably a whole lot more than you guys fuckin’ do, so it’s in my best interest to keep her around, got it?”

Merritt smirked, drinking in what his young friend had said. Jack’s face had sat in the expression of a storm. Daniel didn't think that eyebrows could take over a person’s entire forehead until that moment.

“Yeah, buddy. Ted Talk over.” he dismissed the other with a flick of his hand and he settled into the couch, finding a newspaper on the coffee table to preoccupy himself with. Jack left with a racing mind and clenched fists, along with the suitcases he’d picked up before, finding the door halfway down the corridor and knocking.

For a while, the living room was filled with a comfortable silence as Merritt read and Daniel scrolled through his phone. It was the first time since they’d left for Paris that he’d looked them up.

Daniel frequently searched them each by name, filtering by the last twenty four hours, checking up on public image and any kind of rumours that were going around. It was becoming almost obsessive. Dylan had advised him not to worry about it - that members of the Eye were jumping on any potential pipe bomb. But Daniel couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what people thought of him too badly to stop.

Today’s news was no different from yesterday’s. An article speculating where they would pop up next- this one predicting Russia, the journalist theorising they would uncover some extremely corrupt car manufacturer. Daniel scoffed, swiping backwards on his search. Another article with an interview… Was that Rebecca? Interested, Daniel read on and discovered his old assistant was indeed using him for clout. At least she didn’t make anything up.

He was surprised at how much he just didn’t care.

When Henley first started to strike out on her own, he was vindictive about it. He left anonymous comments on her website, went to see her shows just to heckle, and wallowed in self pity afterwards. But Rebecca- maybe it’s because she didn’t mean anything to him, not really.

How would he have felt now about Henley being successful? Well, he supposed he’d be happy for her. He’d felt a shift in himself. He was becoming less like a teenager, less like a child. He saw himself craving something good, something stable, like a family. People he didn’t need to feel insecure about. And Henley? He knew Henley and him would always be able to be friends, even after everything. He smiled at the thought.

The next article made him switch his phone off. That was enough doomscrolling, even for him.

“What was that?” Merritt raised his eyebrows. Daniel hadn’t noticed he’d thrown his phone onto the pillow next to him.

“Oh, nothing. Just some idiots writing a stupid theory about us.” Daniel shivered.

“Go on, show me,” was Merritt’s reply, holding out his hand for the other’s phone. Daniel complied, switching it back on.

It was a Reddit thread on r/horsemen, titled ‘Polycule CONFIRMED????’. Merritt frowned, squinting.

“What does this even mean?” he asked.

“They think we’re… all

together

.”

“What, all paired off? Romantically?”

“No. Yes. Well. All of us. In a group.”

With that, Merritt started to laugh. Then he laughed some more. Then he laughed so hard he thought he might pass out. Daniel couldn’t help but smile, too, even though there was something odd about the entire thing. Merritt sniffled, wiping his eyes, after knocking the wind out of himself.

“That’s a keeper. We should print that out, frame it. Never knew everyone felt this way!” It set him off again, wheezing. "Every single one..." While Merritt doubled over, Daniel plucked his phone back and rolled his eyes, dragging his suitcase into his and Merritt’s room. Being nosy by nature, he stopped just outside Lula and Jack’s door, curious as to why it was actually quiet in there. He did hear a conversation, but couldn’t make out most of it.

“... Sandals… Prawns… Even bigger.”

At least they weren’t at each other’s throats (or too far in the other direction) yet. Daniel moved down the hall and stopped outside of Dylan’s room. Faintly, he could hear him humming ‘La Vie En Rose’. Daniel’s lips curled upwards involuntarily. It seemed Dylan was a secret romantic after all.

He stood listening for a little bit longer than necessary, his feet betraying his brain. Eventually, he claimed the bed closest to the window in his bedroom and sat on it. Luckily, the room was big enough to feel as though they weren’t squashed together at all. Merritt’s bed was hidden behind a bookshelf, so it almost felt private. He noted that they both had small doubles and that he needed to ask the others about theirs later, so he could go shopping for bedclothes. His compacted brain whirred with everything he needed to get organised.

He was able to hear the low chatter from Lula and Jack next door, and a muffled hum from Dylan on the other side of the wall. He liked to hear the signs of life around him, to remind him that he wasn’t alone. That he wouldn’t ever have to be alone again.

He hummed along with Dylan under his breath as he clicked open his suitcase, racing mind still needing to learn how to be still for a little while.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“We’re going out for dinner,” Dylan announced at breakfast.

They had decided to stay local for the day, get to know their bearings after landing in a new spot. They'd changed their hair, adjusted everything they could about themselves to stop any recognition. It was an ordeal, and Dylan struggled with his box dye after waking up at the crack of dawn. Exhaustion rang throughout the apartment. But hearing this news perked Lula up quite a bit - she’d straightened up upon hearing it, folding her legs on the wooden chair she sat on.

“Right, and do we have a say in this?” Daniel scowled.

“Nope,” Dylan popped the ‘p’ and drank his coffee nonchalantly. “We’re going out, courtesy of the Eye. So it’s free. So we’re going.”

“Does that mean we get to dress up?” Lula leaned forward, intense.

“Yeah, why not? Make it fancy.”

“Oh my god. Yes.” she didn’t even crack a smile, her resolve was so absolute. “I need to go shopping. Today. Right now. Um…” her eyes flicked their way around the table, scoping out willing victims. Judging by the way Daniel and Jack avoided her gaze, they wouldn’t want to go with her. “Merritt, you’re coming.” she nodded, satisfied, and immediately stood up to get ready before he could say anything in return.

“My god. Dorothy never experienced a hurricane like it,” he muttered into his newspaper, slightly terrified. “Y’all owe me, I’m taking this one for the team.”

The front door slammed behind them fifteen minutes later and Dylan, Daniel and Jack were left twiddling their thumbs in the kitchen.

“What… what do we do now?” Daniel asked, a little afraid of the answer. Jack’s grin didn’t make him feel any more at ease.

“You ever played Crash Bandicoot?”

“...No.”
  
“I just don’t understand it,” Lula groaned, trudging back to the apartment after her aggressive shopping spree, which Merritt had ended up thoroughly enjoying.

Lula didn’t shop the way he thought she would. Instead of, like a normal, functioning human, who would leisurely flick through clothes racks, Lula swiped. She threw garments into her basket. She stormed the store until she found the dressing room. She’d ended up pocketing several lipsticks, of which they decided not to mention to Dylan. “Why would they only give Chase eight years? It doesn’t make sense. He deserves so many more years. He deserves at least fifteen years.”

Merritt chuckled. He had become somewhat immune to the mention of Chase, especially throughout the trial. It just so happened that the outcome wasn’t what anyone had wanted, and he’d most likely end up meeting him again someday.

“Sometimes things just really, really suck, Lu-La Land.” he sighed, eyes finding those of the woman he’d come to consider to be one of his closest friends. In all honesty, Jack’s elevated friendship was slightly threatened by her's. “It’s good I came with you today, anyway,” he lifted up his arm, adorned with shopping bags full of fresh garments. “I chucked all my clothes, so I needed new ones.”

Lula did a double take. “You threw out your clothes? Why in the hell would you do that, you weirdo?”

“I didn’t want to be reminded of him. Damn stupid brother.” Merritt shrugged like it was no big deal, but he stared straight ahead, and Lula’s expression melted into one of complete understanding. She hooked her arm around his and pulled it to her chest.

“You need a new slate, I’m glad you’re on your way to getting one.” her cheek rested against his shoulder for a moment in comfort. It took Merritt a second to adjust to this newfound closeness. On new year's, it seemed as though the Horsemen had crossed a barrier- physical affection, togetherness, things that used to be far too sentimental for Merritt's liking. But since then, it'd only happened a couple of times. Merritt didn’t have many outlets for contact like this. In fact, he was sure he hadn’t been comforted in at least a year. Not since Henley.

His throat closed up.

“If the guys don’t get you to do a fashion show when we get back, which they won't, I’m making you,” she said, arm comfortably resting in his. Merritt smiled, and closed his eyes to stop himself from drifting too far into his own head. He settled instead into the comfort of walking together as they ducked in and out of the shadows. 
  
The table The Eye had reserved was on a terrace, a warm string of lightbulbs draped overhead. It criss-crossed above, creating a ceiling of semi-tangled sparkle. Fitting for their first (careful) night out in Paris.

Dylan sat next to Daniel and Jack again, seating pattern from the plane returning. It was comfortable. Daniel was particularly talkative tonight - he kept the whole table entertained, speaking a mile a minute. He was in full storytelling mode, and was enjoying it thoroughly. Without committing to any tricks, he launched into anecdotes and memories, ones with and without the people surrounding him.

“Merritt didn’t know what hit him. He was recovering for three days. It was ridiculous.” the laughter around the table flooded the night air, and it spread to the adjoining parties. The strangers next to them smiled in response, soaking in their infectious warmth.

“Toast time?” Dylan lifted his glass. The others groaned, but held up their glasses anyway.

“Make it quick, Miller, we got places to be, things to eat-” Merritt was straight into using their fake names, and it was taking Lula a second to adjust. Plates were being set in front of them as they spoke.

“

Things

to eat?” Daniel barked, eyes bulging in dubious wonder.

“Mind your own business, Michael,” Merritt glared at him in response.

“

Well

, I, Justin Miller, just wanted to say-” Dylan grinned. “It’s great to be here with you guys. I feel like it’s a really perfect start to the year.”

“So true, I am loving this,” Lula nodded vigorously as everyone tapped their glasses against the others’. “The lights, the food… it's just perfect!” she sighed, joining Dylan in character for a moment, as she drank about half of her glass.

“Slow it down, sister,” Merritt grimaced at her side.

“I’m eating, it’s fine!” she rebuffed, nose wrinkled. Jack grinned and copied her, keen to keep up.

“She’s eating, it’s fine,” Daniel shrugged, sipping at his own glass.

Jack, sitting directly opposite to the woman in question, watched as she unfurled the napkin wrapped around her utensils with a fiddle and immediately started to fold it instead of putting it on her lap. Amused, he started to eat, but kept his eye on her hands. She had turned her napkin into a bird- not a swan, notably a dove- and left it on the table, facing her plate. It was then she then began to eat her dinner, as if she had needed to wait for her paper friend to join her before she dug in.

Jack pretended he wasn't paying attention and lifted his head to say something to Merritt, who was currently rattling his way through the time he replaced Daniel's chia seeds with orbeez.

Before they left, Lula dipped to go to the toilets. She slammed her purse down next to one of the sinks with a strong winded exhale and looked at herself gingerly in the mirror. She wasn't too bad, but she barely recognised herself with mousy hair instead of black. She grabbed her lipstick and reapplied a coat, singing some tune she didn't really recognise but had heard somewhere before.

Her hand jolted, and red smeared below her lip.

“Shit,” she hissed, reaching for a paper towel and raising it to her face. Her hands were shaking. She was struggling to breathe and she hadn't realised until now. “
Shit.
” she said again, this time more resolute.

What happened? What happened?

It must have been the waiter with the knife. It was quite close to her face when he came by to cut the cheese. Images of metal scraping her jaw and the hum of an airplane engine scratched at her. Danny, give him the card!

And then she heard the scratch of a record player and her Mother's voice.

“Okay. Okay!” She leaned forward and forced herself to grin at the mirror. Raising a finger, she poked herself in the cheek several times and tapped herself on the head. Breathe in, breathe out - she snapped her purse closed. “Fine, it's fine.” she clapped twice in time with her words, and went to push the swing door - but out of the corner of her eye, something moved across the mirror. Something yellow. And… sparkly?

Frowning, Lula backed up, but couldn’t see anything. She put it down to the blinds swinging on the bathroom window, and re-joined the others.

“Lula, come on, we’re going to walk along the Seine,” Dylan waved her over. She jogged the best she could in four inch heels on cobbles to catch up.

The lamplight along the river reflected beautifully in the water below. It felt as though it should be still, but it wasn’t that way - not with the city around them so awake. People passed, walking the other way, foot traffic still dragging along. Now the evening was drawing in, the atmosphere was lazier, laced with wine. One thing that every Horseman could agree with was the fact they preferred this time of day. The air cooler, the sky darker, and the people sleepier.

There were tourist trap bars open along this stretch of the river. Dylan scoped to see if there was any safe looking space for them in each one they passed, various chatter drawing him in like a siren call. Eventually, they happened upon a small, floating bar named Les Maquereaux very conspicuously. There was a seating area which was roomy enough, and a little live band played what sounded like upbeat jazz over the lively patrons. Two guitars and two clarinets inspired toe-tapping and general warmness amongst the customers bathed in soft light from the heat lamps dotted around. Even Daniel couldn’t help but smile, and they gravitated towards the end of one of the benches, where they could blend in with the crowd.

“What are we drinking?” Dylan asked, abandoning his coat on the bench.

“I’ll keep on the wine,” Daniel patted the other's shoulder as he sat next to said coat.

“Red or white?”

“What do you think?”

“Right, right,” Dylan beamed, happy to already know his preferred choice.

“I’ll take a double whiskey,” Merritt stretched his arms out, crossing his legs under the bench.

“Me, too,” Jack waved.

“Red, please,” Lula added.

“One white, one beer, two whiskeys and one red,” Dylan repeated to himself, walking up to the bar.

Just a few minutes later, Dylan was met with cheers as he placed the next round on the table, balanced precariously on a plastic tray. No-one was looking at their watches or their phones, so time was measured by how much alcohol was left in their glasses.

When Merrit’s whiskey was nearly finished, Lula looked as if she was about to burst. Expectantly, he raised his eyebrows at her as he swallowed the last of his drink, the pleasant heat sliding down his throat as a mulled cider would. He knew what she wanted, and he started to wonder when she’d ask. His bet was when he set down his glass.

“I want to dance!” she announced, bouncing on the bench. Merritt chuckled, setting down his glass. Without a beat, Jack extended his hand to her, his aura positively electric.

“Then dance,” he said, standing up. Lula sparkled vividly at him, and took his hand, dragging him to the little space next to the band where a few others were swaying and bobbing. He spun her around, much to her delight, and they stepped together in time, hand in hand, beginning to find the rhythm of the happy tune. They made easy work of light feet, and soon, other drinkers were clapping along to their joyful display.

Daniel watched with interest, smirking not going unnoticed by Dylan, as usual.

“They’ve got moves, alright,” Merritt said, happy to tap his foot and observe.

“What is that, some sort of improv semi-swing dancing?” Daniel’s eyebrows were so far up his forehead they nearly disappeared into his hairline. “When in the hell did they have time to learn that?”

“They already knew how to dance, weatherboy,” Dylan laughed, lightly slapping the other’s back. Merritt’s eyebrows were also raised, now, as he clocked the gesture. Although he had no hairline for them to disappear into. “Jack learned from his Grandmother. I don’t know where Lula got it from, though.”

“How do you know that?” Daniel recoiled his chin in confusion for a brief moment.

“I talked to him, Danny.”

After an impressive couple of turns, Merritt started to clap along with some of the others in the makeshift audience, vocalising his appreciation with a couple of whoops and cheers. Lula giggled, and the smiles coming from the two of them filled their faces well. In fact, it seemed that they were laughing all the while, moving in the opposite way, and together again, gaze dropping from their feet to the other’s eyes accordingly. It satisfied the innate need to perform for just a moment.

Dylan thought about standing up to get a drink for a good few minutes before he decided to do so. He didn’t want to move. Listening to Merritt and Daniel chatter about stupid, insignificant things and hearing Jack and Lula laugh together amongst the crowd alongside the sound of the music was far too addicting.

Eventually, he put his hands on the bench, about to drag himself up. But he still couldn’t move. Not because he was relishing his environment, but because he had noticed that a woman had appeared next to Daniel, standing - but her eyes weren’t on the band. They were on the three men sat on the bench. Immediately sensing something was off, Dylan’s reflexes made him reach for his belt, until he forgot he was no longer a part of the FBI. Panic shot up through his throat, and his hand twitched beside him, watching the space in the corner of his eye.

The way the woman stood, leaning on one heeled foot more than the other - the way her fingers curled around the strap on her bag, the way she smiled but didn’t show her teeth as she looked down at them - it was all so familiar.

“Fancy seeing you here, boys,” she said in her chipper tone, her smile revealing her teeth now.

Merritt’s mouth swung open and Daniel spun around in his seat, his heart stopping in his chest.

“My god. Henley!” Dylan whispered. He finally stood, instantly going to hug his old friend - not quite believing what was happening.

“Hey, hey,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and accepting the same gesture from Merritt... and finally Daniel, who she was surprised to see smiling warily at her.

“What - how? You’re here how, exactly? How did you know we’d-” for once, Daniel was at a loss for words. Henley remembered when she'd been the same, over a year ago.

“Relax, Danny, I live here,” Henley brushed some ginger locks out of her eye line as she took a seat next to him, squeezing his shoulder. Her pulse was in her throat. “I’ve lived here since I left, actually,” she waved a server over to the bench.  (“Table service?” Dylan muttered, mourning his sanity.) “And... it’s not Henley, to other people. It’s Sarah, now,” she murmured just loud enough for them to hear. “I really did want to live out here after we went that one time, and now… well, here I am! Bu Bu phoned, told me you were out here, thought I might want to see you, god forbid.” she laughed, and ordered a glass of red.

“Henley…” Daniel shook his head in disbelief as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

“I know. Tada!” she waved her hands around meekly. “I’ll admit I was a little worried about springing on you like this, but too late now,” she grimaced. “Are you too mad to stomach me? I can go, even though the wine is really good here-”

“Don’t even think about it, beautiful,” Merritt interrupted her, reaching across the table to give her hair a good mess. She scowled, and fixed it immediately.

“Yeah. Don’t go. We have a lot to catch up on,” Daniel spoke much slower than usual. Henley smiled a soft sort of smile at him.

“For what it's worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll tell Jack I’m sorry, too - where is he?”

Dylan gestured with his eyes, a cross between clearing his throat and a chuckle escaping him.

Henley gawped.

“That’s our Jack? How did he learn that?” she blinked ferociously.

“Yeah, and… Well, I’m sure you’ve seen the news, but we did… acquire another horsewoman, as per say…” Merritt cautiously approached the Lula subject. Henley cocked her head to the side for one moment, and Merritt was sure he'd blown it.

“Oh yes, I know,” she grinned, and Daniel looked over at Merritt with pure confuddlement over this easygoing attitude. “They’re getting along swimmingly, aren’t they?” She rested her chin on her hand and focused in on the way the two had completely zoned out from everything else in the vicinity and came to a very definite conclusion about how the air seemed to move around where they stepped, magnets drawn together. "That's so interesting..."

“You’re not upset.” Merritt didn’t ask - it was an observation, a rather clear one.

“Why in god’s name should I be upset?” Henley replied as though he’d offended the very nature of her existence. “I chose her, and I remain very pleased with my choice!”

Dylan snickered, hiding behind his empty glass. Daniel threw his hands up into the air.

“This is ridiculous, how did we not know? Dylan, why didn’t you tell us?” He hissed, annoyed at not being privy to essential information for once.

“Well, Henley asked me not to. I’m assuming it was because she wanted to do a fun reveal, like this.”

“You got it!”

“You chose Lula. That Lula?” Daniel waved aggressively towards the oblivious mess of limbs.

“Yes, Lula May, she was by far the best candidate. Magic is so inaccessible to women, so she had to be one, and…” she flashed a dark smile and drank. “I thought she'd fit in. She looked fun.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Merritt wished there was something in his glass so intently that a waiter must have sensed it psychically, appearing out of thin air beside him.
"Not to say I wasn't a little jealous, at first. If that makes you feel any better. But I knew she wasn't replacing me, and there's no way I'm not gonna be happy about a woman taking the floor."All mouths shut and processed the avalanche of information for a moment, the tap of fingernails on glass the only signifier that they were still conscious. Until -

“Holy shit!”

It definitely wasn't Jack who noticed first. Lula barrelled straight towards them, a light layer of sweat glinting off her forehead. Henley stood, bracing herself to be greeted reverently.

“No way.” Jack darted in front of the blur before him, the definition of a lopsided grin hanging off his face. He skirted Lula and wrapped firm arms around Henley’s shoulders. She laughed into his shoulder.

“Careful, lipstick!” She warned, tapping his back lightly as they parted. “Hey, kiddo.” A name that was solely reserved for her usage, even though she was only nine years Jack’s senior. From Henley, he didn't mind it.

“What the hell? You're here? How?”

“I live here, have done for a year now,” she repeated, and adjusted her hair.

“Hi-” Lula sang, dragging out the vowel. “I'm… well, you know. Ugh.” She was nervous. Lula stood with her hands clasped at her front, and shifted from one foot to the other.

“I do know, it's good to actually meet you Lula,” Henley reached out and put a gentle hand on the other woman’s shoulder, that woman in question immediately then lunging at her for a hug. “Oh!” Henley staggered backwards a step, but laughed again anyhow.

“Thank you,” Lula muttered into her ear and let go, embarrassed. Henley smiled at her, and it said everything Lula needed to hear. “Ha! She drinks red! She drinks red-” she poked her tongue out at the men sat around the wooden table, who immediately leapt to their respective defences. “You all can shut up, because I clearly have taste.”

“Oh Lula, you

were

the right choice,” Henley, delighted, threw her arm around the other’s shoulder as she climbed onto the bench, Jack on the opposite side. Lula giggled, very pleased with the former Horsewoman’s assessment of her. “I've gotta say, this feels right.”

“All of us together,” Daniel softly agreed, a small smile.

Dylan echoed his expression. “You wouldn't-”

Henley shook her head. “No. I can't. I'm actually enjoying things here, I have a job, a 9-to-5. And I'm seeing someone.”

A collective “ooooh” bounced across the table. Daniel steeled himself, wringing his hands.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I say seeing… she's my actual girlfriend, she moved in with me last month. Her name is Claire.”

Merritt cocked his head to one side, but Lula intercepted him saying anything that mildly indicated surprise.

“Oh, tell us everything! Where did you meet? What do you do for work now? Show me pictures!” her voice slurred slightly, glass empty.

“Where to even start? There’s so much, I can’t even begin to say,” Henley sighed. She glanced around, suddenly aware they were in public. “I’m a little wary of being out, just because I have ties here now and I can’t start again without her…” her cheeks bled into a pink flush. “Are you staying anywhere? Could we talk there?”

“Say no more,” Dylan had already pulled out his cell to call a taxi.

What seemed like a moment later, he was returning to the living room with a cup of coffee, top button undone and tie hanging loose around his neck.

Merritt, hatless, sprawled across an armchair, laughing as Henley, a centrepiece in the middle of the three person couch, described in great detail how one of her first clients demanded four hundred carnations the week before her wedding. Daniel sat squashed up against a cushion listening beside her, slowly finding himself to be more comfortable. It was a lot, but it was something he decided he could get used to. Jack haphazardly held a mug across the one of the armrests of the other recliner, legs providing a support for Lula’s back, who had happily taken the floor in front of him as her place of rest.

Dylan plopped down on the other side of Henley, careful not to spill anything.

“I got her all those carnations, though, I’m resourceful,” Henley grinned, flipping her hair in a dismissive motion. “And the florist who helped me just happened to be Claire.” she flicked her thumb through the gallery on her phone and held up a picture of her and a smiling woman with box braids falling down to her waist. Often, images carry their own aura - it's clear which are forced and which are the real deal. This one just happened to be full of joy.

“Oh, she’s pretty as hell.” Lula immediately crawled over to look closer. “Like super pretty. Can we meet her?”

Jack and Daniel both made the same expression, one that often arose when Lula went off the safety rails. She noticed, and dragged herself back both physically to her former position on the floor, and mentally.

“Sorry,” she said, “I jump the gun a lot.”

Luckily, Henley was Henley. She waved her hand. “Don't be silly, I think it'd be great for her to meet you guys.”

“Really?” Daniel asked, more genuinely than usual.

“Yeah, actually. She knows about me, and us. Worked it out on her own, she'd followed the news last year. Turns out she really…

really…

likes close up magic.”

Lula spluttered.

“And listen, I know I left a little abruptly. And I know I didn't get to say goodbye in person to all of you. I'm just glad I could say hi while you're here.”

“It's all good, we know you were thinking on it for a long time.” Merritt shook his head. “I have to say, it's perfect you're here. We’re gonna stick around some, ain't that right Dyl?”

He nodded. “At least a month, maybe two.”

“Well shit, that's great. We can hang out after work, and on weekends- I got my family back!”

“What about Claire? Has she got any family?” Jack asked. 
“Oh, just a silly Dad. He's old, and charming, and French. Si la personne est âgée, son coeur ne l'est pas.”
Jack let a breath whistle past his teeth, holding his hands up in surrender and shaking his head.

“

If the person is old, their heart is not

.”

“Nice, that’s… nice.”

“So, Walter Mabry, huh? What was

that

all about?”

Dylan grimaced. “He wanted to punish us for the stuff last year. Stealing from his Dad, that kinda deal. Eye for an eye.”

“We stole a whole evil computer chip for him and everything,” Merritt rolled his eyes. “Then he uh -”

“He threw me in a lake in Macau in the prototype for my dad’s safe,” Dylan sighed. “So that’s been fun to navigate. Emotionally.”

“And my brother threw us out of a plane. It was a fake deal, all part of the plan, but he thought it was real, so for all intents and purposes he fully meant to.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Henley blinked. “I saw the end of it on the news. Chase got 8 years, didn’t he? I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good. I’ve found peace in Riesling.”

“Riesling? Oh honey, you wanna try the Sémillon in this cute little cafe bar near me. We could go this weekend, invite Claire. Oh!” she jumped halfway out of her seat, and Daniel’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Alma! Have you seen Alma yet?”

A moment of silence, followed by Dylan’s voice catching at the back of his throat. Daniel clenched and unclenched his fist. Henley narrowed her eyes at him.

“I haven’t spoken with her in about a year.” Dylan confessed. “We left things closed, but it’s still… I don’t know if she’d like to see me.”

Henley scoffed. “Oh, trust me, she’s fine. We talk sometimes, meet up occasionally. She’s partially the reason I’m so safe here, having a contact in Interpol is the greatest.”

“Henley, I dunno-”

“Oh, c’mon, she asks about you and there’s no awkwardness there, I swear. She has a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“That’s good. I still don’t-”

“Maybe he could come too. Or maybe that would actually be awkward.”

“Yeah, probably-”

“I’m gonna see what I can do, okay? It’ll be fun!”

Dylan sighed into his mug, already mentally preparing himself already. He stuck his nose into the top of the ceramic opening as if he were inhaling Vicks Vapour Rub.

“Y’know, I did catch the big reveal on new years’,” Henley finished the last of her tea. “It was

very

interesting,” she grinned at Jack pointedly, who visibly panicked, his mouth forming several unintelligible shapes in quick succession.

“She’s asleep, sweetie.” Henley’s eyes flickered to Lula, whose cheek rested pleasantly on Jack’s knee, and back. “So, what’s happening? I never thought you’d settle down, to be honest, I-” catching Merritt’s inconspicuous throat clearing, Henley glanced around. Three pairs of eyes gave her alarming looks. She immediately retreated. “We

will

talk about this.” she muttered, glaring at Jack. He, sheepish, looked at his lap.

“I think I'd better be going,” she said, quieter. “let you get some sleep,” with a gesture at Lula. “I might pop round Saturday morning, bring some breakfast.” she blew a kiss, picking up her handbag. For a moment, she looked around the room, and it looked dangerously like she might cry. “I'm really happy you're here.” A quick wave, and she ducked out of the door.

Daniel breathed out.

“You okay? That went well,” Dylan reassured him, giving his knee a pat.

“Yep, fine,” Daniel stood quickly. “It was good, actually.” he glanced at the door, then to Merritt, who stood alongside him. “What do you think?” he asked, as they began to walk to their room. Dylan couldn’t hear what Merritt replied with as the two trailed off.

“You think he’s actually fine?” Jack asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, he seems okay,” Dylan shrugged. “I dunno. I guess time will tell.” he stood then, too, going to the kitchen to get some water. Jack blanked.

“Uh - Dylan - what do I do?”

“I can’t help you with that one, Jack-o. Night.”

Jack was left blinking ferociously, scared to move. Sighing, he reached down and stroked Lula’s head as if she were a cat. Her hair wasn’t long enough to do a lot with, nor was it in the best condition (not that Jack had any awareness of that particular aspect), but it was still comforting to touch.

Why was he even thinking about that?

“Lu,” he said, clearing his throat, neck on fire. “Lula, we gotta go.” another pause, and he moved his hand to her shoulder. “Lu?”

Finally, she stirred, barely. “Jack?” she asked, voice weak. It hit him like walking into a room with an open fireplace after being out in the snow. “Sorry I fell asleep on your legs-” she muttered, leaning forward so he could stand.

His voice cracked in return as he reached down to help her to her feet. “You don’t have to apologise for that, crazy lady.”

“You think I’m crazy? That’s so great actually,” she mumbled, stumbling around like a foal. She grabbed onto his arm in fear of faceplanting a crooked nail.

“Yeah, that ship sailed long ago, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m so drunk I thought you just said something nice…” she snorted. “Just kidding. I’m not that drunk.”

Helping her down onto her single bed, Jack thought for a moment about just leaving it there and going to sleep himself. But he remembered she usually took her makeup off before knocking herself unconscious, and went to get some cotton pads and the cleanser she kept in the bathroom.

Crouching in front of her, he wiped charcoal coloured remains from her eyes. She smiled, and hummed some sort of broken tune. It was something by The Beatles. In his free hand, he held her arm, keeping her still. But it wasn’t an abrasive gesture, it was kind. He prepared another pad to wipe her mouth with, and he wasn’t sure how he accomplished it without his hands shaking.

“You don’t need to be so nervous,” Lula mumbled, head slightly lolling to one side. “I’m fine with this stuff. You’re all so sensitive-” she yawned, “about physical… contact. It’s stupid.”

“Yeah. It is a bit.”

He threw the cotton pads into the bin with perfect aim.

“Nice,” Lula giggled. “Nice shot. Hotshot.” she rolled onto her side, wiggling under her blanket. Jack hovered for a second. Her hair had fallen in a way that covered the side of her face that was exposed to the muted city lights filtering through the window. He thought, for a quick moment, about moving it. Said thought scared him into moving away instead.

“Jack…” he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her properly.

“Yeah?”

“Glad it’s you taking off my makeup for me. Corpse face Lula Da… May.”

“What was that?” Jack turned to look at her from his own bed.

“Corpse face Lula May, new act at the carnival-” she trailed off. Jack frowned. He stared at the outline of her sleeping form for so long his eyes started to ache. He knew her name wasn’t her first- in fact everyone did, really. They just assumed. Name changes weren’t uncommon in their field. But Jack had never come close to hearing about Lula’s previous identity. He frightened himself with how curious he was about it.

The window was half open. He could squeeze through it, climb down the fire escape. He could take off. He wanted to run so desperately that his fingers started to itch again. Heartbeat quickening, his hands guided him to the set of drawers Lula kept her possessions in. He didn’t know what he was doing until he looked down and saw himself carrying a locket to the door. Catching himself, he forced his legs to stop.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He thought of everyone’s faces if they discovered him gone, half of their belongings in tow. He thought of Daniel and the breakdown he’d have. Merritt. He’d never trust him again. Dylan wouldn’t quit until he found him. And Lula… he would have to spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

Stillness broken, he clicked open the locket. Inside was a picture of a woman, half smiling, and a man, grinning. It was faded and dog-eared and didn’t quite fit the metal frame it was stuck in. Remains of glitter glue, tween modifications, still lingered on the edges. The woman had soft features, round eyes, a round nose, her curly hair feathery. The man looked a lot like Lula.

He noticed he hadn’t been off about the feathery hair. Her hair actually had feathers in it. A costume, it looked like. Jack snapped the locket closed again and returned it to the drawer, experienced in the deftness needed to make it appear as though it was untouched. He dragged his feet back to his bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“It’s me!” A birdlike voice sang. Daniel shot out of bed, abruptly very awake. Merritt, who was reading across the room, raised his eyebrows.

“You okay there? Spidey senses getcha?” He asked, closing his book. “It’s only Henley.” he grinned.

So it hadn’t been a part of his dream… she’d come back, just like she’d said she would in the week. Daniel had been wallowing in his feelings around Henley’s return into his life over the past few days. He’d come to the conclusion that it would just be weird for a bit, and left it at that. In all honesty, he was expecting to be a little worse off. It was an odd sensation. It threw him off his own scent. He didn't know himself at all.

He pushed off his mattress and padded his way to the bathroom, muttering a sleepy “hello” to Henley as he did so. He made sure he was obscured from her.

Henley unpacked a bag of fresh vegetables and fruit, taking it upon herself to make sure they were stocked up. The brown paper back had almost broken on her way up the two flights of creaky stairs to the apartment. She crumpled it up and tossed it into the bin.

“No one up yet?” She called down the hallway, seeing the bathroom door close. Faintly, music was playing, muffled by a wall. She decided to knock on whoever’s room it was, not wanting to wait outside on her own any longer.

Laughter broke through the wall, and the door swung open. Lula’s hair was slightly curlier than usual. She grabbed onto Henley’s hand and tugged, yanking her over the threshold of the frame.

“Oh!” Henley blinked, and she giggled at the sudden motion- all her brain could default to doing. The room was messy, but not in an intolerable way. It was lived in. One side, nearest the window, sat a single bed with a mustard yellow blanket hastily thrown over the sheets. Judging by the purple dress hanging off the side, Henley assumed it was Lula’s.

The other bed, pressed up against the right side of the room, housed one Jack Wilder, propped up against two pillows, vest and sweatpants-clad. Henley almost did a double take.

“Are you guys-”

“Rooming together? Yeah,” Lula interrupted, yanking open a drawer and pulling out underwear, throwing it over the dress on her bed. Henley raised her eyebrows, slightly impressed at her lack of calibre. She glanced at Jack, who was mid-grin, and gave him a little look. He shrugged, the same smile still plastered on his face.

“What are we doing today?” Lula asked.

“The Louvre,” Henley watched her with interest as she fixed her hair by wildly shaking her head backwards and forwards. “We can go there, and then meet Claire for lunch.” At that, a hairbrush flew across the room.

“Christ, Lula,” Jack gave her an incredulous side-eye.

“I forgot we were meeting Claire! Why didn't you remind me? Jack, this is all your fault. Oh fuck, I need to actually make an effort.” With that, she grabbed her clothes and made a beeline to the bathroom. After a moment’s silence, Jack decided to steer conversation, fearing the outcome if he didn't.

“So Danny has been spending a

lot

of time with Dylan-”

“No, Jack, you're not getting outta this one Scott-free,” Henley jabbed her finger at him. “Although I do really desperately want to know the Danny and Dylan gossip, it will have to wait.” She pushed his legs off his bed dismissively and sat herself down, glaring at him. Jack grimaced. “

What

is wrong with you? She kisses you on New Year's-” sweet but slightly off pitch singing drifted from the bathroom door, water running. A distant Daniel scoffed. Lula definitely couldn't hear, so Henley raised her voice just a little. “You dance with her like it's your freaking wedding day, you're somehow completely fine with rooming with her, she's falling asleep on you, but she's got the picture that nothing’s going on!”

“Hey, okay. Woah, Henley, hold on-”

“No, seriously. I've seen you together now, and it's all kind of insane. I know you, Jack. You have the same expression when you talk to women as the one you have when you're asking for an audience member to participate in Three-Card Monte. It's all a dumb act, and then you drop them.” Henley knew she was treading deep water. She knew that Jack wasn’t so cool about his inner demons. But she pressed on- she was a pragmatist. She'd lived with the boy for too long to let this fly. “She's got it in her head that you don't want anything to do with her, and you're just being all

Jack

about it.”

“How do you know that?”

“What?”

“How do you know that she thinks I don't… want that?”

Henley started to chew on the inside of her lip. “She told me.”

“She… said that?” Fire burned his stomach. He clenched and unclenched his fists, hot rage panging at his muscles.

“We’ve been texting, a little,” A lock of strawberry blonde hair wound its way around Henley’s fingers nervously. “I asked.”

Jack groaned, annoyance spreading all over his aura as he threw his head back in exasperation and launched himself off the bed.

“Great. Thanks Henley, I didn't want things to get complicated and now it's gonna get complicated.” He strode over to the walk in closet, built into the wall like an en suite. “It's only been like three days since you met her. Stop sticking your nose in shit that isn't yours to deal with,” he rolled his eyes and slid the door shut behind him.

“Hey, wait! Why? Why does it make things complicated?” Henley hissed through the door. There was no reply. She sighed and almost slipped on a rogue queen of hearts before high-tailing it out of the room.

Before Merritt could open his mouth in greeting as he looked up from the dining table, Henley started talking at him in an annoyed flurry.

“Have you spoken to him?” She gestured wildly down the corridor.

“By him I assume you mean the boogeyman?”

“Wilder, the dumb idiot child.”

“What's he done?” Merritt almost sighed, but it wasn't at Henley. It was at the prospect of Jack being said dumb idiot child, which wasn't an outlandish one.

“He's dumb, he's an idiot! That girl is gonna give up soon.” She fumed. Merritt folded up his newspaper.

“Look, if we push him, he's just gonna get more freaked out, and no-one wants a freaked Jack Wilder.” Merritt shuddered, and Henley followed suit.

“Yeah. I know we don’t, because that would probably result in a runaway Jack Wilder,” Henley paused, thinking cap spinning. “I just feel bad for Lula, she's in deep. I can tell.”

“I know she is. But she's persistent. And she doesn't give up. She'll be okay. But you know who’s in just as deep, too?”

Henley’s eyes bulged. “Danny? Him and-”

“-Dylan. Neither of them know. I think Dylan’s still half closeted and Daniel is too stubborn to admit he has feelings at all.”

“I know.” A moment of silence followed, Henley’s eyes deep in the past.

“With no offence meant to you, Henley, I'd like it if Dylan didn’t

also

take off because Danny-boy is taking too long to be a human.”

“Yeah, I get it.” She got herself a glass of water. “How do we make these silly men see sense?”

“Well, I can't say about Danny. But as for Jack… I don't think we have to,” Merritt lowered his voice as he heard the bathroom door open. As if on cue, Lula’s loud call for action briefly echoed down the hallway before she closed her own door. “She’ll do that on her own.” 
  
The pavement was extremely reflective
and Dylan had forgotten his sunglasses. His hand was positioned tiredly above his brow as a makeshift shade. They sat and sipped on various warm beverages under the sun. Merritt showed Lula pictures of the back of her and Jack’s heads on his phone as they looked at Cupid and Psyche. Jack himself walked back to the table with trays of pastries balanced precariously on his arms, which Daniel was extremely worried about, his hands flipping around as he directed the other, who was getting increasingly more annoyed.

“Claire!” Henley waved, a shine to her cheeks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. A beautiful woman with braids tied into a ponytail waved back. She was almost angel-like in appearance, the reflection of the cobbles painting a halo of light around her- and she had a gentle smile. Claire and Henley embraced, and kissed each other. It was such a happy affair that everyone else’s temperaments instantly cheered, and Daniel forgot about Jack, who had somehow survived his balancing act.

“Everyone, this is Claire. Claire, this is-”

“The Horsemen! I know you. You! You had the trick with the card and the pencil.” Her English broken only slightly with a pause before the word “pencil”, she waved her hand at Jack and almost jumped for joy. “The bank show was very good. I work down the street from the vault.”

“Yeah, honey, but keep it down, okay? They're in hiding,” Henley whispered as the two sat down. Claire clamped her hand over her mouth, giggling. “That’s Jack, and Merritt, Lula, Danny and Dylan.”

“What are their fake names?” Claire made sure to ask.

“It’s Weston, Oliver, Nadia, Michael and Justin. Isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Lula nodded wildly, beaming as she reached over the table to shake Claire’s hand. “It's so good to meet you!” She kept her posture and intensely started a line of questioning. Daniel rolled his eyes at her, but his mouth twitched into what seemed to be a smile. He was grateful that he didn’t have to carry the conversation. Claire appeared to be entertained by this, answering every which way while everyone else ate their pastries.

Afterwards, they went for a routine stroll around the Seine. It had proven to be their favourite part of Paris so far. Henley and Lula’s laughter carried over the bickering behind them, Daniel and Merritt’s cadences overlapping for the tenth time that day.

“What would you do if you were not a magician? Or... a showman?” Claire asked her adjacent companion.

“Weston is a kids’ toy engineer.” Jack replied, as if that answered the question.

“Not Weston. You.” Claire waggled her index finger, which glinted with a silver ring.

“Oh god. Well… I've never thought about it. Always been a hustler,” he said, eyes locking onto the lamp post in front of them.

“You must have thought about it. I don't believe you!” Claire smiled in good spirit, but her words carried weight. Jack wondered if she'd spoken to Henley about him.

“There's a carnival soon, here. After the Feast of Fools.” Claire had sensed the one to address would be Dylan. It wasn't hard to assume that he was the team leader, the agent - but Claire had an advantage on said assumption. She had Henley. “I'd forgotten, I think you all would like it.”

Jack nodded a little aggressively. He enjoyed anything to do with circus tops.

Dylan glanced backwards from his spot walking slightly ahead. His eyes caught Daniel’s, who shrugged. He wasn’t sure how inconspicuous they’d be at a carnival, but they had time to figure things out.

“We’ll see. Might be too risky,” Dylan smiled apologetically for not giving a more concrete answer. Claire seemed to understand.

“Oh, come on, Dylan, you’re walking around now with no issue!” Henley cocked her head at him.

“Well, we’ve been given a bit of a head start with the FBI. I gave them some files on the whole Tressler situation, and they backed off for a bit. I think we’re safe for now, but once they get wind from Interpol, they’ll be coming this way.” He explained, a little hurriedly.

“Ah, so some leeway with Interpol might help,” Henley chuckled.

“It might,” Dylan muttered back.

Henley threaded her arm through Daniel’s. He was rigid. She smiled to herself. That was exactly what she thought he might be. Her eyes met Claire’s for a moment, and they giggled like schoolchildren.

“Weston?” Claire tactfully returned to the former subject. “What would you be?”

Jack, looking at his shoes, blurted it out without a moment’s thought. “A locksmith.”

“A-ha!” Claire clapped, delighted. “So you had thought about it, you sly thing!

Jack pushed out a breath resembling a chuckle. “Maybe a little. I mean, I wouldn’t wanna waste this lockpicking skill, would I?”

“Oh I can see it, Mr. Nothing’s-Ever-Locked,” Lula chimed from the back, not being able to help but to eavesdrop. “Rusty truck and one of those belts and a really tight white shirt-”

“Please stop,” Daniel pleaded

Jack smiled a little. Henley looked at him, inspecting.

“What about everyone else? What would you do? I am curious now.” Claire trotted ahead and walked backwards as she spoke.

“Consultant,” Daniel flicked a card out of his sleeve - the king of spades. “Go to movie sets and advise them on practical effects.” This caused a cacophony of interested ‘ohs’ from the small party. Dylan was about to open his mouth and say something about being a professor, but decided to stop, on account of briefly imagining an alternate reality where they retired from the Eye.

“Nadia, you must have something,” Claire waggled her hands towards Lula, who took a moment to respond to her fake name.

“Oh! Me. I honestly find it really hard to imagine,” she launched straight into a ramble that didn’t really go anywhere. She was squashing any sort of illusions she had about herself. Magic had always been her hyperfixation, and nothing else brought her joy. A 9-5 was her idea of a nightmare, and doing the same thing day in day out until she died would drive her to an early grave.

“Claire, do you have a store?” she asked, suddenly.

“Oh, for the flowers? Yes, but it is in a small part of a vendor marketplace. It is open every day except Wednesdays and Sundays.” Claire focused as she spoke, translating every word into English taking up most of her brain power. “Sometimes, nights too. Nights are when everyone comes and buys leftovers.”

Lula, positively enraptured, fell behind again. She quizzed Claire about which type of plant was in most demand at certain times of year, and how she managed to haul everything around on her own. While they talked, Henley pointed out several personal landmarks to Merritt, who had initially asked her about that winery she had suggested last week.

Dylan and Daniel walked in silence, but it wasn’t a hostile silence. It was a comfortable quiet, and they both enjoyed listening to people passing by and the conversations behind them. Jack, on the other hand, trailed along at the back, something nagging in his chest pulling him away from the pack. Intuition called to him from the riverbanks as they walked through the park, to his right. He had been thrown off at the idea of another life, one where he didn’t have to look out of the corner of his eye for any signs of the FBI.

He didn’t think he’d ever move from the city. He loved NYC, and everything in it. He’d live there forever, once they worked things out with the FBI. But in this moment, he saw himself living in a beach town off the Atlantic Coast, driving a chevy truck to his key cutting jobs. His house was wood-panelled and painted grey-blue and had a decent yard, with a little woodland at the back. Space for any dogs, or cats. No kids, but they liked it that way. Daniel and Merritt and Dylan were a short journey away, and they met weekly at a local dive. He’d taken up woodworking as a hobby.

No kids, but they liked it that way.

Snapping back to reality, Jack found himself on the water’s edge, quite far behind his companions, who were walking the opposite direction. He stared at the gently ebbing water until his eyes stung, and then he blinked.

“Sometimes it can make your heart hurt, no?” A woman’s cadence made him stiffen all over, icy voice somehow anchoring him - frozen in place. “This river, it is dangerous. If you look for so long, you can end up inside with no way to climb out.”

She was small, with silvery hair. Although she didn’t look a day past thirty two, at a guess. Jack looked at her in the corner of his eye, careful not to make any sudden attempts to turn towards her. The woman stared straight out across the water, although Jack knew he was addressing her just by her tone alone. It was ominous, but a little frightened. He could tell that she pretended to have the upper hand frequently.

“People, they come to me, and I help them climb out,” she said. Jack blinked, no response he could think of quite matching the trepidation he felt. “I help to find things they lost so they can climb the riverbank. When they climb out, they are free. You know what you are, Mr. Wilder?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed into slits. His reaction kicked into action.

“I’m not

someone

you

should

be

speaking

to,” he said, enunciating the sibilance, and spun around to face her, holding an arm out to grab onto hers. He clicked near the corner of her ear a fraction of a second later, and her head lolled, in a daze - or a sleep. He leaned forward and whispered, with an urgency that spat anger towards her cheek. “When I click my fingers, you will tell me who you are, what you want, and how you know who I am. When I click them a second time, you will forget everything and walk away.” he hissed, and snapped his fingers right next to his mouth.

The woman straightened, her eyes still shut. Jack, relieved that his relatively newfound trick had worked, breathed out.

“My name is Camilla Émile. I am working for a people who want to know where you are.”

And then she smiled. Jack’s heart dropped. His pulse quickened as her eyes peeled open, smile growing as they did so.

“You, Mr Wilder, will need to find something better to work on me.” she flicked something out from the bottom of her sleeve, and threw it directly into his breast pocket. “And for your information, I am working with you, not against you.” she locked onto his eyes, and it was a blue fire raging through Jack’s veins.

“Have you forgotten your own flesh and blood?” She looked towards where his family stood, chatting at the edge of the grass. They were framed by concrete planters filled with magnolias. “Those friends will come and go and so will you. No illusions. The people who raised you will be there, always. And they will be here, soon. Consider it a nice heads-up, a gift from me to you. And tell hello to James and Lucy. I have gifts for them, too.”

Camilla raised her hand above her head and clicked, a crisp, powdery sound that made Jack think of gym chalk. That was his last thought - before his head hit the ground.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dylan sat staring at the three scraps in front of him on the dining room table. He was alone in the living room - everyone else had headed to bed sharpish that night.  You’re not who you think you are.  Who could this be referring to? It’s not like anyone here was under any pretence. They had changed as people, but they were not hiding from him. Dylan Rhodes was Dylan Shrike, and he knew that Lucy was now Lula May, and that was her and that was him. He’d researched her family history. Nothing. In fact, Dylan was the only one who knew he had nothing on her. But he did know that her family life wasn't great, so he didn't want to press. James Atlas was J. Daniel Atlas, and that was something they were all aware of. Could it be something to do with Thaddeus Bradley? But Dylan was thrown. Jack had given him the invitation to the circus that the woman who’d cornered him had flicked at him, as he’d put it. Claire had said they should go and investigate. Henley had blown a fuse when he’d gently suggested she should talk to her girlfriend. She’d said there was no way Claire would have anything to do with this, but Dylan wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know the woman, and not knowing meant danger. The other piece of paper, the one where he’d made notes on what Lula had told him about the flash of yellow sequins she had been seeing, lay untouched. It could just be her wandering mind, trying to make sense of something or other. But it could very well be significant if this Camilla woman was trying to get to his Horsemen. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a comforting manoeuvre he’d adopted just after his Father had died. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them. But how could he stop what he didn’t know? Everything seemed to lead towards this circus. Whoever was watching them wanted them to go - but why? What waited for them there? Surely if someone meant them harm, they’d be more immediate in their action. This circus was more than a week away. Until then, they’d be on tenterhooks. Dylan wondered if they should even go. Maybe he should turn up on his own, negotiate, exit the establishment with no-one but him in harm’s way. But he knew that he’d have four people at his throat for it, and maybe they wouldn’t trust him again after that. Henley had said that she will be there for whatever comes their way. She’d said that they’re her family, and that if it meant her coming with them on the run, then so be it - if it meant she had to come back, then she’d come back. Dylan had predicted that Henley and Lula would be fast friends, but the way they were clinging to each other that evening while they drank their herbal tea and discussed just who was after them said that they had quickly grown attached beyond acquaintances. The apartment was silent, and Dylan was cautious. He’d never heard it this quiet. Even when his Horsemen were asleep, Merritt and Jack snored, and he could hear through the doors, through the walls. But there was nothing. It was clear no-one could sleep and no-one was willing to admit it. Sipping coffee at 11pm was a habit that Dylan had hoped to kick, but this particular problem required him to pull an all-nighter, it looked like. Dragging his laptop out of the depths of his bag, he got to work on researching the circus that was coming to town. The Arcane Elysium. Circulating internationally for 68 years, their shows were so well established that patrons returned to see their favourites annually. He scratched at his salt and pepper stubble with aggression, trying to wake himself up. “There are some old acts,” came a voice from the doorway. Dylan shot upwards, and only then realised just how highly strung he had become. “Jesus. I’m not the ghost of Christmas past,” Daniel rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair. “I’ve been looking some shit up. Assuming you’re doing the same?”After a moment, Dylan groaned, nodded, and sat back down again.“Yeah, well, me too,” Daniel flashed his phone screen. “It’s been hard. Merritt’s asleep, I think. I heard like one bit of movement from Jack’s room. I think we’re all-”“Yeah. Me too, Atlas. It’s why I’m sat here at 2am trying to get us some sort of piece of information that will help us to understand what the hell it is we’re up against,” Dylan barked, a little loudly, then sighed again, dragging his palm over his face. “Sorry, I-”“No, no, I get it,” Daniel muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. “I’m starting to get touchy too.” Dylan, surprised at Daniel’s cool response, raised his eyebrows. “Is that a hint of human empathy I detect, Mr Atlas?” Daniel smirked. “You act like I’m the Grinch, it's hilarious. Really funny. You ever thought about being a comedian?” “Actually, that was my original plan before I joined the FBI.”“Great, no, that's great. Just what the world of comedy needs.” Dylan laughed, for the first time in a while. Daniel could amuse him in ways he wasn't familiar with. Now they'd become friends, Dylan was laughing more and more. Maybe that's what he needed in life. Maybe that's all he needed. “You found anything interesting?” Daniel nosily peered over Dylan’s shoulder, scooting closer. “No,” Dylan shook his head, vaguely noticing the other’s leg bouncing under the table. He was nervous. “Well- I think there's someone behind this latest onslaught. Maybe they're not very good, or maybe they're just warming up. I've looked at Camilla Émile, there’s no trace of her online, obviously. I mean, there wouldn’t be, would there?” “Guess not,” Daniel flourished a couple of cards out of his pocket, hands craving a task. “Feels like something new,” he muttered, briefly catching Dylan’s eye. “All of this. Different, it's all different. But y’know, silver linings. Henley’s back, we’re stronger.” Dylan hummed in response. Silence filled the air with an odd tension as he typed up a bullet point to his notes. “You think she could be involved.” Daniel’s face fell. “Not her, Atlas. Claire. I can't help but think she's the outlier here,”“What about Alma?”“What?”“Alma. What about her? Has she not crossed your mind? We haven't seen her, Henley hasn't brought her up again. Maybe she's…”“No. She's not like that,” Dylan focused on his screen. “I know that much. She's not bothered with us, I made sure of it.” “How? How did you leave things with her?” Daniel’s eyes were almost accusatory. They flashed at the man next to him as if to point a finger. “Fine, I left things fine. She's not going to bother us,” Dylan snapped. He closed his laptop. “Things are fine, Danny. There's no need to keep her on the radar.” Daniel’s eyebrow twitched as he leant backwards. “If you say so.”  Dylan stood.  “Do you still love her?”  There was another silence. This time, it was a question. There was a curiosity in the lack of noise, a stir in the current of air flowing around them both. “I'm not sure if I had time to love her in the first place,” was Dylan’s eventual answer. “It was too fast, all of it. Whatever it was, it's gone. It's been over eighteen months. It's gone.” Daniel nodded. The veil was lifted. “It wouldn't have worked out,” he said. “She's not one of us.”Dylan turned and cast a small smile on the other. “No, she's not.”   Jack’s eyes were out of focus. The throbbing in his head drove a heartbeat into his hairline, and he hated listening to it. It was too regulated, too quiet. He stared at the ceiling, trying to imitate breathing as though he was asleep. His gaze kept flickering to his leather jacket draped across the chair next to the dresser. The ceiling started to swim.
“You pig, you’re a pig!” A screech from upstairs.

The laughter was too loud. Thumping from above shook the walls, music pulsating at a frustrating volume. It was too muffled for Jack to hear properly, but too much for him to ignore.

A thump made him jump. His young mind raced and raced, thinking something had gone wrong. He wished his parents never came back home. He wished they wouldn't use the house his little cousins stayed in as a melting pot of questionable parties once a month. He wished they'd stay away next time.

On nights like these, his parents liked to send everyone they could away. His grandparents had gone to stay with a friend, and his aunt had gone away to her boyfriend’s house with one of her kids. The rest stayed with him in the basement - they were too scared to set foot upstairs. Jack rested his arm on 8-year-old Roxie’s shoulder.

“It's ok, Rox,” he said in his best adult voice. It was getting easier and easier. “They'll be done soon.” And his annoyance burned into angry consumption as the overwhelming sound of poker chips being thrown on the floor above fell like daggers through the ceiling.

“We’re fine.” 
Jack turned over, then turned over again. “Are you sure you're okay?” He’d looked straight into his roommate's eyes as he flipped the second time. She had insisted on pushing her bed right up next to his, wordlessly. This was the first time she'd spoken since they'd found him lying on the concrete. She’d kept glancing at him, no subtlety about her. She wasn't a subtle sort of person. It turns out he’d just been hypnotised to sleep, not poisoned or drugged, like Henley kept worrying about. It was put down to an episode of fainting for the doctor’s sake. “Yeah, I'm fine, dude. It’ll be fine. Just a bump on my head, seriously.” Lula didn't look away for a while. She inhaled as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't. She held her breath for a moment. “Make sure you're on the grass next time you get hypnotised by a random French woman, ok?” She settled on, and shut her eyes tight like a child when they blow out their birthday candles. “Stupid of you to stand right on the concrete. Could’ve cracked your head open, then what?”Jack smiled, but didn’t close his own eyes. He tried to focus on Lula’s breathing. It was shallow and slightly erratic - he couldn’t work out if she was asleep or not. An hour later, a whisper broke the darkness settled around him. “You don’t have to be fine.”Jack’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel burning behind his eyes, the simple statement threatening to draw the most caged vulnerability from the pit of his stomach. His mind raced. He needed to move, needed to run, needed to take something and make sure he never felt so exposed again. He didn’t say anything in response, but all at once, everything stopped. The irritation prickling his skin, the heartbeat pounding in his head, it fizzled out with a shock. It was replaced with what he was sure was some kind of electricity. But it wasn’t - it was only Lula’s hand gently sliding onto his, a comfort neither of them had ever known. Jack was the one to squeeze his eyes shut now. He slowly curled his fingers around her’s, unsure. His heart rate quickened, but slowed again. Lula slept beside him as he drifted, finally.  “I can’t believe you slept last night.” Daniel, rings around his eyes, sat depleted in front of the espresso machine. He glared at Jack with a scorn that carried generations’ worth of feud. “Yeah man, me neither.” Jack muttered, eyes elsewhere. “Everyone is clamouring for tickets to this Elysium thing,” Merritt examined his newspaper. “I think they’re already sold out. Shall we sneak in? Do a little bit of heisting?” he looked at Dylan, incredibly hopeful. Said Dylan shook his head wildly. “Surely not,” he muttered. “Surely they can’t expect us to be attacked and then beg to get into this thing-” The front door swung open. “Ok, so this carnival isn’t for a week.” Henley immediately started, throwing her bag onto a couch. “What happened to ‘good morning’?” Daniel rolled his eyes, to which she waved her hand dismissively. “- So, you’ll need to be distracted, right? I mean, we can’t be thinking about all this gloom and doom. It isn’t healthy.”“You’re right,” Dylan nodded. Daniel glared at him with as much hatred as he had glared at Jack with. “We can’t run yet and we can’t tackle it head on, either.”“So, at the risk of flying too close to the sun, what if we go out?” “Out?” Dylan narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand to his temple and massaged it with a circular motion. He went through the risks internally, quiet for a moment as Henley put some groceries away and Merritt turned the page of his newspaper. “I don’t know, I’m not sure about us walking through Paris.” Henley stared out of the paned window in between cupboards, cogs whirring. “Oh! I know,” she spun around to look at the men sat at the table. “Speakeasy! I know a little underground speakeasy, super hard to get in but Claire can pull some strings. She can be designated driver!” As if she’d just solved world hunger, Henley flopped dramatically onto a chair. Dylan pursed his lips as he mulled over the idea. He trusted Henley. This would take everyone’s mind off their potential impending doom. Maybe a change of scenery would kick his own mind into gear… “Okay.” Henley clapped with glee. Daniel rolled his eyes. “What are we celebrating?” A tired voice bleated from the corridor. “We’re going to a speakeasy!” Henley announced. “We - wait, really?” Lula looked directly at Dylan, eyebrows raised. He shrugged. “When?” She asked. “Wednesday.” Dylan replied, dryly. Lula ran directly at Henley and snatched her arm up, tugging her right back into the depths of her room. Henley had no means of escape. “I need to go do some recon,” Dylan sighed. “I'll be out most of the day.” Daniel blinked. “Trusting us on our own again? You haven't been anywhere without us since London.” “Listen, if today goes well, I'll catch you up later.” with a tight-lipped smile, he shrugged on his coat and quietly made his way. “Well that was weird,” Merritt tapped his chin with the back of the teaspoon he was holding. Which reminded him of something. “Jack-o, teach me the one you can do with the spoon.” “You don't know that one? I learned that when I was nine, man.” “Don't judge me. I thought you young folk were supposed to be all inclusive.” “You wanna sit cross-legged on the floor?” “My legs would give out.” Daniel, trying his best to ignore them, decided to put on a scarf. “Where are you going?” Came a voice from the same direction a pattering of bare feet on the hardwood flooring was getting louder. “Looking around, I'll be careful.” “You'd better get told off for this,” Lula scowled, swinging a cupboard open to grab a cup. “I got my ass kicked last time I went somewhere.” “I'm a lot more mature than you.” Daniel glared, as if that explained everything, and shut the door behind him.   It was only morning, and Dylan didn’t fancy his chances of going to a cafe-bar, but it was where he'd be going. After all these years parading around the FBI, he was still shitting his pants at the idea of being caught. But that was the purpose of today. His time in the FBI had been almost fun. He'd dissociated through a lot of it, but he remembered some outstanding moments. He'd made some genuine friends.A man turned as soon as the door opened, and Dylan was struck with familiarity. It wasn't a bad sensation. “Fuller.” Dylan nodded. “Rhodes.” his old partner smiled back at him.“They let you come?” “Yeah, I set it up as some negotiation tactic.” He slid a glass across the bar. “Always wanted to do that.” “How are things?” Cautiously, Dylan sat, and took the bourbon even though it was 10:30am. “Oh, they're… things.” “How's Wendy?” “She's okay. She doesn't know I’m here, thinks I'm in Alaska on training.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”“Everything’s sorted now, we’re fine.”Dylan looked at the man next to him with a shifty eye, a silent question.“It's ok. I won't tell them you turned up today.” Relief flooded the bar. “Fuller, be honest with me,” Dylan’s mouth quirked upward into a sort of smirk and Fuller opened his mouth, ready to say that he had been honest, that he wouldn't say anything, that he's not wearing a wire. “Do you think they'd actually entertain a pardon?” Fuller backtracked on his little speech. “Oh, god. Not while Cowan’s around.” He shook his head. “I'm - we’re trying to get him out.” Dylan chuckled. “I wouldn't expect you to go that far for me, It’d put your job on the line.” “Oh, it's not just me. Austin is on the case, too. She wants him gone.” “I knew I liked her.”Fuller nodded and drank his whiskey down. “I spoke to Dray.”“You spoke to - you - hm.” Dylan cleared his throat. “Jesus, you spoke to her about…?” “You, the Horsemen. She was already aware you were here. She's not gonna be a problem-”“No, I know, Fuller, I had it all under control.” “You mean Reeves had it all under control?” “Henley has been... helping.” Dylan grimaced. “What do you have on them?” “Nothing, barely anything, but it might be a good idea to separate when you move next. Cowan’s getting the idea that you're all travelling together.”  Shit . Dylan bit down on the inside of his cheek. Separating was out of the question. He needed them all together, he needed to keep watch over them. “Separate as in...” “You should get away from them.” Fuller put a hefty hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “It's you that they'll go for first. It'll give them time to get away.” Dylan nodded. “I miss you, Dylan. Really, we all do. Austin’s still in two minds about everything. If we can get rid of Cowan, we might have a chance at clearing.” “Clearing? Seriously?” “We’ll think of something. It's not in public interest. Austin’s considering it might be wasting too much of our resources. I dunno, Rhodes, it might happen.”“Oh, shit.” “Is it still Rhodes, by the way? Sorry, I didn't ask.” Dylan smiled.  “It's Shrike, now.”   The air bit him on the cheeks as he shuffled across cobblestones. The evening chill wanted to follow him and kill him, Dylan was positive. Being in a particularly good mood after catching up with Fuller, he'd stopped off to grab dinner for the others at a little pizza place. Holding them under his chin and seeking his keys, he struggled to get them into the lock. He hadn't been able to shake Alma from his racing mind. Fuller had spoken to her, Henley had spoken to her. For all he knew, even Claire had spoken to her. She was hanging on like an icicle to his consciousness and he didn't know how to get rid of her. Perhaps he should talk to Henley about getting together with her after all. A pang of guilt spread across his chest as he imagined how concerned Daniel would be. He’d leave it for now. “Guys?” He called as he swung open the front door of their apartment, puffing as he recovered from the stairs. “Have you been looking at your phone?” Daniel appeared as if from nowhere. “Dylan. Have you seen our messages?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Dylan placed the pizzas on the kitchen table. Three missed calls from Lula. Five from Merritt, fifteen from Daniel. Twenty three unread messages. “What the hell happened?” Stomach churning, he didn't notice Merritt emerge. “Thank god you're back.” He sighed. “Don't freak out, it's fine-” “It's not fine,” Daniel glared. “Dylan, Jack’s gone.”“What?” “He's gone, he took off. Gone.” “Gone to where?”“He's fucking gone , Dylan!” Merritt took a hold of Daniel’s arm in a restraining sort of manner. “No use getting worked up, Danny boy. It'll be fine.” “Would you get off me?” He shook himself until Merritt retreated. “Ok, hold on. He could just be somewhere normal, right? He could be back soon.” Dylan waved his hand. “Where’s Lula?” “That's the problem.” Merritt sighed. “It's a bit more than a fucking problem-”“Zip it, Daniel. This is the issue. Jack - uh - left with quite a few of her things . So when he didn't come back all afternoon, she bolted.” “Oh, shit.” Dylan muttered for the third time that day. This version was harrowing. It was a pattern of behaviour and suddenly it was as if all hope had been dashed. And if either of those two were seen - “Have you heard from Lula?”“She took her phone. She hasn't found him. She's on her way back.” At least that was something. Having as many of them together as possible would help. “Christ. He took things?” “He took a locket, her camera and… Jesus. And her purse.” “ Shit .” “Yeah.” Merritt had been quiet for a little while, frowning. He brushed himself down, and pressed his lips together. “He wouldn't have done this. He's really turned a corner, those habits were kicked. He's a good kid. And he's never even thought about leaving the Eye, not once.” “Okay, but who else did it?” Daniel hissed. “He literally ran away. He’s not a kid, he’s thirty one. He has a track record of taking girls’ possessions and climbing out their windows. It's Lula, that's what's set him off.” “Woah, hey, this is probably not her fault-” “Yeah, no, because she's never irritating and never crosses any boundaries ever.” “Okay, fair point.”“So what do we think happened?” Dylan began, but didn't have to wait long before finding out. Red-cheeked and messy-haired, Lula slammed the front door and stormed across the room. She’d either been crying, or the wind had slapped her across the face. Dylan genuinely couldn't tell.“ I’ll kill him! I swear I’ll fucking kill him, how in the living fuck could he do this to us?” She was shouting, strong voice refusing to crack as she opened cupboards and drawers and stomped through the place. “I'll find him and I'll kill him, and then I’ll kill him again.” None of them flinched, or argued. In fact, it was just starting to sink in. “I thought he was better than this. Fuck him. Didn't he say he wouldn’t? I swear he said he wouldn’t. Fucking hypocrite, he told me not to, and now look-”He’d left them. He’d actually left. “How the fuck could he do this to us?” It was softer this time. She closed the last door gently and swept her way to her room, and the storm left Merritt, Dylan and Daniel to stew in their own terrible thoughts. “I don't think anything happened,” Daniel finally spoke. “I think he just left. He just got scared, and he and left.” An empty silence, a vast anticipation with a coating of dread hung over the living room."He wouldn't..." Merritt's eyes didn't leave the floorboards below. "He did."