Chapter Text
As they all continue to ride in near silence on the plane, Bosco is incredibly glad for the painkillers Merritt slipped him earlier as his entire chest starts to flare up in pain. Yes, what he told Atlas earlier was true; he has had worse… but honestly, it wasn’t much worse than this right now.
The look on his face must give that away, because June turns to him and squeezes the hand she is already holding. “Hold on, babe. Just a little bit longer, okay?”
Bosco only has it in him to nod, and based off the look Charlie and June give each other he knows that he doesn’t look good.
He’s leaned back as far as he can recline in the chair, his legs propped up on the seat in front of him. He has a lot of questions about how an ancient magic society has the funds to always let them ride around on a private jet (and some environmental concerns about it as well), but in that moment, he vows to never question or complain about it again because there is no way that he would have made it confined to a normal plane seat. He tries to imagine Atlas trying to nonchalantly stitch him up on a normal flight full of passengers and the thought makes him smile.
“Something funny?” Atlas questions, suddenly staring at him. He looks around and while June is still there, Charlie is standing behind Atlas. He must have gotten him after the concerned look. Traitor.
“Just uh…” Bosco pauses at how rough his voice sounds, “... just incredibly thankful for my circumstances right now.”
Atlas eyes him. “Thankful for getting shot?”
“Thankful that we’re on a jet and I’m not about to puke my guts out on a bunch of innocent passengers.”
Charlie steps forward, concerned. “Do you feel sick?”
Bosco nods a short nod. He was glad that his two friends had forgotten about his unfortunate predicament regarding nausea and practically anything that moves, but right now it was making itself known with a vengeance. “Just like I do every flight. Unfortunately, in all the excitement, I forgot to take my Dramamine.”
“Shit,” June mutters, immediately going to rummage around in her bag for the emergency stash Bosco knows she keeps in there. Normally Bosco keeps it in his pocket along with a very, very old Fanta flavored chapstick that June got him as a Christmas present one year, but when he went to grab it discreetly on the plane, instead of finding the comforting cylinders of soda flavored goo (it really was time to replace it) and his beloved non-drowsy Dramaine, his fingers instead discovered a small yet just big enough hole in his pocket. In the midst of getting shot, beaten up, and running through the forest, he supposes it would be normal for one of his pockets to get a hole in it, especially since he only owns two pairs of jeans, but in light of that particular discovery, he feels like the gods are laughing at him. It speaks volumes to the chaos of the situation they found themselves in that Charlie and June not only didn’t check if he had taken it, like they normally discreetly do, but that he didn’t bother mentioning it until now.
Atlas looks at June, confused. “Is this a normal thing?”
Charlie kneels down to help her look through the bag. “Very usual.” He confirms.
Bosco shrugs. “I can’t get in a car or a plane without it.”
The confused look doesn’t leave Atlas’s face. “I’ve seen you in multiple cars. Hell, I’ve seen you in multiple car chases and never once have I seen you take Dramamine.”
June hands him the pill, and he palms it. “That’s because I’m…” he does a sleight of hand, making the Dramamine disappear. Atlas frowns at him, unimpressed as Bosco dry swallows the pill. To the casual observer, it looks like the pill never went anywhere near his mouth, but considering the circumstances they’re in now, Atlas is less than impressed. “A master magician.” He finished.
“A master pain in my ass, you mean.” Atlas finishes. “Seriously, you should have told me.”
Bosco holds his hands out in mock surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t feel a need for the great J Daniel Atlas to know about my crippling motion sickness.”
“I don’t care about that,” Atlas says, walking the small distance to the back of the plane and rummaging around in the cabinets, “but what I do care about is you tearing your stitches if you start dry heaving on this plane.”
June pales beside him, and Charlie drops his smile. “Shit.”
Atlas returns with a ginger ale and a sleeve of saltines, “Yeah, shit is right.” He says, placing them down in front of Bosco. “Just in case.” He adds mildly.
The pale look on Bosco’s face is still there, but this time, Atlas isn’t sure if it’s from the pain or the motion sickness of the plane landing. He’s wondering if he might have to knock the kid out when Merritt walks towards them from the front of the plane. “Just spoke with the pilot,” he says nonchalantly, “he wanted me to inform all of you that it might be a bumpy flight down.”
Charlie and June pale and Atlas swears. Bosco, to his credit, just looks resigned. “Of course it is.” He mutters.
Merritt looks at them, confused. “What’d I say?”
Atlas stands, frustrated. “The kid,” he says, pointing accusingly at him, “ gets severe motion sickness.”
“And?” Merritt questions. “This might be a fancy plane and all but we still got bags for barfing.”
Atlas has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “And barfing with twelve new stitches in your side might not be the best idea right now.”
Merritt’s eyes go wide. “Ah. Got it now.”
Charlie and June are both sitting on either side of Bosco, June with her hand in his and Charlie leaning over him, ready to move if he needs up. Bosco is wide awake now, his free hand tightly gripping his knee. “I’ll be fine.” He says, although it sounds more like something he’s trying to convince himself of rather than a fact.
It’s Charlie who calls him on it. “The last time you forgot to take it, you threw up eight times and we almost had to take you to the hospital for an IV.”
Bosco side eyes him. “It was a particularly bumpy journey.”
“It was a train ride.”
“Yeah, a bumpy train ride.”
Charlie is about to argue, but June holds her free hand out to stop him. “This isn’t helping. Bosco, honey, how do you feel?”
“Well,” he begins, “are we asking about the motion sickness or the pain that is now surrounding my entire chest and torso?”
“Let’s stick to motion sickness for now.”
“Great,” Bosco swallows, “then I would say that I’m fine as long as we don’t-”
Before he can even finish speaking, the plane jolts down so fast and hard that Bosco, June, and Charlie are momentarily lifted out of their seats. Atlas and Merritt grip the seats in front of them and barely manage to stay upright. The fasten seat belt sign immediately goes on and the pilot comes over the speakers, warning them to take a seat.
Atlas looks at Bosco, who is now turning an impressive shade of green. “Right, so that might be a problem.”
Atlas gently pushes Bosco’s feet out of the chair and sits down in front of him, Merritt on his other side. “Jesus,” Merritt begins, “kid, you’re so green you’re starting to look like the wicked witch of the west.”
Bosco manages to give him a sarcastic smile. “No really, thank you, that’s actually exactly what I needed right now.”
“I’m just saying you don’t look good.”
The plane jolts again, and Bosco takes his free hand and grips it into the armrest. The other hand, still encased in June’s grips her hand tightly. “Right,” he says, “this is not gonna work.”
“How long before the Dramamine kicks in?” Atlas asks Charlie.
“At this point, not for another ten minutes, but it normally doesn't work if he takes it after.”
“Yeah,” Bosco says through gritted teeth, “mostly because I’m puking it all up.”
“So then what are we gonna do?” June asks.
They’re all silent for a second before Merritt speaks. “Let me just pose a hypothetical here.” As he speaks, the plane lurches again, and Bosco has to physically fight the urge to gag. “With things being as dire as they are…” Merritt continues, “hypothetically, what would be worse? A bruised jaw or torn stitches?”
Every eye looks at him. “What?” Bosco asks at the same time, June yells, “That cannot seriously be an option here.”
Merritt holds up his hands. “I’m just saying one little punch, and then we don’t have to worry about torn stitches anymore!”
Charlie looks at him like he’s crazy. “Yeah, we’d just have to worry about brain damage!”
“Can’t you just work your hypnotism magic on him?” June asks.
Both Atlas and Merritt answer at the same time. “It doesn’t work on him.”
Bosco takes a momentary break from looking green and miserable to look back and forth between the two magicians in front of him. “And how the hell would you two know that?”
“A guess.” Atlas answered at the same time Merritt responded, “Because we tried to do it one time.”
Bosco rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The plane did another dramatic bounce, the five of them all going out of their seats. At that jump, Bosco moved his hand from June’s, and it instantly went to his side. Atlas could tell he was holding back a groan.
“This is ridiculous. We have to do something.” Atlas said, the worry seeping through his voice.
Merritt spoke next to him. “I gave you all a solution, but none of you wanted to try it.”
June rolled her eyes. “Because it’s not a realistic solution. We’re not knocking out our friend.”
“Then what would you rather-”
Whatever Merritt is about to say is cut off by another jerk downwards. This time, however, Bosco’s green face becomes even more pronounced. His hand goes to his mouth, and he gags, the movement instantly causing his whole face to contort in pain. His hand at his side pushes harder, and he lets out a loud noise of pain.
Charlie grabs his shoulder. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay. You’ve got this.”
The plane is silent besides Charlie’s reassuring whispers and Bosco’s loud breathing. June looks helplessly at Atlas and Merritt.
After a few more seconds of silence, Bosco speaks through closed eyes and gritted teeth. “I really, really don’t want to do that again.” He raises his eyes to meet Atlas’s. “Do it.”
June looks back and forth between Atlas and Bosco. “You can’t be serious.”
Atlas unbuckles his seatbelt. “We don’t really have any other options.”
Charlie sits up. “We could drug him.”
Merritt grimaces. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea considering the amount of drugs he’s on right now.”
June snaps her head at him. “When did he take drugs?”
Merritt rubs the back of his neck. “Like a good three hours ago.”
“Bosco, are you high right now?” Bosco, now with his head between his knees and Charlie rubbing his back, just gives her a thumbs up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“See, he’s high, it won't even hurt,” Atlas suggests.
June wonders how she managed to get on a plane with all of these idiots. “That is so not how that works.”
From his knees, Bosco speaks. “Listen, I don’t care anymore. Someone knock me out. Otherwise, I’m gonna tear my stitches and probably pass out either way.”
Charlie, Merritt, and Atlas all look at him with sympathy. June looks at them, exasperated. “Alright, big men, which one of you is gonna do it?”
“I can.” They all say at the same time.
Bosco raises his head up slowly. “I don’t like how all of you just volunteered.”
Charlie shrugs, “I just figured I would be the most gentle.”
Merritt frowns, “The goal is to knock him out, not lull him to sleep.” At the same time, Atlas says, “Gentleness is not really what we’re going for here.”
Charlie holds his hands up. “Fine! I won’t do it.”
Merritt looks at Atlas. “I would say you do it, but I’m scared you’d go too hard on the kid.”
Bosco and Atlas both frown. “And why do you think that?” Atlas asks.
Merritt shrugs. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed… tension.”
“Yeah, he annoys me sometimes, but I’m not dying to slug him in the face.”
“Thanks.” Bosco deadpans.
“Besides, are we even sure that Atlas can knock someone out? He’s got girly hands.”
“Hey!” Charlie, June, and even Bosco chime in. “Having hands like a girl should not be an insult,” June adds.
“Fine, fine. Look, I came up with the idea, so I’ll give it to Atlas, how ‘bout that?” He looks around at the angry faces staring at him. He sighs. “And I formally apologize.”
The plane continues jerking up and down, and Bosco’s hand goes towards his mouth again. “Just get it over with.”
Atlas, for the first time, frowns. “Should we stand up?”
Bosco furrows his eyebrows from where he’s sitting. “Do we need to?”
Atlas quickly deflects. “No, no, of course not, it's just… It's been a while since I hit anyone.”
Bosco sits up, June and Charlie on both sides of him. “Just do it.” He points to his cheek. “Right here. I don’t want to wake up with a busted jaw.”
Atlas nods and rears back his arm. Bosco and Charlie both close their eyes, Bosco tightening up in anticipation. June still looks exasperated, but she grips Bosco’s shoulder anyway. “Alright,” Atlas says, “... three… two…” Atlas brings his arm forward and swings, hitting Bosco firmly on the jaw. Atlas immediately feels the pain flare up in his hand, but that’s not what has him frowning.
No, what has him frowning is the fact that Bosco is still very much awake. “Seriously?” He yells, bringing his hand up to his face, “that is the hardest you can hit?”
Atlas immediately starts sputtering. “No, it’s not the hardest. Despite popular opinion, I don’t actually want to hurt you.”
Bosco is still gripping his face. “That was kinda the whole point!”
Merritt leans back in his seat. “Alright, my turn.”
“Again,” Bosco says, “I take offense to how willing everyone is to punch me right now.”
“It’s for your benefit, kid. Move over, Danny.” Merritt shifts in his seat, and they all reassume the position. Merritt leans his arm back and swings, similarly to Atlas.
And also like Atlas, the kid is still awake. “Oh, come on!” Bosco yells, now gripping the other side of his face.
Merritt looks down at his hand. “Huh, I guess I liked you more than I thought.”
“While I’m so glad that you all like me, I think I’m going to throw up now.” Charlie quickly hands Bosco a bag, and Bosco’s head goes between his knees. At the first dry heave, Bosco’s hand flies to his side. As soon as he finishes gagging, he groans, sweat beading up on his neck.
New blood blooms on his shirt. “June,” Atlas starts, but she’s already moving. “I see it!” She lifts up his shirt and spots the first stitch already popped, the whole thing moving as Bosco continues to gag, Charlie trying to soothe him as he cries out. If Atlas were twenty years younger, the sight might have caused his gag reflex to act up, but instead, he just feels a burning sympathy.
He steels himself, “Alright, let’s just get ready for when the rest of them pop.” He leans forward and places his forehead next to Bosco’s, his eyes screwed tight and his breathing coming in short gasps. “Just hang in there, okay.”
Bosco lets out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah,” he says through breaths, “at this point I don’t know what hurts worse, the bruises or the stitches.”
Atlas sits up. “There has to be something else we can do.”
June looks around at them helplessly as Bosco gags and this time throws up, everything making it into the bag, but also a cry follows as it tugs more on his wound. June can see the other bruises on his torso, the way they move and morph as he constricts his stomach and decides enough is enough. “Alright.” She says as she sits up.
“Bosco,” she says in her ‘I mean business’ voice, “sit up.”
He slowly obeys her, his face pale and his pupils blown wide. She frowns. “Sorry about this, bubba.”
She moves her arm back and, with one solid hit, completely and totally knocks Bosco out and into Charlie’s waiting arms.
The plane is silent for the first time since this all began, before Merritt lets out a laugh. “Holy shit.”
June shakes out her hand. “I did four years of boxing.” She explains. “Not that any of you sexist pigs actually asked me.”
Merritt whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“I shouldn't have to.” She counters.
Atlas looks over to Charlie, who has Bosco’s head now positioned in his lap. Already his face is, although now spotting three new bruises, starting to relax. His breathing is also starting to return to normal, and Atlas lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
Atlas’s voice is fonder than he knew it was capable of being. “Let’s get him a little more comfortable, yeah?”
He almost expects them to mock him for it, the softness in his voice, but based on how they are looking at Bosco, the way that Charlie is running his hands through his curls, and June is rubbing circles on his leg, he understands now that they probably feel the same way. Even Merritt lets it slide, and instead he just nods and moves to lift up Bosco’s legs and place them across June’s lap, his body spread out across all three seats.
Atlas leans over to check on his stitches and is satisfied to see that it was only the one that popped out. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, and Atlas figures they can wait till they finally land before he does anything about it. For now, he’s content to just let Bosco rest.
The rest of the flight is bumpy, and Atlas is glad Bosco is asleep because even he almost reaches for the throw-up bag at one point. In another half hour, the plane finally lands, and Atlas figures it must be a testament to how tired Bosco is that he doesn’t even wake up then. Bosco is, and Atlas has seen this and confirmed it, the lightest sleeper on the entire planet, so it speaks volumes he remains out even as Merritt, Charlie, and he lift him off the plane and into the car they have waiting for them. It's a large black van, three rows, so June and Charlie sit with Bosco laid out across them in the back while Merritt and Atlas sit in the two middle seats. Atlas gives some sort of glance to Merritt, normally, he loves calling shotgun, but Merritt just kind of shrugs and glances to the back, and Atlas gets it. He wants to be close to them too.
The car ride back is uneventful, and in the end, they all decide that Merritt and Atlas should just stay in the apartment. Plus, not that he’d ever forget it because the kids constantly remind him, but Atlas isn’t young anymore, and the stress of the day and carrying around a full-grown Bosco has made him more exhausted than he’s been in a while.
It’s quiet in the apartment, Charlie and June opting to sleep in Bosco’s bed with him to help him when he wakes up, so Atlas grabs himself one of those stupid sparkling whatever-the-hell they are and collapses onto the couch with a sigh.
Merritt walks in on him then. “Welcome to fatherhood.” He says not at all sarcastically.
Despite himself, Atlas laughs. “If I had known it was going to be this stressful, I would have put them up for adoption.”
Merritt flops down next to him and nudges him. “Don’t lie,” he says, grabbing Atlas’s drink and stealing it from his hands, taking a sip.
Atlas pulls out the second can from beside him. Merritt eyes it, “Where did that come from?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets… and you always steal my drinks.”
“Touche.” Merritt concedes. “Seriously though, you did good today, buddy.”
Atlas side eyes him. “Did I?”
“I mean, sure,” he says, gesturing with his drink, “one of the kids got shot, and then we punched him three times, but for us I would say not a bad day’s work.”
Atlas shakes his head. “We could have done better. I could have done better. Protected him somehow. This shouldn’t have happened.”
Merritt shakes his head. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. You and I both know that kid has a self-sacrifice streak a mile and a half long, and frankly, I’m glad you knocked some sense into him now when he’s gonna fully recover than him lying in a hospital bed.”
“You noticed that particular character trait of his, too?”
Merritt scoffed. “An astronaut on the moon could have seen that that kid was just itching to do something stupid.”
“I just…” Atlas must really be tired to be having this deep of a conversation with Merritt of all people, but it was going to come out no matter what he did now. “I can’t stomach the thought of something happening to him. Of something happening to any of them, or any of you for that matter. I needed him to understand that so he didn’t…”
“Make the same mistakes we made?” Merritt finishes.
Atlas takes a sip of his drink. “Exactly.”
“I know that uh… that Thaddeous dying took its toll on us all… but Jesus,” Merrit paused.
This time, Atlas finished his sentence for him. “Seeing Bosco also get shot in the torso really didn’t help the situation.”
Merritt is quiet for a second before he tilts his head, almost shaking it, and then takes a sip of his drink. “No, it did not.”
“Well,” Atlas sighs, “as you said. He’s gonna be fine. We’re all gonna be fine. I’m going to make sure of it.”
Merritt turns to him, a serious look in his face. “All the planning in the world can’t stop something bad from happening, Danny. Sometimes, shit gets messed up and messed up bad. We can’t always stop it, but we can be sure to try our damn best to prevent it. And when it inevitably goes to shit, then we do what we always do. We improvise, and we stick together.”
Atlas turns to him. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
“It’s about time people start to realize that.”
It’s quiet again, and Atlas is quietly playing with the can in his hand when he speaks. “I know we never really… never really talked about the whole ‘drinking yourself to death in Mexico’ comment, but… I’m sorry that I wasn’t… that nobody checked in-”
“Look, normally I would love nothing more than to accept an apology from the J Daniel Atlas, but in this case… you’re good.”
“I’m good?”
Merritt nods. “You’re good. What I said in that sandbox was true… when you all left, I did really lose my reason for living. But now that I not only have my Horsemen back but also a whole new group of baby Horsemen? Well, that purpose just doubled.”
“Still,” Atlas says, needing to get this in, “if something ever happens. If one day, fifty years from now, we retire or split up again, I just want you to know that I’m not gonna let you go off on your own again.”
Merritt eyes him. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I really don’t think you’ll have to worry about me in fifty years.”
“Please just accept that I’m trying to tell you that I care about you and I’m sorry and you’re not alone no matter what happens.”
Merritt gives him a soft chuckle. “I got it.”
A voice from the doorway causes both of them to turn their heads. “Wow, that was beautiful.” Bosco puts his hands together. “Really, I’m moved.”
Atlas can’t help the grin that comes across his face. “Well, hello there, sleeping beauty.”
Merritt nudges him, “I think ‘beauty’ might be a stretch in this case, Danny.”
Bosco shot him a glare as he sat in the recliner across from him. Neither Atlas nor Merritt missed the careful way he sat down or the slight hiss of pain when he did. “How are you feeling?” Atlas asks, the concern present in his voice.
“Oh, you know,” Bosco begins, “like I was shot, beat up, and then punched in the face three times.”
Merritt’s face lights up in mock recognition, “Really? Cause boy, that sure does sound familiar.”
“Don’t forget the part where June is the one who knocked you out,” Atlas adds.
Bosco clicks his tongue. “Again, with the casual misogyny. June is more capable than any of us in knocking someone out…” he raises an eyebrow and looks at the two of them, “especially when the two of you couldn’t punch hard enough to do it.”
“In my defense,” Merritt adds, “I was just too fond of you to actually want to punch you hard enough to knock you out. If it were a bad guy or… or Danny, for example, then it would have been very easy for me.”
Atlas eyes him, “Likewise.” Then, he turns a serious gaze over at Bosco. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”
All sarcasm drifts from Bosco’s face at Atlas’s tone. “I’m good, yeah. I mean, I probably won’t leave the apartment for a while, but I’ll be okay.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” Atlas sighs.
“Careful,” Bosco warns jokingly, “it almost sounds like you were worried about me.”
Atlas shoots him a look. “Kid, you have no idea. Let’s just avoid any life-threatening situations. Or you know, no one on the team getting shot for a while might be really nice.”
“Hey,” Bosco starts, throwing his hands up, “I was only barely shot.”
Merritt frowns. “In this case, I’m gonna say it counts.”
Bosco laughs lightly. “Well, I am going to go out on record and say that I hope no variation of getting shot ever happens again. That hurt like a bitch. Top ten worst experiences ever.”
“Not top one?” Atlas asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
Bosco thinks for a second. “Top five.”
“What was number one?” Merritt asks.
Bosco’s eyes turn dark. “I’ll save that story for another day. But I will tell you number two occurred when I was wearing an Elmo suit in Times Square.”
Atlas narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you were one of the Teletubbies.”
Bosco brings his hand up to his neck. “That time I was one of the Teletubbies. But the time I was mugged was when I was Elmo.”
Atlas can’t help the laugh. “You were mugged wearing an Elmo costume?”
“Not only was I mugged,” he says, grinning, “but the bastards shivved me while I was wearing an Elmo costume.”
“No way,” Merritt said, sitting up.
“I swear. And it’s okay, you can laugh now. It was horrifying in the moment, but now it’s funny as hell.” At the interested look on their faces, he continues with the story. “Okay, so I was walking home, right…”
-
Things go on, after that, with a surprising level of domesticity that Atlas is not sure he’s used to yet. The three kids keep the apartment, but Atlas and the rest of them all live nearby. It becomes a common meeting spot for them all.
Once Jack and Lula come back from Paris, they get a place nearby as well, and pretty soon, all eight of them live within a five-mile radius of them. Atlas tries to convince them to start renting an actual apartment instead of squatting in the one they have now, but they insist on keeping it. Atlas pulls some strings with the Eye, and about a week after the argument about the apartment, they get a deed in the mail with their names on it. Charlie, June, and Bosco frame it, even though Bosco makes a comment about how ‘it’s not fun anymore’ now that they officially own it. Thankfully, June swatted him in the head so Atlas didn’t have to.
He tells Henley, Jack, and Lula about the heist, about how wrong it all went. After the three of them gave him crap for their (twice failed and eventually successful) “medical” treatment of Bosco, they all seemed to now understand why Atlas was a little more protective of the kids.
After they finished talking and Jack and Lula were called away by Merritt, Henley just grinned at him.
“What?” Atlas asked innocently.
“Nothing…” She smiled and shook her head, “Just… fatherhood looks good on you.”
Atlas shook her off, but deep inside, he knows she’s right. For better or worse, that’s how he sees them.
His… legacy of sorts.
God, the thought itself nearly gives him a gray hair.
But this, this is what he started doing magic for. Yes, for the crowds and the fame and the money and to stick it to the man, but also, for this. For looking around his kitchen and seeing a group of people he genuinely loves, all standing around laughing and showing each other cheesy card tricks. This is why he loves magic. For the community, for the family.
He knows he’s being cheesy, but he can’t really help it. That alone would have made him spiral ten years ago, but now… yeah, he can get used to this.