Chapter Text
Daniel grunts as he hits the pavement.
The Horsemen are on the run. The FBI are on their tails again as they weave through the back alleys of New York.
A smaller show this time, but another work of The Eye. It had gotten a little easier after the reveal of their lair with an open arsenal of the world’s tricks and resources. Daniel spent the first few weeks exploring every inch of the building before they had to split off and rebuild a sort of routine, a new life for themselves after their finale in London.
Daniel would have loved to stay in their headquarters but Dylan urged them to get out of there. Daniel protested at first, arguing that he was not going back to the liminal state they were in for the last year — awaiting for instructions that never came, sneaking off behind the horsemen’s backs to find answers — that was the root of their mess in the first place.
But, Dylan assured him that he wasn’t kicking them out, that they would always be welcomed back there anytime. The Eye had plans for them in the future and Dylan just wanted for them to build something of themselves outside of them.
A couple of months later, the Horsemen are back with a new series of shows and Daniel falls back into it like a fish to water.
Of course, the authorities have not stopped their attempts as well.
A miscalculation of his landing causes Daniel to take a bad fall to the concrete below. He stumbles and tries to catch himself but that scrapes his palms onto the rough pavement instead. He feels the stinging pain immediately but he pays it no mind as Jack is quick to haul him to his feet.
“C’mon, Danny,” Jack mutters in his ear.
Daniel huffs. While it’s true that he’s not the most athletic out of the Horsemen, he likes to think he’s at least faster than Merritt. But with the way Jack drags him along like he weighs nothing, it makes him feel like he should reflect on his lack of physical prowess. Hell, even Merritt goes out to play tennis with Lula.
For stage magicians, they do do a lot of cardio.
Lula is the first to jump through the chute, followed by Merritt.
“Hey, freeze!”
Daniel hears the familiar voice closing in from behind them and he sees Jack throw a quick glance behind at him. Daniel hastens his steps when a bullet whizzes past him and clangs onto the metal beam right beside his head. There’s a ringing in his ear as he curses, “shit!”
Raising his hands, he ducks and manages to slip through the various beams to reach the chute.
“Danny!” He hears Jack hiss before he feels a tug on his hand, fingers pressing onto his stinging cuts and he is being pulled inside the chute.
A hasty tumble through the wide channel and the adrenaline from being shot at disorientates him as Daniel slides haphazardly through the chute and gets deposited onto the moving truck. He groans softly when he topples right into a solid body — Jack.
“Atlas! You okay?” Merritt bellows, crouching towards him.
The truck jostles them but Merritt steadies him with a hand on his arm. He feels terrible when he instinctively flinches at the touch and he looks up to catch the split second of clear distraught in Merritt’s eyes at the reaction. The older is quick to school his expression to its usual cheeky neutrality but Danny doesn’t miss the way he hesitantly lifts his hand off his arm.
“I’m— I’m fine, Merritt,” he says as he smoothes his hands across his arms in a seemingly self-soothing gesture. The streaks of red do not show on the sleeves of his black blazer.
Daniel winces when the adrenaline slowly leaves his body and he can finally register the agonizing state of his hands.
“Fuck,” he swears when he inspects his bloody palms, red raw and stinging.
It is worse than he thought. He can’t help the tremor in his hands as he tries to wipe the blood away but it just keeps dripping and smearing, turning his fingers a dark red.
“Shit, man. What happened?” Merritt intones, low. Daniel registers Lula’s shocked gasp to his right but he’s too concerned with the unending blood flow to even look at any of them.
Static buzzes through his ears as the sight of his own blood stuns him silent. It isn’t the first time he has bled, but this — this is a lot.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there in horror, eyes wide at his injured hands before a dark blue tie is slung over his right palm. Daniel abruptly lifts his head to watch Jack wrap his tie around his wounds, deft fingers working quickly to create a makeshift tourniquet. He has a deep-set look in his eyes that Danny rarely sees in the younger man as he expertly loops the tie around Danny’s hand.
Daniel has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning out as Jack secures the tie, tightening it with a pull. With a tug, a whimper gets stuck in Daniel’s throat but it slips out of his lips as a hiss.
“Give me your tie,” Jack commands as he ties off the knot around Daniel’s right hand.
Daniel gives him a pointed look which means to convey “as if I could right now”, and he would have looked more affronted if there isn’t a thin sheen over his forehead and laboured breaths aren’t coming out his lips.
Jack just purses his lips and Daniel could see his restraint in rolling his eyes before he sees him reach forward to tug at Daniel’s tie, a firm press of fingers undoing the knot around Daniel’s neck.
Danny stares him down but Jack resolutely doesn’t fall for Daniel’s attempts in catching his eye. He also does not lose the furrow in his brows and hard look in his gaze as he tends to Daniel’s hands.
In no time, Daniel’s black tie is secured around his left hand similar to Jack’s deep blue one wrapped around his right.
“Thanks,” he grits out. Daniel Atlas doesn’t do shame well. There is a heat underneath his skin, uncomfortably warm and disconcerting. But, he can at least swallow it down and thank his friend and current roommate for taking care of him.
As soon as Jack lifts his head and finally meets his gaze with a cock of his eyebrow, Danny stills before tearing his eyes away. He drops his gaze to Jack’s hands instead. They are red with brownish splotches where Daniel’s blood has been drying. They are stained — with his blood.
“Good to know we have a first aid trained magician in our midst,” Merritt finally speaks. “Well, good for ol’ Danny boy anyways.”
“You may need stitches for those, man,” Jack says in a clipped tone. “You need a doctor. My first aid training only goes so far.”
“We gotta get him to The Eye,” Lula asserts.
Daniel agrees with her there.
As their truck weaves through the empty New York streets, Danny releases a shaky breath, ignoring the burning sensation in his hands. The four Horsemen grow silent as the whip of the late night winds blare on.
None of them have ever gotten injured during their shows. It unnerves Daniel a bit (tremendously) that his may be the first.
No, this doesn’t count.
He darts his eyes over to each of the Horsemen. Lula has slung her arms over the side of the truck, eyes fluttering as the wind tosses her hair wildly about. Merritt gives him a knowing half-smirk when Daniel’s eyes reach him, and Danny bites back a scowl at the gesture.
Jack has his back leaned on one side, arms lazily over his knees. His head is slumped back, eyes closed, as he flexes his hands sporadically. He still hasn’t wiped Daniel’s blood off.
He shifts his head towards Danny and when they lock eyes, Danny can feel the fatigue in his bones.