Chapter Text
Daniel was a loner by nature, only seeking to impress and draw attention when performing. When he wasn’t performing, he enjoyed the quiet, and the women and occasional men his performances resulted in. Becoming infamous as a magician was one thing, becoming infamous as a magician committing crimes by law, but justice by the public eye, was another entirely. It meant he was forced to stick close to the rest of the team. He had to give up peace and quiet for the constant hubbub of living with two other men, and a woman who had grown increasingly fed up with waiting.
When Henley left, it was with quiet goodbyes and an uncertainty of whether they would ever meet again. No one cried, but if Jack’s eyes were moist and Merritt’s smile was straining around the edges, nobody mentioned anything. Daniel’s goodbye had been brief. He’d wished her good luck and turned around grimly. No one saw the storm brewing in his eyes, the questions bubbling behind blue, wondering if this was really worth it anymore. Who was leaving, next?
Merritt and Jack, as it turned out, made a great team on their own. It started with Merritt attempting to throw a card and only managing to make it flutter down far from its target. The target, none other than Daniel himself, had been less than impressed. Jack had made a deal with Merritt. He would teach him how to throw cards, and in return, Merritt would teach him his craft. Hypnotism.
“That stuff only works if you let it.” Daniel had said, not knowing those words had sparked a challenge amongst the other two. It hadn’t been a conscious decision that would lead to them attempting to practise on him, he was just the only person around.
“Listen, hear the tick tock, tick tock, of the clock, listen as it fades-“
“I wish your voice would fade.” Daniel interrupted Jack. Daniel was reading on the couch, completely engrossed in his book when Jack had deemed it the perfect opportunity to strike. The passage of time and the sound it manifested in as the hands moved, slow, determined, and relentless, was mere background noise he’d been filtering out.
“The clock?” Merritt asked from his position at the table. He was observing them. Almost like he’d planted himself there as a way to merge with the rest of the room. Like he didn’t want to distract Jack.
“What’s wrong with the clock? I’ve seen you hypnotise people with a watch.” Jack countered.
“Please don’t practise on me.” Daniel muttered, reading and rereading the same line as a result from having his concentration broken.
“Yes, but he was reading, he probably couldn’t even hear it. You have to draw his attention to the object before you use it.” Merritt explained, “Call it foreplay.” he said with a shrug and an easy smile. No longer able to focus, Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That sounds like something you should have told me from the start.” Jack huffed, relaxing into the cushions where a little digging followed the discovery of their missing TV remote.
“I thought it was common sense.” Merritt drawled.
Jack was absently playing with the remote and Daniel’s concentration was as good as shot, torn between snapping and letting this play out so he could get back to reading. Merritt continued,
“Focus on the clock, listen to it, listen as time passes and you slow down, let go, just listen. To the clock. To my voice,” Merritt snapped his fingers, not in an attempt to actually hypnotise anyone, but as a “Ha! That’s how it’s done” sort of way. Daniel blinked, a little dazed,
“Guys-“ He decided interfering would be in his best interest.
“Anyone wanna watch a movie?” Jack asked, holding up the remote with a smile.
Daniel didn’t remember when he’d stopped reading, only that his book was face-down on the coffee table and the credits were rolling.
“Right.” Merritt got up from where he’d sat down on the couch with them. “I’m off to bed. You kids behave, alright?” He left them, yawning loudly. That evening, everyone went to bed early and books remained unread.
The card throwing resumed the following day.
Jack had cleared space against the far wall, a playing card pinned crookedly into the corkboard to serve as a target. Merritt stood a few feet back, deck in hand, expression caught somewhere between determination and mild offense.
“Grip’s wrong.” Jack said, for what had to be the fifth time. “You’re holding it like it owes you money.”
“I respect my cards.” Merritt shot back, adjusting his fingers anyway.
Daniel leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching without comment. The first card fluttered uselessly to the floor. The second clipped the edge of the board and spun away. Merritt exhaled sharply, reset his grip, and threw again. Jack talked him through it, steady and patient in a way Daniel hadn’t expected.
“Wrist, not arm. You’re muscling it. Let it go.” Jack reminded.
Merritt tried again. Another miss. He blew out a breath, shoulders rising and falling as he lined up his next throw. At some point, Daniel couldn’t have said when, he realised he was breathing in time with Merritt’s attempts. In, out. Snap the card, watch it flutter down. He shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms, the observation sliding out of focus as quickly as it had arrived.
“This is ridiculous.” Merritt muttered. “You make it look easy.” He accused.
“That’s because it is.” Daniel said, pushing off the counter. He reached for the deck without asking, thumbed a single card free, and flicked it towards the board. It struck dead centre with a neat, satisfying thud. Jack grinned and scoffed,
“Show off.”
Daniel barely spared him a glance. He handed the deck back to Merritt.
“You’re thinking too hard.” He said, “Just slow down.”
Merritt rolled his shoulders and tried again. The card flew straighter this time, but it still went down like it contained lead.
“That’s still progress.” Jack let him have this.
“Huh.” Merritt nodded, agreeing with a confidence he’d been slowly losing.
Daniel stepped back, letting them have the space. The rhythm picked up again and he found his attention drifting, the sound of cards striking cork settling into the background like white noise.
By the time he left the room, Merritt was laughing, Jack was already planning the next lesson, and Daniel couldn’t quite remember when the tension had eased from between his shoulders. It only occurred to him later that he’d never finished his book.
Daniel was in his element two nights later, standing under bad lighting and worse expectations.
The venue was small, a bar that smelled like old beer and ambition, the kind of place where people watched more out of boredom than relief. Daniel liked it that way. Low stakes. No spectacle. Just hands, timing and a crowd close enough to feel clever when he fooled them.
And fool them, he did.
Coins vanished. Cards multiplied. A woman gasped when her ring reappeared inside a sealed bottle. Daniel fed off it easily, the familiar hum settling under his skin as applause followed him like a ride.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Jack watching intently, no longer wide-eyed. He was attentive, cataloguing. Merritt lounged at the bar, drink untouched, smiling at the crowd like he’d orchestrated the whole thing.
Daniel finished strong and stepped back, pulse steady, confidence intact.
“Still got it,” Merritt said when he joined him, clapping him on the shoulder. Daniel smirked,
“Please. Like I’d lose it.” he said. Jack handed him a napkin with a number scribbled across it.
“You’re gonna need a bigger phone.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Daniel pocketed it anyway.
They lingered longer than planned, basking in the easy camaraderie that had been harder to find lately. Daniel let it happen, ignoring the distant alarms in his head, telling him they’d been stupid. They could have been caught. They still could get caught, seeing as they hadn’t left the building yet. He easily snuffed out the worry before it began to fester and take shape into something more insistent.
When they finally headed out, Daniel walked a few steps ahead, keys already in hand. He didn’t notice when Merritt fell into step beside him, matching pace without trying.
“You good?” Merritt asked casually. Daniel didn’t slow down, nodding,
“Always.” And he was. He slept that night without dreams, woke without a headache, ran through his morning routine on autopilot. His hands were steady. His timing flawless. Whatever tension had been coiled tight between his shoulders earlier in the week had eased into something manageable, familiar.
If anything, Daniel felt calmer than usual. He decided he liked it that way.
They didn’t talk much on the way back.
Jack peeled off first, yawning and already half-asleep on his feet. Merritt lingered in the kitchen, rummaging for something to drink, the quiet settling in around them like a held breath.
Daniel leaned against the counter, arms folded, letting the post-show adrenaline ebb. The edges of the room felt softer than usual, the hum in his veins fading without resistance.
“Good crowd,” Merritt said eventually. Not looking at him.
Daniel shrugged. “I’ve had better.”
“Still,” Merritt continued, pouring himself a glass of water, “you didn’t let it get to you.” Daniel glanced over, brow furrowed.
“Get to me?” He repeated. Merritt waved a hand vaguely,
“You know. The noise. The risk. All that crap you carry around.” He took a sip, then added lightly, “You’re good at switching it off.” Daniel considered that. He hadn’t thought of it as a skill. It had just happened.
“I guess.” He said.
Merritt smiled, easy and approving. “Best thing you can do sometimes is just step back. Let it blur. World keeps spinning whether you’re wound tight or not.” He snapped his fingers, a habit learned from years of mentalism, but right now, it meant the end of a conversation. Like an audible period behind a long sentence. Daniel shook his head, feeling exhaustion catch up after an evening of entertaining a crowd.
“Good night, Danny.” Merritt called over his shoulder, already heading towards his room. Daniel stood there for a moment. Staring at the empty doorway. The hum faded the rest of the way out, leaving behind a pleasant, hollow quiet.
When he finally went to bed, sleep took him easily.
Dylan’s dismissive texts and calls, telling them to wait, The Eye has a plan, resulted in a tension. It mostly existed between the Horsemen and Dylan himself. Daniel had been well on his way to snap at his teammates, but something had changed. No one had noticed yet, not even Daniel. He’d become more relaxed, slept better and actually joined dinners. He didn’t rush to finish as if the mere act of sitting down would lead to a missed call or subtle cue from The Eye.
That didn’t mean they stopped practising. They’d set up in the living room, cards spread across the table, coins stacked, the mundane work that made the spectacular look effortless. Daniel took point as usual, running them through timings, corrections, small adjustments that mattered more than flair.
“Again.” he said, already moving on to the next step. Jack obliged, hands flying, a little sloppy but improving. Merritt followed with commentary that was more distracting than helpful, but Daniel let it slide.
Halfway through the sequence, Daniel stopped talking. He didn’t trail off exactly, it was more of a sudden stop. He didn’t know when he stopped speaking, but Jack kept his movements steady. The world tilted, not in a dizzying sort of way. It felt like he’d stepped just slightly to the left of his body. The room didn’t go quiet so much as it softened, edges blurring the way they did when he let himself breathe out after a show. The sound of cards sliding against one another faded into something distant, indistinct. Daniel’s gaze drifted past Jack’s hands, unfocused, his weight settling back on his heels.
Jack completed the move, hesitating briefly, then he looked up.
“Was that-“ He trailed off and Daniel blinked. The room snapped back into place, sharp and immediate. He frowned, glancing between them.
“What?” he asked. Merritt lifted a brow,
“You checked out there, kid.” Merritt’s smile, always smug on the surface, was steadily widening. Like he saw something that was amusing him the longer he looked at it. Daniel scoffed, already shaking his head.
“I was watching.” He countered, motioning towards Jack.
“You didn’t say anything.” Merritt said.
“So? He did fine. What, do you want me to pick apart his every move? Make up things he didn’t even do wrong?” Daniel felt an old anger rising, it was right there, right within reach, but he drew back before he could reach out to it and pull it in, “Whatever.” He diffused quickly, allowing the building tension to dissipate. Under different circumstances, he would meet their gaze head on, challenging them to argue back. Instead, he reached for the deck of cards he’d stuffed into his pockets at some point.
He demonstrated the next motion without missing a beat, his hands steady and focus razor sharp. The moment passed, absorbed into the rhythm of practise as easily as it had appeared.
Merritt watched him for a while, observing Daniel’s face rather than his cardistry.
He, too, let the moment pass. Daniel seemed fine enough, like he’d found the right distance from things at last. Everyone got lost in thought every once in a while.
Practise wrapped soon after. Jack left grinning, talking about card throwing techniques. Merritt looked like he was making mental notes, vaguely changing his hand and fingers in different positions, as if he was testing Jack’s explanations without cards.
Daniel stayed behind, gathering the cards, unaware that there were four more on the floor than he remembered throwing.