"We've come too far to stop now."

"This is bigger than all of us."

"Remember the name Jack Wilder tonight when we perform at 5 Pointz in Queens tonight at 7."

"Thank you all for supporting Jack when he was with us.

""The Four Horseman will ride on." Henley shuts off the camera, trying to ignore the impressed smirk that Danny is shooting her way. She's never been one to fish for compliments, and she doesn't need that arrogant jerk's approval. Especially now.

"Nice ending there, Reeves. Clever wordplay—I like it," Merritt drawls, grinning in the most irritating way that only he can manage. Between the magician and the mentalist, Henley isn't sure how she is able to keep her head straight right now. That's why she needs Jack, to keep her sane. The boy is cute, in an odd sort of way.

He isn't nearly as intolerable as Danny and Merritt. He's sweet when he wants to be, the youngest one of them, despite how much he insists on being treated like an adult and the fact that he's been a repeat pickpocket. Henley was somewhat hesitant about leaving him to burn the evidence before the FBI showed up, but Jack was confident that he could handle it, and the others didn't seem to care about him like Henley did. Besides, it was Danny's plan, and heaven forbid anyone dare challenge a plan formulated by the great and powerful J. Daniel Atlas.

"Yeah, well, it's not like either of you had any showmanship to add," Henley retorts, tucking the small camera away inside a waterproof case, a surreal feeling washing over her. They have just filmed a faux memorial tribute to Jack, whom the rest of the world believes to have died as a result of a cinematic car chase with the FBI. Of course, the Horsemen know better.

They carried out the entire ruse themselves, right down to the truck and fake getaway cars. Henley herself had even laughed out loud at the stupidity of the agents, who thought they had witnessed the death of one fourth of the seemingly criminal magicians they had been chasing for the last few days. Jack is not dead, he is far from it, and Henley knows she should take comfort in this. But somehow…she can't.

Because now, as she stares out the window of the room where the Horsemen have taken refuge before their last act, it feels so real. It hadn't at the time, of course, because at least then she could still see Jack. She knew for a fact that he was fine. But they haven't seen him for a few hours, and it is all too easy for Henley's mind to convince her that the kid really did go out in flames.

"Excuse me! I'll have you know that my showmanship trumps all of you guys combined," Danny concietedly defends himself, the smirk still plastered on his face. "Might I remind you who starts the show each night? Who consistently sawed you in half then put you back together every show for about a year?" He directs his last comment at Henley, raising a knowing eyebrow, and she merely scowls in reply.

"Please, Atlas. Try convincing an entire university class that they're all aboard the Millennium Falcon as Chewbacca to impress some huge Star Wars nerd. No really, try it sometime. Then come and talk to me about showmanship." Merritt, of course, adds his own two cents. Never can the man let an opportunity pass him by to brag. Henley supposes that's one thing he and Danny have in common, and which most likely contributes to the reason the two haven't killed each other yet. That and the fact that they need each other, if they want to make joining the Eye a reality. But they also need Jack.

"How can you two be so calm right now?" Henley blurts out, not completely knowing what compels her to do so. Is it pre-show nerves? No, she has outgrown those a long time ago. So then what is it? Worry? Yes, she supposes that it is. She is genuinely concerned for Jack Wilder.

It is a relatively new feeling for Henley, as she has never really needed to worry about anyone beyond herself. Everyone else she knows are perfectly capable own their own, Jack included. But still, he is young, there is a lot he doesn't know…

She knows it was the plan and she knows Danny would kill her if she even suggests they stray from it, but she has a sudden desire to go look for the boy. He's undoubtedly keeping way below the radar right now, but Henley still wants to find him, if only just to assure herself that he's alright, to get her mind to stop playing games with her as Merritt did to his victims.

"Is Miss-Made-Of-Steel-Reeves nervous before our big finale tonight?" the mentalist sneers with a toothy, unrelenting grin.

"Very funny, McKinney," Henley merely sighs in response. Normally, she would retort with some sort of harsh comeback, but she honestly does not feel the need to start a petty argument with Merritt at the moment. And Danny—dang him—of course notices this. He's known her for a long time, seen her at her best and at her worst, and the look on his face tells her that he knows something's up with her.

"Then what is it, sweetheart?" Merritt pushes further, twirling his ever-present fedora around his finger and feigning a look of concern. Henley simply ignores him this time, turning on her heel to look out the window again. The streets of New York teem with life below her: cars and taxis and thousands of people—and Jack somewhere among them.

"Do you think something happened to him?" she whispers, and Daniel, being the only one close enough to hear or care, takes a place beside her at the window, following her line of sight.

"I doubt it, Henley," he tries to reassure her, and Henley almost laughs at this terrible initial attempt at consolation. "Jack may be young, but the kid is good. You've seen him with cards—how he slices pencils in half, and how he can pick any lock known to man. He'll be fine. Trust me." He smiles at her, a real smile this time. "And besides, he's learned from the best. Maybe that idolism of me he used to have paid off for something. Now he knows the first rule of magic. Always be—"

"The smartest guy in the room. Yes, of course," Henley allows herself to laugh at this, because Danny has said it so many times it's practically implanted in their brains. Soon, though, the moment is lost, and her mood is somber once again. "What if he gets caught, Danny?"

"Well then we're all going down," Merritt suddenly decides to contribute to the conversation, being a ray of sunshine as always. "If that kid's caught, we're done for. He'll break under pressure, I can guarantee you that. He didn't even want to stay behind in the first place. How do you know he doesn't have some secret grudge against us for leaving him, huh? Maybe he'll give us up for his own personal gain. Never know, do ya?" The mentalist laughs at the possibility of discovery, and Henley resists a very tempting urge to slap him across the face.

"Knock it off, Merritt. Jack wouldn't do that," she says instead, the words unsatisfying at the moment.

"He slept during the FBI interrogation, remember? Completely at ease. So what makes you think he'd crack if he got busted now?" Danny quickly argues, crossing his arms and looking expectantly at Merritt, who merely looks somewhat intrigued by the whole situation.

"They had nothing to prove during the interrogation, at least not without admitting to a belief in magic. You know that, Daniel, you pointed that out yourself. This time is different, my dears. Those agents behind him saw him steal that car, and I'm sure Jack didn't get out of the apartment without a fight. They've got real evidence against him this time, and they can use it if he does get caught," Merritt reasons in such a casual tone that Henley can't even look at him as he speaks. "However, I will admit that Jack does have the advantage here. The world out there all thinks he's dead, so the attention is turned away from him and back on us. We're who they're focused on now, not him. So if the kid does get caught, it'll because of his own dang stupidity."

It was almost enough to kill her, but Henley realizes that the mentalist did have a valid point. Jack isn't stupid, he wouldn't do anything to call attention to himself when he had presumably died a few hours ago. And as much as Henley hates to admit it, this does set her a bit more at ease. Why does it take Merritt McKinney, of all the people on Earth, to reassure her that Jack would be fine?

Needing some sort of movement to clear her head, Henley saunters across the room to her bag, searching it's contents for a fresh pair of her signature gloves. She hates feeling so vulnerable, letting an actual naked emotion show through a crack in the confident, indestructible facade she wore wherever she went that was so vital to her success as an escape artist. Emotions are weakness in the dog-eat-dog world of magic, Danny had taught her that long ago. Danny...

She had thought he was the only one who could see past the mask, the only one who she loved enough to worry for. Does she love Jack? Henley supposes she does, but not in the same way that she has accepted that she loves Danny. She loves Jack in a sisterly way, although she can't recall a time that she has ever really acted in a way that would let him see that, aside from just before they left him behind.