A/N Posting a new chapter slightly earlier than usual because I go on holiday tomorrow and won't be updating for a while.
WITH THE LIGHTS OUT
CHAPTER 11
Rick
In his new bedroom in Midtown, Charlotte, Rick Flag stares up at the ceiling and tries to regain his bearings. Sunlight streams in at an unfamiliar angle. He's lying in a bed with funchy pillows and a grey bedspread. Around him, the walls are a light cream to offset the dark cherrywood furniture. Through the white, thin curtains Rick can glimpse a front yard he briefly does not recognise – a woman jogs past the house pushing a buggy. Somehow, he's been transported from his quarters on a Florida army base to all-American suburbia in North Carolina.
He rubs a hand across his forehead - trying to push away the sleep - only to feel a stabbing pain come from the inside of his forearm. Memories fall into place with a click. He tilts his head and sees the slightly melted ice pack and glass of water on his bedside table. Through the paper-thin walls he can hear the shower running: June. Rick returns his gaze back up to the ceiling.
He has no idea what he is supposed to do, here. Waller only gave him the vaguest of instructions. He debates phoning her for some clarification, but only barely: he knows what the reply will be if she answers. Use his initiative. Stop acting like a three-year-old girl. The more likely case is that she's preparing for her morning meetings and won't have time for him. There's some legal issues with the state police who haven't been able to build up a prosecutable case against the meta-criminals they are currently rounding up. They don't understand that the possession of a criminal history is enough for A.R.G.U.S. to bring these guys in – arrest based on the potential to do harm. A criminal with enhanced abilities is too dangerous to have on the streets.
Rick flexes his hand again and grimaces at the shooting pain up his arm.
When he finally manages to make himself roll out of bed and move into the kitchen, June is already there. She's rushing round frantically; a small mountain of bags and papers piled up on the table. He notices that she's dressed too casually for someone who works in academia: jeans and a hoody, her messy hair pulled back in an even messier ponytail.
"I'm so late," she throws over her shoulder, distractedly, as she dumps a half-finished mug of coffee into the sink. "…overslept and missed my alarm. I swear if I mess up one more time, Rob's going to fire me."
Rick watches her rush about – once again realising how young she is. The stress and pressures of youth. She doesn't realise that her boss would never fire her: she's too intelligent, too smart – and, besides, she's got a key piece in the mystery they're studying living inside of her. June's disaster has probably given her entire team one-way tickets to fame and a book deal. Rick finds it ironic that having a two-thousand year old dead witch inside her somehow hasn't given June any more perspective on the minor details of life.
She turns round, now attempting to locate her phone. Rick easily spots it lying on the side and hands it to her. "Thanks," she huffs out a breath. "I'll – um – phone you if something comes up?"
There's a question hanging at the end of her sentence, and Rick is relieved to hear that she is as unsure as he is about what it is they are doing here. What, exactly, qualified as 'keeping an eye' on her? Is he some kind of glorified bodyguard? A rapid response service?
Rick hesitates before replying. "Maybe I should come to work with you."
"Are you kidding? You have your own job. I told you – if something…happens…you'll be the first to know – you and A.R.G.U.S," she amends, remembering Waller's threat.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking at her. She doesn't realise how vulnerable she is. "I don't want to do this half-assed, June," he admits, eventually.
"And I don't want to live my life waiting for the next disaster," she shoots back flippantly, now slinging her bag over her shoulder. She barely glances at him, now striding into the hallway. "My Dad always taught me to live life on my own terms: not anyone elses."
He raises his eyebrows, refraining from pointing out that she never exactly has a choice in when and where the Enchantress decides to haunt her. "It's good advice. In theory."
"And in practice?"
He shrugs. "There are the little guys who work for the big guys."
To his surprise, June actually grins at him as she pulls open the front door. "You're not exactly a little guy, Rick," she reminds him, intuitively guessing where he places himself on that pecking order.
The door slams shut behind her, and the house is suddenly empty and quiet.
Rick returns to his room and retrieves from one of his draws June's file. It's been put together by Waller's people and is predictably detailed and intrusive. From this file, he knows everything about June's life – as well as all her research and papers. He's tried to read a little of it, but he's a pretty slow reader and most of it goes over his head. He pauses at the page that covers June's – or the Enchantress's - abilities. The power cut. The fact that she managed to send a table through the wall. Nothing apparently had shown up when they had taken June's vitals and for once in their lives A.R.G.U.S. has been forced to draw a blank.
We must conclude that we still do not know the true extent of Dzmor's abilities.
THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL.
Rick shuts the file. 'Critical' was the highest warning level - if June had been anyone else they would have locked her up long ago. He is ridiculously relieved that Waller has chosen to do it this way, instead.
An hour later, he drives to A.R.G.U.S's new military outpost, about an hour out from Charlotte. It's frustrating living so far away from work after years of living on-site with his men; instantly available whenever needed. The military life runs in his blood, and it's still kind of hard to shake the routine of it all.
After clearing the first checkpoint and asking for directions round the flashier, more modern barracks, Rick locates Grant at the gym. The younger man always spends an hour and a half every day working out – Rick had never known him take a day off.
"Hey man, what's up?" Grant pants, not stopping as his feet continue to pound away at the treadmill – at a speed close to a dead sprint. Rick moves to lean against the front of the machine.
"Just comin' to check in. Everyone alright after last night?"
"Yeah, they're solid. Thought the whole thing went pretty smooth, s'far as our job goes."
Rick nods and Grant punches the stop button on the treadmill abruptly, coming to a halt. He rubs the sweat off of his face with a towel.
"It's weird not havin' you round, man," Grant comments, breathing harshly.
"Well, I'm here now."
"Yeah, but…you know what I mean. Does she really expect you to divide your time between the Doc and us?" Grant asks, still breathing heavily. "How's that even gonna work?"
Rick rubs at the scruff of hair on his upper lip. Much like Waller, he hates inefficiency and not being able to give a job his all. The moment he'd been asked to watch June, he knew it would compromise his ability to work op's, simply because he wouldn't be there to train and coach his men 24/7. How was he supposed to run through drills with them or sit through debriefings when he lived over an hour away?
He hated the situation intensely, but he didn't regret his decision to help her.
"It's not going to," Rick replies, eventually. "I came down here to see you. I want to promote you to acting commander."
Grant actually laughs. "You're, uh, you're kidding right?"
"No. I'm not goin' to be around much and because of that, I'm not gonna be giving 100%," he says, forcing out each word like they've been chewed up and spat out. "It wouldn't be fair on you guys for me to have all the responsibilities I do. Someone could end up gettin' hurt and…and I don't want that. So I'm making you acting commander –" Grant looks as if he's about to interrupt, his expression having turned from incredulous to dubious, and Rick ploughs on. "- you'll train the guys. You know the skills they need now. I'll come in when I can for drills, and I'll be there for all debriefings before a mission. It's for the best."
"Waller know about this?"
He bristles. "This here is my team," he grinds out – but it sounds petulant – almost child-like, "and I decide what's best for it. So are you gonna to step up or what?"
"Okay – okay –" Grant holds up his hands as a sign of peace and then rubs at the back of his neck, clearly thinking. He and Rick both know that Grant is perfectly capable of doing this. He runs drills with Rick anyway and he's seen Rick work up close and personal for about seven years as his second-in-command. But it's not his own capabilities that is causing doubt.
"I don't know Rick…this is your job."
He nods, accepting that. But he's doing the necessary thing. "Life ain't perfect."
"Jesus." Grant mutters. The sweat on his face has cooled, sticking his brown hair to his forehead, and he places his hands on his hips, still looking at Rick as if he expects the older man to retract his offer at any second. "Well, I can do it. You know that. If it's what you want."
"…yeah."
Grant nods slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Okay then." He steps off the running machine and he and Rick sit on a bench running the length of the room. Grant twists the lid on his water bottle and takes several huge gulps. "How long for? I mean, how long does Waller expect you to watch this chick?"
Rick merely shrugs by way of response.
They sit quietly for a minute or so. When Grant starts up again, it's to change the subject. He's toying with the lid of his water bottle in a preoccupied manner, a slight frown on his face. "Listen, I've been meaning to ask you….all these meta's we're catching….where do they go? Where is she sending them? Because I was talkin' to her – Waller – and I asked her. You know what she told me?...she said that it was classified. Said that all I needed to know was that it was a hole that they weren't goin' to crawl back out of." He looks at Rick, who is simply staring straight ahead. "Now, I don' really give a shit about those people. They can rot for all I care. But I don't trust her, and I don't trust that when all this is over and the dust settles, we ain't goin' to be done for misconduct or some shit."
"Stucky told me when all this started that it was legit."
"Stucky talked out of his ass, Rick. He said what he had to say to get you on board."
Rick turns and looks at Grant, knowing that the younger man is right. After they caught the meta's, they handed them over to A.R.G.U.S for interrogation and never saw them again. He knows that Amanda Waller would not be beyond throwing his men under the proverbial bus to cover her own ass if the government suddenly decided they didn't like what she was doing. He's been telling himself that everything is fine for too long. "I'll ask her," he promises. "Find out."
Every muscle in Grant's body seems to relax and he reaches out and grabs Rick by the shoulder. "You're a good man, Rick."
He smirks slightly at that, looking down at his hands. "Nah…I'm not."
Grant shrugs. "I just hope this girl appreciates what you're giving up."
He doesn't reply to that – because he has no intention of telling June that he has stepped back from his duties with his task force. It would give away too much…imply that he has more feelings invested in her than he should.
When he goes to find Waller she's still in meetings and he's informed that he won't be able to see her until the end of the day. Rick hovers, standing in a building in an unfamiliar base. Suits rush past him, looking busy and important; out the window, he can make out soldiers doing push ups in the yard. For a minute, he feels completely directionless and useless and the feeling is more unsettling than he'd like to admit – a large black hole in the center of his chest. He stands outside and smokes for a little while, just watching it all, and then gets into his car and drives back to Charlotte.
He's never stepped foot in the Archaeological Institute before. It's a maze of narrow, cramped corridors and he immediately feels claustrophobic stepping inside the building. It's disarmingly easy to get to June's office. There's no security and no passcodes to get through – though her colleagues clearly identify him as an outsider and watch him curiously as he passes. He stands out, though he's wearing civilian clothing; a black polo t shirt and dark jeans. He takes his sunglasses off to look less suspicious.
June doesn't notice him at first when he stands in her doorway. She's bent over her desk, a pen tucked into her ponytail, looking through a series of images printed out on paper and occasionally scribbling notations next to certain pictures. Her office is larger and airier than he would have expected, but is so obviously June's in a way he can't quite describe.
After several seconds she jumps, finally noticing him. "What are you doing here?" she asks, quickly, a now all-too-familiar blush rising in her face when she sees him. She straightens her glasses with a jerk that could be a nervous tick.
Her discomposure somehow puts him more at ease. He smirks, sauntering further into the room and sitting himself down opposite her in a free chair. "Doin' my job."
She wrinkles her nose at that. He realises that she has a cute nose – kind of turned up at the end. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to come to work with me? People'll…you know…start asking questions if you're around. And it's embarrassing enough A.R.G.U.S decided I needed a bodyguard."
"For Amanda Waller, your research is more important than catching meta-humans. You have priority."
"So you're here to spy on me," she surmises, looking less-than radiant with joy.
"You don't have to phrase it that way."
June ducks her head and returns to looking at the pictures in front of her, which he now realises are photographs of different artefacts – vases, pillars, tombs; she grumbles something under her breath which he can't quite catch.
He sits quietly for an hour, letting her work. It's boring, sure, but it's apparently easier for him than it is for June.
He notices with amusement that she can't concentrate. Within a minute she's fidgeting in her seat, heaving pointed sighs and occasionally shooting him a glare. To begin with, he thinks she's irritated because he's distracting her, but he should have known her better than that.
She breaks after an hour, finally throwing her pen down with exasperation and straightening her glasses again. "You're bored," she states, looking aggravated by the simple statement of fact.
"I am bored," he agrees, settling more comfortably in his seat.
"So go for a walk."
"That kind of defeats the purpose of why I'm here."
He watches her frustration mount with amusement, though he's good at keeping his expression impassive. Her blue eyes dart around the room restlessly. "Can't you read a book or something?"
"I'm not much of a reader -"
She clenches her jaw, bright spots appearing on her cheeks again. He realises abruptly that it's not that she doesn't want him there, it's that she simply doesn't like feeling like a burden to him. She wants him to be happy. The small distinction is ridiculously touching, despite her irritation and the way she's expressing the sentiment.
He mentally rolls his eyes and offers: "- but I guess I need to look up some files for work."
The moment he logs onto her computer and busies himself with going through information on A.R.G.U.S's network, June tangibly relaxes. He can feel her eyes on his face longer than necessary – out of his periphery he can see a soft, satisfied smile on her lips.
After a while, a woman Rick recognises from the day before stalks into the room without knocking. She's stunning, with curves in all the right places and long, black hair. He judges that she's either in her late thirties or early forties, and the contrast between her tight pencil skirt and pristine white lab coat and June's baggy hoodie is almost comedic.
She begins talking rapidly the moment she enters the room, crossing her arms and completely ignoring him.
"So we've finished dating every single thing we bought back with us from that temple, June, and the oldest thing we could get our hands on was 11 A.D. I think we've got a problem. -" To his surprise, June scrambles quickly to her feet and stands in front of him, blocking the other woman's view of him, as if she didn't already know he was in the room. He frowns to himself. Was June ashamed of him? Embarrassed?...jealous? "- a lot of the iconography and samples indicate that 11 A.D. was a pretty good year for them in terms of farming, so unless someone dropped a mega-ton nuc on them –"
"Yeah, Melissa. Why – um – why don't you show me downstairs?" June cuts in, too abruptly, and Rick realises that she's not trying to hide him from her colleague, he's trying to hide Melissa. His eyes narrow and he tries to look around June but she steps in front of his line of sight smoothly, clearly trying to communicate something to the other woman without him seeing.
"….sure," the woman replies, smooth enough to have understood the silent exchange in a heartbeat. "But he stays up here."
"That's fine," June says, relieved. She looks over her shoulder at Rick, but he notices that she is barely able to look him in the eye. That, more than anything, alerts him to the fact that something is wrong. "Let's go."
"Hold on a second –" Rick gets to his feet and both woman suddenly look at him warily. The only sound in the room is the low level hum of the air conditioning. The woman called Melissa is defiant – her chin rising slightly – June; worried.
"This is none of your business," Melissa says – with the tone of someone used to getting her own way. She raises her eyebrows coolly - a warning: stay away.
Rick shakes his head. "She made a deal with A.R.G.U.S," he replies, folding his arms and jerking his head towards June. "It became our business."
"Rick –" June starts. He clenches his jaw at the sound of her voice. She hesitates, looking between them both and then caves – "Mel, give us a moment."
"But –"
"Go back to the lab. I'll be there in a second, I promise."
For a moment, it looks as if the older woman isn't going to leave – but then she rolls her eyes. "Fine. It's your funeral, I guess."
Rick watches her leave the room and the moment the door shuts behind her he turns on June, more angry than he thought he'd be. Maybe it's because he's recently taken a step back from his job – maybe it just stings she doesn't trust him. "You know I'm trying to help you, right?" he spits at her. "What the hell?"
June's face drops – that's the only word for it. Her calm, neutral expression simply sinks like a rock, her mouth turning down at the corners. She chews on her bottom lip. "It's not you, Rick, it's –" He snorts, because it's quite possible the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. June ploughs on, her voice cracking. "I trust you, I do, but –"
"Then what is it?" He throws out an arm, gesturing towards the door violently – barely registering the pain that shoots through the muscle. "What's going on?!"
"Don't shout at me," she snaps back, firing up. He's impressed at the suddenness of her anger – he thought she wouldn't be the type to push back.
He takes a deep, measured breath to calm himself but still June hesitates. "Look, I trust you –" she repeats, and to his shock she actually reaches up and rests her hands either side of his face. He's so surprised at her touch that he forgets he's angry. She's had to step closer to reach him, and he can see the precise shade of blue of her eyes. Her grip is strong – stronger than he would have thought – and he realises how intent she is on communicating this to him. "I really do. You're…kind and you're caring –" the corner of her mouth lifts slightly as she registers his incredulous expression. "…But at the same time I don't and…and I can't."
That made sense, he thinks. It was smart, not to trust him. He works for A.R.G.U.S and for Waller. If he was asked to, technically he should be able to eliminate her without question….but it still irritates him to hear her say out loud that she doesn't have confidence in him. "Can't what?" he grinds out, finally.
"…I don't know if I can –" she adjusts her grip on his face – it tightens - and he can see the mental struggle she's going through. His gun is wedged into the waistband of his jeans, but he doesn't think he could use it if she changed into that witch again. "Rick…so far, Waller doesn't know what I – she – is capable of. But we do. We…we think the reason this civilization didn't last was because she caused some kind of disaster –" her voice becomes thick. "She wiped them out. And – and – if A.R.G.U.S find that out, they're not going to bother keeping me under surveillance. They'll lock me up, or they'll shoot me."
He knows, implicitly, that June is right. She must see it on his face because her voice takes on a begging quality. "You can't tell her, Rick – please."
He tries to speak but his throat has taken on the texture of sandpaper. He can't tell her what she needs to hear with her looking at him like that, and he wraps he wraps his hands around her wrists and lowers her arms gently from his face. "You can't keep this from Waller, June," he mutters, eventually, addressing the wall over her shoulder. "You're naïve to think you can. Even if I didn't tell her, someone else would – and then she'd know I'd tried to cover for you and we'd both end up in shit. She's playing a different game to us. You can't win."
But June shakes her head defiantly. She steps out of his grip, agitated. "Just ….give me some time to come up with a contingency to offer with this."
"A contingency?"
"If I can figure out how Dzmor was trapped in the idol, I can prove that she can be controlled – made safe." She sees the doubt on his features and stabs a finger towards the desk. "We have the information we need. We know someone did it before and we can do it again!"
Grant's words ring in Rick's ears; ghostly. She said she puts them in a hole that they're not ever going to crawl back out of.
He's torn. Part of his knows that resistance is stupid, and they'll both end up worse off in the long run. But another part of him can't do that to her. If he handed Waller the information about June's abilities, and June was locked up in that place…it would be because of him. He tries to imagine the bright, fiery girl in front of him in a cell next to the scumbags he has rounded up and feels like he's been physically punched in the gut. There's a strange tugging in his chest.
"One week," he agrees, finally.
"Two," June bargains.
He rolls his eyes. "One week – two – don't matter: Waller's goin' to notice if I don't report back on what it is your doing here."
June pulls her hoody more firmly round herself and frowns slightly, thinking. Rick wonders if there's any problem or situation she can't claw her way out of. "Well…she operates on a give-and-get basis, right? So…give her something she wants. Tell her she can meet the Enchantress."
"That," he objects, instantly, "is dumbest thing I've ever heard." Though, if he's being honest, he kind of respects her for it. In terms of distracting Amanda Waller, it's brilliant. In terms of June's own safety – not so much. "My job is to protect you, or have you forgotten that?"
She flushes. "I don't like it either, but it's the best I can come up with right now. Besides, I don't see you coming up with any great ideas!"
"Oh, I'll think of something," he snaps. Something that doesn't get you killed.
" - yeah, well, get back to me when you do," she sneers, clearly skeptical.
June walks out of the room all prissy-like, her head held high, but Rick stays put. Shaking his head in exasperation, he throws himself down onto the chair at her desk and folds his hands together in front of his face. In his head, he mutinously plots all the different ways he's going to keep June Moone safe and alive - even if that's in spite of her.
A/N Wow - so happy that you guys enjoyed last chapter as much as you did! Every chapter brings a new shift in Rick and June's relationship and I love exploring it. (I also love imagining what their house looks like). June will learn to trust Rick, but at the moment I'm writing her as rightfully and skittish and wary of Rick. Though he is there to protect her, he still works for A.R.G.U.S - in her mind, at least.
Not much movement in the Enchantress plot line, but I've written some exciting stuff that comes later on.
Please remember to review!
Last Of The Lilac Wine
