A/N To the reviewer Sarita: thank you so much for pointing out that the Enchantress is actually over 6,000 years old. I'd done my research any incorporated that in to the first few chapters, but then somehow managed to forget half way through the story! Because I've written a lot of very specific dates down and linked a lot of this to the Aztecs, it will probably take a while to comb through this story and edit out the mistake.
WITH THE LIGHTS OUT
CHAPTER 14
June wakes in the early hours of the morning to feel fingers twisted in the nape of her hair – her and Rick twined impossibly close together. Her breath catches in her throat and all trace of sleepiness instantly vanishes from her body.
Rick's hand is possessively curled round her back and the feeling of his hand knotted in her hair is impossibly erotic. His breathing is slow and deep, where June's has turned shallow: because it's not Rick that's the problem here. Sometime during the night June has draped a leg across his thigh – dangerously close to his hip. Her free arm is wrapped around his chest, pulling them closer together so that every point of their bodies connect. She's stuck to his side – practically on top of him, really – like some kind of human barnacle.
His body is so comfortable and the covers so warm that it takes June a few seconds to gather the force of will to begin to untangle herself from him.
Rick grunts in protest in his sleep, chasing her across the covers by rolling onto his side. He grabs her leg and pulls it more firmly across him and June can't help the pathetic squeak that escapes her mouth – their hips now drawn flush together, her smaller frame tucked securely into his chest. She blushes furiously. How would he react when they woke up? Was this evidence that – subconsciously, at least – Rick wanted her? Or was his sleep addled brain only registering her as a comfortable source of heat?
Biting down on her lower lip, June settles for pillowing her head more comfortably and looking at Rick's face in the light of dawn. Everything in the room seems to emit a soft glow, and she can see clearly all his imperfections. He looks tired – there are bags under his eyes even in sleep. His skin is just pale enough to border on unhealthy and his hair is an oddly colourless dirty blonde. Peeking out from above the covers across his chest is another tattoo. Like this – without the aura of hyper-tension and danger – June can see the man beneath the soldier clearly. Though in waking moments he never seems to switch off, in sleep he looks so much younger – almost boyish.
Tentatively, she reaches up and traces his sharp jaw affectionately with her fingers, feeling the rough catch of stubble beneath her fingers. She's not looking at his face, and starts when she realises that his eyes are open and on her. There had been no warning in his awakening – no change in his breathing pattern or twitch of muscle. June freezes, unable to withdraw her hand from his face. Had she noticed before that his eyes were the most beautiful butterscotch colour? She had always assumed they were blue.
She presses her lips together and her eyes grow wide that he's caught her out. She moves to withdraw her hand but – again – Rick stops her. This time by shifting his own arm – she watches the muscles in his shoulder beneath his tattoo flex – and reaches out to touch her own face, his fingers ghosting beneath her chin gently. June shivers, barely daring to breath and unable to break eye contact as Rick's fingers trace along her jawline to tuck her hair behind the curve of her ear. His hand is so much larger than hers; spread flat it covers the whole of her throat and she knows he can feel her swallow dryly beneath his palm. He continues to move, tracing out the length of her arm – where her bare skin tingles at the achingly slow drag of his touch. June's heart is thumping in her chest, wondering how far he will dare to go. His movements are lazy and Rick's hooded gaze gives little away – June can't help the flutter of impatience that flitters through her, abruptly wanting his touch in other places. When Rick's hand rests on her hip, she knows he feels her give an anticipatory twitch. But after a few torturous seconds of held eye contact his hand curls over her waist and goes no further; somehow he manages to draw her in closer. His eyes shut once more, his chest heaving as he lets out a contented exhale. Her own body is tense and rigid against his relaxed one.
Bit by bit, June forces herself to relax. Difficult, when it feels like the thing she really most needs right now is a cold shower; her blood racing through her veins. Tangled up in Rick, she can't twist round to look at the digital clock by the bed and find out how much longer they have under the covers together. She shifts her head more comfortably and tries to quell her curiosity and keep her hands to herself. She wants desperately to go back to touching his face and feel along every inch of his body (she thinks with a blush of the huge muscles in his arms, the hard abdominal muscles she can feel flush against her own stomach), but she's now too embarrassed to. Cursing Rick Flag, June attempts to go back to sleep.
Hours later, Rick and June are scrambling up a steep dirt track that carves a winding line up the mountain. The leaves of the trees - which have somehow managed to twist their roots deep into the steep rock face – provide a little shade from the warm sun. Rick and June are both fit enough that the climb isn't too physically strenuous, so she instead wastes her breath on venting vehemently about Waller and A.R.G.U.S. She's pestered Rick for every detail of the conversation between Enchantress and Waller, feeling more frustrated than concerned that she can't remember any of it.
"What did she look like?" she pants, curious, as she follows him up the mountain. "The Enchantress?"
"I don't know, June – it's not like she was the alien from Alien. She looked kinda like you, I guess."
"Kind of like me?" June catches on, instantly. "Or just like me?"
Rick is silent. June wonders what it must be like for Dzmor – to no longer have her own body, but June's. She remembers the young girl with the regal nose and high cheek bones with the rope-like black hair and dirty skin and tries to match it with the blurry photographs A.R.G.U.S had taken of her. She wishes they had provided her with CCTV footage of the meeting.
Just thinking about it makes June's blood boil. The way Waller had treated her…it had all become so clear. She had felt so stupid for not seeing it: the surveillance. The extra protection. The house. A.R.G.U.S hadn't been interested in her because they wanted to contain her, they had been interested because they wanted to use her. They had bought June's soul without her even realising – she had been so horribly naive.
"We could run," she suggests, suddenly. Rick stops, standing on top of a boulder and turning to look down at her. June hauls herself over a particularly large rock. "I'm serious. I'm not going to be her weapon."
Rick snorts and reaches a hand down to help her up next to him. "You keep forgetting that I work for Waller. If I run, it would be treated as a defect. I'd be arrested by my own friends…but yeah," he continues, sarcastically, " - feel free to go without me."
"I'm not going anywhere without you and you know it….Besides," she smirks, elbowing him in the side lightly. "If I escaped they'd just send you to catch me."
"You wouldn't last a day."
"I think I'd last longer than that."
He makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, showing her exactly what he thought of that notion. She knows that he's right. If she ran, she wouldn't even know where to start covering her tracks. She'd be picked up at a gas station five miles out of Charlotte – even the thought of it makes her cringe with embarrassment. A.R.G.U.S had found where she lived before just by tracing a phone call to the Mexican border – they'd find her again.
Rick slings his rucksack off his shoulder and fishes out a water bottle, unscrewing the lid. Somehow, he and June have both managed to dress identically. Rick is wearing a black, baggy tank top and a pair of navy tracksuit pants – June a strap top of the same colour and jogging leggings. "I can't believe we're talkin' about this," he mutters, "I thought this was supposed to be a hike where we pretend that our lives are completely normal."
June ignores him, stubbornly continuing. "Okay. I have a different great idea."
"- really? –" he mutters, sardonically, as he takes a gulp of water.
"What if we just blackmail Waller. Release something to the press –"
"No –" Rick interjects.
"- we'll uncover…whatever it is she's doing -"
Rick looks at the sky, as if hoping some kind of deity with come down and save him. "No. June."
"She's not allowed to operate like this!" she protests, wiping the sweat from her brow absentmindedly. "She's just twisting arms behind backs to get her own way and I don't appreciate it!"
"Or we carry on doin' what we're doin' and instead of trying to sabotage A.R.G.U.S you find the crazy mystical idol. We put the witch back into it. We enjoy today and pretend that we're normal people livin' normal lives. That's how it's gunna go. End of discussion."
"Not end of discussion," June snaps, as he zips the rucksack back up. "I don't like being turned into –"
Suddenly and abruptly, Rick's hands are on her shoulders and his face is too close to hers. "June," he says, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he looks her firmly in the eye. "We've got a lot of problems – and none of them are going away any time soon…you're not goin' to change that, OK? I want to enjoytoday, and Amanda Waller is the last thing I want to hear about right now."
A flood of understanding rushes through her; not because she has realised that she's wrong or that he's right, but because it dawns on her that she isn't the only person who could quite happily go the rest of their days without hearing the acronym A.R.G.U.S or the words 'Amanda Waller'. June wasn't the only one having her arm twisted, and she wasn't the only one under a lot of pressure. Looking at Rick now, she can see clearly how torn he is between doing right by her, and toeing the line with A.R.G.U.S.
She isn't the only one who needs a twenty-four hour holiday from their messed up life.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, chagrined. "You're right. I'm ruining this for us."
He straightens and rolls his eyes. "C'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that–"
But June forces a smile, brushing away his protest. "It's alright. Let's go. We're nearly at the top."
She takes his hand in hers and tugs him further up the trail – determined now that he enjoy himself. True to form, Rick looks characteristically amused by her resolution and determination; she's sure that – to him – she's a walking (albeit exasperating) comedy show. Only, he's willing to go along with whatever it is she asks of him.
It's funny, June would have pegged Rick as a leader, but all he ever seems to do is follow her– even when it feels as if she spends most of her time leaning and relying on him.
Somehow, they manage to make it the rest of the trek without mentioning anything supernatural or meta-human related. June's chalks this up to her unquenchable curiosity and Rick's willingness to listen to rambling anecdotes about her childhood. They swap stories about travelling the world; families and past relationships. She's fascinated by his stories of the Middle East – the dusty villages, beautiful orchards and excitable children. The land mines by the sides of roads and the blistering heat.
Rick has only dodged some of her questions. He tells her a little about his tours during the war and – later – becoming the leader of a Special Forces unit, lingering on the camaraderie and training instead of the gory, scrappy missions. Despite his taciturn attitude, she's amazed at how easily he can inspire confidence and faith…she is not the first person to implicitly trust Rick Flag with her life and it does not surprise her that his men have followed him to A.R.G.U.S despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. He makes her laugh with his token army sayings; such as when she tells him about Jamie ("yeah, well, nobody ever achieved anything sittin' on their ass").
By the time they reach the top, June is out of breath from talking. The only thing she can do is stand on a rock behind Rick and take in the view. She's seen it countless times before, but it still takes her breath away. The valley, filled with prehistoric trees. The sky, with its slight sun haze. So much green – so beautiful – and so nice to be above it all, in the clear air. June hadn't realised how much tension she'd been holding in her back and shoulders until it's not there anymore; all the claustrophobia, stress and fear she had been holding in just seems to melt away. Without thinking about it too much, June leans forwards and wraps her arms around Rick's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"Thank you," she murmurs, eventually, not taking her eyes away from the landscape. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you."
She feels his cheek pull into a smirk against hers. "Likewise."
June rolls her eyes at his less-than verbose reply, but at least she knows that he means it (though she can't see how she's been any help to him). She makes a sceptical sound.
"I'm serious," Rick says, tilting his head slightly so he can look at June out of his peripheral. "After a while…you see so many bad, fucked-up people, you begin to wonder if there's good in the world anymore. You reminded me that there is."
"I'm one of those fucked-up people," June reminds him, half-serious. Another part of her hopes that, if she can teach Rick to see good in the darkest of places again, he'll come round to her idea that the Enchantress can do good…she doesn't bring it up, however – knowing that the conversation would sink like a rock and turn to an argument if she did.
He reaches round and presses his fingers into her ribs, and she yelps, laughing. "Nah, you're not." He says, as her grip slackens. He turns round and June is amazed that she'd never noticed the colour of his eyes before this morning – they're beautiful. Almost amber. There's a real smile on his face – a wide, charmingly crooked grin. "An' I think you'd have done just fine without me."
"You were the one who said I wouldn't have lasted a day on the run," she points out.
His smirks. "Do you always have to have the last word?"
She blushes but pretends to think, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Um…yes."
But he's standing so close and looking at her with such warmth that June's pretty sure neither of them are truly concentrating on what they are saying. Part of her simply wants to grab him and kiss him, but she knows she's too confused right now about their situation and what it is she wants to make any kind of definitive move. All she knows is that when Rick looks at her like this, it makes her flustered and confused and her stomach twists itself into a knot.
She breaks eye contact, fearing he might be able to read what she's thinking on her face: memories of them sleepily tangled together in bed flitting through her mind like a shadow. A strange ache forms below her heart.
"We should probably start walking back down," June mutters, ducking her head.
Its well into the afternoon by the time they get back to the more generic touristy areas and locate Rick's car in the parking lot. Reality quickly comes knocking in the form of June's mobile phone ringing. She hovers on the gravel, about to get into the car and shading her eyes as she tries to peer down at the caller ID. It's her mother.
Rick - who is already in the car - looks across at her quizzically, but June holds up a finger. One second, she mouths.
"Hi, Mom," she says, quickly answering the call.
"Hi, honey!" her mother calls – chirpy. In the background June can hear the throaty rumbling of the family jeep's engine. "Your father and I are on the way to Texas to meet some old friends and we were wondering if we could drop in and see you on the way back."
June presses a hand to her forehead. There are so many things wrong with the statement – not only are her parents extending their trip by nine hours to come north to Carolina just to see her, they are also clearly assuming they will have a place to stay overnight. There is also the glaring fact that June no longer lives in the apartment they think she lives in. She has a brief mental image of her parents arriving and seeing the door covered in police tape – the inside of the house dusty and abandoned.
"No. Mom, don't do that."
"Why not? It was so nice to see you and it's really no trouble –"
June looks round. The sun is too bright and there are too many families and hikers bustling around her. She can't think straight. "I've got so much work at the moment –" she tries.
On the other end of the line, June can hear her father asking what's going on; what she's saying.
"Oh, June, it would only be for the evening!" Her mother says, clearly exasperated now. "And we're flexible on the day – we can fit in around you."
"I've got plans." But June has never been a convincing liar and what could have been a legitimate excuse turns stale and flimsy. It hangs in the silence between her and her mother like some kind of toxic gas. The pause on her mother's end speaks volumes.
"What's she saying?" she can hear her father asking through the vacuum of quiet. "Is she OK?"
June squeezes her eyes shut and holds the phone away from her ear momentarily, as if total sensory shutdown will be enough to eliminate the situation. This is too stark a reminder of the sacrifices she's had to make since 'the accident'. Whilst lying to her family isn't the biggest compromise she's had to make, it still stings. She hasn't been able to talk to her friends. She's had to move out of her house. A.R.G.U.S seem to have selected some, greater agenda she is not aware of but is forced to partake in. She has been manipulated, lied to and haunted. There is the constant fear that she could hurt someone – hurt Rick. There is another person living inside her body – the greatest violation of all. It's the smallest trigger, but abruptly June feels so tired. In that moment, she would give anything for it all to end. Anything at all.
She stares up at the sky – a hazy, milky blue.
"Mom, I've got to go," she says, trying to sound convincing. "Have a nice time in Texas."
She hangs up before her parents can protest and clambers into the passenger seat next to Rick. She inhales the familiar scent of his mint air freshener that doesn't quite hide the smell of cigarettes, relaxing slightly. Just recently, they've driven a lot of places in this car together. It feels safe. Contained.
"What was that about?" he asks, raising both eyebrows.
June rests her head back heavily against the headrest, looking through the windscreen. "Just my parents…they wanted to stop off and say hi in a week or so. Would've shown up at my old apartment and completely freaked out….God," June drops her head into her hands. Even the thought of trying to explain what had happened to her made her cringe. Dead witches? Shady organisations? A full-time bodyguard?
She feels Rick's hand rub her back, warm and comforting and she lifts her head, moving her hands to hold her hair back out of her eyes.
"You alright?" he asks her, taking in June's wide-eyed, dazed expression.
"It's just all so messed up," she mutters, still staring straight ahead. She thinks about everything that has happened to her in the past few weeks...sees herself getting off the bus in Mexico, hiking into the forest by herself. Why had she done it? Rick had laughed when she'd told him, and said that only someone like her would do something like that…did that mean it was fate? Or did it just mean she was stupid? She twists her head to look up at him. "…you know?"
The corner of his lips lift slightly. "Don't go quittin' on me now, June."
June sighs. "I'm not," she promises. "I'm not going to give up."
"Good."
She shakes her head, not finished. " - I just can't believe I did this to myself."
He sighs, using the hand on her back to coax her into leaning over and resting her head onto his shoulder. June worries her lower lip with her teeth. It was inevitable, really, that this would happen. Neither of them could escape it – even if they hiked to the top of the tallest mountain. There was no point in all her talk of running; it was an impossibility. There was no getting away from the fact that their lives weren't normal: that this was it.
"Actually, no," June amends, speaking to Rick. "The worst part isn't that I did this to myself, it's that you got dragged into it all as well."
"That…is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he drawls, his Southern accent becoming more pronounced.
She laughs despite herself and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "C'mere," he mutters, holding her into his side more securely. It's a bit awkward – her body stretched between the two seats, but she's never felt more safe.
"You just listen to me, alrigh'?" he tells her. "We are in this together. I signed up for this. But I am not just here because this is my job, I am here because I care about you – and I think I've made that pretty damn clear already. So don't go thinking that I would want to be anywhere else…I can leave anytime I want. But it's my decision not to." His voice is low and strong – almost passionate – and he virtually hisses the words into her ear. She lets his voice wash over her and a shiver runs up her spine. It is this – more than the hike – that June needed. She didn't need to get away from her problems – she just needed to hear that her problems hadn't hurt anyone else.
His fingers are once again woven into her hair and June hums contentedly at the feel of it – somewhere in the back of her mind she is dimly aware that their actions towards one another are becoming less and less platonic, but it feels too good to care.
"...I respect you," he tells her, his voice musing now. "When the going gets tough, you actually fight back. You've got spirit…It's rare…an' you don't see it much. You're one of the strongest people I know."
June's lips twitch at this man next to her. Tough as tree-roots, stern, tall and intimidating…it was only when you got physically close enough to get past all that that she had seen how thoughtful and gentle Rick could be. She glances up at him, but at this angle she can only see his face in profile. "Yeah…you're not half-bad, either," she grins.
"Wow," Rick says, shaking his head. "Not half-bad, huh?"
"Yeah," she replies, giggling at his dry tone.
"That's cold."
"Okay - okay," she protests - then adds, "you're...alright. I guess."
He throws her a look and June represses a snort of laughter with difficulty.
"I mean, you're a bit of a headache to live with, but I think I can handle it."
"You gotta stop." She rolls her eyes, a grin that she can't suppress stretching her mouth. Rick continues to grumble. "You ain't funny."
"I'm hilarious."
Her head is still resting on his shoulder, and the contact feels nice. The joking aside, June is only just beginning to realise how much Rick means to her. It is getting to a dangerous point where she cannot imagine her life without him in it...doesn't want a life that Rick Flag is not part of...even if it meant she never had the accident that led her to the Enchantress. And that is an unnerving thought.
A/N A nice interlude chapter here, even if doesn't add much to the overall plot.
Thank you very much for your reviews last chapter - I am glad to hear that so many people are still enjoying this story past it's beginning phase. I hope you all continue to stick with it.
Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. It really does make my day to read them!
Last Of The Lilac Wine