WITH THE LIGHTS OUT

CHAPTER 21

June

She was having the best sex of her life, and June could quite happily have spent the rest of her week mooning around the office, day-dreaming about Rick – completely forgetting about A.R.G.U.S and the Enchantress. But as it was, Rob had taken to bursting into her office five times a day to theorise over what was in the tomb, and Melissa kept snapping at her to fill out mountains of paperwork, because – as she kept reminding her – 'you sure as hell didn't do any last time'. Not to mention that Rick was driving her to the army base every Wednesday for testing…though technically it wasn't June herself that was being studied.

Those sessions irritated her – partly because she would have been interested in studying the Enchantress, too – but also because June didn't like the fact that nobody paid her any attention. Nobody apart from Rick cared that this was her body. Nobody apart from Rick cared how scary it was to walk into a cell with no windows and hundreds of cameras and voluntarily let your consciousness be erased for hours on end. To A.R.G.U.S., June wasn't important. The Enchantress was. Stepping into that building she practically turned invisible. She may as well not have been a person anymore.

When Rick unlocks the door to the house after her most recent session, June stomps inside crankily. He throws the car keys on the side as June moves around the kitchen, making herself a mug of tea.

"Did you get a chance to ask her about what's actually in the tomb?" she asks him, stiffly, as he leans against the kitchen counter. She hates that she can't do it for herself – that she has to rely on others to communicate with and censor the Enchantress for her.

"Ask who?" he asks, distractedly.

"Dzmor," June looks at him, wondering what planet he's on – because they talked about this. She swears they did.

"Oh, yeah, I did – right in front of Waller," Rick says, sarcastically, taking in the annoyed expression on her face. "Listen, you know I don't –"

" – trust her –" June finishes for him, exasperatedly. "Yeah. You've told me. But just because talking to her gives you the creeps –"

"Yeah, actually,it does give me the creeps, June. You know why? Because it's your body, an' I don't like it when she just…takes over like that."

"Oh, you don't like it?" June shoots back at him, dumping her tea bag in the trash with more force than strictly necessary.

Rick sighs, approaching her as she rounds on him and slipping his arms around her waist. "Don' be like that," he mutters.

"Be like what?" June bites out, acerbic - because his southern drawl and brown eyes aren't going to work on her this time. "Because I'm supposed to be fine with everything, apparently."

He rolls his eyes at her tone. "…C'mon….what's wrong?"

But June's lower lip wobbles, and she knows she's not going to be able to talk without crying as well. She takes a deep breath, looking around their kitchen, which neither of them have had the time or the energy to tidy in three days. It's a mess – food lies out on the counter and the table is drowning under June's paperwork. Unfolded laundry is piled high on every chair. June didn't even realise she and Rick owned that many clothes.

"I just hate it," she chokes out, eventually, scrubbing angrily at the tears that fall onto her cheeks. "I can – can – handle everything else, you know? The nightmares and stuff. But it's how they make me feel about myself. Like I'm nothing!" Her voice grows high and choked as she tries to force the words out. "They don't care about me at all!….And work's crazy and the house is – is a mess."

June can see the different balls she's been trying to juggle for the past few days falling out of the air all at once. She can feel her jaw ache with the effort of holding back a sob. Everything in her life just doesn't seem to be working, and the fact that she's breaking down now makes everything worse. She'd been strong for so long.

"I'm not okay," she grinds out, hating herself a little bit for admitting it. Especially to Rick, when this should have been one of the happiest weeks of her life. "And I'm not fine, and A.R.G.U.S just expect me to be a good girl and – and –"

Rick makes a consoling sound as she breaks off, his hand cradling the back of her head as if she were a small child. His thumb rubs at her hair – it feels nice.

"I'm sorry," June blubbers into his jacket, crying in earnest now. "This really wasn't how I wanted this week to go."

"You don' have anything to be sorry for," he murmurs – so calmly that she believes him.

When she stops crying, he pulls back a little bit to kiss her on the forehead.

"You know that to me, you're always the most important person in the room, right?" Rick says, his intense gaze arresting hers. This close, she can see exactly how sharp his cheekbones are – the slightly hooded lids over bright amber eyes. "…an' you don't always have to be okay for me. You don't always have to have everything together."

Somehow, they are the exact words she needs to hear – even if it doesn't change the fact that A.R.G.U.S see her as little more than a tool, or that she has so much riding – personally and professionally – on the next few weeks. Because Rick has reminded her of the one constant in her life: him.

June swallows, an abrupt laugh bubbling up and bursting out of her lips. "Even though we live in a pig sty?"

"I dunno…" he smirks, looking round. "I mean, if this place gets any worse, it could officially become a health hazard." She snorts, and he kisses her on the lips this time. "Why don' you take tomorrow off work?" he suggests, mumbling against her mouth. His arms tighten slightly around her. "We can go somewhere. Do something."

"Mmm, you're just saying that because you want to get laid," she teases, wrapping her arms round his neck and pushing up onto her toes so that they're faces are closer together.

He flashes a grin. "Yeah," he admits. "But it would be good for you to get away from everythin'."

It's a nice idea, and in her mind's eye June can see them taking a road trip together. But she also knows that it's not going to happen. "Rick, I can't take time off of work. I've got too much to do, and Melissa would go crazy if she found out you and I –"

"C'mon –" he tempts, kissing her more deeply. His nose brushes against hers as his hands dance up her waist. "You and me –"

She rolls her eyes as best she can. "No –"

At her emphatic rejection, Rick heaves a sigh, unpeeling himself from her easily. June almost laughs at the transparent attempt at seduction and she tightens her grip on his shoulders before he can properly step away.

"But dinner out tonight -?" she suggests, raising her eyebrows. "That's getting out of the house, right?"

His eyes narrow, and she can see him considering it. "We'd have to be careful," he says, eventually – sounding reluctant. "No PDA. Nothin' fancy."

"So romantic," June replies, dryly.

Since they'd started the relationship, Rick had become obsessively strict about touching in public. Caution took him to extremes: when at A.R.G.U.S, he barely so much as glanced at her and the flirting around her office had completely stopped. It would have driven her insane had Rick not always more than made up for it when they were alone together.

"Hey, you're talkin' to Mr. Romance," he teases, and she actually laughs out loud. Rick was many things – and he could be charming when he wanted to be – but romantic he was not. The thought of the taciturn soldier attempting to be suave had her grinning to herself every time the thought entered her head for the next week.

It's a relief to get out of the house. They pick a non-descript, chain Italian restaurant in the center of the city. By the time Rick and June have parked up, night has long since fallen and the city streets are filled with candy-cane coloured lights and families enjoying evening strolls. Though June knows that this is all supposed to be non-descript, she couldn't help but dress up slightly for the occasion – picking out a billowy, ruffled white blouse and her usual brogues. She looks ridiculously over-dressed next to Rick. Though he's not exactly wearing his uniform, he's still dressed in his usual bomber jacket…June wouldn't be surprised if he had his gun hidden somewhere in there as well.

Her palms feel clammy when the waiter winks understandingly at them and assures them to a private table nestled into the corner of the restaurant. Though June is trying her hardest to look casual, she can't help the grin that presses against her lips every time she looks at Rick. This was basically a date. They were on a date, and no one could know. It was simultaneously thrilling and ridiculous.

She keeps nudging his foot playfully under the table every time he looks too serious, and in the end Rick kicks her back lightly. "Cut it out," he drawls, though he's smirking as his eyes run down the list of meals on the menu.

"I can't help it," June grins, biting down on her lip. "I'm excited."

"Yeah, well, you don' have to kick me."

She nudges him again and he growls under his breath lowly, muttering something to himself. June rolls her eyes.

"Can you take your jacket off at the table?" she asks, after the waiter takes their order and sets a bread basket down between them. "You look like you're about to arrest someone." It was hard to pretend like they were a normal couple when Rick looked as if he were about to run off chasing meta-humans at any moment.

He takes the jacket off dutifully, raising an eyebrow at her as he slings it over the back of his seat. "Better?"

June, taking in his tight grey T Shirt, tries to make a show of acting nonchalant – taking a sip from her wine so he can't see the expression on her face. "Yep."

They both order pizza, and Rick is approximately half way through his – when June is only on her third bite – when a voice rings out: "Oh my God…June?"

June lifts her head, startled, to see the couple that has been seated at the table closest to theirs. She recognises them both easily; they are both her own age – the girl has sleek, blonde hair and side bangs and the guy has the look of a professional athlete. Which he had been, when they had all been at college together. Now Jason Austin ran an events management company and his fiancé, Rebecca, was doing something to do with marketing.

June blinks rapidly, as if barely daring to believe her eyes. She'd seen Becca regularly since they left college, but somehow, June hadn't been expecting to run into her. Maybe it was the fact that, since all the Enchantress stuff, Becca and Jason now felt like part of an old life. A different life.

Still, June feels a rush of excitement at seeing them both. She squeals, and she and Becca both stand from their seats to hug each other.

"How areyou!" the shorter girl asks her. She's had her hair cut recently into a long bob. It makes her look older – more mature. The effect is slightly startling. At twenty-six, Becca and Jason both look like adults. Grown-ups. It feels like barely yesterday that they were teenagers. "How was Mexico? Was it good? Did you find what you were looking for?"

June flushes, fumbling for the right words. Eventually she forces out: "Um – yeah. It was good!" Her voice is so falsely cheerful, it's a wonder that someone as shrewd as Becca doesn't see through it. June's only saving grace is that the young woman clearly has her mind on other things.

"What's going on with you?" she asks, frowning slightly. "We haven't heard from you…we sent an invitation to the wedding and never heard back." It's clear that she's doing her best to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but there's a slight edge there that causes mortification to settle deep in June's stomach. Reflexively, she looks at Rick – as if he will somehow help her. He's got both elbows on the table, watching them all carefully as if June's old college friends might potentially be a security threat. Her glance draws Becca's attention, and her gaze fall on Rick, too – her eyes widening perceptibly.

June rushes to explain – or at least to come up with some kind of excuse. She is abruptly aware of how Rick looks to her friends – nine years older than her and with a palpably dangerous, steely air about him. "I never got an invitation," she explains, wincing apologetically. "I – er- moved in with Rick about a month ago and still haven't re-directed my mail to his house."

Becca only gapes at her for a moment. June wasn't the kind of person that just picked up her whole life and moved in with a guy within weeks. It was unheard of…though Becca didn't know the move hadn't exactly been voluntary.

"So – um – this is Rick. Flag," June introduces, blushing.

He holds his hand out for Becca to shake, looking completely unfazed by June's embarrassment and Becca's stunned confusion. "Hey – how're you."

She takes it, still looking vaguely dazed. Her eyes keep flying between him and June, as if trying to reconcile the two very different people together in her head.

"Erm…hi," she says, forcing a smile. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm Becca. June and I are friends from college…" she looks at Rick, as if weighing him on some kind of invisible scale. June knows that pretty soon Becca is going to start asking a lot of awkward questions – she's both smart and shrewd enough to know that June wouldn't pick up with a thirty-five year old guy out of the blue.

She and Rick return to their food, but it's not the same now that Becca and Jason are now sat directly next to them. Though the couple leave them alone and soon get caught up in their own private conversations, June feels tense – uncomfortable. Her guard's back up and she can tell that Rick feels the same way. They leave earlier than they were planning on, barely pausing to say goodbye before hurrying out of the restaurant.

If that didn't look suspicious, June didn't know what did.

Trying to salvage what was left of the night, June buys them both ice cream from a street vendor. Though it's technically almost summer, the nights are still pleasantly warm in Charlotte instead of humid and sticky and they spend an hour or so simply walking down the main street – the skyscrapers towering above them, windows filled with golden light. It's a relief not to worry about being overheard, and June quickly relaxes, falling back into an easy conversation with Rick after their strained small-talk at the restaurant.

"Mmm – damn," she mutters, licking melted chocolate ice cream off the inside of her wrist and simultaneously trying to fish her phone out of her bag.

"What is it?" Rick asks. Like June, he seems far more relaxed – his posture easy and loose. They both walk slowly, ambling up the street as cars drive past and groups of people spill out of bars and clubs.

It's June's facebook that has thrown up the notification – a message from Becca. She reads it, wrinkling her nose. "It's Becca…she wants to know how we met."

Rick smirks, taking a lick of his ice cream. "Why don' you tell her I'm a male stripper and you met me at a club?"

June chokes on air before laughing. "…You know what? Somehow, I don't think she'll buy it."

"BASE-jumping?"

She bites down on her lip to supress her smirk, looking down at the blank reply box as she tries to figure out what to send back. "Booze cruise?" she suggests, jokingly.

"Alrigh' how about…you met me because I'm your drug dealer?" He teases, but June latches onto it.

"That's a good one – I'm going to use that."

"Nah – don't –" Rick protests, trying to take the phone off of her as June begins to type with her free hand.

"Hey –" she objects, giggling – trying to fight him off as best she can despite the fact that she's holding her mobile in one hand and an ice cream in her other. "This is our cover story – stop – this is what we're going to tell everyone!" He succeeds in wrestling the phone out of her grip and June's eyes widen. "Give that back!"

But Rick uses his superior height to hold it above her head and even with a few jumping attempts, June can't reach it. She feels like a small child, and she shoves against Rick's chest in frustration – though of course, he barely moves - breathless with laughter. "You're a dick!"

But they're abruptly too close together. It would be so easy to kiss him right now. She wants to kiss him right now. The thought causes June's breath to catch and the smile to freeze on her face. Her heart clenches in her chest as she looks up at Rick…it occurs to her that she's never felt this way about anyone before in her life.

His eyes are unnaturally dark – almost predatory – and June can tell he's thinking along the same line she is.

They slip like shadows into a narrow, dead-end side street round the back of the nearest bar. It's grimy, full of garbage – the extractor fans blowing out smokey steam from the basement kitchens in white swirls. Where no one can see them, Rick loops an arm around June's waist and kisses her deeply. Her heart palpitates. The kiss isn't rushed or as urgent as some of their others and it's the fact that Rick so clearly takes his time that takes her breath away. His lips are warm and soft against hers, one hand cradling the side of her face. Ardent.

She realises then that he likes her – really likes her. This wasn't just a case of pent up sexual tension or good chemistry anymore. It was a relationship, even if they hadn't put a label on it.

When June tries to push herself up onto her toes to kiss him back, she feels the corner of Rick's mouth curve up into a smirk. He lets her take the lead as she wraps her arm around his neck, kissing him back enthusiastically. More earnest than passionate. She doesn't have Rick's ability to make her very bones feel like they are melting, but she knows her form of passion and affection affects him in a different way.

He pulls away after a while, looking down at her with his chin slightly lifted – that way of regarding another person that always makes him look as if he's weighing someone on a set of invisible scales. There's a warmth to Rick's gaze, however, that June has only seen directed at her. Instead of looking arrogant, he just looks amused. The perpetual crease along his brow line is smoothed out – for once he looks utterly relaxed and untroubled.

"We should probably get goin'," he says, interlacing his hands behind her back and hugging her in closer to him.

Everything feels impossibly warm. The rich sound of his slight Texan drawl; the physical, comfortable heat of his body.

"We should," June agrees, though she suddenly finds she doesn't want to move.

She's happy.

June wakes a few minutes before her alarm, like she always does. She yawns sleepily, kicking the overly-hot covers off of her legs and wincing at the aches and pains in her body. She's got a stiff shoulder, and there's a familiar soreness in between her legs – she smiles slightly to herself, turning onto her side to look at Rick. He's still fast asleep, stretched out on his back the way he always lies. Looking at him like this – when everything is so still, so calm – June gets a tugging feeling in her heart.

Then her alarm goes off, shrill an insistent. Rick groans loudly, rolling away from her, exposing the raw-looking scratch marks she's left down his back. "Turn it off," he grunts, sleepily. June rolls her eyes, and pushes herself out of bed – turning the lights on as she leaves the bedroom by way of revenge.

Their only bathroom is perhaps the smallest room in the house, with wood-panelled walls and a chipped bath-come-shower. June steps under the shower-spray with a sigh, relishing in the feeling of hot water on her aching muscles. Though she has work, and every second in the morning counts, she lingers for a while before lathering her hair with shampoo. She watches steam cloud the mirror on the cupboard and condense into water droplets on the walls. She feels strangely sluggish for some reason – her vision blurry – something she blames on a late night and the fact that she fell asleep with her contact lenses in.

But then June reaches for the shampoo bottle and her hand overshoots. She catches herself on the lip of the tub, abruptly feeling horribly dizzy.

"Ah –" she mutters, raising a hand to the side of her head. Her vision has become so fuzzy she can barely see. June opens her mouth – about to call Rick for help – when there's a familiar refraction of neon colour in the light around her. June's vision slips, and once again she finds herself in an ancient world…one that's beginning to feel painfully familiar with each visit.

Dzmor has not aged a day, though June somehow knows instinctively that it has been hundreds of years since the last memory took place. Her dark hair is longer – half of it intricately held back from her face with jewels and braids. She wears a gown of deep blue, with a daringly plunging neckline that exposes a seductive amount of cleavage. The confident, strong woman is a far cry from the imprisoned child, or the trusting, excitable girl.

The chamber is filled with people dressed in robes of various colours and richness – a crowd of people gathered for an event June can only consider to be a party, though it feels odd to attribute the word to such an ancient people. Wine and food is laid out across a long table at one corner of the room – a warm glow is emitted from numerous fire places carved into the stone walls.

Dzmor sits in a throne at the center of the room, accompanied by her most recent husband. To June's surprise they seem genuinely affectionate towards one another; despite everything, they both seem to treat each other as equals. Though people stare and reverently approach the throne to bow at their feet, her husband seems to treat her as little more than human. The love clearly written on the Enchantress's face is the first genuine emotion June has seen from her.

The woman June sees now – though confident in a slightly arrogant way – seems too…normal for the role the people want her to bear. There was Dzmor, and then there was this God with which she shared mannerisms and looks. But the Enchantress was an all-powerful symbol whereas Dzmor, to June, was clearly nothing more than a flawed, slightly selfish, human woman. Albeit, one with incredible power and who had been granted an immortal life.

It was clearly a part she was used to playing – looking imperiously down on the room; never talking directly to her subjects in a manner that would imply she saw them as equals. Held up on a kind of perpetual pedestal – both literal and metaphorical - it seemed to be the people that confirmed her role rather than she herself. They needed a God, so they had created one in her. Their whispered asides, their looks of awe, their bowing and scraping gestures – all this had trapped Dzmor into behaving as something more, and trapped her into believing she was something she was not. As a child, she had been made to believe she was a monster. Why not now a God?

June watches, fascinated by the continual shower of reverence and adoration the people show her throughout the evening. It is not until a slave accidentally spills wine on Dzmor's dress that June realises where the true power lies.

The whole room instantly and intuitively freezes as the wine jug is dropped down the front of that rich, blue material. Where June had once seen Dzmor treat her slaves with awe and interest, it is clear that now she sees them as little more than toys. Her mouth twists into a forced smile, making fake reassurances as the male slave apologises, visibly quaking with fear. Sweat beads on his brow, running down his bronzed skin. With a wave of the Enchantress's hand, the nervous man suddenly becomes a pillar of fire. Shrieking, but unable to move his skin blackens and peels as he is burnt alive before the entire room, which has turned deathly silent. Though Dzmor's husband does not flinch, he glances at her sharply. After a few moments of the torture he rests his hand on her arm – a clear instruction to stop. The fire instantly dies and the man falls to the ground, still alive and twitching. His skin burnt away to reveal charred flesh – his eye sockets and teeth shockingly white and grotesquely visible.

June is revolted by the sadistic satisfaction in the Enchantress's eyes – so caught up in watching her that she fails to at first register the reaction of the people. Far from being awed, they look tense and scared by such a flippant display of magic. It is clear that Godly, omnipotent actions – such as healing a city of people or changing the weather – is somehow preferable to them when compared with such small, malicious magic tricks. Somehow, for the first time, they seem to see the individual behind the mask of a deity. The fallible human with the power of a God.

Dzmor must see it, too. The satisfaction in her eyes is replaced by something else: fear. Sat on her throne in the middle of the room, she abruptly seems isolated and weak. For all her powers, it is obvious that she is still at the mercy of the people who elevated her. She looks about herself wildly like a cornered animal, taking in the faces that have turned from adoration to disgust. Awe to terror. Her shoulders hunch and she licks her lips nervously.

June remembers the promise Ankita had once made: They will see you as you really are…

An unsettled murmur ripples through the room. Almost intangible and impossible to detect a source.

All business, the emperor quickly rises – signalling significantly to two of the nearest guards. Dzmor looks up at him, eyes-wide, but he avoids her gaze. She is quickly and hurriedly assured from the room.

Once more something to be feared and hidden in a dark pit away from the light.

A/N Not particularly happy with this chapter - life's been a bit hectic so writing this felt rushed. I tried to fix it by editing it several times, but it still doesn't feel quite right. I'm happy to report, however, that I've got a few chapters coming up that I am proud of, and I'm super excited for you guys to read them.

In other news, I'm in love with the Harley Quinn/Deadshot pairing at the moment, so if anyone knows of any good stories on here, let me know!

Don't forget to leave a review!

Last Of The Lilac Wine