A/N Sorry this is a little late. Chapter 28 exhausted my bank of chapters that I had pre-written for this story, so now I am writing as I go along. I hope you will forgive the less regular updates. I hope everyone enjoyed Halowe'en and that this is a welcome distraction to all the crazy election stuff going on right now.
Also I went back through and I re-read the whole of this story myself. Normally I hate reading back through my own writing because I spot so many things I would have done differently, but I haven't thought that about this fic so far which is nice.
WITH THE LIGHTS OUT
CHAPTER 29
June
Just because A.R.G.U.S now controls the Enchantress, does not mean that the witch is gone. More than ever before, June is aware that a separate entity is inside of her. One that is malicious and threatening: one that had used and abused her. Killed her friend. Manipulated her for months. Sometimes she is terrified to sleep at night, because it is in her dreams that the Enchantress dares to show herself, knowing full-well that Waller will not see emotional torment as grounds to use the heart.
In the memory, the Enchantress is sat on a thick, stone throne interlaced with gold next to a regal-looking seat of equal splendour. The chamber she sits in is huge…June recognises the high, narrow windows and realises that this is the hall they climbed into. Great pillars hold up the ceiling, which is as high as a city skyscraper; the stone carved with the most intricate drawings. Packed to the sides stand rows upon rows of people in order of rank. The rich first, then the soldiers – the peasants craning at the top of the steps to see inside.
Stood in front of the Enchantress are a group of six men, all in robes of varying colours and richness. When one of them steps forward to speak, the chamber abruptly quietens. The silence seems to echo off of the walls – thick with anticipation. June wonders what it is they are all waiting for.
She thinks she can detect a flicker of unease in the Enchatress's impassive face, though she continues to sit proudly on her throne.
"The Emperor has decided, Enchantress," the man announces – thickly accented and loud enough for most to hear. "Yoatl and his people will be destroyed."
There is an automatic eruption of cheers and bellows. The soldiers thump their shields with the club-like end of their swords – adding to the din.
"They will be wiped off of the face of the earth by your divine power…" the man continues, his face strained as he shouts – more for his audience than for Dzmor. "…Pay for the lives they have taken. These savages with no honour. These barbarians!"
Another roar of agreement. Dzmor's fingers clench the arms of her throne so tightly June can see the whites of her knuckles. Though her skin is a copper tan, June notices that it has abruptly lost its colour – become almost sallow. Her eyes dart over the hundreds of people sharply, searching each face for something. Or maybe she is looking for her closest exit.
"The Enchantress will crush them like the insects they are! There will be no warning – no mercy – only DEATH!"
Enraged, impassioned cries from the crowd. Peasants and soldiers and rich alike. Men and women.
The Enchantress stands from her seat, but for once they take no notice of her. She strides down the steps towards the man who has spoken – muttering something under her breath to him urgently. He shakes his head emphatically, and her voice becomes more desperate – louder, so that June can hear it over the yelling.
"I will not," she is snapping, to the small, troubled group of men. "You cannot make me –!"
"The Emperor has decided –"
"I DO NOT CARE!" she shrieks suddenly, and the sound echoes inhumanly loudly around the temple, drowning out every yell and every voice like a living thing. The crowd duck, as if a large dragon has flown overhead. Colour is building back up in Dzmor's face. She seems so furious that her control begins to slip with each passing moment. Whatever glamour had given her her regal beauty begins to fade – her thick hair turns lank, her shining skin dirty. Insidious, the black begins to swirl about her and the people begin to shift uneasily. "I am not his toy to play with! I am a God!" Her voice echoes through the room as if reverberating through hundreds of different dimensions.
But the man merely looks at her calmly, unfazed by the sudden change. He claps his hands once and a slave carries out a familiar looking wooden box – although it is far less dustier than the last time June saw it. Inside is the heart, and the man holds it in the palm of his hand.
"You will do this," he tells Dzmor, "because you serve the people. Or you will do this because we will kill you, otherwise. It is your choice….Princess…would you really leave your city to be plagued by the barbarians. Would you really leave our crops to be burned? Our women to be raped? Children to be orphaned?"
The Enchantress's face is drawn to the point that she almost looks ill and June notices that she has become more animal-like – her shoulders hunched, her lip curling. She looks smaller, somehow. The on-lookers are beginning to murmur among themselves – clearly surprised by her reluctance. June wonders if this is the first time the witch has denied an explicit request. Accidentally shown the human beneath the deity.
She wets her lips, her eyes darting about the room one last time before her head gives a jerky, imperceptible nod. Like a puppet string being pulled, the Enchantress raises both arms and shuts her eyes in concentration. June stares, realising that an entire group of people are about to be destroyed now –
But the dream fuzzes and shifts in a swirl of neon colour. No longer a memory, but a thought. June is abruptly seeing a raging, gusting cloud of blackness ripping through the modern city of Charlotte with the force of ten hurricanes. Skyscrapers shatter into a million shards of glass and debris crushes houses. People run and scream, but it is over in almost seconds, leaving nothing but a burnt, charred swathe of land where thousands of people had stood and been alive but moments ago.
June wakes sharply – feeling stick to her stomach. She finds herself in bed next to Rick, tangled up in their bed sheets. Her heart is thundering wildly in her chest and she can already feel the adrenaline and shock bringing tears to her eyes. It takes several moments to realise that it hadn't been real – that she had not just witnessed an entire city levelled.
June heads for the bathroom as quickly and silently as she can without waking Rick, taking deep gulps of air as she tries to force down what is possibly a panic attack. In the bathroom, however, the light switch won't work and in the middle of the night it is pitch black.
"No –" June moans to herself, almost a whimper as she whirls round to address the empty darkness. "Stop it – just stop it – Go away! Leave me alone!"
The mirror is the only glinting source of light in the black – the reflective surface showing June's darkened silhouette. As she walks closer to the cabinet, she can make out her individual features more clearly.
Or, at least, someone's features.
She can see dark, stringy hair and huge black eyes. It isn't until June stops moving that she feels a chill run over her skin. Experimentally, she raises one hand.
So does the Enchantress.
Clenching her fingers into a fist, June jerks her arm back to her side and leans in close, trying to ignore the way her entire body is trembling.
"Get out of my head," she hisses. But the reflection of the Enchantress just echoes her words back to her perfectly and June has to physically restrain herself from smashing her fist against the mirror. This wasn't real, either. This was like the dream – just mind games.
She forces herself to shut her eyes and breathe deeply through her nose. Waller had the heart. The Enchantress couldn't control her unless June let her in. June was stronger – and she wasn't naïve enough to feel something like sympathy anymore.
One. Two. Three.
She counts each breath and then opens her eyes to see her own, wide-eyed reflection staring back at her. With held breath, June tries the light switch, and the whole bathroom is instantly bathed in a reassuring, golden glow. She can't decide if she dreamt most of this or if it all really happened, but June feels distinctly unnerved as she splashes cold water onto her face, trying to wake herself up.
The message was clear: the Enchantress was still inside of her. Alive and kicking.
Too awake to fall back asleep, June pads down the hallway and quietly opens and closes the front door. The automatic light hanging on the front porch clicks into life the moment it senses her presence, and June settles down into one of the rickety camping chairs breathing in the fresh air. It is warm enough that even in a T Shirt and pajama pants, she doesn't feel cold.
The night feels large and vast and empty. June sits quietly and after several moments the light clicks off again. She feels lonely; despite knowing that Rick is stretched out in their bed…that she could curl up beneath the covers next to his warm body. The fact of it was that June couldn't talk to Rick about everything. Just like he couldn't talk to her about things. She didn't want to wake Rick up and tell him she'd just had another Enchantress memory. She didn't want to assess and analyse with him what it could mean – mainly because Rick wouldn't want to assess and analyse it. He'd just get angry and worried and cranky.
No, the person June had normally gone to with this kind of thing was Melissa. And Melissa was dead.
June had been wholly unprepared for the hole her death would leave in her life. She hadn't realised how narrow the list of people she could trust and confide had become since it had shrunk even further. Her family had no idea what was going on with her. Neither did the majority of her work colleagues or her old acquaintances from college. June had needed that friend – that confidant. Someone who thought the way she did and was always on her team – even if Melissa's advice had usually been accompanied by some snarky remark and an eye-roll.
June hadn't had to stress about worrying Melissa in the same way she stressed about worrying Rick. She hadn't had to constantly feel like she was justifying herself and her decisions; sometimes talking to Rick could be so exhausting.
June heaves in a deep breath, tucking her feet up underneath her body to warm her toes up. The movement causes the light to flicker back on again.
All the guilt and pain and sadness aside, June missed having a friend she could trust. She missed walking into her office at the Archaeological Institute in the mornings and talking to her old mentor – hadn't realised how much she had valued that time until it was gone. It wasn't exactly like June could send off a quick Facebook message to someone like Becca, asking to talk about A.R.G.U.S and dead witches and magic when she was honeymooning in Hawaii. The thought is almost laughable.
June leans her head back far enough that she can look up at the stars in the night sky. She tries not to imagine the Enchantress looking through her eyes at the same stars. The same sky. She tries not to imagine everything around her gone; destroyed by the same, black sandstorm she'd seen in her dream.
If June is being honest with herself, part of the reason she wanted to join Task Force X had nothing to do with feeling guilty about Melissa's death and everything to do with feeling lonely. Having a dead witch inside of her limited her career opportunities and a chance to do something in a team – even a team of criminals – would give June the chance to feel part of something that she so craved. It gave her the goal she needed. It gave her something to fight for and believe in.
June just wasn't quite sure those reasons would fly with Rick.
"I had another memory last night. They're not going away."
It's not Rick that June is talking to, but Amanda Waller – over the phone. She's a crappy substitute for Melissa, and it shows just how pathetic June's situation has become that the head of A.R.G.U.S is now her first port of call in these kind of situations. She knuckles her forehead, sitting at the kitchen table – somehow feeling like she's arguing over insurance premiums. Rick is in the shower and June doesn't have much time.
"What was it about?" Waller replies, calmly.
"…the heart. After she gave it to her people, they forced her to kill another tribe."
"How many people?"
"I'm not sure."
"But she could kill them all?"
June doesn't like that Waller now sounds interested. The bored, dry tone is still there – but now with a spark of something else. June's stomach still feels queasy after her dream, and it gives a sickening wrench at Waller's words.
"I guess…can you…can you not do something about these dreams?"
"…Such as?"
June winces despite herself. "I don't know. Do something to the heart. Make her stop."
There's a pause and a low mumur on the other end of the line. June wonders who Waller is with. "This is within her normal parameters of behaviour," she replies, eventually. "We said that the heart would only be used in extreme circumstances."
June can't quite believe 'normal' in her life now encompasses memories reaching back thousands of years and witnessing the destruction of an entire community. "But she's angry."
Waller is calm – even indifferent. "She can't step out of line. This is all bark and no bite."
"Try telling me that when you experience a seven-thousand-year-old witch taking over your body."
"If you can't handle this –"
"I can handle it."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
June's hand reflexively tightens round the phone in frustration and she takes a deep breath. "…nothing," she replies, as she hears the bathroom door open down the hallway. "Forget I said anything."
She thinks she can physically hear Waller roll her eyes. "Fine –"
"Wait -!" June protests, as the other woman moves to hang up the phone. "…I need to ask you something."
"I am a very busy woman Doctor Moone."
"I want to see my parents. As soon as possible."
"I'm not hearing a question."
But June thinks the other woman has a pretty good idea as to what she's going to ask. "I…I'd like your permission."
"To fly to Florida? You are, as you keep reminding me, a free woman and this is a free country."
"I want to tell them about me."
"And I distinctly remember that folder I gave you being classified."
"…not about the Task Force…just about the Enchantress." June pauses, swallowing. "Please, they have a right to know. This is going to be for the rest of my life and they're my family."
She holds her breath, waiting for Waller's response…wondering how much humanity is left in this woman. June thinks of the purple orchid on Waller's window-sill no matter where her office happens to be.
The reply she gives June is brusque, and Waller hangs up the phone immediately afterwards. "Take your boyfriend with you," she says, her voice rich with amused sarcasm - and it somehow takes a moment for June to reconcile 'boyfriend' with Rick, who she can hear moving around in the back of the house. Maybe it's because she hasn't heard Waller refer to their relationship in more than cryptic hints until now. "I suppose it's time he met his future in-laws."
June pokes at the meal dubiously with her plastic fork.
The aeroplane is small – barely large enough to accommodate more than twenty passengers – and cramped. Rick is lent back in his seat with his arms folded, his long legs stretched out into the isle. He doesn't even bother to move them as people move back and forth from the tiny toilet cubicle at the front of the plane; June isn't sure that he physically can. His head almost touches the ceiling.
It's their interconnecting flight from Miami to the Keys and it can't be more than twenty minutes until they land. If June were to look out of her window, she would see rich, blue ocean stretched out beneath her. She's too busy toying with her crappy, indistinct looking lunch that the airhostess had bought out, however, to so much as glance at the scenery.
"You alright," Rick asks huskily, shifting slightly in his seat.
June sets her fork down, giving up on her lunch. She's surprised by the jittery nerves that are causing her stomach to do somersaults. Her palms feel sweaty. "Mmm," she nods.
After a while, however, June glances at him. If she's being honest with herself, she's more anxious about telling her family about Rick than telling them about the whole Enchantress business. For the first time, she'd practically dressed Rick herself – something he had found mildly irritating but mostly very amusing as she had rifled with mounting exasperation through his draws.
Seeing her stress, Rick had attempted to make a few suggestions – predictably pointing from where he lay stretched out on their bed to the dark bomber jacket he always wore that she'd discarded into her 'no' pile on the floor. "What's wrong with that?"
"The whole point is that I'm trying to make it look like you don't kick doors down for a living," June had snapped. Also, if she was being honest, the jacket was too intimidating…too military. She wanted her parents to like him and trust him…needed something that would make Rick more like a boyfriend than a bodyguard. It wasn't exactly like June could dress him in a shirt, either. Though summer was drawing to a close, Florida would still be hot and sticky with humidity.
In the end, she had managed to dig out a loose Henley top in amongst his hoodies and baggy sweatshirts. He looked good in it, and far more relaxed than she felt.
With each passing minute, June began to feel more and more nervous. Her Mom and Dad had agreed to pick her up from the airport, but she hadn't told them that Rick would be with her – and she was beginning to wish she had at least warned them. They had had no idea Rick even existed, yet alone that their daughter had spent the past four months living with him.
June makes a pained sound in the back of her throat and Rick throws her a look. "What am I doing?" she appeals to him.
He rolls his eyes. "This was your idea."
"…my Mom's going to completely freak out."
Intuitively, Rick seems to guess what's on her mind and the corner of his mouth quirks. "About me or the witch?"
"This isn't funny."
"Never said it was."
She looks up at him, a little exasperated. "Aren't you nervous? You're…about to meet my parents. This is a big step for…you know… us."
"Huge," Rick agrees, calmly – but catches the look on June's face. "Look, June, what's wrong? Are your folks super Catholic or traditional or somethin'? They're not goin' to go ballistic and get me to put a ring on you because we've been doin' it out of wed-lock?"
"You're hilarious," she gripes.
Rick turns his neck to look at June properly – catching her just as she tries to turn away from him. "Okay – do they love you?"
"Yes."
"- then you're good."
She takes a deep breath, feeling the basic truth of Rick's statement. No matter what her parent's initial responses would be, they did love her and would come round eventually. She just couldn't bare the idea of their initial hurt and disappointment. The realisation that their daughter had been living a double life for months…had been in danger without them knowing. That she was no longer living in the apartment they thought she was living in. Had quit the job they assumed she was currently working at. June's whole life had changed…and they had no idea.
June reaches up and places her hand on Rick's face. "Well that top looks good on you, so there's that," she teases him, lightly. The physical contact of her hand against his skin causes a rush of affection to well up inside of her, briefly stilling the butterflies in her stomach.
"Oh yeah?" Rick asks, raising both eyebrows – and June has to grin at the way he abruptly looks very smug.
"Very handsome," she reassures him.
He rolls his eyes. "Do me a favour and don' tell the guys that you dressed me."
"Please, if I hadn't picked that out for you, you'd be sat here in uniform…You know, when you try you can actually look very charming…"
"Uhuh," he says, dryly. "As opposed to what? Lookin' like I normally do?"
"Well you don't –"
But as June speaks the pilot's voice crackles over the comm, telling them that they are about to land. Reflexively, she looks out of her window to see a chain of islands stretched out beneath them. Her heart skips a beat.
They touch down, and June and Rick filter off of the plane in amongst the crowd of cheerful tourists who wear their Hawaiian print shirts and sandals seemingly un-ironically. Tall palm trees fringe the tiny run-way and the sky stretches bright and blue overhead. If June could have deliberately chosen a place to forget all her problems, her childhood home would have been a pretty good decision.
June immediately spots her parents in the arrivals lounge, and her stomach gives another sickening lurch. Physically, at least, they have not changed in the months since she has last seen them. Both in their early fifties, June's parents seem to exude a kind of contentness with life. They are dressed casually – her mother in a loose pair of trousers and shirt – her father's sunglasses pushed up on top of his head. It is clear as June approaches them that they have noticed the tall man walking close enough to their daughter to realise that he is not simply another passenger. Catching their puzzled expressions, June reflexively reaches out and grabs Rick's hand.
"Easy –" he mutters in her ear, as if she's some kind of startled horse.
But June ignores him, forcing a smile onto her face despite her pounding heart. To date, it is one of the most bizarre situations she has ever been in – which says a lot.
"Hi, honey!" her mother beams – albeit, looking slightly strained as she reaches forwards to embrace her daughter. "How was the flight -?" Typically, Miranda is too polite to out-right question what is going on, though confusion is written all over her face.
June's father is normally just as tactful, which is why she cringes when he bluntly demands: "Who the hell is this?" He looks from June – who is busy trying to unwrap herself from her mother's clutches - to Rick and then to their still-clasped hands. June can't quite tell if he's angry or merely stunned.
"Dad –" she starts, wondering how on earth to come out with a semblance of an explanation. But she's never been so lost for words before in her life.
"Rick Flag, sir. I'm – er – goin' out with your daughter."
June almost smiles. For all of Rick's bravado, there's a slight hesitation in his gravelly voice that shows that he's not quite as cool-headed as he'd like her to think. He reaches out a hand for her Dad to shake, but he simply ignores it – looking straight at June severely. She immediately feels sixteen instead of twenty-six.
"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?"
"Oh, Scott, don't be like that -" her mother effectively censures. "Not now – it's real nice to meet you, Rick," she smiles broadly, reaching up and hugging him – an action made difficult by the fact that Rick is a good foot taller than June's mother. The Moone family matriarch shoots June a significant look. "…I'm sure there's a story behind all this that I am just dying to hear."
June shares a glance with Rick, and she can tell that they are both thinking the same thing. She didn't think her mother would be able to guess even in her wildest dreams as to what that story was.
Her Dad drives them home in his old truck – the trunk of which is still littered with fishing nets and the odd oar. From the front seat, June's mother continues to speculate.
"So, did you two meet through work?"
June resists the urge to sigh loudly. "Mom…maybe this should just wait until we get home."
"Well, alright – but you know I'm kind of curious because –"
" – I know you are – and trust me, I know how strange this has to be for you and Dad -"
" – strange? We barely hear from you for months and then you show up with a – a – some man we haven't heard about before! No offense, Rick," her father adds, glancing at the pair of them in the rear-view mirror, though his voice is still acerbic. "I'm sure you're just a real stellar guy and everything, but June, this is pushing it – even for you –"
"Even for me?" June interjects, feeling her face floor with mortified anger that her Dad has the audacity to say all this in front of Rick. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well you go flying off here there an' everywhere an' we don't know where you are –"
June grips the headrest in front of her and leans forwards in between her parent's seats so as to better glare at her father. "Dad, how many times do I have to tell you there is a perfectly good reason for all of this?!"
"Oh good. There's a reason," her father rolls his eyes, not looking at her under the pretext of glancing left and right before he pulls out of a junction. "You know, I was just beginning to think you did this kinda thing 'cause you liked scaring your mother –"
"I'm a meta-human."
Luckily, her father keeps driving, but June sees the shock that freezes his face. Next to her, Rick looks slightly bemused, as if he's somehow wondering how he had wound up in the middle of a family argument in the back of her father's truck.
"…what?" her mother's voice sounds breathy with surprise and her eyes are slightly unfocused.
"A meta-human."
"What?...Since when?" June's father twists his head to look at her briefly over his shoulder. "When the hell did this happen?" he demands.
"Four months ago…when I want on that hike in Mexico –"
" – I don't understand –" her mother attempts - confused - and June leans back into her seat next to Rick's.
"Mom, I told you it was a long story."
Finally, her parents fall silent at the front of the car and there is blissful quiet. June shifts herself close enough to Rick that their shoulders touch, needing the physical comfort but not wanting to risk holding his hand when her Dad was being so prickly.
Abruptly, her father's expression becomes horrified as something clearly dawns on him. He twists in his seat again, and June wishes that she'd waited until they'd got home to drop the bomb shell. At this rate, they were going to crash the car. "Hang on - he's not one too –?"
"Honey, will you keep your eyes on where you're going? Honestly!" June's mother protests, sounding exasperated.
"What can you do? Shoot fire out of his eyeballs?"
"Actually, I am 100% human," Rick interjects, raising both eyebrows.
"Oh. Good." Somehow, her father still manages to make it sound slightly sarcastic. June has the feeling he's not going to calm down any time soon. She's rarely seen him so belligerent or openly antagonistic and she knows it's because he doesn't know how to deal with all this new information and doesn't quite understand the world of meta-humans. For her parents, this was only ever something that had been on TV. Still, June can't help but bite her lip to prevent her from snapping at him to shut up. Her parents were well within their rights to be angry at her…but not with Rick. If she'd known what she would be getting him into, she never would have suggested he come along.
The rest of the journey home really is in silence.
They pull up at June's house and she can't help the small smile that touches her lips as she takes in the high hedges, sandy grass and messy yard. This is where she and Rick first met…though she wasn't about to tell her parents that. If they realised that he'd come onto their property and all but taken her to a US army facility, her Dad really would come at Rick with a baseball bat. June remembers turning around and seeing him standing on their little beach – aloof and indifferent in his black sunglasses; looking every inch the mysterious Special Forces soldier. Who would have guessed then that she would bring him back to her home as her boyfriend?
Who would have guessed she would live with him? Gradually peel away the layers of his armour to reveal the perfectly normal man beneath – no longer a soldier or an agent or a killer, but a man she had actually fallen in love with?
"If my parents ask," she mutters to him under her breath as they sling their bags out of the back of the truck. "You've never been here before."
Rick glances at her father who is standing at the top of the wooden steps leading to the front door of the house, tapping his foot impatiently and staring at the two of them with downright suspicion. "Good thinkin'," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"I'm sorry that my Dad's being so…" she begins apologetically before pausing, trying to think of the right word. "This is just new for both of them – the whole meta-human thing. They won't have ever heard of A.R.G.U.S."
Rick sighs, tangling a hand momentarily in the hair at the nape of her neck – somehow intuitively guessing that out of the pair of them it's her that needs the reassurance. "Its okay, June. I know. You'll be fine."
She's not so sure. "I've barely sold them on the whole meta-human thing and I've still got to tell them about the Enchantress and Waller and the crazy woooo –" she makes a gesture with her fingers, insinuating magic.
"Guess it's a good thing information about the Task Force is classified then," he smirks.
"Oh yeah," June agrees. "I tell my Dad we're thinking about joining a group of criminals and he really will kill you."
A/N Again, sorry for the delay in updating. I had so much fun writing June's parent's responses (and also that little dig from Waller about Rick. I love it when she makes comments about Rick and June's relationship.) I'm blown away that you guys think that last chapter was the best one I've written. So far into a story as long as this one, that's really excellent to hear. I know every chapter cannot be the best, but I hope you enjoyed this one, too.
Thank you to all my readers who continue to support and review this story. I'm looking forward to the release of the Suicide Squad DVD so I can see all those deleted scenes from the trailers (because SO many were cut?!)
As always, please remember to review!
Last Of The Lilac Wine
