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It started on a Tuesday. Rick was exhausted, caffeine-deprived, and unapologetically pissed off. The rusty steel door crashed against the wall when he strode unceremoniously into one of Belle Reve’s tiny rooms. The guard’s gobsmacked expression sent another flicker of irritation jabbing hot through his stomach and he gestured impatiently to the screen of the chunky computer the guard’s fingers were sweating all over. ‘I want Lawton’s cell unlocked,’ he said shortly, not in the mood for conversation. ‘Move it.’ The guard continued to stare. Rick clenched his jaw against the angry tirade which wanted to burst free and settled on glaring. June hadn’t spoken to him all day. Waller was on his ass about completing painfully detailed paperwork of the entire goddamn fiasco. The head of the task force focused on bringing in Harley Quinn called for his opinion every ten minutes. And it was raining. As per fucking usual. ‘Are you deaf?’ Rick snapped after another elongated period of silence. He gestured again with his hand, sharply. The guard flinched. ‘I said, move it. His little girl’s waiting.’ Rick noticed belatedly that the brown-haired man seemed more than a little shell-shocked. He supposed that the light in his eyes probably didn’t look too sane at the moment. And the Glock at his hip was loaded. ‘Deputy Warden McLeod said visits only happen once a month,’ the guard whispered, before seeming to find his spine and straightening. ‘It’s only been two weeks. Sir.’ Rick struggled to hold on to his patience. ‘Look. Whoever the hell Deputy Warden McLeod is, I am a Colonel. I pretty fucking clearly outrank him. And I say Lawton gets weekly visits with his twelve-year-old daughter. So get the hell up and unlock Lawton’s goddamn cell before I really get pissed.’ The guard unlocked Lawton’s cell. Following regulations, he posted another four guards to go along. Rick nodded briefly to them and they stared stoically back, before grabbing Lawton by the elbows and frog-marching him outside. Rick found his eyebrow raising minutely at the show. ‘You jokers stink, you know that?’ Lawton sounded exactly the same, fucking annoying and unprofessional as ever. ‘You should shower more. You get free showers, you don’t have any excuse.’ That was, apparently, when he spotted Rick. ‘Ay, Flag, my man! Get me some cleaner jailers, wouldya?’ Rick really didn’t know why he’d expected anything else. He merely sighed silently through his nose and jerked his head. ‘Just get him to the van,’ he told the guards. They obliged, marching off, but Rick didn’t miss Lawton’s shout of Good talk, Flag. In a brief moment of weakness, Rick rubbed at the sharp pain between his eyebrows. Fuck his life. Then he followed after them, leaping into the back of the rumbling truck, one of the guards slamming the doors behind him. Lawton glanced at him but didn’t comment, seeming to be focused on the thought of seeing his daughter. Rick had missed the last visit because of a tip-off from some guy who’d claimed to see Quinn, which had turned up zilch. This time, Lawton’s daughter Zoe wanted her dad’s help with her art homework. Lawton was, objectively, terrible. All that the homework required was colouring in some damn turtles. From where he leaned against the wall, Rick could hear the kid berating the fucking world-class sniper for not being able to keep the colour inside the lines. Rick merely shook his head slightly from where he was flicking through the dossier on Quinn for the nth time, for whatever good it would do him. A particularly loud ‘Daddy!’ from the girl caused him to look up automatically, even though they were out of sight. The kid went on to berate Lawton for colouring the turtle shell red when it was supposed to be green. Rick only realised that the corner of his mouth had ticked up into a tiny smile when he caught one of the guards directing an obnoxious smirk at him then at his buddy then back at Rick. It didn’t take much effort to school his expression into a glare and the guard subsided immediately, ducking his head. Paging through the dossier, Rick set his mind firmly back to the case until the allotted hour passed and he stepped around the wall. He was greeted with the sight of Lawton bent over the table, his kid wrapping her much smaller hand around his, guiding the green pencil in his hand carefully down the page. ‘Time’s up,’ Rick said, already checking his phone. He looked up to see Lawton leaning over his daughter, putting an arm around her shoulders and pointing at Rick, who raised an eyebrow. ‘Now this here is Flag,’ Lawton said in a low voice, like Rick wasn’t perfectly able to hear. ‘He’s a lifeless fun-hater who plays by the rules and reads mission reports for recreation. You won’t follow his example, will you, baby?’ ‘Nuh-uh,’ the girl replied faithfully, before turning on Rick. Oh God. Her eyes were so big. ‘I’m Zoe,’ she said. Rick stared down at the kid, motionless. He had no fucking clue what to do. ‘Uh,’ he managed, his voice a little hoarse. ‘Hi.’ She smiled. It was…acceptable. Rick gave a slow nod, before he caught onto Lawton’s smirk and glared. ‘Get over here,’ he growled, unhooking the cuffs from his belt. ‘Aye aye, Cap’n,’ Lawton grinned, sauntering over. Rick cuffed him securely and ignored his persistent grin, waving at the guards to do that frog-hopping shit they loved so much as he led the way out the door. ‘I’ll see ya soon, baby,’ he heard Lawton say, his voice low. Rick just barely caught the kid’s muted ‘Bye,’ and the unmistakeably despondent tone lent him a sudden flash of determination. He was going to let that kid see her father. And God help any Deputy Warden who got in his way. *** ‘But it’s only been four days,’ the guard protested. ‘Do I look like I can’t goddamn count?’ Rick replied, irritated. He hooked his thumbs into his belt and jerked his head at the monitor. ‘Unlock the door.’ The guard worked his mouth. Rick raised his eyebrows. He unlocked the door. When the guards (three) went in to get Lawton, Rick stayed outside. He frowned down at a text from June, feeling something uncomfortable twist inside his stomach. He didn’t like leaving her alone, not when she was so fragile. And it was…weighing on him. June barely slept, so he stayed up with her, and when she did sleep he looked over her and soothed her nightmares. He was fucking exhausted. Constantly. But it was fine, Rick could deal with it. June needed him. And he loved her. This morning they’d had coffee together, and June had smiled her gorgeous, shy smile, and Rick had the sudden feeling that everything would be okay. It also brought the realisation that up until then, he’d been thinking that everything would not be okay. Rick realised that someone had said something and glanced up. One of the guards was staring at him, while the other two kept their eyes on Lawton. Nervous rookies, probably. Mentally Rick re-wound the last ten seconds and realised that the guard had asked whether he needed the chain for Lawton’s feet. ‘How the hell would he walk? Just take him to the damn truck,’ Rick told him, eyes flickering briefly back to his phone before he tucked it into the pocket of his heavy Kevlar jacket. They were rookies, they wouldn’t know that when it came to Lawton, ankle chains were a set condition of his visits. Rick wasn’t in the mood for a goddamn three-legged-race. The ride was mostly silent, apart from the jostling of the truck and the three seconds where one of the guards had apparently forgotten himself and started humming, only to be silenced by an irritated look from Rick. Most of his anger came from the fact that he’d actually been on the edge of falling asleep on the job when the guy made the sound. Fuck, he was slipping. Rick blinked hard to clear his vision. As the truck rumbled to a stop, it took a concerted effort from Rick not to shoot up and get out in to the fresh air post haste. Instead he kept up the detached, slightly annoyed visage which he’d perfected as a Colonel and strode out only after one of the guards had opened the door. He squinted up at the building, the dull sunlight flaring his headache as the guards guided Lawton out of the truck. They were acting like skittish deer and Lawton was grinning, an amused twist at the corner of his mouth. If he hadn’t been there, Rick would’ve grabbed them by the shoulders and shaken them. As it was he settled for a glare and a snap of Man the fuck up and get him into the building. The guards hurried to comply, dragging Lawton off before he could make some smartass comment and Rick was unashamedly glad for it. He was too tired for this shit. The rest of the visit was fairly uneventful. Lawton’s kid had biology homework – forensics, from the sound of it, and Lawton was teaching her the difference between blood types, giving a suspiciously detailed example of what happened when the wrong blood type was injected. *** They next visited eight days later, because Rick had been busy chasing ghost leads on Quinn and her crazy bastard of a boyfriend. They were insane, but slippery. And apparently the guards – whittled down to two – were too damn cowardly to just take Lawton themselves. Rick actually had shaken one of them this time. And now, as the kid taught her dad how to make mini-catapults, the same guard sidled up to him, acting like a kicked dog. ‘Colonel…it’s been an hour. And a half.’ Rick looked up from his thick dossier on the Joker. He raised his eyebrows, impatient. ‘And?’ The guard just stared, seeming to be lost for words. Rick snapped the folder closed with an abrupt movement. The guard flinched. Seemed to be a common reaction around him of late. That should probably tell him something, but Rick couldn’t be fucked listening. ‘What is your point, soldier?’ ‘The visits are only supposed to be an hour long…sir,’ the young Chinese man added. Rick frowned over the sounds of elastic bands twanging and victorious yells from the kid. ‘He hasn’t seen his daughter in over a week, give ‘em some time,’ he replied, his attention already returning to the dossier. The guard nodded, gave an aborted, breathless mutter which might’ve been ‘okay’ and beat a hasty retreat. Rick shook his head minutely as he turned the page. An hour later, Rick clicked the handcuffs into place. The kid’s grin was small but brilliant as she said her farewells to Lawton. He was only absently listening, but as soon as she mentioned his name he snapped to attention. ‘Bye, Flag,’ she said shyly, holding out her hand. After a moment Rick took it gingerly, feeling oddly like her tiny soft hand might break. He didn’t have much experience with children. But the way she hunched up her shoulders and tipped her chin down to smile up at him was – something. Cute. Maybe. ‘Call me Rick,’ he replied, managing a small smile and a nod for her before letting go and signalling to the guards. Rick looked back down when she continued. ‘Thanks for always keeping my dad safe,’ the kid said with more confidence. ‘Bye!’ She gave a small wave, and almost automatically Rick touched his forefinger to his forehead in a casual salute. During the ride back, he stoically ignored the guard’s attempt at subtle staring. Lawton was a little harder to ignore. ‘She’s a good kid, right?’ he asked, bracing his elbows on his thighs and leaning forwards expectantly. ‘You’re soft, Flag, completely mushy. Like a marshmallow.’ ‘Shut it before I shut it for you,’ Rick replied acerbically. Lawton grinned. ‘I knew it, man.’ Rick was really way too tired for this shit. *** Rick had waved away the two guards which had come to escort Lawton. They were rookies anyway, they’d more hinder than help if Lawton actually tried anything. And they were certainly not saddened by Rick’s dismissal. Today Lawton’s kid seemed to be teaching him Spanish. During his time with the military Rick had picked up the basics and he half-listened as he typed up a report on his phone, describing the false Quinn call in minute, Weller-approved detail. He was halfway through attempting to think of a term to describe the caller other than ‘pussy assed time-wasting piece of shit fucker’ when his phone vibrated. Text from June. Feeling a sick flush of worry before he’d even read the text, Rick hesitated to tap on the notification. Then he mentally called himself a fucking coward and opened it.
J: There’s an archaeological dig in Peru. The head researcher is an old colleague and she offered me a place.
The bottom dropped out of Rick’s stomach. June knew perfectly well that he couldn’t go along. And she would be away for weeks, if not months. Without him.
R: you’re going
R: aren’t you
He watched the typing ellipses flash for a long time, the sounds of an attempted lesson of Spanish conjugation a buzz in his ears. But when the reply came, all it said was Yes.
Honestly, Rick was too tired to be surprised. He rubbed at his forehead, leaning back against the wall. He slid down slowly, barely noticing until he was in a sit. His head thunked back, and he closed his eyes…just for a moment, he promised himself. Just a moment. *** ‘…thought you said Rick was a machine, Daddy. Machines can’t sleep.’ ‘Dunno. Maybe he’s not sleeping. Maybe he’s re-charging his batteries.’ ‘He should run on solar power instead. That way he’s environmentally friendly.’ ‘You know what? You tell him that, baby.’ Rick blinked awake slowly, feeling sluggish and sleepy, like he’d been drugged. His mouth tasted like shit. And his head was pounding in that slow, muted way it did when he slept when he wasn’t supposed to. ‘What the hell,’ he mumbled roughly, rubbing at his eyes as he struggled to a sit. He felt something slip off his shoulders and cracked his eyelids open to see a frayed pink blanket slip down his chest. Apparently he was on the couch. Rick felt completely disorientated, like he’d slept for years instead of…however long he’d slept. ‘Yo, Sleeping Beauty,’ came Lawton’s amused voice. Rick looked over to see him stretched out on the carpet in the middle of the room by the almost-finished puzzle as his kid sorted through the remaining pieces. He was also grinning obnoxiously. God Rick missed the days when he’d been all focused and solemn. ‘Time is it?’ Rick asked, his tongue feeling slow in his mouth. He pressed his palm to his head. Oh yeah, fuck, June, the archaeological dig. Great. Was he…on a couch? He’d been – against the wall. So either he’d sleepwalked or Lawton had carried him over here, which Rick was not even gonna fucking think about. ‘It’s seven fifteen,’ the kid replied promptly. ‘At night. We’ve almost finished!’ Rick barely caught himself from swearing and stood quickly, staying steady on his feet by force of will. ‘We gotta go. Get up, Lawton.’ The kid’s bright smile dropped. ‘Can’t we finish the puzzle, Rick?’ she asked. What – what was that look. ‘Maybe next time, okay, kid?’ Rick replied, off-balance, half-asleep and disoriented. June was probably at home. He needed to – talk to her. Figure this out. He loved her, he loved her so much – maybe, maybe they just needed a break. Rick could do that. He could wait. ‘Yeah,’ the kid muttered, before whirling to crush Lawton’s ribs with her skinny arms. Lawton wheezed – exaggerated, Rick was sure. Then again, Rick recalled his own spur-of-the-moment attempt at a hug. Maybe Lawton had a thing about hugging. Why was Rick even thinking about this? ‘Damn, you’re strong, baby girl!’ Lawton exclaimed, pretending to feel up the kid’s biceps. She laughed and pushed at him half-heartedly. ‘Look atcha, you’ll be stronger than your Daddy in no time.’ ‘Ain’t exactly hard,’ Rick muttered. He hadn’t exactly planned to say that, but it had happened. Lawton looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘Oh, so that’s how it is?’ he asked, the beginnings of a grin forming on his face. The kid laughed, and Rick shook his head a little as he unhooked the manacles. He wasn’t going to reply. Lawton didn’t need to be encouraged, and Rick didn’t need to bond with a felon. ‘That’s how it is,’ he replied. Blinked. Jangled the manacles pointedly to cover his temporary lapse. Apparently Rick’s tired mind wasn’t listening to him any more. ‘Hurry it up, Lawton.’ He needed to see June. *** ‘You know, you even frown when you sleep,’ Lawton said, completely out of the blue. ‘Is there ever a time when you ain’t pissy?’ ‘Sure as hell not when I’m around you,’ Rick replied. Lawton just laughed as the truck rumbled on, and Rick had to fight not to smile in response. *** June was gone by the time Rick got back. *** Rick really didn’t know why he was surprised when, halfway through Lawton’s next Zoe-visit, Harley Quinn herself swaggered in through the door. ‘Hiya,’ she grinned, chewing her ever-present bubblegum. Lawton raised a hand from where he was reading the Hobbit to a drawing Zoe, who sang an absent ‘Hello’. Rick dragged a hand down his face and contemplated the failings of the American internal defence system. ‘Hi, Crazy.’ Lawton raised his eyebrows. ‘So, you get it?’ ‘Yep,’ Quinn said cheerfully. ‘We’ve got Waller by the lady-balls. She can’t hold us any longer.’ Rick sighed. He had neither the energy nor the motivation to arrest Quinn, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t at least going to make an effort at disapproval. ‘Should you really be having this conversation right in front of me?’ Tipping her head to the side, Quinn smiled like he was a tiny dog trying to bark viciously. ‘C’mon, darlin’, you ain’t gonna stop us and you know it.’ ‘Whatever,’ Rick muttered. ‘So, guess that means we won’t be needing those, right?’ Lawton eyed the manacles at Rick’s belt and, seemingly unconsciously, rubbed his wrists. In a completely unfair and underhanded move, Zoe added her own pleading stare to the force of Lawton’s. Puppy eyes seemed to run in the family. Fuck his life. Rick took a moment to rub at the spot on his forehead which was now continuously pounding before he took out his phone. It burst to life before he could even turn it on, BLOCKED NUMBER flashing across the screen. ‘Go on, darlin’,’ Quinn urged, eyes fixed on the phone. Rick sighed again before accepting the call. If you could call it that; Waller only said three words. ‘Let them go.’ She hung up with a beep as Quinn, shrieking, ran to catch Lawton up in a hug that looked bone-crushing. When she finally released her grip, Lawton didn’t even complain. Rick wondered if it was only his hugs which Lawton didn’t li—and why the fuck was he thinking about that? Rick folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as Quinn started walking Lawton through the apparently ground-breaking thing she had on Waller. Then he abruptly decided that he didn’t want to know and pushed off the wall – only for Lawton to call out to him. ‘Hey, Flag,’ he said, gesturing to move closer. Rick went, but only reluctantly. ‘My girl needs some help with her puzzle. That ain’t too difficult for you, is it?’ Rick gave Lawton a level look which he’d perfected into conveying just the right amount of tired pique. The tired part didn’t really need much effort, at any rate. Smirking, Lawton turned back to Quinn, who made an exaggerating cooing noise which Rick ignored in favour of joining Zoe at the kitchen table. ‘There are so many pieces,’ Zoe said, her cheek resting on her hand. Rick cast his mind back to his childhood. It took a while. ‘Look, you gotta do the outside first…the corners, then the border…’ He poked at one of the corner pieces as Zoe picked out another. ‘That makes sense,’ she agreed. ‘My daddy always goes from the bottom to the top.’ ‘Your daddy is wrong.’ Zoe laughed. For a few minutes they kept collecting the pieces, while Quinn and Lawton had an involved discussion in the lounge and Rick wondered what the hell he was doing. Solving jigsaws with Floyd Lawton’s daughter as the man himself chatted to Harley Quinn. Whatever. Rick was too exhausted to really care. And Zoe was easy to get along with; Rick didn’t have much experience with kids, if any, but Zoe was pretty much a pint-sized adult. She was quiet, and the silence was comfortable. After an indeterminate amount of time, in which the light coming in through the windows went dusky amber, Rick heard goodbyes called over the slam of the door. His attention was drawn back to the puzzle when Zoe held up the final piece and grinned at him. Rick said, ‘Nice work.’ Zoe carefully slotted it in as Lawton appeared in the doorway. Studying the soft smile on the assassin’s face, Rick realised that he was nowhere near as tough as he’d initially appeared to be. ‘Bedtime, darlin’,’ Lawton announced. Zoe pulled a put-out face but stood and made her way to the door. She stopped in the doorway to wave to Rick, who raised a hand in return. For some reason Lawton shot him an amused look as he shepherded Zoe to her room, but Rick gratuitously ignored it. He rested his forehead on his hand for a moment. His skin was burning. ‘Let’s have a toast!’ Rick jerked up at Lawton’s announcement, blinking as he wagged a bottle of tequila in front of his face. ‘To what?’ Rick asked, despite himself. Lawton’s returning grin was disturbingly smug. ‘Freedom.’ ‘God help us all,’ Rick muttered beneath his breath. A loud bark of a laugh snapped his eyes to Lawton, and they sorta got…stuck there as he took in how bright his teeth were against his dark skin, how his heavy eyes still looked sarcastic in a way that was somehow fucking endearing. Fuck. God help him, if he was thinking Lawton’s acerbic nature was somehow attractive. Acknowledging his physical attractiveness was easy, but anything more than that was so out of line it’d give an artist an aneurysm. ‘You’re classic, man,’ Lawton chuckled, pouring two shots into tiny glasses. ‘Classic.’ Despite himself, Rick found himself smiling in return. Obligingly he clinked his glass to Lawton’s, draining it easily and nursing the next shot instead of following suit. Lawton seemed to have the same idea. They sat in a comfortable silence as the amber light turned violet, then disappeared, the kitchen turning dark and shadowy. Neither of them were bothered enough to turn the lights on, the faint orange glow of the streetlights outside enough to see by. ‘How’s your lady?’ Lawton asked. ‘Y’know, after the whole…’ he twirled his finger vaguely, but Rick got the picture. He turned his glass around in his fingers, fascinated by the contrast of his rough skin against the delicate glass. Rick was surprised to find that the expected stab of hurt at the mention of June was duller than he’d expected. ‘She’s, uh…gone. Archaeological thing in Peru.’ He could feel Lawton’s eyes on him, but preferred to study how the light spun off the glass. ‘She coming back?’ Blowing out a sigh, Rick finally let the glass rest and met Lawton’s gaze. ‘Nah.’ ‘That’s rough, man,’ Lawton said with a slow shake of his head. He tilted his own half-full glass in a weird sort of salute. ‘Yep.’ They lapsed back into silence, but it felt uncomfortable as it hadn’t before. Expectant. Like there was something that one of them wanted to say, and were on the edge of saying it, but just restraining themselves. Rick was fairly sure it wasn’t him; he felt too spacy to be on the edge of anything. Unfortunately, Lawton seemed to catch on to this. ‘Tired?’ ‘Fine,’ Rick replied automatically. Lawton gave him a dead-eyed look which conveyed exactly how convinced he was. To put it simply, not at all. ‘Sure, man,’ he snorted. ‘Yeah. You look at peak form, Flag. Not like you’re gonna faint at any moment, or anything.’ Rick scowled. Huffing in exasperation, Lawton shook his head at him, before seeming to come to a decision and standing abruptly. Rick flinched as a strong hand grabbed the back of his seat and dragged it back easily. He jumped to his feet. ‘Hey!' he barked. 'What the—’ The protest immediately died a silent death in his throat when Lawton spun him around, heaved him back against him with a forearm and collapsed both of them back onto the couch. Rick blinked into the semi-darkness. What. The. Fuck. He’d evidently reached the hallucinatory phase of sleep deprivation. Because no way was he actually cuddled up on top of Floyd Fucking Lawton on his couch, Rick’s back to Lawton’s firm chest, Lawton sprawling back against the armrest. ‘I thought you said you weren’t a hugger,’ Rick said, because even in his hallucinations he was an unforgiving dick. ‘I’m not,’ Lawton snapped back. Considering that his words were spoken as he was wriggling to find a more comfortable spot and winding his arm further around Rick’s torso, his hand sliding up towards Rick’s shoulder, his point was rendered pretty fucking moot. Rick gave up, allowing his head to fall back against Lawton’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder. ‘What the hell do you call this then?’ ‘Less blabbering, more sleeping,’ was the dumbass reply. Debating pointing this out, Rick realised that his thoughts were already blurring with the fuzziness of sleep. He settled on merely snorting, allowing the lines of his body to finally relax. Once he did, Lawton felt more damn comfortable than his too-soft mattress back at his Spartan apartment. Rick allowed himself to drift. Hazily he registered Lawton’s breaths evening out where they brushed soft past his ear, becoming slow with sleep. His fingers, which had pulled hundreds of triggers and ended countless lives, were warm where they curled over Rick’s shoulder. Rick thought about June, and Zoe, about Amanda Waller and Harley Quinn and The Joker, about the Bat of Gotham, who probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about Deadshot’s release. He thought about the fact that the man was an unapologetically annoying shit who was also a mass murderer. Then again, there might be more similarities between them than Rick’d like to admit. Then he remembered the sound of Lawton’s laugh, the brightness of his smile, the dumb smirk and the weird nicknames. Rick was so fucked. But as he drifted off to sleep, definitely being cuddled by Floyd ‘Not A Hugger’ Lawton, he made the definitive and lasting decision not to give a shit.