#i'm connecting so many fucking dots and it all started with one little map that showed the ranges of grizzlies gougars and wolves

[guiltyidealist]

So I'm pretty sure I've narrowed down a general region for where the Lost River map is set, plus a very strong case for what "actually" happened there ?

[babblydrabbly]

Trust Me Pt. 4 (Rick Flag x Reader)

[Gif]

Pairing(s): Rick Flag x F!Reader

Characters: Rick Flag, Amanda Waller, Florence Crawley, Emilia Harcourt, John Economos, Harley Quinn, Mongal mentioned.

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warning(s): Language, mentions of blood/violence. Food mentioned.

Summary: You're supposed to be resting. You do your best to put your mind on other things, but when he finally asks you what's been bothering him, you consider how you haven't been the same since you met Rick Flag. Part 4/?

A/N: Parts (1)(2)(3) — I wanted to play with all the characters we see in Waller's command center in The Suicide Squad (2021) since that's where reader technically works. Rick fluff is more toward end of this one :)

Taglist: @rrtxcmt​ @captainjaspenor @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021

---

For a week your mind wandered, distracted. For a week, you absently glanced at your reflection in passing mirrors, in vacant windows, and thought of warm breath softly grazing your cheek— Of a solid weight resting by your side as you sat on your couch, alone, in your empty apartment.

You slept, and waited. Like most people in your line of work— Even a week of nothing was driving you stir crazy.

But it wasn't just about being forced to stay at home. You glanced down at your work phone, hoping for— Well. You tossed it onto the coffee table and buried yourself under your blankets, embarrassed at the temptation of contacting Rick Flag. You'd never done it outside of work before, why the hell would you start now?

Beneath the covers, you thought of startled eyes— Of Rick, staring down at you from your door frame, looking troubled.

You groaned and grabbed at your own face, yelping when a finger accidentally tapped at the wound on your head. How fucking embarrassing. You stayed like that, holed up in your home, finally convincing yourself to gather up this feeling and store it away somewhere at the back of your mind for later.

At exactly 0500 hours on your first day back, your phone eventually did light up. You were not a day back from your stupid little vacation when you opened the door to ARGUS, and cursed under your breath.

The war room was, in a word, chaos.

"What the hell is going on?" You called over the shouts. It wasn't the normal din of the command center. You saw as some of your fellow analysts were running back and forth from the main table, desperately searching and calculating information. You jumped when a stack of files was thrown at you, catching it haphazardly in your arm.

"Need you on these," Flo began before you could ask. She shot you a wary look— Meeting her gaze she nodded over at Waller, who was standing out of her chair shouting into her comm. An overall bad day at the office then. You huffed and got to work immediately, shoving some space free onto the nearest surface.

The monitors around the room were alight with gunfire. You glanced up to see a very large cluster of red markers surrounding a much smaller cluster of green. Shit, you think.

"We've been here all night." Flo informed you from her station. "I need you to find them an exit. We've got three team members left."

"Three?" You didn't have time to ask— You didn't want to ask.

You got on a computer and began scanning the area mapped around Task Force X, comparing schematics for their getaway. Your mind finally focused— that familiar rhythm of connecting dots and data driving you to an answer. You rushed to the main computers and slapped a tablet down in front of Emilia.

She nodded, getting on the comms, "Flag, I'm sending your screen coordinates now."

"Thank fuck." Your ears pricked at Rick's voice coming in through the speakers. White noise scratched in and out as the team moved. You searched the monitors for any sign of the danger letting up.

On the Squad board— You see four red X's over four dead teammates, and you quickly checked if Harley is on the roster.

Okay, so maybe she had grown on you.

You had resisted for this many missions this far. In moments like these, when half of them were already a crossed out box on a screen, you didn't think you wanted to step over that line.

But then you saw a flash from the corner of your eye— A surveillance camera in the vicinity of the team that hadn't been shot out or damaged. Beside you and Emilia, Flo zoomed into confirm their status. In grainy black and white, Rick was holding the rest of the team back, making sure the hallway was clear before moving on. Harley Quinn stood behind him, making sure his six was covered in the mean time. Even on a shitty CCTV camera, you could see her white grin as she fired off at incoming enemies.

"We clear?" Rick hollered over the chaos.

"[Y/n]," Emilia was tapping your arm, pressing her headset into your hands. "I gotta open the doors for 'em." She sighed.

You nodded, putting in the earpiece. "Flag." You said. On the screen, you thought you saw his head jerk minutely, glancing around to himself. "You're clear when the doors open."

"Copy." He replied. And you swiftly trashed the thought that maybe he sounded just a little pleased to hear you.

You guided them out via your map as Flo and Emilia monitored which doors to open and which to close on incoming enemies. The three of you smirked at each other when finally, the last of Task Force X was on their boat and out of there. You sighed, dropping the headset back onto the station: A success.

"[L/n]," You jumped. You turned to Waller. "A week already, huh."

"Yeah, Ms. Waller."

She eyed you for a moment, her arms folded. She sighed without a shred of recognition for the work of anyone in the room, and returned to her office, shutting the door.

Flo, on the other hand, got everyone to do a little applause, patting a few shoulders on the back as she began wrapping things up in Waller's stead. You chuckled when Emilia immediately got up and rushed to the back room— It was her turn to distribute the office pool earnings this time, clearly.

You collapsed in her chair. You checked your phone and noted you'd only been at work for forty minutes. Across the empty station, John was pulling back the tab on a can of soda. He lifted it in a little toast.

"Welcome back." He said. For the Warden of Belle Reve, he was a surprisingly lax person during these idle times between missions.

You nodded. You jabbed a thumb at the monitors. "Good job."

He shrugged, "Not over yet for me til I get my assets back." He said flippantly. Like he was talking about borrowed items and not people. You supposed to him, his prisoners were his possessions. He went back to his computer without much else, getting on the comms to instruct Rick where they were going to get picked up and brought back.

You heard Rick answer with a simple "Copy" again. You sat there, your mind drifting again without anything to do at the moment. You wondered what someone else was thinking right now.

---

Sixteen hours. That's how long it took for Rick Flag to touch down on U.S. soil again. Between half of it spent stabilizing a bullet wound in Mongal's side and the other half convincing Harley they didn't need to stop for fucking burritos, he was just about ready to collapse himself.

"Oh, what about a burger?" Harley went on— Like he would actually consider it. Like their jet was going to stop at a fucking drive-thru on the way back to Belle Reve.

Still, he let her praddle on. It was less about actually getting what she wanted and more about her filling up the silence of the half-empty plane. Her chatter let him know she was doing alright— That as the adrenaline wore off she didn't have any broken bones or knife wounds he needed to worry about. Not that he really needed to.

Rick, on the other hand, could have went for a shot of tequila and a couple of ibuprofen.

Back at the compound he tried to make quick work of his debriefing; He glanced around the room in ARGUS HQ, and found himself searching for you. He noted your friends— Florence Crawley and Emilia Harcourt— But didn't catch you anywhere. When Waller dismissed them all, Rick decided to call it a night.

He supposed he didn't know what he expected anyway. On the way out by the elevator though, he felt a buzz in his pocket. Rick glanced down at his phone.

Do you even use this office? The dust on your keyboard is awful.

He blinked at your first and last name above the message. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped inside, immediately pressing a floor up instead of two down. The floor of the office space that yes, was technically his.

The area was empty at this hour, all the lights off save for his, just a few doors down. Rick's footsteps echoed as he cautiously approached the open door.

Finally, Rick peered inside, a small smile forming.

"...What the hell are you doin'?" He asked you. His voice was raw from shouting over the comms for hours. It made his low drawl even deeper now. You didn't answer him, instead tossing a dirtied hand wipe into the trash can beside his desk. You had wiped the entire surface of his office space, it seemed, from the aforementioned keyboard to the filing cabinets behind you.

Rick entered the office and shut the door behind him, still waiting for you to explain yourself.

Then it hit him, the smell of something so fucking good he had to tear his eyes away to a large paper bag rolled up and waiting on the desk between the two of you. You pushed it toward him, nodding over at the seat he kept by the door.

"Quinn had a special request saved up— What with the task force's success today and all. I volunteered to go get it." You shrugged.

Rick shook his head, smirking faintly. Taking the chair in his hand, he moved it closer to where you were sitting. He fell into it, an exhausted sigh leaving him.

"Got you some too. Obviously." You clarified.

Rick opened the bag and pulled out two large burgers wrapped in foil. At the bottom he could feel the weight of what he could only assume to be a pound's worth of French fries, still warm.

"You're back." Was all he said, closing his smile down on a fry. He chewed tiredly, pushing the bag back over to you.

You folded your hands over your lap, leaning back in his desk chair. "Got to see you make it out okay."

"I would have preferred you there." He said. Rick realized he did and didn't mean that all at once; It had been rough. He had yet to dwell in the thought that the task force was down four members on his watch. And all the while, it occurred to him that he at least knew you were here, safe. Your eyes met briefly and he darted his away before too long.

He helped himself to one of the burgers, unwrapping the foil.

You were frowning.

"You weren't supposed to move on this mission so early. What happened?"

He scoffed, talking through a large bite. "Waller felt like it. What else?"

What else. You ran a hand through your hair, irritated. "You shouldn't have been team leader. We weren't even done confirming how many personnel were really at that base the last time I was in the office."

"It was a lot." He said dryly. Swallowing, he finally glanced up at your expression— your pinched brow and downturned lips. "You gonna eat?"

You rolled your eyes and snatched up the other burger. You weren't hungry, but you felt satisfied that Rick was ravenous enough for the both of you. You chuckled before taking a small bite.

"What?" He mumbled.

"I just— Always picture you eating that healthy slop from the mess hall. It's kind of funny seeing you eat junk food."

Rick wiped his mouth unceremoniously with the back of his hand, oblivious. You chuckled at this Rick. These rare glimpses of him you had been collecting lately.

The two of you ate the rest of the food— No talk of missions, no trading snark. You ate until you made a pitiful dent in the fries together, tossing the rest into the waste bin and turning out the lights. You and Rick walked outside of the building together in companionable silence— All the while a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"You back in the barracks yet?" Rick asked you before you could bring the thought forth.

"Oh, no." You shook your head, "They called me in so early I didn't have time to pack my stuff."

"Right."

"Soon enough, though."

He nodded, his hands retreating to the pockets of his uniform. The two of you stood there quietly.

You swallowed.

We kissed. You wanted to blurt it out. You had attacked the fact from different angles all week; From brushing it off (It was just a misreading that you didn't want to overthink). To giving in (you overthinking the shit out of it because you and Rick Flag didn't do things like kiss). It was an anomaly. A fucking fluke. — It was nothing. A passing moment.

—You also considered that the best way to draw a conclusion was to address the source. You were both adults. It would have certainly been the most productive thing to do.

But then Rick was lifting his head, looking right at you.

"D'you remember a few missions back?" He said first, interrupted your thoughts that were so dangerously close to their boiling point. "Your second one, I think. You said—" Rick reached up to scratch at the back of his neck suddenly, his face twisted in thought. "Y'said you were wrong."

You blinked at Rick. He continued: "Y'said you'd made all these— assumptions. You never said what. Then next time we were on a team together, you're breaking protocol and..."

....And flipping a five ton vehicle at one hundred miles an hour, like an moron.

Rick was staring at you, waiting for an answer to a question he'd been trying to ask you for weeks now. You see it in his eyes: The 'why', waiting there on the tip of his tongue.

"I... don't know." You confessed softly.

Then, with more consideration: "You call them by their names."

You folded your arms anxiously, tried to form an answer. You saw Rick shift his weight from the corner of your eyes, listening to you. Waiting for you. "—Not their call signs on the comms. I mean their names; You address them. You talk to them."

Hell, on that second mission, you saw that Boomerang had slipped a flask out of some dead grunt's pocket, and Rick obliged him by passing it back and forth a few times later in the night; They'd shot the shit as the rest of you tried to get some sleep, your little encampment feeling more like a sleepover than life or death.

It was a 180 from the Rick you thought you knew. The one who barked orders while at Belle Reve, making sure the task force stayed in line— And you had realized: It was because Waller was watching. He was every part the Colonel you had researched before you little side mission had started, but at some point— When they were in the thick of it out there risking their damn lives— Rick would let up. He would let his group of bumbling criminals and threats to society be free for awhile.

And it was so reckless. So utterly treacherous; You had to wonder what had happen to him that you weren't seeing on paper.

"Some of them would take a bullet for you." You continued: "I guess I just realized— It's because you'd actually take a bullet for them too."

Rick took that in, nodded slowly.

"We're a team." He said. And the words hit you like a brick wall. You were a team. Whether you meant to or not— Whether you were still Waller's informant or not. You'd turned into one of them. A sliver of guilt still tried to wedge itself into the back of your skull. Could you really be that person?

After a few more moments of silence, Rick broke the spell he'd just put you under— Like he hadn't just turned your shit upside down.

"Thanks for the food, [L/n]." He said, looking ready to depart.

"[Y/n]." You retorted. And Rick stopped. He quirked a brow at your sudden exasperation.

"Just [Y/n] from now on, Jesus. We're there aren't we?"

Rick's smile returned, disarming as ever.

"Yeah, I think we are."