Archive of Our Own

i’ll be honest, there’s a lot i don’t know
so much of this is out of our control

but trust me 
the one thing that nothing in this world will change
you and me will be always

June goes in to talk to the Swiss with one goal in mind - make sure Holly doesn't come back to Gilead. Whatever it takes.

She takes her seat at the table and starts with what she hopes will be enough - stating in certain terms that she's the baby's mother and she does not want her returned to Gilead. When that doesn't feel like enough, she doubles down. She tells them Waterford isn't Holly's father. She has no idea where she'll go after that, or what else she can say to convince them that Holly needs to stay right where she is when the Swiss delegate folds her hands on the table and leans in towards her.

"June," she begins, her accented voice gentle, "the best way to make sure Nichole does not return to Gilead is for one of her biological parents to take custody of her."

June shakes her head. That won't work. "Her father is a driver, he's still here too. What else can we do?"

The Swiss delegate's features soften and she glances over at her male counterpart. He leans in, ready to take over, his voice low yet urgent. "Ms. Osborne, I don't think you understand."

She doesn't. She can feel irritation starting to bubble up inside her. She thought this would be easier. "Then explain it to me."

He glances around the conference room anxiously and June feels her heart skip a beat, wondering if she's said too much. Wondering who might have heard. "We can get you to Canada," he says, his voice barely above a whisper and June's breath catches in her chest as she processes his words. Her body feels a million miles away from her mind, completely disconnected, as she feels her head starts to shake on its own volition.

"No," she breathes out, still unable to stop her head from shaking as her eyes close. She puts her palms down flat on the table in front of her, trying to ground herself. "I'm… I…" she can feel herself floundering, being dragged away in an undertow of her emotions. Hannah. She can't leave. She can't . She takes a deep breath, centering herself as she opens her eyes to the concerned glances of the three Swiss delegates.

"No," she repeats herself, her voice steadier now. "I can't. My other daughter is still here and I can't… I can't leave her." Her eyes pass across the three delegates in front of her, their faces displaying a mix of pity and disbelief. She knows she must sound insane, turning down an offer to leave Gilead, but she'd made this choice before and she won't stray from it. She won't leave until Hannah's free of this mess too. She looks down at her hands, wondering how many more of these opportunities she'll have to turn down. 

She looks back up at the delegates. "There's nothing else? No other way?"

"That's the best. It's the only way to ensure she doesn't return to Gilead," the man answers truthfully.

June looks back down at her hands, tapping her thumb against the table before she looks up again, determined.

"What about her father?"

She tells Nick to meet her outside the kitchen after all the Guardians go home for the evening. She can tell he's curious, but he doesn't press any further, he just nods and disappears somewhere into the Winslow house.

At ten after midnight, she quietly slips out of bed and into her boots, throwing her red sweatshirt and cloak on over her nightgown. She sneaks out through the kitchen door and onto the covered porch. She isn't surprised to find Nick already there, waiting, leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette hanging from his fingers. He tosses it away as she closes the door behind her, stamping it out with his boot, turning to face her, concern etched into his features. 

"I thought you quit," she motions to the cigarette butt on the ground before pulling her cloak closed around her to keep her warm as she moves towards him. 

He steps towards her as he shrugs. They're drawn together like magnets, the force too much to overcome when they're close.

"Tried," he begins, his eyes searching hers, trying to figure out why she asked for this. "You okay?" He asks softly as she steps up to him, nodding. His face softens a bit as she lets her fingers tangle with his between them; he exhales and his shoulders relax as her fingers curl around his. She looks down at their hands as she considers what she's going to say next. How she's going to say it. 

"I met with the Swiss," she says, starting slowly, with something he knows so she can ease him into this. He'd driven them to the meeting site today, but she doesn't think he knows anything about what was said. He hadn't gone in or been a part of the conversation, even though he should have been. He doesn't say anything but she feels his thumb rub on the back of her hand so she continues. "I told them we didn't want Holly to come back here." 

His face relaxes even more as he nods. "Good."

She nods as she smiles softly at him, trying to ignore the black hole forming in the pit of her stomach, knowing what she's about to ask him and realizing that somehow, she'll have to survive this place without his support. His love. He squeezes her hand and it brings her back to the present. This isn't about her. Immediately her attention is back on him and the task at hand. 

"But they said they can't guarantee she won't come back unless one of us is with her."

She watches as his face processes this information, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he goes through the same thoughts she had earlier. How will that work? We're stuck here, she's there. He shakes his head slightly, not understanding how that helps anything. 

"They have a way to Canada," she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper, never knowing who could be eavesdropping. "They said they could get me to her."

"Then you have to go," he says without a second thought. No hesitation and complete conviction. All he's wanted for as long as he can remember is for her to get out of this place, and now the opportunity has been dropped back into their laps again, something he'd never expected. No one gets three chances to get out of Gilead. But, stubbornly, she shakes her head.

"I can't leave without Hannah," she says carefully, watching as his eyes narrow and his jaw clenches tight, preparing for an argument. "I asked if you could go instead. They said yes."

"No," he replies immediately, dropping her hands and stepping away from her, walking nearly halfway across the porch. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, shaking his head. "No, it has to be you."

"I have to get Hannah."

"I'll get Hannah."

She shakes her head. "No."

 She doesn't doubt him, she knows he'd do whatever he could to get to Hannah for her, but she refuses to let that be his responsibility. 

"How?" He spits out, frustrated. "How are you going to get Hannah?" 

"I don't know," she responds truthfully because she honestly has no fucking idea. But it's her problem to solve, not his.

"It's dangerous."

"I know." She doesn't argue with him because she knows he's right. It's dangerous. It's insane. But she can't leave. And she needs him to understand that. That she isn't doing this to be a hero or to be reckless, but because Hannah is hers. And she can't leave part of herself here, alone, without her. She has to make him understand. She steps over to him and he looks away, still furious. She gives him a few seconds before she reaches up and touches his face, letting her gently lead him so he's looking at her, his eyes dark, a storm swirling in them. She smiles softly as she rubs her thumb on his cheek.

"Listen to me," she begins, watching as he swallows hard. "I can't leave her here by herself. I can't. I'd never be able to live with myself. Would you be able to leave Holly here alone? Even if someone else said they'd help her?" She knows it's unfair to play that card, but she has to convince him that this is the right thing for her to do. And this is how she can make him understand that there are some things you can't have other people do for you, no matter how much you trust them. Things you have to deal with for yourself. This is one of them for her. 

A long moment passes before he finally shakes his head. No. Of course he couldn't. He'd stay here as long as he had to for Holly. He'd turn down every opportunity to leave if she was still here. She leans in closer to him, pressing her forehead against his. She feels one of his hands find its way to her side, his fingers pressing into her skin. She closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the comfort of being close to him. This might be one of the last times she ever gets this. That she can turn to him for help and strength. She has to remember this.

"Hannah needs me here. But our daughter needs you there, Nick," she says as she pulls away, feeling hot tears run down her cheeks. She doesn't want him to leave, but she needs him to go. He has to go. She can't have two children in Gilead again. It'd destroy her. "She needs you more than I do right now," she whispers brokenly. She'll always need him, but she has to let him go for this. It's worth it. 

He stares at her for what feels like an eternity with his mouth pursed together, the corners of his eyes wet with unshed tears, until finally he nods once. 

He'll go. 

For her. For them.

Late the next morning Nick finds himself somewhere he never thought he'd be. Canada. Free of Gilead. 

He'd driven himself to a small airfield under the cover of early morning darkness, offered a change of clothes, and ushered onto a small airplane with a fake passport and the cover of being a part of the Swiss security detail. He took a window seat after he boarded, and as the plane took off into the dawn he tried his best to find the Winslow house from the sky so he could tell June goodbye one last time, even if it was only in his mind.

I love you. I'm doing this for you. I'll see you soon. 

Now, he sits on a bench in a grey walled room with a concrete floor and no windows. There's a stainless steel table pushed against the wall opposite him. He swallows hard as he stares at the door, wondering if it's locked. Rationally, he knows what this room probably is - a screening room for passengers. Irrationally, it feels like a prison cell, and he feels his brain latch onto that as his blood turns to ice in his veins. He shouldn't have come. They figured out he was an Eye, they know about his past with the Sons of Jacob, and now he won't get Holly and this will have all been for nothing. 

She'll go back to Gilead and June will still be there and—

Before his thoughts can spiral down any further, he's pulled out of his mind by the heavy metal door opening. A tall, dark-haired, slender man that Nick doesn't recognize enters, a file folder tucked under his arm. He closes the door behind him and steps over to Nick, a warm smile on his face.

"Mr. Blaine, it's nice to meet you. I'm Mark Tuello," he offers his hand to Nick. He takes it apprehensively and Tuello shakes his hand firmly. "Welcome to Canada."

Nick remains quiet as Tuello drops his hand and sits down next to him on the bench. "I work for the American government. I'm here to help you and your daughter."

He flips open a file folder and Nick's eyes dart over, catching a glimpse of what had been the picture on his Michigan driver's license paperclipped to the top of a stack of papers. It feels like it's from another lifetime. The details Tuello has him confirm feel that way too. He's almost surprised he remembers his social security number. So many of his details feel irrelevant now, like they belong to another person, and he almost has no patience for them. His mind is singularly focused on the only reason he's here. Holly.

But once they've covered all his information, Tuello still doesn't want to talk about Holly. He has other ideas. 

"So, Mr. Blaine," he continues, flipping to a new page in his file folder, "you drove for Commander Waterford in Gilead?"

Nick shifts uncomfortably on the bench as he nods, his heart rate spiking. 

"And you had reported to a Commander Pryce, is that correct? We understand he was instrumental in creating Gilead's secret police."

Nick swallows hard as he nods again. He knows where this is going. This is it. It's all about to end. 

Instead, Tuello leans in, clearly excited at Nick's confirmation to his questions, like a dog with a new bone.

"Mr. Blaine, any intelligence from you could be invaluable to us in understanding how Gilead works. We'd love to interview—"

Nick closes his eyes, relieved he's not about to be arrested as a war criminal but lacking the patience to deal with an overeager government liaison digging for intel.  

"Where's my daughter?" Nick's tone is sharp as he stops Tuello abruptly, staring at him with his dark eyes narrowed. He has no problem sharing what he knows about Gilead with this man if it'll help burn the whole thing down. But he's not here to share spy secrets. He's here for his daughter. That's it. He wants her, and nothing else matters right now.

To his surprise, Tuello doesn't miss a beat. He just stops and smiles warmly again and Nick hates it, how much it makes him seem trustworthy. He can't trust anyone until he has Holly. 

"She's here," Tuello says with a nod. Nick can tell he's not done pressing him for details, but that he'll let it go for now. "She's right down the hall waiting for you. Would you like to go see her?"

Nick's heart starts racing again as he feels his head start to nod practically on its own. Tuello closes his file folder and stands, motioning to the door. Wordlessly, Nick stands and follows him out of the room and down the hall. Tuello continues to brief Nick on their short walk. He doesn't care about much of it until Tuello mentions Luke.

"Mr. Bankole requested to not be present for the transfer," Tuello explains as they make their way down the narrow hallway side by side. Nick's eyebrows furrow together as he processes that information. He'd been expecting to see Luke. He'd wanted to tell him about June, tell him what he knew about Hannah, and thank him for caring for Holly. He tries not to read too much into Luke's absence. "He did leave his contact information to pass along to you, so we'll make sure you get that, along with all of Nichole's belongings."

"Holly," Nick corrects as they come to stop in front of another white door, identical to the one from the room they'd just left. He can't stand the thought of her going by that name any longer, that name he knew Serena had chosen to hurt him and humiliate Fred - a punishment in more ways than one. "June and I named her Holly," Nick says as Tuello smiles at him again, pushing the door open.

"It'll be a bit of a process, but we'll get all her paperwork changed. Shouldn't be a problem," he reassures Nick as he motions for him to enter the room. Nick takes a deep breath as he crosses the threshold into the room, Tuello following behind him. 

Inside, Holly sits on the lap of a social worker, her head ducked close to Holly's as she reads to her from a thick cardboard book. They both look up at the sound of the door opening and Nick feels his insides twist as he takes in Holly for the first time in months, her blue eyes the same as June's but her expression serious, mirroring him. He can't stop himself from smiling as he drinks her in, the full weight of her absence from his life not hitting him until this moment. He'd missed her so much. 

The social worker stands, setting the book down on the bench next to where she had been sitting, moving over to Nick and Tuello, Nick unable to take his eyes off Holly. The last time he'd seen her she'd been an eight week old newborn, barely able to support her head. He can't believe how much she's grown. She's beautiful.

"Do you want to take her?" The social worker asks, waiting for his answer before she passes Holly to him. Of course he wants to take her. It's the whole reason he's here. He nods and then in one practiced, fluid motion, the social worker passes Holly into his arms. 

"Hey," he whispers to her coarsely as he holds her against his chest, one arm supporting her bottom while the other comes to rest on her back. He can feel himself start to smile even wider in spite of the hot tears he feels rolling down his cheeks. Holly looks up at him, blinking her blue eyes curiously. He'd always loved her, since the day June told him she was pregnant - but now, holding her, knowing he doesn't have to be away from her anymore, he feels his heart swell with more love than he knew was possible for this little person in his arms. "I missed you."

"Mr. Blaine," Tuello starts speaking next to him, pulling Nick out of the moment with Holly and bringing him crashing back into reality, "we'd like to get you and your daughter to America as soon as possible. It's the safest place for you both."

Holly. Safe. America. Nick nods, shifting Holly's weight in his arms. If that's what they need to do, they'll do it. It's the whole reason he's here. Whatever it takes, wherever they need to be.

"Anchorage or Honolulu," Tuello offers. "Your choice."

Honolulu. Nick closes his eyes and suddenly he's back in Gilead, standing in the Waterford's dining room, talking about running away to Hawaii with June and Holly. We should run away somewhere. Start over. Like a real family.

His heart sinks as he thinks of June, still trapped in Gilead while he's here with their daughter being offered the opportunity to go to Hawaii. He can't go there. He refuses. Not without June.

He opens his eyes and glances down at Holly, rubbing his hand on her back, his mind already made up. He grew up in Michigan, he's used to the cold anyway. 

"We'll go to Anchorage."

They leave for Alaska late the next night. 

Tuello flies there with them. He gives Nick two United States passports on the plane, one for himself and one for Holly. Nick doesn't care as much about his but he immediately checks Holly's to make sure they'd gotten her name printed right. They had.

Holly Osborne Blaine.

When they land, there's a car waiting to take Nick and Holly to their apartment. Tuello had mentioned that on the flight too. He'd apologized that it wouldn't be much, but it would be furnished and have enough room for the two of them until they could find their footing. Nick didn't care. Anything would be more than he had just 48 hours ago and he appreciated the help.

Tuello helps Nick to the car, loading his bag into the trunk while Nick settles a sleeping Holly into a car seat that's already in the back of the car. His hands shake as he tries to untwist the straps and get her buckled in correctly over her puffy purple snowsuit. He's never buckled a car seat before, and he feels more relieved than he should when the plastic pieces snap together correctly and everything feels snug and she doesn't wake up. Maybe he won't be so bad at this. 

He closes the door carefully and steps around to meet Tuello at the trunk, offering his hand. Tuello takes it and shakes firmly.

"Thank you," Nick says genuinely. "For everything."

"Anytime," Tuello replies. "And whenever you're ready to talk, you have my number."

Nick averts his eyes, feeling guilt wash over him. He knows he should tell him everything he knows as soon as possible, that anything he tells him will only help bring an end to Gilead, but his every thought has been preoccupied with Holly. He hasn't had room or time for anything else.

Tuello sighs as he steps forward, reaching out and patting Nick's shoulder once. "Take care, Nick." He smiles at him before walking past him and off into the small terminal of the airport, his work over for the day. Nick swallows hard taking a moment to gather himself before he joins Holly in the backseat of the car. He keeps one hand on the hard plastic of the seat as he leans his head against the window. He tries to figure out what time it is back on the east coast while they drive so he can pass time by imagining what June might be doing. He hopes she's safe. He wonders if anyone will tell her that he made it, and Holly won't be coming back to Gilead. 

When they arrive, the apartment is exactly what was promised— one bedroom on the third floor of a six-story walk-up building. A single boxy blue and beige plaid couch sits pushed against the wall of the living room along with a chipped coffee table while a small TV sits on a stand in the corner. In the bedroom, a full-sized bed sits flush against the back wall made up in navy bedding. A white wood crib sits pushed in the corner. Tuello was right, it isn't much, but it's enough.

Nick walks around the small apartment holding a sleeping Holly cradled against his chest. They've left them a few supplies to get started too - he finds cans of food, toilet paper, baby food, and diapers all waiting for him in the pantry. It's enough to get them up and running and he's grateful. 

After he's finished his tour of their new apartment he carefully strips Holly out of her snowsuit, somehow managing not to wake her. He feels the same swell of pride rush through him that he did when he'd buckled the car seat. Maybe he won't be so bad at this dad thing after all. 

He makes sure the door is locked before he kicks his boots off, settling down on the couch with Holly still sleeping on his chest. He doesn't have the heart to go put her in her crib, instead wanting to spend as much time with her as he can, now that he's free to do so.

"We made it, Holly," he whispers to her as he rubs her back soothingly, feeling days and weeks of stress start to drain out of his body as every limb starts to grow heavy with exhaustion. He could get used to this. He likes it. All they need is June.

"We're home."

Three weeks later, Holly starts teething. Two teeth, both on the bottom, at the same time.

It throws Nick into a tailspin. 

Up until that point, he'd felt like he'd been able to manage pretty well. Days, more often than not, were good. And considering he felt like he'd been thrown into the deep end with no life preserver, it was a relief. He bought books on parenting. He read articles online. He'd even befriended an older woman that lived across the hall, Mrs. Reynolds, a widow who'd had three kids of her own. Nick had immediately taken a liking to her and so had Holly. She reminded him of his mom, always wearing a kind smile and eager to help. 

But now, Holly's teething and he's on day three of little to no sleep and he's starting to question everything. Every decision, every choice, everything that led him to this moment— his wailing daughter in his arms with no clue how to help her.

He tries everything the books and internet say should ease her pain - cool washcloths, a refrigerated pacifier, baby Motrin. Nothing seems to help. He even buys every teething toy he can get his hands on, all of it for nothing. The medicine seems to work best but it always ends with Holly eventually crying herself to sleep as it starts to kick in, with nothing to offer her any relief otherwise. He should be able to do better. 

He's her father - he should be able to make her hurting stop but he can't. He doesn't know how. Isn't that what he's here for? What the hell is he doing?

He stands in the middle of their little apartment, cradling a sobbing Holly against his chest, her little face red and streaked with tears. He holds a cool rag in her mouth for her, swaying slowly, trying to make her as comfortable as he can while they wait for her medicine to start working. Every one of her little sobs is like a dagger through his heart. He wants so badly to help her, to make her pain stop. But he doesn't know what she needs. How to help. He's exhausted every resource. 

All he's tried to do for as long as he can remember is just help. To do whatever he could to make things better for June and now Holly however he could. Whatever he needed to do, he'd do it. But now he feels just as helpless as he had when June's first escape attempt had been out of his hands. Except this is worse because he's in full control of the situation and yet - he can't help. He's trying and nothing works. He shouldn't have been the one to leave Gilead. He shouldn't have agreed so easily. He could have gotten Hannah. He would have gotten Hannah. He knew how to do that. He knew who to contact, what steps to take.

But this? He doesn't have any clue what to do anymore. There's no one to help them. June should be here, not him. He'd have been more helpful in Gilead.

He sits down on the couch with Holly, still crying and hurting. He kisses the top of her head as he brushes sweaty, dark curls off her forehead. If he could take all her pain he'd do it in a heartbeat. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Sorry she's hurting, sorry he doesn't know how to help. Sorry she's stuck with him and not someone better. "I'm so sorry, baby."

He holds her until she falls asleep against him, snot and tears dried on her face, the sleeve of his shirt clenched up in her tiny fist. His heart seizes as he realizes that he's all she has.

He doesn't know how to do this. 

Holly walks for the first time a month before her first birthday.

Nick had been expecting it  - the books had been good for something, after all - because for weeks she'd been pulling herself up and standing while gripping the couch. A close call with the coffee table one morning had taken years off his life from fear and also sent him out at 8 AM to buy every childproofing device he could get his hands on, knowing she'd be toddling around sooner rather than later. 

He'd watched for the last two weeks as she got used to working with her knees, squatting and stepping in place as she held onto his hands or the furniture, her face serious every time as she figured out the mechanics of walking. It always put a smile on Nick's face as he watched her learn, her little mind sharp as a tack. 

But after breakfast one morning, Nick settles her on the floor with some of her toys while he relaxes on the couch with the rest of his coffee to supervise. He loves spending time with her, never taking a moment for granted. Quickly, though, she becomes bored with her toys and crawls over to the coffee table, grunting as she uses all of her strength to pull herself to her feet. 

"You're getting so good at that," Nick compliments her with an easy smile as Holly turns her head and grins at him, babbling as she smacks one hand flat on the coffee table with a giggle. Nick laughs too as he keeps his eyes on her, a smile following easily. 

He watches as she slowly inches forward carefully, her little hands gripping the now padded edges of the coffee table tightly. When she reaches the end, she looks at Nick and holds out one hand to him, her tiny fingers wiggling, wanting him to take her. He's only a little more than an arm's length away and he could easily reach out and grab her if he leaned forward, but today he wants to challenge her. He shakes his head, holding his hand out without leaning forward.

"C'mon," he encourages her, "you come to me." 

Holly doesn't budge. She brings her hand back in to hold the table and squats down stubbornly before standing back up, extending her arm to Nick again as she starts to whimper. 

"Holly," he shakes his head, leaning forward to put his mug on the coffee table, closing the gap between them a tiny bit, "you can do it, I know you can."

He reaches both hands out to her now and watches breathlessly as she finally lets go of the table with both hands, taking one wobbly unassisted step and then another before falling forward into his open hands, crashing face-first into his legs.

Pride swells through him as he scoops Holly up into his arms. He's never been so proud of anyone in his entire life. He swings her up into the air above his head as her face breaks out into a grin and she squeals excitedly like she knows she's just accomplished something big.

"You did it!" His voice rings out as he brings Holly back down against him, kissing her cheek before he settles her back down on his lap. He smiles down at her as he smooths down her dark curls, still messy from sleep. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

But then Holly looks up at him with her big blue eyes and all he can see is June. And just like that the guilt floods in, swirling with the pride inside his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. 

He got to see their daughter take her first steps. June didn't. 

He closes his eyes as Holly wiggles away from him, making her way back to the floor and crawling back over to her toys. 

He misses her so much.

That fall, Nick gets a job. Three days a week, he works half-day morning shifts at a car dealership helping with oil changes and minor body repairs. He doesn't have to work, the refugee stipend he gets is enough to support himself and Holly, but he wants to set a good example for her and he'd grown restless, feeling the need to do something for himself. 

On days he works, he and Holly are out of the apartment by 6:30. He leaves Holly with Mrs. Reynolds while he works, and then afternoons he spends with Holly. If the weather is nice, they usually go to the park across the street from their building. Holly loves the swings and he loves how happy they make her. 

When he doesn't work, he wakes when Holly wakes. They spend their mornings at home, and then afternoons are reserved for errands if they have any. And then every evening, weather permitting, they go for a walk around their neighborhood after dinner. 

He likes it, the routine. It helps him feel more in control. He starts to feel less like an imposter. But with more comfort in his routine and his abilities as a parent comes time for more thoughts about June and Gilead. He finds he's thinking about June now more than ever. Days they go to the playground are when she comes to him the most.  Watching families, mothers and fathers, coming and going with their children, knowing his will never be complete until June is with them only serves to widen the ever-present hole in his heart. And he knows nothing will start to heal it until his family is whole, safe and secure, but he tries to at least patch it the best way he can. He starts talking to Holly about June more often. He donates Holly's outgrown clothes to a refugee center. All of it helps, but it never feels like enough. He knows he should do more. He can do more.

So he does.

He digs out the large manilla envelope that has all of his and Holly's important documents out of his closet, dumping the whole mess on his bed, sorting through it until he finds Mark Tuello's business card. He calls him. He's finally ready to talk. Whatever he wants to know, he'll tell him. 

Next, he finds the paper that has Luke's contact information on it. He calls him too. The conversation is tense but cordial, and he asks Luke if he has any pictures of June and Hannah he can send to him. He wants to show Holly because he wants her to know her family. They make a promise to meet up in the next few months so Luke can see Holly. 

Finally, he starts to feel like he's making a difference. He thinks it's what June would want.

A week later when the pictures arrive from Luke, Nick waits until bedtime to show them to Holly. 

He settles down on the couch with her on his lap, fresh out of the bath and in pajamas covered in sleeping cartoon sloths, the pacifier she still uses to lull herself to sleep popped in her mouth. She nestles into his chest, rubbing her droopy eyelids with tiny fists as he bows his head to kiss the dark curls on top of her head that are still slightly wet from her bath. Bedtime has always been his favorite part of the day, when things wind down and he gets quiet time with Holly. 

"Holly," he whispers as he bounces her slightly to get her attention. She tilts her head up to look at him and he smiles at her. "I have something to show you."

From the arm of the couch he picks up one of the pictures that Luke had sent him. He'd put the rest away, wanting to make sure they were kept safe. But this one he's planning on framing. In it, June and Hannah sit on the beach, the ocean behind them, both of them smiling widely for the camera, happy and carefree. He smiles at the picture as he brings it around in front of Holly so she can see it.

"That's your mommy," he whispers as he points to June in the picture. Holly drops her head to look at the picture and he continues, "she loves you very much." He stops momentarily, closing his eyes as he wills his emotions to let him get through this. He clears his throat as he opens his eyes back up, blinking rapidly as he inhales shakily. "And that's your sister, Hannah."

Holly sits still for a moment against him before reaching out and touching the picture curiously with two tiny fingers. Nick smiles before leaning down to drop a kiss against the crown of Holly's head again. 

After that, they start a new routine. 

He talks about June every night at bedtime. It doesn't fill the hole in his heart completely, but it's a start.

"What do we want this week, Holly? Strawberries or blueberries?"

Nick holds two plastic containers out to Holly, sitting in the seat of the shopping cart in front of him. She pulls the soggy chocolate chip cookie she'd been given in the bakery out of her mouth long enough to point her finger at the container of blueberries.

"Berry," she says in her tiny toddler voice as she shoves her cookie back in her mouth, getting a smear of chocolate on her cheek. Nick smiles as he puts the strawberries back and drops the blueberries into the cart. 

"Good choice," he says as he reaches in with his thumb to try and wipe the chocolate off Holly's face, her eyes squeezing shut as she pulls away from his touch, letting out an annoyed squeal. Nick drops his hand and sighs as he feels his phone buzz in his front left pocket, deciding it'll be better to fight that battle once she's done anyway.

"You gonna share that cookie with me?" He asks playfully as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, laughing under his breath as Holly shakes her head no, continuing to turn her treat into a soggy mess in her hands. He rolls his eyes as he glances down at the screen of his phone. 

A news notification about Gilead.

His heart starts to hammer in his chest as he taps the notification. These have been coming more and more frequently lately as American and Canadian forces press further and further into what used to be New England. He swallows hard as the page loads to see it's not a news article, it's a video of a news report. He glances around to make sure he won't be bothering anyone as he presses play. Normally he'd wait until he got home, but he feels compelled to watch now for a reason he can't explain. 

The bright red chyron at the bottom of the screen reads LARGE CARAVAN OF GILEAD REFUGEES OVERWHELM CANADIAN RESOURCES as a news anchor reports the story. But Nick isn't listening to what's being said. He's focused on the video, showing a steady stream of women in Handmaid red and Martha green filing into a refugee center. He knows it's a long shot, but he studies the faces in the video intently. Praying. Hoping. Wishing. 

And then he sees her.

Her dress is covered in dirt and caked with mud, her bonnet long gone, her blonde hair longer than he's ever seen, but it's her . And walking next to her in a matching grimy pink dress is Hannah. His breath catches as his whole world comes to a screeching halt. Suddenly, nothing matters except getting to her. Now.

Quickly, he drops his phone back into his pocket and unbuckles Holly from the shopping cart. He pulls her up as she begins to protest, her cookie still held tight in her hand as he shifts her against his side, rushing out of the store, leaving the groceries behind.

He calls Mark Tuello and says he needs to get on the first flight he can back to Toronto. He agrees to help.

It takes a few hours, but by 8 o'clock that night, he and Holly are sitting on the tarmac on a plane headed back to Canada. To June. Holly sleeps for a majority of the flight and he tries, he knows he should, but his anxiety won't let him rest as he thinks about June, knowing that she's waiting on the opposite end of the flight. 

When they arrive in Toronto, the sun is just coming up. He ends up at the same airport he'd been in a little over a year ago when he'd first arrived here, and he holds Holly just a little tighter as they walk through the terminal and out to the car that's waiting to take them to the refugee center. Tuello had helped with getting arrangements made on both ends of their trip and Nick's grateful for that as the car heads out of the airport and towards June. He'd been so wound up, his usual ability to plan and think critically had vanished. He feeds Holly a breakfast of Cheerios in the car on the way over, feeling himself start to unwind a little as he does, starting to feel a bit more like himself. The worst part of their nightmare is nearly over.

It's not until they pull up to the center that Nick's nerves go on overdrive again. He hadn't spoken to June, what if she doesn't want him here? What if she doesn't want him? Will she be angry? He shakes his head, forcing those thoughts out of his mind. He gathers Holly and their belongings out of the car and thanks the driver before he pulls away. He looks at Holly in his arms, exhaling sharply as he smooths down her unruly curls. They're here. June's here. Everything will be okay now.

Once they enter and he tells the staff why he's there, he's shuttled off to a small waiting room with Holly. It's a slightly warmer version of the room he'd been in when he'd first left Gilead, with grey sandpapery carpet on the floor and a lumpy brown couch pushed against a plain white wall. He sits on the couch and sits Holly on his right leg, his left leg bouncing anxiously as they wait, his stomach fluttering, every nerve raw and on edge.

And then the door opens.

He feels his whole world go into slow motion as he stands, shifting Holly against him as June enters, stepping into the room wearing plain clothes, her long hair loose and around her shoulders. She's thinner than he remembers, and he tries not to think about why that is as she steps towards him, his feet glued in place, unable to move or think about anything other than June and her presence. Her eyes wrinkle in the corners, every feature on her face softening as she smiles widely at Holly in his arms and then up at him, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

A shuddery exhale escapes his lips as she reaches up and touches his face, his eyes closing as he leans into her touch. He'd missed her so much.

"Hi," she says softly as his eyes flutter open to meet hers, smiling still in spite of the tears on her cheeks. 

He clears his throat. "Hey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as June turns her attention to Holly in his arms, letting her hand slide off of Nick's face.

"Hi, baby," she whispers to their daughter as she reaches up and touches the back of her hand while Holly stares at her, trying to figure her out. Nick hopes she recognizes her from the pictures, and he takes the fact that she hasn't turned away from June as a good sign.

And then June leans against him, pressing herself against his chest as she snakes her arm around his back, hugging him tightly. He swallows hard as he brings his free arm up to hold her, finding comfort in the warmth of her body against his and the knowledge that his family is finally back together. 

A year and a half later, they make it to Hawaii. June, Nick, Holly, and Hannah. They go the week before school starts. It had been a stretch for them to afford it, but it was something they had to do for each other, so they found a way to make it work. 

Holly loved it, just like June said she would. Even Hannah, who was getting harder and harder to impress as she crept closer to her teenage years, had enjoyed herself. 

A dream they'd both barely managed to hang onto through the darkest of times realized. Willed into reality against the most impossible odds.

Now, on the last night of their stay, Nick sits alone on the balcony of their hotel room, watching and listening to the roar of the inky black ocean in the distance, dimly lit by the full moon, lost in his mind. He's no stranger to this. He'd done this almost nightly back in Gilead, as he'd sit outside on his steps and look at June's window. There was more worry then. And fear. He still worries, of course, but his worries are different now. They're not as heavy now that his family sleeps under the same roof every night. Now he has time to let in other emotions, like how unbelievably lucky he feels to be right here, where he is, a thought that would have never crossed his mind back in Gilead.

He's so deep inside his thoughts that he doesn't hear the sliding glass door behind him open, so he's startled when Holly runs up next to him and presses herself against his legs. He chuckles once as he smiles down at her, her long dark curls loose, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. She's dressed for bed, but not ready to sleep yet. "Hi Daddy," she says playfully, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight. 

He reaches out and pushes her hair back out of her face. "Hi Holly," he replies, matching her tone.  "How did you get out here?"

"Mommy," Holly replies as she pulls herself up on his legs. He grunts as she plops down in his lap and nestles herself against his chest in the crook of his arm as best she can. At three years old now, she doesn't fit against him the same way she had as an infant and his heart breaks at that realization. He wants her to be like this forever. 

He wraps both arms around her as he tilts his head back to look at June, smiling at the two of them from the door. "Where's Hannah?"

"Shower," June replies as she steps out onto the balcony, breathing deeply to take in the ocean air. Nick nods as Holly fidgets against him, pulling her legs up onto his lap and curling into a ball against him. He drops a kiss against the top of her head as June steps up to the railing of the balcony, leaning against it and looking out at the beach, a content smile on her face, her short hair blowing back in the cool ocean breeze. 

He burns the image in his memory before he closes his eyes, feeling as every ounce of worry and anxiety fades away for the first time in years, blown out to sea with the ocean air. Peace surrounds him as he hugs his daughter tighter against him, left now to enjoy the quiet happiness of his family.