Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Firm and determined were the hands gripped on his right bicep and left shoulder from the person behind him. He assumed it was a woman based on her short stature and the voice that escaped her mouth in heavy breaths when she was struggling against his strength. Of course, he wouldn’t know for certain as a black canvas bag was suffocating him around his head--the dirty, damp fabric being breathed in and out with every difficult step. He doesn’t remember when the fear and panic kicked in--it was just always there, in large, but controllable amounts that he had grown accustomed to. All he knew was that the ground beneath him was dry and hard and the air was chilly. The sun beat faintly upon the back of his neck. So it was daytime, at least. The loose rocks beneath their feet, the woman’s breathing, and his own heartbeat provided the only audio stimulation. He tried to think back on how he arrived at this precise moment--not exactly a past he’d like to reminisce on. However, he had to make sense of all of this, to be smart and remain safe. His ultimate fate was staring up ahead of him, beckoning, daring him to make a move. But he was unusually experienced in this unfortunate position. Playing both sides to stay alive. His favorite challenge, his best crime.

This had to have been about June. Everything he ever did was for her, despite his instincts telling him it was too dangerous and a massive blow to his own self-preservation. He had responsibilities and a family now, people counting on him. It was as if he suddenly woke up from a haze and had so much to lose all at once. What will be best for everyone? Taking the hit? Blaming someone else? Admitting the truth? Feeding the lies? Reaching for their humanity? Or adding ice to their already cold hearts?

He hadn’t much time to weigh the scarce options in his aching head when he was suddenly and unceremoniously shoved down to his knees, the hardened earth sending shocks of pain up his legs. His hands were tied tight behind his back, unable to ease any of the discomfort. Not a cry or shout escaped his mouth as the terror dried up and silenced him. Sweat dripped down his nose and drenched his neck and down the back. He tried to even his breathing, to be strong one last time. He heard nothing except a bird or two soaring up above him in the sky, but he felt at least a dozen pairs of eyes drilling into his weakened body. At last, the canvas bag was removed and he drew in a few deep breaths of fresh air as his eyes adjusted to the light of day. And what he saw made him wish that cursed bag smothered him all the same. It would have been the better torture, the poison down the throat rather than a shot in the heart.

What was this? A salvaging? A particicution? There were no stones to throw, just balled up fists, blank faces, and a tension like no other. They formed a large, evenly spaced circle around him, all sixteen of them, with him in the center. He wasn’t used to this much attention on him at once; especially not by nearly every person he’s ever known in the past ten or so years of his life, young and old, dead and alive. Embarrassment, shame, insecurity, remorse, dread...they all swallowed him up, making it impossible to look them all in the eyes, to remember all his shortcomings and regrets. Forgiveness could never fix all of this, no. Maybe this was what he deserved. This wasn’t a punishment or an execution. This was a haunting.

Directly in front of him several feet away was his mother, still in her pale blue hospital gown, body frail, eyes sunken in, hair nearly missing entirely. She was who he began his fight for, before Gilead existed, before he knew just how far his strength could really take him. Beside her was his father and brother. The only few older men he looked up to and aspired to be. He wanted to be as loyal, loving, and patient as his father was to his own wife and children. He wanted to be as protective and independent as Joshua. He just wanted them back.

Then it was her, who he thought was his first love, his first everything. He worked so tirelessly for their future, but ended up neglecting their present. “You’re never around anymore. Is it me or the job? Make your choice,” she threatened him one night. The truth was, he had nothing else to offer her. When three jobs and a couple of side gigs still weren’t enough to survive in this world, something had to give. He couldn’t provide what she deserved: time, love, freedom. But he was just a kid doing the best he could for his family--a feeling he had grown all too known with recently.

Commander Pryce looked at him with an unreadable expression. It was complicated. What he had proposed both saved and killed him at the same time. The Sons of Jacob made him more than enough money at one job rather than the several that took years off his life, not to mention the last moments he had with his loved ones. He thought it was a good deal. He could take care of the medical debt they were in, save the house, and possibly put Joshua in an adequate rehab facility. But it seemed like everything changed overnight. Suddenly he was cutting corners with his morals and values, making himself excuses, staying quiet, telling himself it was for the greater good. But it was all his choice, wasn’t it?

The Waterford’s were dead to him, but there they stood nonetheless. It was all about power and control with them. Fred took him as his “son”--an endearing term he only allowed his own father to use, a sentiment that meant nothing anymore and merely brought up pain. Serena only wanted what he was useful for, violating him more than once and in multiple different ways. But behind the tight bun and the malevolent eyes was simply jealousy. They stole so much from him. His youth. His innocence. His true love. His daughter. He stood by them for years, sustaining their egos and building their schemes, being complicit in their behavior towards the rest of the household. But it was too dangerous to do much of anything else; he was starting to have something to lose.

The white wings covered her bowed head, and thank God for that. Oh, the least he could’ve done was give her the space to disclose her real name in her own time, in her own way. Would she still be alive now? Would she have had to carry his child instead? He can still feel her cold flesh under his fingers and see the lifeless look on her face. Fred was the cause, but he couldn’t help but see the blood on his hands, too.

The heavy chained weight around her small ankle remained, as well as the ties around her thin wrists. Even her gray dress was still a bit damp in some places. She was his wife, in the most technical terms. He wanted to protect her innocence and his own conscience. He prolonged it as far as possible, his unwillingness being misread as cold, harsh, detached. How was he supposed to expect a child to understand the weight of their actions? Love was a dangerous thing to hold on to and they both grasped it in their hands in different ways. It got Eden killed. And it should’ve killed him by now, too.

He craned his neck behind him only to see Beth, who appeared severely injured and hurt, but still standing firm. He heard about her death through the grapevine and that’s what only made it worse. Could he have saved her too? The more power he acquired, the less he was able to use it, it seemed. She kept him from thinking he was crazy, out of his mind, that there could possibly be a resistance against Gilead. She gave him something to fight for, a chance to realign his morals and stand by them once again. He could be himself around her, his true self, understanding it was nice to have a friend and ally and the benefits it provided. It was risky, but they both would admit it felt good. However, some consequences end up being more permanent than others.

His heart stopped when he recognized Rita. She was one of the few people who knew him the longest, who showed concern for him. Oddly, he felt closer to his mother when he was around her, especially when she cooked him his favorite on bad days. He felt awful about it as he was old enough to care for himself and he didn’t want to burden her further. But she was somebody to trust, somebody who felt like they were on the same side. She deserved her freedom, understanding he could take no credit for it. But the memories were no doubt still there, as property, as a slave.

Lawrence raised his eyebrows at him, providing a slightly sympathetic demeanor. He sometimes hated how much they were alike, enigmatic and pragmatic. They were trying to be on the same side here, both inevitably indebted to each other. There were some good men here, he struggled to convince himself, though his trust remained tough to give up. But sometimes there were difficult things that needed to be done, with a lingering question: Who can still be redeemable at this point?

However, if there was anyone he was more indebted to, it would be Luke. There was a disdainful look on his face, perhaps with even a hint of jealousy. Right then he knew; there was probably no way of getting around it. He reasoned that June avoided all conversation about it, but her actions told the tragic tale of their marriage. He couldn’t help but feel the blame for it. Did he really have that much of an effect on June? But he had no choice but to trust Luke; he seemed like a devoted husband and father when they briefly met. His daughter was in his hands now. He just had to make up for it somehow, to show his appreciation and remorse.

He shifted his eyes to the following two young girls. A feeling of complete failure came through him, stopping his breathing, causing him to instinctively jerk forward in a dry cry. He blinked his eyes several times, ashamed for them to see him like this. His two girls: one he had to leave, the other he was trying to get to. It was better to compartmentalize the both of them, to think of them when need be. He felt like the worst father in doing so, but every choice he made had repercussions, repercussions that would further consider him unuseful and removed from them forever. He had to be smart about this. He treated every moment like his last, memorizing them to save for later. It wasn’t fair to any of them, but it was something to fight for, reminding him to keep staying alive.

“June,” he gasped when his gaze made full circle. He was both amazed and terrified upon seeing her. Of course, she was there the whole time: the firm grip on his arm, the tired breathing. He desperately tried to understand what was happening, but for the first time he felt like they were on opposite sides.

She dropped the black canvas bag on the ground that covered his head and stared him down, eyes full of rage. She dominantly paced in front of him, still wearing that deep red coat he last saw her in. Most times he adored seeing her reclaim her power in front of him, but this time he felt frightened and vulnerable in the worst way possible.

“What are you good for?” she interrogated, fidgeting with a silver whistle in her hands. “What use are you?” She cocked her head, her eyebrows deeply knitted together in fury, ready to cut off something that has been dead and worthless to her for some time now.

Those words have always haunted him since the moment she uttered them at Lawrence’s house. They lingered thickly in the air as he scanned everyone’s faces once again, silently asking himself the same question. What good is he? He failed each of these people in some way or another, big and small. He had probably failed her the most. All his futile attempts of getting her out, letting Fred and Serena treat her abusively, not doing more about Hannah, nearly killing her with the bombings. He struggled to communicate his guilt and sorrow with his eyes. If only there was a way to talk with her, to make it all up somehow. But it was too late. This was his demise and her justice.

“I’m sorry,” he barely whispered, not having the strength to say it any louder. He was always apologizing, coming up short on her expectations. His vision then became blurry, noticing his words made no impact on her thick armor. There was no way coming out of this unscathed.

She rolled her eyes and clenched her fists at her sides, becoming impatient. With a slight nod, she blew the silver whistle, releasing a shrill ringing in everyone’s ears, though he barely heard it over his own heartbeat and the echo of her words. June threw the first punch in the jaw and kick in the side, shoving him into the lifeless earth. Waves of pain came over him, both physical and emotional. How could this be happening? Soon hands were on him: clawing, hitting, pushing, pulling. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up, as the only explanation from all of this had to come from his subconscious. They threw him around, making sure everyone had their turn, making it impossible to pull any air into his lungs. He wasn’t going to make it much longer. A sharp pain struck him in the leg. Someone brought a knife. Right then he knew his fight was finished.

A sudden jolt spread up through his body, jerking him awake, fully awake. He was blanketed with panic and sweat, trapping him in an inescapable heat and a matchless suffocation. The hyperventilating continued as he finally sat upright, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. I’m alive, I’m alive, he repeated to himself. It’s over. It wasn’t real. They’re getting worse, the...dreams. Hannah only started appearing a few weeks ago. He can’t bear to see who will be his next guest appearance in what seemed to be the series finale of his life. The sleep deprivation had taken a toll on him, in more ways than just one. He’s becoming ill-tempered with people and making less intelligent decisions. He longed to just be safe somewhere, for only a short while, to rest and dream the dreams he’d rather be having. Perhaps the ones with June and Holly involving a sunny, warm beach.

Shaking his head of the small, impossible thought, he decided to check the time. The near-ancient alarm clock sat beside his golden wedding ring and his father’s old leather bible--both of which lay heavily on the worn, wooden bedside table. Two o’clock. Rather than be drowned by the remains of the nightmare left on his pillow, he climbed out of bed, his body feeling strangely sore as if he really was beaten to death.

He welcomed the cool Colorado early summer breeze upon his skin, rustling the white sheers in the open window and the cottonwood tree leaves right outside. The near-full moon shined brightly in his near-empty bedroom, providing just enough light to make a safe exit. Careful were his steps towards the small hallway bathroom, ensuring the creaking wood beneath him wouldn’t wake his wife and the Martha. Their room was across from his, as part of their agreement. They were a package deal, so-to-speak; neither one of them would abandon the other. And he liked that about them. There was a lot left unsaid between them at the moment, but he assured them nearly every day that this was a safe space for them--that love can exist in a place like this--and he was determined to keep it that way for as long as he possibly could, God-willing.

One quick glance in the mirror and he could tell he’d seen hell and barely managed to survive it. With a heavy sigh he splashed some cool water on his face, an attempt to clean himself from what his subconscious rudely put him through. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, wishing Commanders could have it just a bit longer. She liked it like that.

He wouldn’t dare go back to sleep now, the threat was too intimidating to pretend to be strong enough for. Rather, he slipped quietly downstairs and sat on the weathered back porch, a much needed change in environment. He looked out into the grassy field before him, which stretched for probably three acres or so, just close enough to still see his neighbor’s dark house. He listened to the crickets and watched as the stars twinkled in the clear night sky. His body itched for nicotine, but none was available as his past self oh so wisely recently decided to take a break from the habit, for health reasons he annoyingly rationalized. He supposed there was no better time than now to begin his daily affirmations, never mind the fact that the sun wouldn’t show his face for another three or four hours. These thoughts, these dreams, they weren’t a crime, but they were still dangerous all the same, as was anything that dealt with hope and love. Returning to an ideal world he created in his mind wasn’t all that healthy, but it has kept him alive. Besides, they reminded him what he is good for, what he has done to make up for the past.

June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too. June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too. June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too.

As if she heard his thoughts, the girl’s bedroom window lit up from across the field. Probably a bad dream, he thought. He couldn’t help but feel relieved he wasn’t the only one shaking off the mind’s own torture. He wanted so desperately to run over and talk to her, offer a hug and an assurance that she was okay and he wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to her. But he couldn’t; it wasn’t within the plan yet, the game was still being played, his side gaining traction slowly and steadily. After all, trust can’t be built overnight. He learned that with June.

She wanted to learn how to read, he needed his suits altered. It was a simple business exchange, he persuaded himself, but deep down they both understood the severe consequences. She was smart and talented and turning out to be more like her mother the longer he got to know her. In reality, he could get his suits tailored directly at home, or even request more appropriately-sized ones, but there was a window of opportunity there. And in return, he saw her frustration and envy in her Commander--even in himself--whenever she caught them reading confidential government reports. It broke his heart seeing her denied a favorite pastime of his, the only pleasure he indulged in to escape this God-forsaken country (whenever June was not around, that is). It’s only a few, meaningless, short sentences here and there right now, but it was still reading, a progress of sorts.

He wasn’t sure how June would feel about this particular rebellious act; he correctly assumed she would want her daughter back alive and with all of her fingers, but he felt charged to broaden this young girl’s mind and world, to give her a voice, to provide freedom. The small stack of her short stories he took upon himself to transcribe for her was one of his prized possessions--next to one of Holly’s white baby bonnets he stole in what now seemed ages ago. They were locked securely in his desk drawer, begging to be free, to be read and understood. Similar to June, their private moments together were short and few between, but peace and relief spread through her face every time he visited. He allowed himself to feel the same. Trust. Respect. Love. If this was his only way to be a father, then so be it. He felt a responsibility towards her, not an obligation, but a protectiveness that pulled at his heart. He needed to do this for her. For June. For himself.

After all, this was Nick Blaine. Nothing happened by coincidence if he could help it.

Chapter Text

A twisted pain persisted just below her stomach when she awoke; she logically attributed it to the restless night she had. If the pain didn’t wake her, the light certainly did. The morning sun cascaded over her bed, providing a warm and calming ambiance. And she needed it. They’re getting worse, the...dreams. Far too often she woke up tired and was unfocused throughout the day at school, the Aunts never ceasing their discontent in her ill-temperament. Yet the fear loomed over her as each day, week, month passed. She was getting older now. There wasn’t much time left to play the immature, innocent, ignorant girl anymore. Her biological destiny was set before her and it terrified her until she found herself in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat with a tight chest. But it was morning now, finally. She smelled the homemade French toast coming from downstairs and she had the day off from school. So she spared herself from the darkness once more and prepared herself for the day.

As it was Treatment Day, she was left home alone with her Martha. She preferred it that way. Hospitals had a way of choking her throat and plowing a giant pit in her stomach. She felt bad for it, but she hated to see her mother in such a condition. Mothers...they were supposed to be strong, weren’t they? Invincible. Immortal. Indestructible. Her fight was ending soon, she could tell. They ignored all conversation about it--her father feeding her false hope and fictional stories. In only a matter of a few months it could happen. Then there would be even more change. Yes, change--the confident constant in her life these days.

“Blessed day,” her Martha announced at the hot stove when she finally arrived, fully dressed in that dreadful pink. She was an older woman, around the same age as any other Martha she has had, though she rather not think about it. The girl distanced herself from her so there would be less pain in case they killed her, too. There was a hard lesson in that harrowing truth.

Nothing much was said on her end besides a weak shrug and the screeching of the wooden chair being pulled out from the round table. She plopped down and dug into the warm French toast, strangely very hungry.

“Agnes! Say grace!” the Martha chastised her, moving on to the dishes in the sink.

She closed her eyes obediently and thought about God and whether or not he really cared about this French toast. Certainly he had better things to do, blessing babies and stopping fires and whatnot. But all the same she thanked him for it and then took a large gulp of fresh orange juice.

“Any plans for today?” the woman at the sink asked, the cutlery clinking together as she cleaned them.

She swallowed a mouthful and answered, “Might catch up on some sewing.”

In all honesty, she was completely bored out of her mind. It was all the same, day in and day out--and probably will be for the remainder of her life. Perhaps things would be different if she had a sister or even a cat. None of her friends lived conveniently close enough and her few neighbors didn’t have any children yet. So she was alone with her thoughts and talents. She made up stories in her mind when she played outside in the woods behind her house. Sewing also took up most of her time as it was the only hobby she permitted herself to be good at. Although it was wrong, she genuinely felt no calling in being a Wife and therefore took great disinterest in caring for children, a husband, and a house. The Aunts at school became impatient with her stubbornness, but she made up for it by being a stellar student in her sewing classes. She by far surpassed her peers and even began classes with the older girls where tailoring, pattern-making, and draping were being taught at more advanced levels. The half-pieced quilt was already calling her name from her little sewing room upstairs. Suddenly, her appetite escaped from her and thus she pushed around a piece of French toast in its syrup.

The pleasant morning silence settled between them until there was a knock at the door that drew their attention.

“Now who could that be at this time in the morning?” Her Martha questioned irritably. She dried her hands on a towel and momentarily dismissed herself from the room to answer it.

Greetings were exchanged at the door and two sets of footsteps came towards the kitchen. The girl’s stomach flipped when her eyes met the visitor. Relief spread through her and she offered a smile. Today was going to be good after all, she assured herself. At the threshold was her next door neighbor, the young Commander who recently moved in earlier this year. He wore his trademark black suit with a garment bag of the same color slung over his left shoulder, his fingers holding the hanger hooks. A leather briefcase was held in his other hand. He returned the smile, making her feel at peace once again. She couldn’t help it. He was one of her only friends--a true friend.

“What’s the problem now?” she asked him exasperatedly, though her eyes and the grin on her face told a different story.

“Agnes!” The Martha scolded her again. Then to the Commander, with embarrassment flushed through her face, “I’m sorry, sir. She’s been acting up recently, and I keep telling her--”

“No worries,” he said calmly, keeping his deep brown eyes on the girl.

“Would you like something to eat before you two get started?” The older woman offered politely.

He shook his head, “I already had something at home.”

That was a lie, the girl noted, but she kept it to herself this time. She shook her head, sighed, and pushed the chair out, excusing herself from the table.

“Come on, let’s see what I can do for you,” she said, grabbing the Commander’s hand and leading him out of the room.

“Agnes, come back here now!” The Martha yelled, her voice getting farther away. “Finish your breakfast! You’re being wasteful!”

“That woman, I swear sometimes I could just…” the girl muttered, making sure her stamping up the stairs was just loud enough that her voice wasn’t heard.

“Be patient,” he said quietly. “She’ll come around.”

“She can’t be trusted, Nick,” she stated firmly once they reached the small, sun-bathed sewing room. It would’ve been her sibling’s room, if she had one. An ancient, but operable, Singer sewing machine sat by the window, the light reflecting off of its metal surface. A large, wooden, rectangular table was set by the right wall, with scattered fabric scraps and supplies lying haphazardly about. Shelving was on the other wall, keeping her fabric stash somewhat organized as well as patterns, incomplete projects, and notions.

“I know,” he nodded, closing the door behind him. Suddenly the atmosphere felt lighter, the pressure being released from both of their strict roles. Here they were, just the two of them, being friends, playing a dangerous game of keeping secrets. It felt liberating, but at the same time, there was a normalcy neither one of them had experienced in a great while.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” she sighed, taking a seat at the table.

Nick was a puzzle to her. She had some pieces, but she wasn’t sure which were the right ones nor how they all fit together. Something about him felt familiar, but at the same time incredibly strange. All she knew was that he was different than anyone else she ever met. He was kind and honest, in a real way, not to just be polite. He treated her like an individual, never forcing her to fit in the box she grew to hate. A trust of sorts had grown between them, a mutual understanding of ultimate destruction if it happened to be broken. The stories he told her of Gilead and her alleged origins--they weren’t sugar-coated or crafted in a rosy film; they were raw and candid, opening her eyes for the first time. She was now constantly conflicted with what was “right” and “wrong,” but she believed Nick would never lie to her nor lead her astray.

She couldn’t see what he was getting out of this relationship. Reading lessons in exchange for alterations? How was that a fair deal? He was doing this on purpose, she concluded. Receiving suits a size too big, wanting a slightly lighter shade of white buttons for his shirts, needing reinforcement on the stitching here and there, wanting to patch up a tear he “accidentally” made...it was all a game, an excuse to see her. But what made her so special? He had a Martha and a Wife. Certainly they knew how to sew.

She looked at him more intently as he laid his garment bag on the table and unzipped it. Maybe he’s lonely, she thought. He doesn’t have any children. Was there something wrong at home? Can his Wife conceive? What was her name again? Autumn? Or did it have something to do with a month? April? Well, it was something seasonal, she struggled to remember. He didn’t talk about her much.

“First, I want to know if you have made a decision yet,” he began, sitting in the adjacent seat, facing her, resting his right elbow on the table. He looked at her, anticipating an answer he’s long awaited for.

She dropped her gaze to her lap. She knew what he was asking about; he asks all the time. Her name. Hannah or Agnes. She felt disconnected from both, wishing she didn’t have to make the choice. Hannah felt like a different person, a young girl made up in someone’s imagination. Agnes felt ugly, and no matter how much pressure was put on her, she would never emerge as a diamond.

Taking her silence as an answer, Nick nodded. He cleared his throat and moved on to the task before them. “Right, so, these trousers--they need to be taken in a bit more at the waist.”

She took the black trousers in her hands and examined the waistband. She shook her head. “I already took them in twice before, Nick. Anything more and your pockets will be running together.” She set them down and looked at him. “Eat a bagel or something once in a while; that might help.”

He almost let out a laugh. “Okay, what about adding suspender buttons?”

She bit her lip and decided to give him a hard time about it, just for fun. “You see these loops here,”--she pointed to the belt loops attached at the waistband--“you can use them for your belt, that’s what they’re there for.” She searched his face for any amusement and found success. “But if you insist, I’ll see what I have in my button collection.”

“Thank you,” he gave a small smile. He moved on to the suit jacket. “I think this just needs to be taken in at the back and the sleeves shortened.” He took off the jacket he was wearing and put on the slightly bigger one.

She got up from her seat and grabbed some safety pins from the table. Then, she faced his back and began pinching at the middle seam, determining the appropriate amount. Once all was decided, she pinned the amount she had pinched as well as a few more places for good measure. Finally, she proceeded to the right sleeve and inserted another pin half an inch above the bottom of where the shirt cuff was. With her skill level, these were all the markings she needed to get the job done right.

Taking a pin out of her mouth, she warned him, “This might take me all day, you know.”

“I can wait,” he assured her, removing the jacket carefully and setting it down on the table.

She strode to the other side of the room and found her jar of buttons for the suspenders. Dumping them out on the table, they both took to the task of finding identical--or near-identical--six round buttons. Once found, she got to work.

Nick watched her for a few moments, getting lost in her concentration and perfect accuracy. Once she had a good start, he let her get to work while he wandered about the small room. He tested the texture of some fabrics, eyed her incomplete quilt with pride, and rolled up any messy spools of thread for her. But he stopped for a moment at her homemade dolls, some finished, some not quite there yet. They were a popular request from the girls at school, as well as some Wives in the nearby neighborhoods. His hand rested on a blonde-haired one, and he smiled to himself, as if he was savoring on a fond memory.

“Have you ever given that doll to that girl yet?” she asked him, watching his movements.

“Hmm?” he asked her, breaking away from his thoughts.

“That doll I gave to you when you visited while house hunting,” she reminded him. “You remember, the one with the yellow hair and pink dress? Did you give it to her yet?”

He blinked a few times and nodded with a subtle smile. “Oh, yes, yes I did.”

She poked her needle into the fabric and brought it back up again. “Who was it for?”

“One of the Commanders on the Council...he had a baby girl and I thought it would be nice if I gave her something to keep with her, maybe...” he told her.

“Oh, praise be,” she said with slight sarcasm. “What’s her name?”

“Uh, Nichole,” he answered.

She threw around the name in her head. Nichole. Nichole and Nick. She let out a laugh. It sounded ridiculous. “You made that up!”

A wide grin stretched across his face. “What? Are you the only one who can make up stories around here?”

She returned the smile and moved on to the set of buttons along the center back of the waistband. She glanced up at him once again with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her lips. “You know, I’ve been playing around with another one of my debut novel ideas.”

He fixed his gaze on her as he made his way back to his seat. “I don’t quite think you know what ‘debut’ means…”

“Oh, give me a break,” she replied, pretending to be annoyed. “I’ve only been at this for a few months or so.”

He pulled out some loose paper and a pen from his black leather briefcase and set them on the table. He settled in a comfortable position and waited for the dam to rupture, the waterfall that were her words merging together in a strong current river that could take you anywhere.

Heat rose to her cheeks and suddenly the words felt imprisoned in her mind. This is stupid, she thought to herself. Who was she to think any of her fictional worlds could ever be probable in anyone’s mind? This was illegal. She was supposed to be training to be a Wife, not the next Great American Author. Her ideas were so out of touch with this world, so bizarre, that people would likely determine she was crazy. Tales of fairies, talking animals, princesses, sentient objects, love...oh, when was she ever going to grow up?

She glimpsed at Nick who sat patiently, doodling in the margins of the paper. He was her biggest fan. He never made fun of her or caused her to feel small or insignificant. He loved every word that came out of her mouth, interrupting sparingly to suggest sentence structure and pressing for more detail. He awoke the writer inside her, the storyteller, the inventor. He gave her something that was difficult to take back: an identity of her own, an opportunity to be who she really wanted to be. This was all his fault. And she would be forever grateful for it.

“Aliens,” she finally let it out with a great sigh. She searched for any judgment on his end, but his demeanor was unreadable.

“Is that what they’re teaching in domestic arts these days?” he asked with amusement.

Relief spread through her and her muscles relaxed. What was she so worried about? This was Nick she was talking about.

“Well, there has to be more out there, somewhere,” she justified. “I mean, we can’t be the only people in the whole universe.”

“I suppose,” he shrugged. “But there is more out there, you know, beyond Gilead…”

She tied off her thread and offered a polite smile. There he goes again. He somehow always brought it back to “getting out,” as if that was his sole mission in life. She entertained his obsession a few times before because, after all, fantasies don’t hurt anyone. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was happy here, at least with him. As long as they were together, Gilead and its supposed evils escaped her mind. She wouldn’t mind a life of telling him stories and him looking after her. But she was only fooling herself. After their inevitable goodbyes, the nightmares always, always came and she was once again reminded of her fate, her destiny in this world. Freedom was a conflicting feeling. She had questions and anxieties, most of them relating to what would happen after. What would happen to them once they “got out”? Would they still be together? Would he still care about her? Where would they--

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head from those thoughts and tried to put on a brave smile. “Anyway, their planet is called Azalea, because that’s all that grows there…”

After finishing the suspender buttons and allowing themselves to get sidetracked for an hour or two with aliens--these very specific aliens--they returned to the kitchen for some lunch. The Martha made tuna salad sandwiches for the both of them, but Nick absolutely refused this time, to no surprise. However, after much persistence, he opted for an orange.

The summer breeze flowed through the girl’s and Nick’s hair and clothes as they decided to eat out on the front porch stairs. They watched as the grassy fields that surrounded them danced in the wind. A family of robins chirped from their home that hung on a branch of the cottonwood tree in the front yard. The sun’s warmth hugged them gently, its comfort welcomed on their skin. They breathed in the earthy smell of the atmosphere and let out a peaceful exhale. Out of all the places she lived, she would choose Colorado as her favorite.

Halfway through her sandwich, a sudden sadness came over her. Neither one of them talked; it was all too quiet. Her thoughts had a way of grabbing on to her and dragging her far away. She was lost now. She felt like something was missing. Someone wasn’t here. Someone was somewhere else, receiving chemicals in her veins in hopes of cancelling out what was quickly killing her inside. She could feel her slipping away again.

“It’s cancer,” she choked on her words. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and she set her sandwich down. She sniffled and struggled to settle her breathing.

Nick set aside his half-eaten orange and drew himself closer and put his arm around her. His hand rubbed her arm soothingly and she let her head rest on his shoulder. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be strong. That’s what he needed her to be, especially if they wanted to keep up their meetings. But she was still a child who was losing her mother. Couldn’t he understand that?

“I know,” he said quietly. After a beat, he took in a shaky breath and said, “I lost my mother to it, too.”

She lifted her head and looked at him in disbelief. Commander Nick Blaine? Missing his mother? This was a side she hadn’t seen before. She had put him on a golden pedestal, looking up at him, taking in his strength, bravery, and wisdom. But here he was, on the same step she was, relating to a pain greater than anyone should ever have to suffer through. It wasn’t fair, but at least she wasn’t alone.

“But you have to remember,” he said calmly, “your mother, your real mother, she’s still out there and she--”

“Oh, shut up, Nick!” she shook her head, anger quickly replacing her despair. She moved herself farther away from him on the step and held her arms close to her body.

He has mentioned her several times before--her “real” mother. She wished he would just let go of the whole “mother” matter already. It only brought up pain and trauma for her. She had to move homes, change schools, say goodbye to her friends, and deal with Guardians following her around all because of this woman, not to mention the horrifying nightmares and the cruel death of one of her Marthas. The last time she saw her with the Eyes was enough to solidify her distrust and fear. And Nick wants her to forget everything that has happened and miss her? Not going to happen. She had a family here who loved her, right? She had Nick and her parents; she didn’t need the woman who broke into her bedroom to watch her sleep.

Nick sighed frustratedly, trying to think of the right words to fix all of this. “I’m sorry…”

She sniffled and dried her tear-streaked cheeks and looked at him. He didn’t intend to hurt her. Here was a good man who wanted what was best for everyone. If all of what he said about Gilead and her past was true, then shouldn’t she at least give this “real mother” a chance? If she surely had this “real family” fighting endlessly for her, and Nick was on their side, then that should be all she needed to know about “right” and “wrong.” Oh, but she was caught between what she had been taught and the truth that had been told. Life outside of Gilead was polluted and godless, but life inside was torture and monotonous.

That stabbing pain she woke up with appeared again, only worse, and growing with intensity. She had worked herself up again with the crying and the anger. But this was something else, she was certain of it. Something was wrong. Something was happening inside her. She became uncomfortable and a cold sweat overcame her body.

“E-excuse me,” she said breathlessly, quickly rising to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

She felt like getting sick, her stomach, or right below it, tightened, and panic shot through her veins. She rushed to the downstairs bathroom in the short hallway and slammed the door shut behind her. No, no, no, she kept denying herself. She lifted up the skirt of her baby pink dress and didn’t even bother with her underwear because what she saw running down her leg told her everything she needed to know. However it was not entirely unfamiliar to her. After all, it was the color of her favorite fruit--strawberries. The color of her friends’ cheeks when it was cold outside. The color that the Handmaids wore. The color of life. The color of blood.

Chapter Text

The crumpled up piece of paper in her dry hand contained a crucial message she had long memorized by now. After all, it had been nearly three days on this treacherous journey and this note was her only source of entertainment, her mind giving several suggestions to its connotations. She welcomed anything that took her mind off of what could be at the end of this dark road: her fateful death or the love of her life. SHE’S YOUR PROBLEM NOW. THE AUNTS ARE THE KEY. LYDIA IS IN, the messy handwriting read in thick, black permanent marker. She wished she was simply a lowly messenger--in to drop off a quick word and out before anyone cared to notice. But this was her mess now, and it was about time to take responsibility for it. The past several months had been unspeakably difficult, but she had a feeling she hadn’t even met the middle of it yet. But this time she was going to fix everything, all of it, and that was a guarantee.

The only good thing about being arrested by the Eyes is that by the second time, you’re used to it. But these weren’t ordinary Eyes--they had to be of a different breed, under a separate regime, rule book, command. She wasn’t handcuffed, muzzled, or chained to the van. She wore her own clothes (though she would prefer a new pair at this time) and she was given sustenance and a short break every few hours. What was this? A top-secret road trip? The only administered torture were the absence of answers, windows, and a comfortable place to sleep. She was left literally in the dark. The only guess she had was that they were going somewhere out west. The terrain was changing as well as the temperature. Not to mention how long this trip has been so far. And if it was the West, and Hannah was there, and she was with the Eyes, then…

She shut her tired eyes despite already being consumed by the darkness. She hugged her body close, struggling to warm up. How did she always get herself into these situations? She’s been stupid before, she’ll painfully admit it, but she really did it this time. The images flash in her mind: the satisfying death of Fred, the lost look on Luke’s face, leaving Holly behind, the bold road back to Boston, then the look of Commander Lawrence’s face, the changing of Aunt Lydia, Janine’s freedom, the creation of a plan, the failure of said plan, the arguments, the fight, the van door being slammed in her face. And now here she was. SHE’S YOUR PROBLEM NOW. THE AUNTS ARE THE KEY. LYDIA IS IN. She could practically hear Lawrence say those words now just as she did when he wrote them down on the paper, using the van’s hard surface as support. “Hand this to the Commander when you arrive,” he told her coldly. “He’s expecting a delivery from me.” She bombarded him with questions but all he said was a farewell: “Don’t expect to hear from me ever again, after what you pulled, even if I survive from this. I’m done.”

She desperately tried to think of the latter of her two options of where she was headed. It sounded naive and cheesy to say, but these thoughts of him had been her excuse to hold on to hope. She hadn’t seen Nick for most of the year, and so she clung onto the idea that he was still alive like her lungs clung onto oxygen. Lawrence wasn’t helpful in relaying any information about him, and she was grateful for that. It indicated that Nick was being protected, he had an ally, he was safe--or so, she hoped. She knew they were going to see each other again, they always did against all odds. Were their crossing paths fated? Or was this all a coincidence? The thought of being closer to him, mile by mile, brought her warmth, which she gladly accepted on the cold metal floor of the van.

After a few more tedious hours, she felt the vehicle slowly roll to a stop. The Eyes--or whoever they were--slammed their doors shut after they exited. She heard their gritty footsteps come closer to the back door. Soon light flooded the dark cavern she was placed in, overwhelming her senses. One of the men beckoned her and she slowly crouched her way out and jumped down. They evidently finally found their destination, but much to her dismay, it seemed to have been in the middle of nowhere. They parked outside of a paint-stripped, dilapidated house that had to have been there for at least a century, surviving the Dust Bowl, Great Depression, wars, and other inevitable destructive products of men. Not too far away to the left was a larger house made of brick that was kept much nicer, perhaps indicating someone important was living there. These two houses appeared to be the only ones for about a mile or two. Nothing but long grass and dirt stood between them. Towards the back of both houses were thick woods, its size unmeasurable. She focused her eyes on the pitiful house before her, slightly disappointed. Clearly whoever the Commander was that lived here wasn’t all that powerful, and power was what she needed.

“Welcome to Colorado, Ms. Osborne,” one of the men broke the silence. He was a little older than her, short, and had been nice to her so far. She wouldn’t exactly call it trust; after all, he was just here to do his job.

So she was right all along. She braced for the incoming punishment. There had to be a reason why they held off for the entire trip. Something far worse than she had ever been through was imminent and she rather just get it over with. Strap her down, waterboard her, yank out her fingernails, whip her feet, take out an eye, slice off a hand, trap her in a small box… Just let me see my daughter one last time, she silently begged.

She saw the door of the house open, the Commander walking out of the shade of the porch and into the early autumn, late afternoon sun. The breath in her lungs escaped once she locked eyes with him. Questions arose in her mind, too many to discern, but all she knew was that he was here. Nick was right before her, alive, hands in his pockets. Her legs wanted to race forward and her arms wanted to embrace him, but the Eyes were present and there was something...something different on Nick’s face. Something that showed a sliver of fear, as if she was a product of his worst nightmare.

“I thought Commander Lawrence was sending a package,” Nick told the men, bewildered.

The Eyes replied, but she couldn’t focus on their conversation. She kept her gaze on Nick, struggling to figure out why she felt a wall there. He looked older and more tired, and a lot thinner, too. What was going on here? Before she tried to speculate, the message in her hands was ripped away from her and handed over to Nick. He took his left hand out of its pocket and he read it silently. All her eyes could see was the golden wedding ring.

Nick glared at her with knitted eyebrows and pursed lips. He shoved the paper in his pocket, shifted his eyes to the ground, and nodded his head. He took a deep breath and shouted behind him, “Summer!”

Her name. All she needed was for him to say her name, a catalyst for peace, comfort, home. Then she would be okay again. With her name on his lips, she could conquer anything. But this? This wall between them was a lot thicker than she thought.

A flash of teal emerged on the porch. For a second, she thought she was looking into a mirror. This woman, this Wife, appeared to look just like her, right down to her short stature, fair skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and even the curve of her nose. All that was different was that she was slightly younger and her hair was styled into a bob of natural curls. She didn’t think Nick would be this shallow to have a type; this had to be intentional. But for what?

“Any message you’d like to report back, Commander?” One of the Eyes asked, and by his tone, this wasn’t his first time asking.

“Well, what’s going on here?” The Wife asked with a kind smile, her few words thickly coated in a Southern drawl.

“Sir?” the men pressed.

Summer looked at him for an answer.

“We don’t have much time,” an Eye warned impatiently.

Nick avoided everyone’s eyes and sighed heavily. He opened his mouth to say something, but he decided against it. He was drowning in a sea of expectations while everyone stood and watched.

Summer took hold of both of his shoulders and looked intensely in his eyes. “I got this,” she told him reassuringly. “You go figure out...whatever it is that you do.” She smiled and nodded at him.

Nick’s muscles slightly relaxed and he nodded back. He took in a deep breath and went to talk with the men who stood close to the van. Their conversation was quiet and undecipherable, leaving questions unanswered.

Summer didn’t allow even a second of awkward silence to come between them. She was bouncy and sunshiney, seemingly happy with where she was in the world. She held out her hand. “Well, I’m Summer,” she introduced herself with a beaming smile. Her emotions were genuine and uncomplicated, and oh so relieving. How did she do it?

“I’m June,” she shook her hand and tried to smile back, though not quite as brightly. She wasn’t sure if there was ever a person who really could match such a smile.

“That is so funny!” Summer laughed joyfully as she led the way back to the house. “I was born in June!”

How in the world did Nick find this woman and how could he possibly endure her cheerful infection? June couldn’t tell if she felt peace or resentment in it. However, she knew she was safe enough with her. There was a plan behind all of this and she had to trust it.

“Excuse the, well, um, everything,” Summer scratched her head nervously. “I keep telling Nick that we should at least add a coat of paint, but he refuses.” She opened the screen door and they entered the house. “I don’t think he likes to form attachments.”

June nodded her head and looked around the simple entryway, which opened up to the small living room and a staircase off to the side. Nearly everything was wooden and had a rustic, prairie feel to it. The furniture and decor was kept to a minimum, all in neutral or earthy tones. Each room she saw from her vantage point seemed to have a few wooden chests in them, as if something special was secured in them, ready to come out when it was safe. There were secrets everywhere; she could feel them through the walls. This was all a facade, an act of sorts, a distraction from the truth. She wanted to tear off the shiny film and reveal its rawness and honesty.

“Ruthie!” Summer shouted from the banister, towards the short hallway where the kitchen apparently was. “Ruth!”

A Martha approached them, drying her hands on a white kitchen towel. She was an Asian woman, a little taller than both June and Summer, of similar age, with her dark hair styled in a messy bun--she wore no head covering, strangely. She appeared tired and a little bit bothered, waiting impatiently for Summer to say something.

“Can we have pizza tonight?” Summer asked, her eyelashes practically fluttering at her.

Ruth wiped her brow and sighed. “I’m already making--”

“Ruthie, we have a visitor,” Summer wrapped her arm around June, bringing her close enough that she could smell her citrus scent.

Ruth raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So? Who is this? The Queen of Gilead?”

Summer shook her head and laughed, “No, this is June!”

June tried her best to offer a warm smile, though she was uncomfortable in this unfamiliar house with these women, if she had to be honest. She just wanted to skip to the part where she got Nick alone.

“Why is she here?” Ruth asked straightforwardly. She looked through the front door’s window and back to the two women. “Does he know her or something?”

“Probably, you never know with him,” Summer replied, shrugging her shoulders and making her way up the stairs, June following. “I’ll be back soon, June here needs a pair of new clothes.”

“And take care of that smell while you’re at it!” Ruth shouted as she went back towards the kitchen.

“Ruthie is really sweet once you get to know her, I promise,” Summer told her once they arrived at the second floor.

There were five rooms: two on each side of the hallway and the bathroom straight ahead. Upstairs appeared the same: wooden floors, wooden doors, cream-colored walls, and no decorations. The floor creaked beneath them as Summer opened the first door on the left. Inside was a queen sized bed with a nightstand on both sides and a wooden chest at the foot of it. Along the wall to their left was a large dresser with a mirror and a blue lounging chair sat in the corner. Right beside the window was a desk with an easel on it, paint supplies scattered about. This was the first room June saw that presented any color or personality. The walls were covered in vibrant paintings of flowers, women, and happy quotes. They exuded the same energy and beauty that Summer did.

“These are incredible,” June commented genuinely, walking about the room, gazing at each piece.

Heat rose to Summer’s cheeks and she shrugged, playing it cool. “There’s only so much Wives can do…”

June glanced at the dresser and noticed hair pins, brushes, glass bottles of perfume, a jewelry box, contraband birth control, and a small cosmetic bag. Her eyes switched over to the nightstands that only held a lamp, a book, a vase of yellow mums, and an old alarm clock. Where was Nick in all of this?

Summer opened the closet door and sifted through the options. “Teal or gray?” she asked casually.

June tore her eyes from the mystery in front of her and looked into the closet. Both Wife and Martha garments were intermixed on the closet rod--a sight she had never seen before. She slowly walked forward, trying to understand why.

Summer held up a teal dress with a pleated skirt, long sleeves, and a boat neckline. “Teal or gray?” she asked again.

June swallowed thickly, a creeping fear rising up within her. Her heart rate quickened with her thoughts catching up speed. “Do you have any red?” she managed to ask, though she was really asking a different question.

Summer paused her browsing abruptly and she hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She understood what June was truly wanting to know, then. She glared at June, this being the first time her smile did not show. Her eyes turned to ice and she clenched her jaw. “Teal or gray?” she repeated more sternly.

Images of Serena conjured up in her mind and she felt trapped. She didn’t perceive Summer to be the malevolent type, but clearly she struck a nerve somewhere. She reminded herself she needed to play nice to get what she really wanted. This was Summer’s territory and she had to respect that. However, something else was going on here. This wasn’t Nick’s room, obviously, and no Handmaid lived in this house. What was this arrangement?

“Alright, you can pick whatever you like,” Summer’s voice was quavering with a bit of anger and frustration behind it. She tucked some curls behind her ear and moved swiftly toward the door. “Clean underwear is in the top drawer in the dresser and the bathroom is right over there. Help yourself to anything.” She took in a deep breath and offered one of her trademark smiles. “Enjoy your stay,” she said and closed the door behind her.

Silence poured into the room, rising up, until June was neck deep in it. Suddenly it hit her that Nick was married. Again. She sunk into the bed and looked up at the ceiling. She was familiar with this sort of heartbreak. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, after all. And besides, Nick was a Commander; it would be naive of her to assume he could remain single in his position for long. Like anything these days, she was uncertain about the details, but she wasn’t blind, either. Summer had considerable qualities--qualities that June could probably never have nor have again. She stretched Summer on the canvas that was her mind and painted her with jealousy. She got to live freely under the same roof as Nick, see him every day, talk with him, maybe even share lame jokes and make him smile--all without the threat of death or someone finding out their secret. They lived this whole life together now. Did Summer know things about Nick that she never got the opportunity to learn? Was there love between them? An unshakable bond? A language only they could speak?

Right then her decision was made. She would wear the teal. She chose a knee-length dress with a gathered waist, v-neckline, button placket down the front, and short sleeves. It was probably more appropriate for the warmer months, but she didn’t want to waste time choosing. There was business that needed to be taken care of. She took the dress and some underwear to the small bathroom and locked the door. She caught an image of herself in the mirror for the first time in days and felt slightly dissociated. How did she end up here? After all she’s been through, this was where she landed at? She shrugged off her coat, kicked off her shoes, and stripped the rest of her clothes. She felt like a stranger in a house that belonged to a man she’s called her home. Flashbacks of Canada flooded her mind as she turned the shower on. Luke, Moira, and Holly seemed to have their routine down pat, a well-oiled machine. She was on the outside, looking in, a guest to the few people she could call family. Deep down, all she wanted was a place in this world. But it looks like she’ll have to earn it.

She stepped into the warm shower, soothing steam enveloping her body. She felt her muscles relax and she breathed in and out slowly. On the tub’s ledge were some bottles and a soap bar. She grabbed the Gilead-issued shampoo and breathed in the dull scent, and in a sense, breathed him in, too. After letting her hair sit with the shampoo, she lathered up the soap and scrubbed her body clean. She couldn’t remember the last time she was at liberty to even do this little for herself. They’ve been on the road for the past three days, being vigilant with the routes and cutting the breaks in between short. And before that she was at Lawrence’s, too preoccupied to care, avoiding any time whatsoever she had to spend alone. Because once she was alone, the thoughts always came back, always, haunting her every night. Thoughts of Holly, Nick, Hannah, the other Handmaids (both alive and dead, free and unfree)...even Luke. She’s failed all of them in some way or another. She should’ve stayed, she should’ve left sooner, she should’ve killed this person or that person, she should’ve saved all of them, she should’ve said something, she should’ve stayed quiet, she should’ve…

She cut the water off, droplets rolling down her skin and onto the porcelain. She stepped out and grabbed a white towel off of the shelf above the toilet and wrapped it around her body and another for her hair. The heat and steam from the shower lingered, so she stood there for a few moments, letting its comfort last as long as possible. She’ll have to confront all of them sooner or later, figure out their playbook, and get on the right page. She reached out to the teal dress she hung up on the hook behind the door. It had a smooth texture, being made out of silk crepe. She unfastened the buttons and let her towel drop to the floor. The bra she chose was a bit tight, but she could manage; she didn’t expect an identical fit, no matter how similar her looks were to Summer. She slipped on some underwear and then the dress. Once she was finished, she looked at herself in the small mirror to see if there were any problems. The dress fit nicely around her curves and she felt almost pretty; her mood definitely improved, and that’s all that mattered. She found a comb in one of the drawers of the vanity and used it on her damp hair, grateful for it being only shoulder-length. Finally, she hung her towels up and opened the door.

Cool air hit her face as well as a dilemma. She was certain she was alone on this floor, all four bedrooms to her access. And as long as no one was here, what hurt would it do? She went to the door beside Summer’s, but the handle did not budge, unfortunately. Then, she moved on to the first door to her left, across from the locked door. In this room there was nothing much at all, just the bare bones of a bedroom: a naked mattress, empty drawers, curtainless windows, dust-caked surfaces. She saw that the sun had already set, twilight slowly passing through now. The Eyes were conceivably gone now, at least, she hoped.

Finally, she opened the adjacent room, the last one. It was nearly just as empty as the one she saw before, but she knew right away who it belonged to. The bed was made neatly, military style. An old alarm clock and a leather bible sat on a wooden bedside table. Few items were displayed on his dresser: a comb, an old picture of him and his brother, a couple books, and a glass bottle of cologne. She opened the closet and found his collection of identical black suits, closing her eyes as she touched them. Her eyes fell last to the bed, pulling her closer. She smoothed out the blanket on top and sat down on his side. Leaning over, she took in the scent of the pillow, living off of the few scraps she has of him. Even after all this time, she recognized the smell and felt calmed by it. She let her cheek gently rest on top, closing her eyes, letting the intimate images come back to her, though they were quickly fading to gray.

Relentless pounding on the front door awoke her from the sweet reverie. Panic spread through her body, her heart beating out of her chest. She has heard this type of knocking before. They found her, no doubt. They found all of them. It wouldn’t take long for them to know everything. They’ll make Nick tell them all he knows and then kill him, right in front of her. They’ll kill them all if they had to. Their time had run out. They’ve been caught. This is what it came down to, of course. How long did she seriously think they could get away with this? She could see all the blood already, staining the wooden floorboards. The pounding persisted, matching the pace and the sound of her heart. She stayed still, waiting.

Chapter Text

“He came back without her. She’s gone. She’s dead!” It was the quavering voice of a young girl, hysterical, practically at wits end. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhh, it’s going to be okay,” this was Nick’s voice, his words soothing the pain, the way they usually did.

June furrowed her brow. This wasn’t an ambush or a strategic plot played out by the Eyes; no, this was a desperate little girl, pleading for help. Deep inside, her maternal instincts told her to comfort the child, to run out and wrap her arms around her, to rescue her. She quickly arose from the bed and headed down the stairs, but stopped midway. She saw Nick’s steadying right hand on the girl’s small shoulder, his head leaning down, gently talking with her. The girl was sobbing, her body trembling, refusing to take in any information. Nick shifted slightly to the left, revealing that she was her Hannah, her sweet Hannah, in a mess of emotions. She caught her eye and Hannah shrunk back, shock and fear overcoming her, prompting her to become impossibly more distressed.

“Why is she here?” Hannah cried, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around her body.

Nick whipped his head around to see June. His jaw clenched, brow lowered, and eyes emitting a type of coldness she has never felt before with him. Shivers went down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Frozen there on the stair, she found it impossible to speak, her throat closed up and her mouth was dry. He tore his eyes away and instead focused on Hannah. “Hey, don’t look at her, look at me, okay?” Nick coaxed, trying to block her from seeing June. “Look at me, look at me,” he repeated, lifting her head up. “We’ll talk outside, yeah?” He quickly removed his suit jacket. “Where is your coat?” he asked her while he draped the jacket over her shoulders. “I can’t have you getting sick.” He opened the door and ushered her onto the porch and closed it behind them, shutting June out.

What the hell was that? Her blood boiled in her veins, thawing her out from her former frozen state. Nick was here with Hannah, with an established bond between them. How long has this been going on? Why did he keep this hidden from her? This whole time she was within reach and he didn’t say one single word about it. Was this his plan? Was this what she had been waiting for, what she had risked her life to accomplish?

She clenched her jaw and went down the stairs and straight through the hallway, where she assumed the Wife and Martha were. “I need answers,” she demanded, “now.”

They were at the stove, with their backs turned away from her. Ruth’s arm was around Summer’s waist, holding her close, the two of them whispering and smiling, living in their own little world. June has seen this scene before; in fact, she has been in it several times, not to mention that recently it’s all she fantasized in her daydreams. How did she not notice before? The closet was the most obvious clue of all, ironically. She should’ve known better, considering the possibility. Perhaps she was too focused on the presence (or lack thereof) of a Handmaid or the longing she felt for Nick, which even now she still can’t deny. This only made things a lot more complicated. Everything was changing, minute by minute, and her list of questions only seemed to grow longer.

Summer finally caught her eye and stepped away from Ruth, cheeks flushed. She bit her lip, hesitant of what to say. “You hungry? You’re welcome to join us,” she offered, revealing her deeply rooted Southern hospitality, a habit that Gilead could never kill.

“Oh, shut up, Summer,” June rolled her eyes, shaking off the sugar and letting her words come out raw. “What the hell is going on here?”

Ruth turned around, pointing a spatula at her, eyes on fire. “You talk to her like that again and I’ll throw you out myself, I’m not even joking.”

June looked at the both of them, dissatisfied in their uncooperativeness. “Well? Is anyone going to tell me why my daughter was just in this house?”

Summer looked at Ruth, her eyebrows knitted together, then back at June. “Your daughter?”

June set both of her hands on the kitchen island and sighed. Apparently everyone was left in the dark on this one. There was no true justification to be angry or bitter with them anymore then, so she had to cool down and think about this. She shook her head and looked at Summer and Ruth. “I need a drink,” she finally let out tiredly, trying to lighten up the mood, sufficing as an apology of sorts.

Ruth smirked and filled a glass of water from the tap, then pushed it toward her on the island. “Here, work your little miracle.”

“Nick doesn’t want alcohol in the house,” Summer explained to her. “And don’t ask why, we’ve tried over a dozen times already; it just makes him upset.” She set a plate of warm homemade cheese pizza in front of her. She and Ruth sat across from June at the island with their own plates.

June sat down on a stool and eagerly took a bite, savoring the flavor she long missed. It wasn’t perfect, given the limits of ingredients, but her body was craving anything hot and full of carbs--the melted cheese was just an added bonus. If pizza in Gilead was an option this whole time, she should’ve put in a request with Rita--not like Serena would’ve allowed it, but still. “This is amazing,” she practically moaned.

Summer beamed at Ruth. “As is everything else she does.”

Ruth tried to act tough about it, but a small smile still showed. “It was all I could do, given the short notice.”

“Tell me about Hannah,” June jumped directly into the deep end, hoping to drown in the truth.

“Who’s Hannah?” Ruth asked, swallowing down her pizza with some water.

“The girl that was just in here,” June replied. “She’s my daughter.”

“You mean Agnes? She’s the girl that lives next door,” Summer told her, as if the answer was obvious. “Nick is like, obsessed with her for some reason.”

“I don’t know why,” Ruth added with her mouth full, “the girl is a total nerd.”

“Ruthie!” Summer exclaimed.

“What?” she questioned in defense. “It’s true! There’s something off about her, too. She talks to herself about people who don’t even exist. I keep telling Nick she spends too much time alone in those woods.”

“Who could blame her?” Summer shrugged after taking a bite. “Her parents have barely given her any attention ever since Tabitha got sick.”

“I guess that’s why Nick is her favorite now,” Ruth conspired, wiping her hands on her cloth napkin.

Summer appeared deep in thought, going over the conversation in her head. She looked at June with narrowed eyes, as if she was realizing something. “Wait, is that why you’re here? You and Nick do know each other, right?”

June wasn’t sure how much information she should volunteer, how much they really needed to know about the history between Nick and her. She wanted to protect their relationship, as she always did--not daring to explore what she would ever do without him, even now when she was angry with him. It was one of the reasons why she didn’t want to talk about him in Canada with Luke and among other people. What they had was theirs, and no one else’s. And besides, it was awkward enough having to explain it to his Wife, of all people. She decided to play it safe.

“We’re friends,” June replied, finishing off her first slice and starting another. “We were part of the same household. He was the driver and I was the Handmaid…”

Summer yet again became tense at the mention of a Handmaid. She took a drink of water, reflecting on June’s words. “You mean you escaped?”

“Yeah, with his help,” June nodded, her voice quavering. She set down the pizza and tried to compose herself, not understanding why she was suddenly feeling like this.

“Then why the hell did you come back?” Ruth questioned without any sensitivity.

Well, wasn’t that the question of the year. She could say it was to get Hannah out. To help liberate all the children and women of Gilead. To get her final revenge on Serena. To take Gilead down entirely. Even to get away from Luke for a while. And though those were all valid reasons, they never satisfied her heart entirely. There was an itch she couldn't scratch, a light in the darkness she couldn’t reach, a ship that needed moored but no anchor. Love was a very dangerous thing.

June could see the front door down the hallway from where she was sitting, completely still and untouched. Where was he? She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. She was torn between feeling worried and irritated. “Uh, when will Nick be joining us?”

Ruth let out another one of her smirks. “Nick?” She shook her head. “No, Nick doesn’t eat.” She finished a slice. “Well, I mean, he does at some point, he’s alive after all…”

All the fiery anger in June became extinguished with profound concern. Was Nick okay? Has anyone checked in on him lately? Did he have anyone to talk to? Did he have anyone here that cared about him? What was the deal with him, Summer, and Ruth anyway?

Sensing her unease, Summer spoke up. “Hey, it’s okay, June. We don’t let it get too bad.”

Ruth let out a soft laugh. “He hates it, but somebody has to nag him.”

“We keep him alive so he can keep us alive,” Summer said all too casually, shrugging her shoulders.

It hit June again--the realization that Nick was good. Here he was, protecting all of them, giving them a safe space under the worst circumstances. There was a strategic plan behind all of this, an intentional decision to every detail of this new life. He chose Summer, he chose Ruth, he chose Colorado, he chose this drab house, he chose those men on the van. He was so, so good. She couldn’t imagine the gripping stress and the heavy weight of it all; she already noticed the effects of it on his body. He needed to know that he didn’t have to do it alone. She could help, maybe even Summer and Ruth, too.

“Hey June, why don’t you help me clean up?” Ruth changed the subject. “And Summer here can put on one of the records and bring out tonight’s newspaper.”

June gladly agreed, desperately wanting to feel better and think of something different for a while. Ruth wrapped up the leftovers and June gathered all the dirty dishes. As she was waiting for the water to warm up, she heard Dolly Parton and Summer from the living room singing “Joshua,” their voices in perfect harmony. A small smile escaped from her lips. She felt lighter now, a sense of normalcy being created around her. She allowed her mind to give into it for the time being, not knowing when it would be taken away from her. These moments never seem to last long.

“She’s just showing off,” Ruth shook her head, drying off the plates.

“She has a great voice,” June complimented.

“Yeah? Enjoy it while it’s fresh then,” she warned.

June simply smiled and continued washing. By the time the first side of the record was finished, Ruth and June dried their hands and moved to the living room. There was an old brown couch and a few chairs, with an empty coffee table in the center and a few lit lamps around the room. June was right about the wooden chests. One was actually a record player cabinet that concealed everything inside and the other held what it seemed to be hundreds of old newspapers.

“This one is from 1999,” Summer held up a yellowed copy of The New York Times.

“Recent enough,” Ruth shrugged and pulled out a pair of pencils from the chest. She looked at June, “Are you any useful at crossword puzzles?”

“If she is, I want her on my team!” Summer said, kicking off her teal heels and getting comfortable on the couch. Ruth followed, draping a patchwork quilt over their laps and settling close next to Summer.

June smiled at them, missing such tender displays of affection. “I’ll be your lifeline if you get stuck,” she told them, folding her legs underneath herself and thumbing through the newspapers with curiosity. “How did you guys get all these?”

“It’s how we got everything else in this decrepit house,” Ruth replied, already filling in words, “they came with it. I guess some old guy lived here before and couldn’t let go of the past or something.”

“When did you move in?” June tried to play it cool; she knew it would take a while before Nick would open up to her. There was still so much she doesn’t know about him, let alone all that has happened since she last saw him. She thought now could be her opportunity to get some answers, thereby using whatever time she had with Nick on more...important matters.

“It took Nick forever to make a decision,” Summer complained. “First it was Boston, then somewhere close to the Canadian border, then Detroit, then here…”

“I still resent his choice,” Ruth chimed in. “There’s nothing special about this place: it gets cold too soon, you practically have to set aside a whole day to go shopping, there’s no one to talk to...it bores me to tears, honestly.”

“Hannah…” June whispered and looked over her shoulder at the front door. “He should be back by now.”

“He should?” Ruth asked, looking up at her with confusion.

“Nick does whatever he wants, and we get to do whatever we want,” Summer sighed, the final note on the record punctuating her sentence. “Within reason, of course. That’s the deal.”

“Yeah, but don’t you guys know anything?” June got up to see if there was anything else worth putting the needle on. More Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams...this house reeked of an old, lonesome cowboy.

“Escape, seven letters, starts with ‘R’,” Ruth ignored her question.

“Run away,” June answered immediately. “How much has Nick told you?”

“Why does it matter, June?” Summer was getting tired of her pestering questions. “It’s not like it’ll do any good.”

June closed her eyes and shook her head. Why weren’t they taking this seriously? “You don’t get it. You don’t know what all has happened.”

“We know enough, June,” Ruth said sternly, setting her pencil aside. “And it’s not like Nick ever offers us any real information anyway.”

Summer rolled her eyes and focused back on the puzzle. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does matter,” June’s voice was trembling, her worry gradually taking over. “Because the last Mrs. Blaine got killed.”

Summer locked her eyes with June, her body becoming tense. “What?”

“At least you’re not a child this time,” June fired at her, satisfied that her words left a scathing mark.

“Ruthie, what is she saying?” Summer turned to her, desperate for an answer. Her face became red, tears already making their way down her cheeks.

“What? Did they send you here to scare us?” Ruth’s eyes bore into June. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” June told her, shaking her head. Suddenly the room turned unbearably warm and seemed a lot smaller than before. “But you can’t keep living this life of painting and making pizza and listening to music and playing games; it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough.” Her chest was starting to heave and her face became hot. Her thoughts were spinning now, spilling out in a despairing cry. She paced around the room, her hands shaking. “There’s so much we have to do and I can’t waste any more time and Hannah is here and we have to get her out before--”

The front door creaked open, silencing June and letting a chill air seep into the room. Nick entered the house, locking the door behind him. His tie was undone and his hair tousled. He appeared impossibly more tired than before. All three women looked at him, and he looked back, his eyes landing on June in her teal dress last, lingering for a moment. Warmth spread through her body and she felt beautiful again. There was a prideful look in his eyes, perhaps of accomplishment or of love, but whatever it was, it shot a crack in his walls. Right then she forgot what she was going on and on about. She supposed it didn’t matter, at least not now. All she had to do was to remember how to breathe.

Chapter Text

“Is she okay?” Summer broke the silence, her voice still bearing the remains of her cry.

Nick took in a breath and nodded his head. “Yeah, she’s strong,” he glanced at June for a fleeting second and back to the women on the couch. “I have to make a phone call.”

Ruth told him something, seemingly in her mother tongue.

“Not hungry, Ruth,” Nick replied tiredly, slowly taking his first step on the stairs as if they were made out of thick mud.

Ruth quickly threw off the quilt and went to the kitchen. All June could do was stare at him, motionless, as if she was witnessing a slow, painful death. Summer cleaned up the living room, tucking away the pencils, newspapers, and records, never to be shown the light of day. Ruth returned promptly with a plate of leftovers in her hands and told him something else, apparently in a language they both intimately understood. Nick was already halfway up the stairs, but he took the plate without saying a word and disappeared to the second floor.

Ruth kept her eyes on her feet, her eyes blinking fast and fingers picking at her gray uniform dress. Once a door was shut and locked from above, she lifted her head and looked directly at June. “You’re welcome,” she told her.

June swallowed hard and nodded her head. She understood, then, what all of this was for, who all of this was for. The music, the paintings, the games--they weren’t tiny rebellions to hurt Gilead; no, they were acts of love, of life, of hope. They were something to come home to. A reminder that someone cared. June knew how bad--how awful--she could get without such reminders, without love. Those times haunted her, knowing that her mind had the power to be truly evil sometimes. Summer and Ruth were all he had here. Perhaps they figured out his limitations, his silent cries for help. Would she dare admit that he was still alive thanks to them?

Summer flashed one of her radiant smiles, brushing over what just happened, turning back into the joyful character she assigned herself with; perhaps this was a toxic coping mechanism, now that June thought about it. Was there a dark past underneath all that sunshine? “I’ll get your room ready,” she said. “I’m sure you’re pretty tired, as am I.” She turned out the lights and went up the stairs.

June nodded, “Thank you.”

“We like to sleep in, so help yourself to breakfast if you need it,” Ruth informed her, following Summer up the stairs.

She was left alone once more in the literal dark. Snooping around, opening doors, and digging through the wooden chests were an option, but she felt no urgency. They weren’t her secrets to keep, nor to find. Truthfully, she simply wanted out of there--to run out of this house, take Hannah into her arms, and find someplace safe to go. She was at the threshold, her hand on the cool brass doorknob, waiting for the voice inside her head to tell her to leave, to convince her that she wasn’t needed or welcome here anyway. But the small, quiet voice told her to stay instead, to see this one through for once. Nick knew what he was doing, right? However, there were still embers of anger deep inside her, waiting to catch fire. How long has this been going on? Why did he not tell her anything? In fact, he hasn’t told her much since the beginning. It looked like she’ll have to ask him all this tomorrow. But, oh, if she could only get him alone now.

She stepped away from the door, went up the stairs, and saw Summer and Ruth entering and exiting rooms like it was some sort of routine, a choreographed dance. The lonesomeness hit her as she was once again reminded of her unhappy life in Canada. Everyone else was on the same page while she was fortunate enough to be in the same chapter. Nick was nowhere in sight, presumably still busy with that phone call of his. Summer noticed her first, a white cotton chemise in her hands.

“June!” She exclaimed happily. “This is where you’ll be sleeping. I put some extra blankets on the bed as it gets pretty cold here at night.”

June entered the empty room she went into before, the room right beside Nick’s. The bed was made neatly and the dust was removed. A lamp on the dresser was turned on. “Thank you,” she told her once again.

“We’ll have to find some curtains tomorrow,” Summer said remorsefully. She handed her the chemise with a smile. “But you can wear this tonight if you’d like.”

June took the soft nightgown in her hand and offered a small smile at her. “Goodnight,” she said.

Summer took a step forward, almost initiating a hug, but she changed her mind. She nodded her head and turned to leave, closing the door behind her.

June let out a tired sigh, though it turned into an extended yawn. It’d been days since she slept in a proper bed, and even longer since she slept so close to Nick, even with the literal wall set between them. She unbuttoned the teal dress, chastising herself for liking it too much, never mind the fact of what it represented. She let it lie on the floor as well as the tight bra that left red indentations upon her skin. She put on the chemise; it was simple and comfortable, and that’s all that mattered.

She opened the door and saw Summer and Ruth in their room, getting ready for bed. Still, no Nick. She silently slipped to the bathroom. She noticed her dirty clothes were folded neatly on the bathtub’s rim--she’ll have to wash them soon. She splashed some warm water on her face and combed out her hair a little. There wasn’t a spare toothbrush to use, so she went without. Finally, she used the toilet, washed her hands, and applied some dull scented lotion on her dry skin from an old bottle she found in the medicine cabinet.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard laughing, Nick’s laughing, outside in the hall. Such a special sound warmed her ears and she longed to listen to it more, to make it the soundtrack of her life. Quickly, she turned out the light and opened the door slightly. She saw him leaning at Summer and Ruth’s door frame, dressed in plaid flannel bottoms and that tan t-shirt he used to wear, which blended into his skin beautifully. He looked...normal, like the real Nick that was hidden deep inside. There was a friendly joke between them, a familiarity as if this was what they did every night together.

“Promise me you’ll keep it down tonight?” Nick pleaded with them. “I don’t mind it, but we have a visitor...”

June couldn’t see Ruth or Summer from her perspective, but she assumed glances were exchanged as well as an eye roll, probably from Ruth.

“How long will she be here?” Ruth asked him.

“Not long,” Nick simply replied with a shrug.

“And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Summer asked with concern. “We can’t afford to have any trouble--”

“I’m handling it, Summer,” Nick said calmly. “The only thing I need you to worry about is your volume.”

Ruth smirked, “We’ll try.”

Nick grinned. “Yeah, okay,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sweet dreams, see you in the morning.”

“Mmm, mid-morning sounds better,” Summer said in a yawn.

Nick chuckled in response and gently closed the door on them. The hallway immediately became dark and June could barely see him turn to his room. Now was a better chance than ever. She took in a deep breath, slowly opened the door wider, and went out, already feeling the pull between both of them. Nick paused, hand on his door, taking her in. June stepped closer, but he stepped back.

Nodding towards her room, he said quietly, “Just for tonight.”

June bit her lip hard, hating this. She turned back, going to her room before she said anything she’d regret. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, struggling to settle her breathing. Was he respecting her space or was he standing up for his own? Was there a dark chasm between them, or simply a dense fog that would be soon lifted? And that wall he put up--were there cracks or hidden rods of iron in between? She went over to the window and opened it a few inches, letting the cool night air hit her face. It was going to be okay, it had to be, it always was. They’ve been through too much for this to be their demise, whatever this is. They were brought together time and time again, and it had to be for some reason. Maybe this would be the last time. She hoped it was. Could they survive another season without such a glance, a touch, a sound of a grounding voice? She bet they could, but why should they?

She laid herself down on the bed and turned toward the black curtainless window, her sorrowful reflection staring back at her. Thoughts of doubt and insecurity flashed in her mind. Did he keep score? she wondered. Certainly all the times she let him down outnumbered his few shortcomings. How many times had he risked his life for her? How many times did she come in and mess up his plans? How many times would he have been better off without her? Men were easily replaceable in Gilead; her “biological destiny” was what made her valuable, what has kept her alive. Nick could be killed and no sooner would someone fill in his place without a second thought, like nothing happened. Did he hold anything against her knowing this truth? If so, why wouldn’t he just quit, give up, and move on? What called him to be still involved? He worked hard several times for her escape, for Holly’s, and now for Hannah’s. He even respected Luke and his role in all of this. And the thought hit her, as it usually did when she let her mind take her this far: What has she done for him? What good is she?

Nick’s easiness earlier in the hallway took her back to the last time she saw him be his true self, the self that rarely emerged. All signs pointed to their daughter, their little Holly. Perhaps she was his reason. She was his purpose now, why he had to keep up the fight. Love was his most dangerous weapon, and he was going to use it any way he could until she was in his arms again.

June sat up and pressed her ear and hands against the wall, trying to feel him and take him in. She closed her eyes and focused, quieting her breathing. She did this on the floorboards whenever Holly cried at the Waterford’s, when all she wanted to do was provide a mothering touch, a reassurance that everything was okay. This time, she heard nothing from the other side and only felt cold. However, she knew there inside was a battle going on. Maybe Summer and Ruth didn’t know about Holly, the light missing from his life that no other person could recreate. This was a man who was missing his daughter, and in turn, missing all those important moments of her discovering herself and the world for the first time. And yet, in some twisted way, by not being there he was being a dedicated father. It meant that she was still safe and he was making the world a better place for her.

Thoughts of Hannah naturally emerged in June’s mind. And what was the deal with that? Nick and Hannah, brought together by some kind of coincidence? No, it couldn’t be. This had to be part of his plan, his perfectly detailed plan that certainly taught the virtue of patience. He’s a Virgo, has to be, June tried to joke with herself. She remembered when Hannah arrived in hysterics, his gentle touch and his calming words. He cared deeply for her, the way any father would. He didn’t have to. He could’ve left someone else to deal with her. But Hannah came to him. There was something there between them, maybe of love or trust, but whatever it was, Nick planted that seed, for some reason. Holly was out of his grasp, could that be why? Was this his way to care for his daughter? Or did he simply do it to make it a smoother escape, whenever such an opportunity arose? June pressed her forehead against the wall, wishing she could absorb the answers. She shook her head, Forget this; this wall is coming down whether he likes it or not.

She strode to the door with determination and didn’t even bother shutting it behind her, letting the lamp’s light illuminate the little hallway. Right away she understood Nick’s concern about Ruth and Summer’s volume. She didn’t mind; this was their space, their love, and she was happy for it. What they had was difficult to come by, not to mention the intricately laced danger within. Without wasting any more time, she quickly opened Nick’s door and slipped inside.

She saw him sitting comfortably on his bed, back supported by the wooden headboard behind him. He was focused on reading the old bible she saw earlier, seemingly someplace in the Old Testament. The thought never really occurred to her before: was Nick a God-fearing man? He hadn’t mentioned it, but maybe he didn’t need to--his actions always speaking louder than his words, as they should. Gilead warped God and used the sacred text to their advantage, justifying whatever atrocity, punishment, or practice they came up with. But here was a man humbly searching for the answers and the truth himself, without any distorted influence, reaching out to his God, perhaps a God from Before, a God that was still good, a God that stood for freedom and justice. Fundamentally, to believe in such a God contradicted what Gilead represented. This simple act wasn’t a religious duty, this was a brave act of rebellion.

“Spoiler alert: they kill Jesus,” June said casually, trying desperately for this to be normal. In a different world, this would be their home, their room, their bed. She’d wear something with pink feathers or purple stars, if that’s what he liked, just so he could take it off no sooner than she put it on. This could be part of the evening when every young married couple talked about work, fantasizing about a vacation, maybe even planning another baby. Instead, his Wife was in the other room with her lover, her daughter was next door with different parents, and her husband was in another country.

He placed the black satin ribbon in the gutter of the bible and closed it shut, placing it back where it was before. “Thanks for ruining it,” he replied with a faint smile.

June slowly stepped forward, being careful not to ruin this. She glanced around the barren room and nodded. “Nice place.”

Nick narrowed his eyes at her, trying to understand where she was going with this. “Uh thanks, it had raving reviews. Five stars on everything, including the leaky roof.”

“Sounds like paradise.”

“What’s going on, June?” he finally asked her, getting up from the bed. It took him all day, but he finally said her name. However, it didn’t bring her peace. There was frustration in his voice, maybe even disappointment. She’d be wrong if she said she didn’t see this coming.

“You tell me, Nick,” she retorted. She was finished dancing around the subject, avoiding the elephant in the room. She needed answers. “You have this Wife, you have this house, you have Hannah. You had her this whole time and you didn’t tell me.”

Nick shook his head, “That’s not true.”

“Then what is? When did all of this happen?”

He sighed and stepped closer to her. “This wasn’t my choice, but I had to make it work. You wanted someone with power, right? This is what it looks like.” He paused, carefully considering the truth. “You were in Canada by the time I got married. And no, I didn’t ‘have’ Hannah at that point. We didn’t move here until early spring.”

She shook her head, Not good enough, Nick. “You still didn’t tell me.”

“What was I supposed to do?” his voice was slightly louder now. “No one could tell me where you were. And even if I somehow had contact, I knew exactly what would happen.”

June clenched her jaw. Was she really that predictable? Or did Nick simply know her that well? She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, and what would that be?”

“I don’t have to tell you; you’ve already done it,” he replied coldly. “You left our daughter where the both of you were safe, jeopardized others trying to get you here, and you are putting Hannah’s life at risk.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I told you that I was here, and I would do what I could for Hannah. And I am. You need to trust me on this. Please.”

“What are you waiting for, Nick?” This time she raised her voice. “You want all these plans to be perfect, but they just can’t be.” She went toward the door. Her mind wasn’t clear, thoughts racing through, anger rising. She couldn’t tolerate the thought of her daughter sleeping one more night in that house away from her. This was it. No more wasting time.

“Hey, where are you going?” He put his hand on her arm using a slight grip, stopping her from leaving.

“I’m getting my daughter back,” she said as if the answer was obvious. She opened the door with her free hand.

He pushed the door closed and blocked it with his body. “What? And get caught? Tell me, do you know where their Guardians are at night? Do you know which door to use? Do you know which room is hers? Do you know what to say to make her come with you?”

“Of course, I’m her mother,” she answered. It was a tired response she used time and time again, and the more she used it, the more she was afraid to admit she didn’t believe it anymore. Hannah was probably a whole different person by now, just like Holly is to Nick. Too much has changed. Too much time has passed.

“Then why didn’t you stay with Holly?” Nick questioned with a degree of anger she’s never seen in him before. This had to be something he’s been building up inside all day.

Hearing him say their daughter’s name after such a long time almost broke her, but she had to remain focused. “Holly is safe,” she tried to convince him, maybe even herself, too. “She’s with Luke and Moira. They know how to take care of her.”

“She needs her mother, June,” he said quietly, voice faltering.

June could feel his heart breaking. They were close now, the heat of their bodies felt on each other’s skin. Their arguments always ended up like this, with passion. His face was inches away from hers, eyes blinking fast, breath uneven. She hurt him, her words like arrows, piercing his soft skin. The battle was over, but she wasn’t sure who won. Oh, but did it matter?

“What more could you do here that you couldn’t already do in Canada?” he asked her under his breath, scared of the answer.

Her hands reached up and gently caressed his face. She closed her eyes, missing this feeling. How did she go so long without it? She kissed him long and slow, wanting this to be her apology, her absolution, her answer to everything from now on. Neither one of them was an expert at using their words for times like these. Their hands, their bodies, their heartbeats were their language, their native tongue, a lost translation that they only used. Nick pulled her in closer by the waist, deepening the kiss, wanting to be flush against her warm skin. And just like that, the drought was over, the rains blessing the hills and valleys of both their bodies. She felt the transformation begin in her chest and quickly spread throughout the rest of her body. Here she wasn’t under any role or name; she was, quite plainly, honestly, and freely--herself.

Needing more of him, June slowly slid her hands down his torso and to the hem of his t-shirt. She pulled it up, Nick breaking the kiss as she lifted it off his head. She went in for another kiss, Nick tracing his thumb down her cheek, then her chin, and down her neck. Life sprouted within her body and she ran her hands over his chest. However, what she found was deeply disturbing to her. Where there was once firm muscle was now simply skin over bone. As Nick’s lips eagerly traveled down her neck, she forced her eyes to open, noticing his collarbone and hip bones protruding, and not in that twisted “trendy” or “attractive” way, either. This was a man whose country emptied him and left him hollow inside. There was a scar on his left side, resembling a bullet wound. Her fingers lightly brushed over it, too scared to hear the story behind it. He hadn’t told her anything about Chicago, if he got hurt or how he survived it. Suddenly, she realized how painfully lucky the two of them were after all the close calls and near-misses.

She moved her head so she could look up at him, intently and deeply. She took in a breath and gathered the skirt of her chemise in her hands and lifted it over her head, using it as her white flag. This wasn’t a way to say I need you, no, this was her saying This is me now, don’t you see? No doubt her body had changed over the years, too. She let him see all her stretchmarks, scars, and scratches, revealing her raw, vulnerable parts without any sweetness. She understood she came with damage and baggage, but Nick had a way of taking that weight off of her. Her bullet scar corresponded with his as if they were soulmates who had spent their whole lives trying to find their match. There was a silent, unspoken whisper between them: Thank God you’re still alive. I love you. She wrapped her arms around his thin waist and rested her forehead on his bony shoulder. As the tears came, he placed one hand behind her head and another on her back, rubbing softly. She wished this was a simple transaction of sorts: I’ll take your pain if you’ll have my love, free of charge. But it was more complicated than that, it always was.

“I haven’t been doing too well,” Nick told her, his whispered voice full of shame and guilt as if it took everything within him to get those few words out.

June lifted her head, sniffled, and nodded. “Me either.”

His face softened, hating her feeling this way, willing to do anything to make it all better. He let his forehead touch hers, the both of them living off of what minuscule strength they had to offer each other. “We should get some sleep,” he said quietly. “We can talk more in the morning.”

The utter fatigue hadn’t hit her until now, her muscles barely wanting to move. Her whole body hurt, but mainly her head. Sleep sounded like a nice beach vacation, an end-of-the-year bonus, a free scoop of ice cream. Before she could say anything, Nick led her to the bed, pulling out the covers for her. She let her body fall upon the mattress, feeling relief and comfort automatically. This bed might’ve been here for decades, lumpy and old, but it was Nick’s and it’s been far too long since she had been able to say that. He turned out the light, allowing the moon to reign her kingdom over the room. And then she felt it, his arm around her waist and body against hers, such a welcoming touch after all those cold, lonely nights in Canada. In fact, she promised herself to never think of those nights again. After all, who would want to?

Chapter Text

It happened again, that dream about Holly. June has had the same dream--or nightmare--nearly every night since she went back to Gilead, and they only seemed to be getting worse. It started out the same, with the Canadian government forcing Holly to return to Gilead, being ripped out of June’s arms, wailing. The ghost of Fred emerged, holding her baby daughter, telling her lies. The terror woke June up immediately, her heart beating fast and her chest rising and falling rapidly, bringing more air into her lungs. It was just a dream, nothing more. She sat up, waiting for the panic to pass. Oh, if only she stayed in Canada as a good mother and wife would. Perhaps she would have more control over her worries about Holly and where her future lied. But she reminded herself all the time Holly would meet her sister soon, and that was a promise.

The small room was still dark, but the bed was cold. Nick was gone. She checked the old alarm clock on the bedside table. Two-thirty. She was relieved she had some time left to sleep, but no way was she doing that alone. Her feet hit the cool wooden floor below and she got up. Heading back to the door, she found her chemise on the floor and put it back on, the thin cotton providing no real warmth. The hallway was quiet, the light from her opened room shined dully through. She grabbed her coat that was hanging on a hook behind the bathroom door and slipped her arms through it. Something told her Nick was outside. He used to do that often back at the Waterford’s, back when things ironically seemed simpler.

She carefully walked down the stairs and to the back door in the kitchen. Through the window, she saw him sitting on the porch stairs. He had that quilt Ruth and Summer used earlier draped around his shoulders. He was looking up at the starry night sky and the neighboring house. How long has he been out here? Maybe he had nightmares, too. She slowly opened the door, though the lack of oil on its hinges blew her cover. Nick turned back to look at her, startled, and put his focus back on that house.

“It’s freezing out here,” June commented as she took her place next to him on the stairs. “Where’s your coat?”

He drew the quilt tighter to his body. “Hannah made this,” he ignored her concern.

June examined the quilt more closely, noticing the detail and artistry. “She did?”

He nodded. “A house-warming gift. The kid makes everything. I even have her fix my suits. It keeps her busy for the most part.”

June raised an eyebrow at him, curious, but also in disbelief.

“Sometimes I have Ruth go back and fix a few things, but Hannah’s pretty talented.”

“My little Hannah?”

Nick pursed his lips and looked back over to the house. “She isn’t so little anymore.” He sighed, fingers fidgeting with the quilt. “I sure needed your help a few months ago when I had to give her The Talk. They don’t teach these girls anything, June.”

It was as if a pile of bricks rested upon June’s chest. “You mean she started…” She couldn’t bear to finish that sentence, not yet. She has missed so much time. She should’ve been there for her as a mother to her daughter, having their first real, honest conversation. This was a sensitive time when Hannah needed her most. What else will she miss in her daughters’ lives?

Nick nodded, sadness clouding his eyes. “For now, it’s just her Martha and I that know. I told her not to tell anyone.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know how long we have.”

Being caught up in her regrets and failures, June nearly forgot what this meant in Gilead’s terms. They were going to make Hannah a childbearing Wife, or maybe even a Handmaid, once they found out. She knew all too well what it’s like to be reduced to a walking womb, a sex toy to a perverted Commander, a mere thing to lash out on by a jealous Wife. She suffered the abuse and barely survived to tell the tale of it. She’s still struggling with it now. How could anyone expect a little girl to endure the same? The feeling hit her again, the feeling to simply run into that house and take Hannah away. But Nick’s cautionary words echoed in her mind. There was still so much she didn’t know.

“Well, Nick, what’s this genius plan of yours then?” June hated how those words came out, but it was a question she’s been begging for the answer ever since she got here. If they were going to talk, then now seemed like a good time. Tomorrow was a long way off to get any real information out of him.

He sighed, going over his words in his head. “There’s a weak spot in the MacKenzie household at the moment. We may not get another chance if we don’t use this opportunity. But the window is small.”

June nodded her head, hoping he would continue.

He bit his lip nervously. “MacKenzie’s wife died today. She had brain cancer.”

June looked at the adjacent house, trying to understand what that indicated. A Wife-less household could mean a number of things, and none of them was going to be good. At least, not for Hannah.

Nick swallowed hard and took in a deep breath. “Tomorrow I’m going to ask him if I could take Hannah--just for the time being while things get sorted out. They’ve been married for a long time, so he probably isn’t taking it too well.” He straightened his back and placed his hands on his knees. “So, as a favor, I could take Hannah off of his hands. You know, one less thing to worry about.”

Tears welled in her eyes, her heart swelling with pride and relief. He was playing the long game this whole time, of course, and it finally paid off for him. His patience was incomparable, and thank God for that.

“Taking advantage of someone else’s misfortune--I like it,” June smiled and nodded her head with approval.

Nick smiled down at his lap. “I thought you would.”

“So, how can I help?” June was excited, wanting to get started already. She felt less hopeless now that there was a plan set in motion. It’s been months since she made any true progress herself. Perhaps in a short amount of time, all of this would be finally over.

His mouth turned downwards and he glanced at her, his eyes telling her a million different things. “You can’t stay here. I’m sorry.”

June cursed silently and nodded her head, her elated feelings instantly draining out. What he told Summer and Ruth was true, then; she wasn’t going to stay here long. Was it too naive of her to think she deserved a happy ending? His so-called plan was verging on the edge of being too good to be true, after all. She just wanted to fit somewhere, be part of his life, be his future. She just wanted a “hello” for once, not an endless repeat of “goodbyes.”

“Commanders from the Council...they come and go unannounced,” Nick explained. “It drives Summer and Ruth crazy.”

June clenched her jaw. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Try again.”

He pointed to the vast woods behind the houses. “Hannah found an abandoned cabin a mile or so away. We meet each other there to talk sometimes.”

“To talk?” she questioned. “What? You two have a thing going on or something?”

“Are you jealous?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “No, not at all.”

He smiled back at her. “The cabin is really hard to find, which is what we like about it.” He looked at her, his deep brown eyes melting into her pools of blue. “You can stay there if you’d like. It’ll just be for a short while. We could fix it up, make it really nice and everything.”

She hesitated on the offer as if she had a choice. “As long as you’d come to visit me.”

“As often as you want.” After a beat, he added, “I can bring Hannah, too.”

She shook her head. “No, she’s scared of me. It’ll only make things worse.”

His cold hand overlapped hers, trying to pull her back to the truth. “She loves you.” He paused and then said, “And I remind her all the time that you do, too. You just have to give her some time. Especially now.”

She sighed and slumped her shoulders. How did he always know the exact words to say to her? “Okay,” she eventually said.

“Good,” he agreed. “In the meantime, I might have something of interest for you.”

Her ears perked up at this. “Yeah?”

“Rumor has it that the last surviving Waterford has been transferred to a nearby colony.”

Her eyes widened. She heard Lawrence mention something similar in whispers, but it didn’t feel solid enough to latch on to. She knew better than to hope it was true. Serena getting the awful taste of her own medicine only happened in her dreams. But suddenly the ball was in her court, and she didn’t have to think twice about what to do with it. After all, this wasn’t her first revenge plot against a Waterford. “I’ll do it,” she told him with unwavering confidence and strength.

Nick gave her a small smile and nodded. He looked up at the stars, the autumnal moon glowing beautifully on his face. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Do you think God could ever forgive me?”

June smirked and shook her head. “I think God is the last thing you need to worry about.”

He looked at her honestly. “Why?” He bit his bottom lip and bounced his leg. “He’s kept me alive this far. I mean...he’s given me you, Holly, Hannah, even Summer and Ruth...don’t you think that means something?”

She could tell his conscience has been torn with these truths. He didn’t see himself as she saw him. He was her guiding light, something that felt right, something that anchored her. She felt it every time they serendipitously reunited. To have met someone so good in this hellscape was a one in a million chance. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he feel the same way? She placed her hand on his cheek and turned his face so that he could see her. “You deserve every good thing this world has to offer. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Nick blinked several times, short-circuiting on what to say. So he kissed her instead, the small, intimate gesture having to be enough for right now.

“What about Summer?” June breathlessly pulled away first. “And Ruth? You sure you want to drag them into this? I think Ruth can handle it, but not Summer.” She understood the more people you added to an escape plan, the messier it became. This was a harsh lesson from her last (failed) scheme only a few months ago. She could still smell the stench of death from the train fire, a memory she desperately tried to forget. However, what was the alternative for Summer and Ruth? A lifetime of anxious hiding? Getting caught? Being a Handmaid? Being sent to the colonies? Mutilation? Execution?

Nick smirked. “Not Summer, huh?” He shook his head. “She sure has you fooled, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“She has a bigger case against Gilead than any of us, to be honest.”

June raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Really?”

Nick suddenly became serious. “They killed her son, June.” After a moment he added, “They said it was an accident, but she doesn’t believe it, neither do I.”

She was almost speechless. “H-how did it happen?”

“They caught her trying to escape to Mexico when all of this started. They crashed her car, killing her son.” He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “He had down syndrome, so I guess Gilead was going to ‘get rid’ of him anyway.”

June could barely believe what he was saying. She knew Gilead had the relentless capability to be that cruel and callous, but to have it proven to her made her not only sick but filled with white-hot rage. “Still, Nick, that’s his blood on their hands! A child, to say the least.”

“Her father was some top, rich guy in the Alabama government, so she was able to make a deal to be a Wife rather than a Handmaid. But still, the threat is there, especially with these new Commanders we’re getting, not to mention talks of redrafting the whole system…”

It made sense now, how Summer reacted so stiffly at the mention of a Handmaid. This was her life--a life constantly on edge, walking on a long tightrope, hanging on to a precipitous cliff by one hand. Summer had to flawlessly fit into her wifely role, or else. But this only brought more questions. “You’ll have to have a baby soon then, before--”

“I know, June.” His eyes fell to the ground. “I already offered a few times, but she’s scared to death. She doesn’t want another child they will have to ‘get rid’ of, whatever that means. And besides, she’s made it clear to me she doesn’t want to raise a child in this place.”

Of course, who would want to? June sympathized with Summer, understanding her more deeply now. She was carrying a weight heavier than she could ever bear. If they killed Hannah in the woods back when they were trying to escape in the beginning, what more could she have lived for?

“There’s an anger inside of her, I know it,” Nick told her. “She just has to be reminded.”

June shook her head. “She’ll lose any innocence she has left if I talk to her.”

“That’s fine with me. I lost mine a long time ago.” He thought for a second and continued, “If we get Summer to agree with us, it won’t take much for Ruth to join. I can’t just leave them here. Not after all they’ve done for me.”

Nick cared deeply for them, she could tell. They were a part of his life now. The idea of Summer and Ruth grew on her; she was concerned about what would happen to them. For so long she wanted to be the hero to so many people that she endangered too many lives in the process. She wanted to surpass herself over and over again, making her plans bigger and riskier, perhaps as a way to ignore her failure to Hannah and to everyone else she loved. She had forgotten over time that small rebellions we still rebellions in their own right. They can still make a difference, even if it was for only two women she barely knew.

“They seem to be loyal amateur rebels so far.” June smiled at him. “I’ll try to shape them up in no time.”

The cool night’s silence comfortably filled the air, causing June to gather her thoughts for a moment. Could this work? Nick didn’t mention what would happen after he gets Hannah or how they would reach this colony where Serena is supposedly at, but no doubt he had something in mind. Although Gilead presented itself as a yet undefeated towering Goliath, time proved to be the more menacing giant to conquer. They have crossed this common enemy over and over again, its persistent threats now reaching Hannah, Nick, Summer, even Holly. The more the clock ticked, the more its limitations became painfully aware. Everything had to be planned down to the day and hour, so as not to lose what precious time they had left.

June simply hoped she wouldn’t ruin this, go rogue, or worse--disappoint him. She discarded that thought as soon as it appeared. Nick wasn’t Luke; she didn’t have to live up to some type of expectation, doing whatever she could to keep him around, to keep him happy. They would work on this together, no matter how messy it would get. They always came out stronger from it anyway, providing unnecessary proof that this was where they were meant to be.

“You’ll get Hannah out,” Nick suddenly broke the silence. “I’m sure of it.”

“We will, Nick,” she corrected. “You seem to know her better than anyone else. I can’t do this alone.” This was the truth. Hannah trusted Nick, for some reason, and June needed her to. She understood that this plan depended solely on Hannah’s cooperation, her willingness to go with them. This had to be done right, and no better way to do it than to allow Nick to be part of this journey, too. Leaving him here was not an option, not even a consideration that crossed her mind. “Thank you, for what you did today, by the way.”

Nick shook his head. “No, I messed up. I told her something selfish.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face tiredly.

June’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?”

Nick bit his lip, hesitating. “I told her she was lucky.” He paused, blinking rapidly. “She only knew Mrs. MacKenzie for a short while at a young age. The memories will fade just as fast as her grief.” He took in a shaky breath. “Some people don’t have an opportunity like that. I wish…”

Nick was on the verge of telling her something important, something real about him, and she wasn’t going to push it. It will come out in its own time. She put her arm around him and placed her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she told him.

“I’m not very good at this,” he confessed quietly, “being a father…”

“Don’t say that,” she looked deep into his eyes. “You’ve done so much for her already. She loves you.” She swallowed hard. “They both do.”

Nick kept his gaze on her for a few moments, accepting her words. A soft wind blew in, causing shivers up his body, waking him up from wherever the reverie in her eyes took him to. “You were right; it is freezing out here,” he pulled the quilt closer to his body. “Let’s go inside. I have something to show you.”

She grabbed onto his hand and he pulled her up. Once inside, they both deposited the quilt and coat on the couch in the living room and went up the stairs as quietly as the old wood underneath them allowed. Nick asked her to stay in the hallway as he grabbed some keys from his room. He unlocked the door next to Summer and Ruth’s and motioned for her to follow.

This was his office of sorts. She couldn’t help but wonder if he locked it so no one could get in or so that nothing inside could get out. Nick was a master at compartmentalizing, so, perhaps, this was where he became Commander Blaine. Bookshelves lined the walls, but only a few were full. In the center was a large wooden desk, clean and neatly organized. The two windows brought in the pre-dawn moonlight, cascading on two leather chairs and a small table that held a lamp. Nothing here told her anything about his personality or taste, as this furniture was either Gilead-issued or found around the house.

Nick walked around his desk and unlocked a bottom drawer. From it, he retrieved at least a couple dozen manila folders, each varyingly filled with paper. He read through the titles. “Which do you prefer, vampires or pirates?” He flipped through a few more and raised an eyebrow. “Or vampire pirates?”

June stepped forward, curiosity getting the best of her. “What are these?” She took a few folders in her hand and opened them. Inside were pages of hastily handwritten paragraphs, though they were slightly difficult to read.

“Hannah’s stories,” he answered casually.

She looked up at him, not quite satisfied with the vague answer. “What?”

“She wants to be a writer, June.” He shrugged, “I just want to help.”

A wave of emotion overcame her, tears blurring her vision. “You did all this for her?”

Nick didn’t respond; he just looked at her in his usual, knowing way.

She took out a piece of paper from the folder in her hands titled “Death’s Hollow.” This handwriting was different from the others, more rigid, larger, and inconsistent. It was 8:39 when Mother’s wings fell off and Death hovered in the air, in his usual way around this time as of late, she read. “What does this mean?” she asked him, brows knitted together.

Nick looked over her shoulder and read the sentence, which was repeated several times on the paper. He smiled. “I told her the most important sentence to any great novel is the first,” he shrugged. “So I make her practice.”

“You’re teaching her how to write?”

His face turned pale. “Is that okay?”

She blinked several times and set the folder down. “Uh, y-yeah, it’s...it’s…” She sighed, “Nick, you don’t have to do this.”

He handed her a pen, “You’re right. You’re probably a better editor than I am.”

She let out a soft laugh and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s true, I can already tell by just looking at these.” Her eyes focused on his. “What I mean is, you don’t have to--”

“I know,” he interrupted, nodding his head. “But I want to. She needs this, June.” Then, quietly, “I do, too.”

She smiled at him, her heart practically glowing for this man. She felt peace at last knowing that Hannah had been given compassion, safety, and a chance to grow into her own person. Maybe Gilead didn’t run as thickly through her veins as June terrifyingly thought. Maybe there was a real possibility they could work together, be a family again. She desperately wanted to meet this new Hannah, to know her idiosyncrasies, mannerisms, ideas, talents. Nick did more than what she ever expected, more than what she ever dreamed of. How could she owe it to him, give back, make up for all the good he’s done?

She watched as he put the folders back and locked the drawer. She noticed on the desk was the wrinkled message she delivered for Lawrence. That was who he had to be talking with on the phone earlier. She read it over a few times before asking, “Did he say anything?”

Nick looked down at the piece of paper and back up at her. “It took him like, five times to finally answer the phone.” He paused. “I was getting worried.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is in Boston?”

“Still, you never know these days. You must’ve screwed up big time over there. He did not sound too happy.”

The dark memory she’s been pushing deep down inside her resurfaced again. The train. The children. The fire. The death. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah, does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know if I trust him yet. Certainly not Aunt Lydia.”

She lifted her head in confidence. “I trust her.”

Nick narrowed his eyes at her, curious. “Really? After what she’s done--”

“She got my friend out--Janine, the Handmaid with the eyepatch? She got her and her daughter out.”

He pursed his lips and sighed. “You really think she can help?”

June tried to conceal her honest doubts about Aunt Lydia’s involvement. After the torture, brainwashing, and cruelty she had been given, common sense told her to leave her behind and let her drown in the river of her own misery. However, Lawrence helped reveal another side of her, a more desperate, softer version of this cold woman. Perhaps there really was a human under the cattle prod and coffee-colored cloak. What she did for Janine was a miracle, yes, but also a test. Could she really mobilize the Aunts? Help get Hannah out? Help kill Serena? Even take down Gilead itself? It was a risky stretch, a small sliver of hope, but Nick’s plan had some holes in it, she had to admit. And it wouldn’t work without the ladies in brown. She was certain of it.

Chapter Text

The hunger stirred himself to wake first, next to the harmonizing melodies of Dolly Parton and Summer and the warming presence of June’s body next to him--a welcomed addition to his household’s mid-morning routine. Bright sunlight poured into the room, making it impossible to keep his eyes shut any longer. He blinked away the sleep and turned over to see June sitting against the wooden headboard, characteristically awake before him, angelic and beautiful as ever. A smile tugged on his lips. For now, his heart was leading with his brain lagging behind. Because if he let the outside world in, the reasons why she was here, and the difficult decisions that must follow, he wouldn’t rely on this rare happy feeling for long. He dared to reach out his hand and run his fingertips over her exposed arm. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sank down into the mattress. He drew himself closer to her, settling at her side on his stomach. He brushed away her disheveled blonde hair and held her face, looking into her blue eyes for a minute or maybe an hour or perhaps an eternity. She smiled bashfully up at him.

“Good morning,” she said to him. Her voice was quiet, but rough from lack of use.

He simply smiled in return and kissed her deeply, without restraint. After all, this was his bed, his room, and his house, not to mention his own time for once. They could do whatever they wanted here, for now. Was this what he became a Commander for? Not wanting his brain to get in the way (as it usually did), he ignored that intrusive question and continued kissing her, keeping his hands on her, never willing an inch of separation, for fear of her disintegrating into dust if he did. This was real, wasn’t it? This wasn’t one of his elaborate daydreams or fascinations? Perhaps he was already dead, her heaven being his reward, something he wouldn’t necessarily mind. But it couldn’t be. He felt more alive than he ever has. His hands were now under her thin chemise, hungrily searching for something, for some way to make up for the lost time.

There was a slight pressure to his touch, but with a passionate undertone to it, fingers making their way over her hips and even further southward. However, his bravery immediately faltered when his stomach suddenly made the strangest, loudest noise in the room, maybe in the whole world. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he hid his face in the crook of June’s neck. She just laughed, longer and louder than he ever heard her be, something he would have to remember, no matter the weight of embarrassment it carried.

“Are you hungry?” her laughter carried on into her question.

He didn’t respond; instead, he hoped to turn invisible, or, at least, pretend such a moment never happened.

She gently lifted his face so she could look at him. She kissed him once more. “And yet, I still love you,” she smiled at him. “We should get some breakfast.”

He sighed and nodded his head, grateful for her effortless acceptance. They both lazily crawled out of the warm bed and exited the room. Summer and Ruth’s bedroom door was wide open, their messy bed on full display. Summer’s voice could be better appreciated without the obstruction of walls now. Nick had to admit it was one of the few things he looked forward to in the mornings. She wasn’t allowed to have the records out this early, and he halfheartedly told her that each day, but she never listened, thankfully. The comforting smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and maple syrup wafted in the air and he knew Ruth was making pancakes again. He wished he valued her cooking more, but food never seemed appetizing since he moved here for some reason. She could travel to three separate markets, cook all day, put her heart into it, and yet he would rudely reject it. Perhaps he can make up for it today, make things right between them.

“It must be you that's always walking in my dreams,” Summer sang as they went down the stairs. She was dusting the living room, floating around happily.

“Summer--” Nick began his weak warning.

“I know, I know,” Summer groaned, lifting the needle.

“Zóu sân,” Nick greeted Ruth as they entered the kitchen, the sweet smell even more potent. They took their seats at the island.

Ruth turned around from the stove and saw them, raising an eyebrow. “Next time you sleep with Summer’s husband, don’t make it so obvious,” she told June. “You left your bedroom door wide open, bed still made and everything.” She smirked, “‘Just friends,’ you told us.”

“Next time you sleep with my wife, don’t do it so loudly,” Nick shot back playfully. “I heard you.”

“So?” Ruth shrugged, handing June a plate of warm pancakes. “I can make you a bed outside if you’d like. You can sleep there for all I care.”

June smirked and started buttering the pancakes, clearly not wanting to add anything to the conversation.

“Can I have some?” Nick pleaded, changing the subject.

Ruth tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “How many?”

“Two,” he answered. “No, four.”

“Four?” Ruth shook her head in disbelief and loaded his plate. “Here you go, I guess. Don’t waste it.”

As if his hands couldn’t keep up with his ravenous stomach, he hastily prepared his pancakes, layering them with butter, mixed berries, syrup, and powdered sugar. He made a mess of it, but he didn’t care, he had to control whatever that was going on inside him. He cut himself a large piece and shoved it into his mouth. While he was chewing, he noticed the room grew quiet with Ruth and June staring at him.

“Summer!” Ruth shouted, her voice shaking.

Summer skipped into the room and immediately stopped at what she saw. “Oh my God!” Her eyes shifted to June. “What did you do to him?”

“What’s wrong?” Nick swallowed, already cutting himself another piece.

“You’re eating,” Ruth replied, not knowing what to do with herself.

“These are really good, Ruth,” June complimented, thankfully trying to get the attention off of him.

Summer prepared his coffee just the way he liked it, all while keeping her curious eyes on him. After she placed the mug in front of him, she said, “I’ll be outside if anyone needs me.”

“Thank you,” Nick simply told her and took a drink, the coffee warming his insides and slowly waking him up even more.

Ruth watched her leave out the front door and then took a seat across from Nick and June at the island. She was silent for a moment, going over the busy day in her head. She brushed off the flour on her gray dress and redone her black hair in a tighter, but still messy, bun. “I can’t remember if Tabitha likes pineapple or not…” she thought out loud.

Nick slowed down his eating and cleared his throat. June looked at him with concern. Here comes the hard part. “We’re not having dinner with the MacKenzies tonight.”

Ruth knitted her brow. “We’ll figure out what to do with June--”

“This isn’t about June,” he interrupted. “Tabitha...Tabitha passed away last night.”

Ruth lowered her head. “I see.”

“I’m heading over there today to talk, see if I can help with anything,” Nick said, resuming his eating.

“Please offer our condolences, then.” Ruth looked toward the front door, presumably thinking about Summer. “She’ll be heartbroken.”

Telling Summer this devastating news was not going to be easy. It wasn’t like Wives were in abundance in these parts, having daily little social parties filled with talking, and, yes, gossip. She wasn’t incredibly close with Mrs. MacKenzie, but they got along relatively well given the circumstances. She was merely someone Summer could relate to that wasn’t Ruth or Nick for once. Now there wasn’t another Wife to talk to for another mile or so. In the warmer months, this fact wouldn’t be so bad to accept, but with the cold and snow coming, this winter will also be seasoned with loneliness. Nick tried to give Summer her freedom, but now it seemed that it’s ending in isolation.

“What about the girl?” Ruth asked, drinking her coffee.

“She needs to be with June,” Nick answered plainly. “She’s her mother.”

“She belongs at home,” June added, “with her real family.”

“Good luck with that,” Ruth got up to wash the dishes. “What about our arrangement with their driver? And Dinah? Is he going to remarry? Are they going to--”

“Ruth, I’ll take care of it,” Nick assured her. “All I ask is that while I’m gone, you keep June safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” she shrugged, scrubbing the skillet.

“I’ll help clean up,” June offered, bringing her plate to the sink.

Nick quickly finished the last few bites of his pancakes and left his coffee mug empty. He felt a renewed strength and energy he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was ready for the day to get started. He quickly took a shower, brushed his teeth, got a clean shave, and combed his hair. Then he put on one of his suits and, finally, his wedding ring. As he was fixing his tie in the mirror, thoughts of doubt naturally took up space in his mind. His heart (and stomach) were far away now, his brain leading the way. Somehow he had to bring up taking Hannah home with him in casual banter with Commander MacKenzie. He thought of several different ways this could be accomplished. He had to be careful, and not sound too eager or desperate. He said a quick, short prayer as he went down the stairs.

“I’m leaving!” Nick announced once he arrived at the front door.

June appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and smiled at him. They could pretend this was normal for a minute. Him going off to work, her enjoying her day off. A promise that he’ll return as soon as he could, perhaps a call during his lunch break could suffice. Oh, but instead he was on his complicated way to get her daughter back. He smiled back at her, but before he could say anything, Ruth pulled her back to reality.

As he closed the front door behind him, he noticed Summer leaning against a cracked porch post, her mind seemingly miles away. Something was troubling her. It had to be more serious than him actually choosing to eat breakfast. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps June had something to do with it? Was she jealous? Scared? Angry? Nick carefully walked past her and down the stairs. He looked back and said, “We can talk later.” The words came out more like a weak question with no real commitment behind them.

Summer gave an amused smile and rolled her eyes at him. “It may be midday Nick, but it’s still too early for your lies.”

She caught him. Did she know him that well already? They were married, after all. He’s been meaning to talk with her for a while now, even before June randomly showed up yesterday. He felt awful about it. What made it so difficult for him to sit down and tell her what she needs to know?

“Where are you going?” Summer asked him. “Your meeting isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Commander MacKenzie and I have to go over a few things…” This wasn’t technically a lie and hopefully she knew it. He had great concerns about tomorrow’s Council meeting and he needed to find a trusted ally fast. It was on the list of a number of impossible things he had to accomplish today.

She nodded her head. “I should go find something for June to wear.”

He looked at her, his expression was soft and relieved. “Thank you.”

“You haven’t given me a choice, Nick.” She turned around and went back inside.

He sighed deeply. This was going to be a long day. He crossed his arms as he headed down the dirt road, kicking loose stones around his feet. The weather was tolerable for now with only his suit jacket on, the early autumn sun beating down on his shoulders. The chilled breeze flowed through the grassy field to his right. Along the way, he picked up some blue flax flowers, enough to make a poor-looking bouquet. Then, he began his daily affirmations.

June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too. June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too. June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too.

Was any of this still true?

He nodded at a few of the Guardians at their posts around the large house and went up the brick stairs. He knocked a few times. As he waited, he cleared his throat and tried to brush off any dust that his suit picked up from his brief walk.

“Commander Blaine, how nice to see you,” The Martha, Dinah, answered the door. She adjusted her gray head covering and smiled kindly at him.

“My household offers their condolences,” Nick told her, respectfully offering the flowers.

Dinah blinked a few times and took the flowers with great hesitation. “Oh, you brought me weeds.”

He cringed at her harsh comment and decided to move on to the task at hand. “Is the Commander busy?”

“I’ll tell him you’re here,” Dinah stepped aside for him to enter the house. “But I can’t promise he’ll be in good enough shape.”

Nick closed the door and watched her disappear down the hall. Nick looked around the well-decorated house, far better than his own. It was neat and elegant, filled with furniture nobody probably ever used. His eyes followed up the wooden banister and to the balcony. He saw a crouched figure dressed in black through the spindles, watching him. He knew who it was.

“I see you,” Nick said quietly.

She hid her face with her shawl.

“Come down, I have to tell you something,” he told her.

It took her a minute, but Hannah rose to her feet and slowly went down the stairs. She appeared tired and forlorn. His heart ached as if he could feel her sorrow. Once she finally arrived on the first floor, she kept walking towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly, resting her cheek on the spot right below his chest. He felt her body relax and exhale. He rubbed a hand on her back, trying to ease the pain.

“How are you?” Nick softly asked her.

She pulled herself away from him, keeping her eyes on her feet. “I’m late for my piano lesson.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I hate it.” She sighed, “But the Martha insists I have to do it…”

“You should play me something sometime,” he suggested.

She shrugged and twisted her mouth. “I would, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Ah, then you should practice, yes?”

She struggled not to smile. “I suppose.”

Nick saw Dinah returning from the hallway. “Meet me at the cabin later, okay?” he whispered in her ear.

Hannah nodded, understanding what this meant.

“Agnes!” Dinah shouted once she saw her. “I’ve been looking all over this house for you!”

Hannah tried to run, but Nick kept a firm hand on her shoulder. “I heard she’s learning piano? I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“Not if she keeps skipping lessons!” Dinah grabbed the girl’s arm and pushed her towards the hallway. “When I get back, I better see you on that bench, young lady!” Then, at Nick, breathlessly, “He’s available, drunk, but available.”

His stomach tensed. He should’ve expected this. Alcohol use usually followed family deaths in his case. This wasn’t anything new. He understood exactly how to navigate such a situation. In fact, this might make matters easier for him. Nick went down the hallway, passing a palatial parlor on the way. He smiled at Hannah who sat at the black grand piano in the corner. She simply glared at him and adjusted papers on the music rack. He continued apprehensively to the last door on the left, Commander MacKenzie’s office. Taking in a deep breath and smoothing out his suit, he opened the door and was welcomed with the familiar aroma of depression and liquor.

Chapter Text

A cloud of smoke surrounded the Commander at his large desk in front of the center window that overlooked another grassy field and some distant mountains. Suddenly Nick saw his father sitting in that same black executive chair, taking the same drag from the cigar, drinking the same alcohol from the crystal glass. Though the two men looked nothing alike, Nick undoubtedly recognized a resemblance in their mourning composure. His stomach tensed once more. This was becoming too personal, too close to home. He had to remove himself from the situation, look at it from a different perspective. But it was already too late for that. He felt sympathy for this man, and whether or not that was wrong, he’ll deal with the consequences later.

“You’re the only one who showed up,” Commander MacKenzie commented, breathing out the smoke from his cigar which danced in the rays of sunlight.

Nick closed the door behind him and walked up to the desk, faking the confidence with every step. “Give them some time,” he said as he sat down in one of the leather chairs that faced MacKenzie. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours. They’ll acknowledge it at the meeting tomorrow, I’m sure.”

The Commander rolled his eyes and sighed. “Halfheartedly, I would expect. They won’t understand. At least...at least with you, you’ve been there. You know what it’s like.”

Eden. Of course. Never mind all the other deaths Nick had to endure before; Eden’s was nothing in comparison. Widower to (former) Widower, they had some type of bond now, something that could be useful. “Although I can’t imagine the pain you have, it is at least comforting to know you’re not alone.”

“They’ll want to marry me off as soon as next week, you’ll see.” His words spewed out tiredly and drunkenly. “It’ll be on tomorrow’s agenda, I bet.” He rubbed his face and looked off into the distance, perhaps through an adjacent window. “How do you...how do you move on like that? I met her in college. We’ve been together for decades. She was scared when this whole thing started, but I told her it was the best we could do in a crumbling society. Look where it got us.” He looked directly into Nick’s eyes, a newfound clarity in them. “Look where it got us.”

Nick became uncomfortable in his seat. He’s barely said anything to the man and he was already becoming undone. Although he was grateful for how easy this had become, he was concerned nonetheless. Here was an admired Gilead Commander, someone who abided by the rules and customs and even helped create them, now questioning everything he believed in. Was this him just being drunk? Or was he confiding in him? Could this be a test? He didn’t trust this new side of MacKenzie that he was seeing. There were still some questions to ask, a foot to put in the door, some wiggle room left, a leap of faith to take.

“Is there something you want to change, MacKenzie?” Nick asked, hoping it would lead him in the right direction.

The old man sat up straighter and knocked back the rest of his drink. He put his glasses on the bridge of his nose and flipped through a pile of papers on his desk. He took in a deep breath, “I’m going to vote ‘no’ tomorrow.”

Nick was taken aback. This was news to him. No way would a loyal Commander of Gilead vote “no” on this new procedure. It was a death wish, a suicide note. Above all, it was a sign of treachery. “No” would also be Nick’s vote--if he had nothing to lose. But he had to be practical here. His plans had to adapt to the regime, not challenge it altogether. He didn’t need a red flag on his back, detectable by radar. He had to fly under the system, playing both sides expertly. Joining MacKenzie’s nay vote wouldn’t be an act of solidarity; it would be an act of death. What happened that changed the Commander’s mind so quickly?

“I imagine you took your time to come to that conclusion?” Nick cautiously asked.

“Actually, I made my decision as soon as this ‘brilliant’ idea was proposed.” MacKenzie took a drag of the cigar. “And I knew you would feel the same way.”

Nick blinked rapidly at the accusation. He was correct in his thinking, but Nick didn’t particularly like being read like a book, especially by someone like him. He narrowed his eyes at him, his fingernails digging into his palms.

“You may have one hell of a poker face, Nick, but you have restless hands,” the Commander chuckled. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you lately. You hate this. You hate all of this.”

Nick clenched his jaw. This was getting out of control. He could feel what little trust was left slipping away. Was he losing to a drunk guy already? He offered a fake smirk to get back in the game. “Is that so?”

“My wife died last night,” he said, all amusement taken out from his words and brought down to reality. “Can’t you be a comrade instead of a Commander? I’m not here to trick you, son.”

Nick cringed at the all too familiar use of the affectionate term. He looked into the pleading eyes of the old man and wasn’t sure if he saw anyone look so desperate, at least not for a Commander. MacKenzie was being honest with him, as he should’ve remembered this whole time. This was a man in pain and suffering from a loss that no one could replace. Nick had to relate to him and be sincere in return, too. It is what is owed to him in the least. And besides, he was drunk, which could be an alibi if things went south. He had to inch his way in and remember what all of this was for, who all of this was for.

“Sorry,” Nick humbled himself. “But what you are doing is dangerous. Did you even think how much harm this could cause to you and your family?”

The Commander remained silent and quickly poured himself another drink, swallowing half of it just as fast. He looked sadly at him for a minute then back at the window. Thick clouds began covering the sun and the blue sky, chilling the room and creating a much darker mood than before. He bit his lip and threw down his glasses, massaging his wrinkled brow.

Nick took the moment to think. As he added up the odds and ends and everything in between, the answer seemed so obvious now. “Unless a ‘yes’ vote is just as dangerous,” Nick dared to suggest. “Is there something you’ve been hiding?”

“Let me ask you a question:” MacKenzie began, “if we’re supposed to be the greatest country in the world--a true model on what society should be--then why did we allow one of the nation’s top neurosurgeons to be a Handmaid?!” He was practically shaking with anger as he built up the question, eyes boring into Nick’s. “Tabitha was dying! I had to do whatever I could, no matter the consequences. I couldn’t...I couldn’t…” He shook his head as tears fell down his cheeks. “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

Nick’s thoughts naturally found their way to June, remembering the time she was bleeding out in the rain, dying in his arms. Would he have risked harsh punishment for the “inappropriate” use of a Handmaid if she had the skill to save her? He had a simple answer to the dangerous question.

The older man sniffled and dried his cheeks. “So, to answer your question, Nick, voting ‘yes’ would be just as bad.”

Nick bit his lip. What did he get himself into? “You will have to give them a strong argument, then.”

He let out a chuckle, his hands pointing to the papers on his desk. “It’s right there in the budget, as far as I’m concerned!” He sighed and shook his head. “Peacekeepers...what more could they do that the Eyes, Guardians, and Angels can’t? A waste of resources, I say.”

“They would be the first force whose almost half of their lives took place nearly entirely in Gilead,” Nick reminded him, painfully remembering the long lecture the Council was given not so long ago. “They’re ‘purebloods’ as the High Commanders call them.” His tongue felt numb by just saying those words. A military force made up completely of not-quite adults. Boys, who were stolen from their parents as young as nine or ten years old, placed in these brainwashing camps to be infused with Gilead’s customs, punishments, and laws. This was something that was planned from the beginning, something that was inevitable in Gilead. Tomorrow’s vote wasn’t going to be democratic, it was merely ceremonial.

“Then just get rid of the delinquent ones we have!” The Commander argued. “Back in my day when we had security breaches, we went to the source, not create another whole military for it.”

“Too much is still remembered from Before,” Nick shrugged. “Maybe their intention is to slowly get rid of the others so these ‘Peacekeepers’ have full reign. Wiping the slate clean, so to speak. Maybe then they’ll have their ‘perfect’ society.”

“Life is going to be impossible.” MacKenzie took another drink. “They’ll kill me. You too, probably. They’ll find a way.”

This was true. This wasn’t just about MacKenzie now. These Peacekeepers will be ruthless, merciless, unchanging, impossible to reach. These young boys are too far gone to tell them the truth. Eliminating the “enemy” is all they know now. They will get everyone for whatever reason, whether that be a book in a woman’s boudoir or even black market cigarettes. Mayday would be obliterated. Everyone will be questioned, turned against one another. As MacKenzie put it, life will be impossible.

Nick shook his head. “The budget isn’t enough to build your case. This is the government we’re talking about; they’ll spend money however they see fit for their benefit.” He leaned in on his knees, urgency in his eyes. “You have to vote ‘yes.’”

MacKenzie looked down at his desk and remained quiet. Perhaps he knew deep down that this was the practical way of doing things. Too much was at stake and there wasn’t enough time.

“This is something they already planned from the beginning,” Nick continued. “There’s no use in fighting it. We’re just lucky enough they told us anything about this ahead of time.”

MacKenzie raised his eyebrow, having not considered this truth before.

“You don’t want to give them any more suspicions than what they might have already. This meaningless vote will buy some time, hopefully. There are logistics about deploying the military, not to mention a brand new one.”

“How long do you think we have?” he asked him quietly.

We? Were they working together now? Were they finally on the same side? Why was MacKenzie looking at him like he had all the answers as if he had done this before? Maybe he has. Maybe it involved nearly killing June. But he was still new to this, navigating around the politics. What was best for everyone? How more complicated could his plans get?

“Just vote ‘yes’ and leave the rest for me to worry about,” Nick told him gently. “You need to focus on your family, especially now.”

MacKenzie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, yes, the girl.”

Has he forgotten about Hannah already? Knowing this made Nick more confident in his plan. This wasn’t a place for a child. He’s been here before. He swallowed thickly. “I’m concerned about her.”

“Yes, she’s very fond of you,” The Commander commented. “She needs a mother; she’s growing into a young woman. She’ll have questions. I’m...I’m…” He rested his chin on his hand and looked out the window again. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Navigating the Council vote was one challenge, getting Hannah was another. Nick switched gears in his brain to get this across the finish line, too. He needed this to be MacKenzie’s idea, to make it seem like he was the one in control. It was getting easier, but he wasn’t quite there yet. “What about Dinah?”

“She’s polite about it, but over the past year the work piled on, with Tabitha being sick.” He pointed to his chest, “Now look at me, I’m barely functioning as it is! She can’t do it alone. It’s either I get another Martha or…or send the child away.”

Nick’s heart was beating fast. Come on, old man, just say it. This was torture. “Requesting for another Martha without a Wife would be questionable, wouldn’t it?”

“And who knows how long that will take, not to mention the paperwork.” He sighed tiredly. “And this funeral business…”

“What about a relative?” Nick felt like he was playing a game of hot and cold, risking each question to see if he was closer or farther away from what he really needed.

“Dead or missing, as I’m sure are yours.”

Well, that didn’t hurt in the least. Nick decided to remain quiet, offering the silence for him to think of the big question.

“Any luck yet with you and Summer? You’ve been trying for the majority of the year, yes?” He offered a mischievous grin. “Oh, to be young again! She really is a beautiful woman. You chose well.”

Nick moved restlessly in his seat, growing uncomfortable yet again. He didn’t like him talking about Summer like that. However, he had to play this game, win this race. Nick smiled tightly. “‘But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently,’” he quoted.

“I’m sure you’ll be a good father. You’re great with Agnes.” MacKenzie shrugged. “And besides, with the right Martha, your job will be a piece of cake.”

Was that how he thought of fatherhood? Did he really know Hannah at all? “How does she feel about all of this?”

“Dinah could give you a better answer than I could,” he chuckled. “Without Tabitha, I just feel so...detached from Agnes. Does that make sense?”

“She needs a father, too,” Nick pointed out.

“I know, I know,” he held his head in his hands. “It would just be easier if I could give her to you.”

Bingo. Nick felt like he finally came up for air after nearly drowning for so long. Play it cool, Nick. “I mean, I would have to talk to Summer first, but I wouldn’t really see a problem with it.”

“Really?”

“We all have spent a lot of time together since moving here. She’s practically family.”

He paused to think. “This is only for the time being. I am still her father.”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek. “Of course.”

“That is if these Peacekeepers don’t get to me first.” He finished the remainder of his drink.

Or to us. They still weren’t out of the woods yet. However, Hannah will soon be living with him, and that was certainly a step in the right direction. This was the most progress he’s had in months. A small amount of relief washed over him. Suddenly all the patient planning paid off: moving here, having weekly dinner parties together, carpooling to town, making friends--it all finally paid off. He couldn’t wait to tell June.

“I’ll talk it over with Agnes and you’ll talk with your wife,” MacKenzie said, “and if they agree, then this can all be settled.”

Nick nodded. “It is what’s best.”

MacKenzie shot him a weary look. “But that is the least of my troubles. Now I have to plan a funeral and subsequent marriage...”

“I wouldn’t rush into it. I certainly didn’t. This sort of loss takes time.” Please, do whatever that gives me more time with her.

“I suppose you’re right,” he picked up his cigar. “Who knows, I might be dead before I even get to write any vows.”

“I told you I would handle the Peacekeepers,” Nick told him sternly, wanting to wrap this up and get out of this depressing room. “Just vote ‘yes’ tomorrow. Can you do that?”

“Sure, if you think it’ll do anything.”

“Trust me on this,” Nick stood up. He held out his hand. “Under His eye.”

MacKenzie reluctantly shook his hand. “Under His eye.”

Chapter Text

Nick took a long-awaited breath of relief as soon as he closed the door behind him. Commander MacKenzie wasn’t an easy person to talk to, whether drunk or sober. However, he believed he navigated the conversation rather satisfactorily given the success he gained from it. The house was eerily silent, indicating that the piano lesson was finished and Hannah was elsewhere. Deciding that the back door was a better exit, he went silently to the kitchen. There, he saw Dinah kneading dough for bread, eyes focused and hands careful. A warm memory of Rita came to mind, as well as a certain kind of sadness that he had to bury deep inside.

“I’m leaving,” he told her, keeping his eyes on her working hands.

Startled, she looked up in surprise and wiped her brow, leaving flour on her forehead. “Agnes told me to tell you to meet her where ‘the poison meets the ivy.’ I don’t know what that means, but I am not letting poison ivy into this house, understand?”

Nick had to smile at that. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll see you again soon.”

Dinah glanced out the window above the sink. “Looks like rain. Be careful. I made Agnes take some sandwiches with her in case you got hungry.”

Nick nodded and was hit with yet another type of sadness--a concern of sorts, maybe even a hope that whatever will happen that Dinah would be okay and remain strong, as she usually was. At the end of the day, Nick was still human and couldn’t possibly protect everyone. But if a short prayer could help, then that’s all he could do.

As he walked out the back door in the kitchen, he noticed the sky was covered in more thick, heavy clouds, dark as bruises and ready to bleed rain. It was only sprinkling for now, but he knew he’d be drenched by the time he made it to the cabin in the woods. He glanced over at his poor house, knowing that Ruth was preparing the rain buckets for the leaky roof. If he stopped by for an umbrella, he’d be caught up in another argument about the house with her, and he rather not keep Hannah waiting all alone. He buttoned his suit jacket, nodded towards a couple of Guardians, and walked off the property. He quickly moved closer toward the dense woods, hoping no one saw this rather awkward journey out in the open. It didn’t take long to arrive at the entrance, but with the rain and the secrecy, it seemed like it was ages.

Once within the safety and shelter of the woods, the sound of the rain hitting the trees’ leaves oddly calmed him. Some cold rain still came through the trees, causing shivers up his body. He both loved and hated the fact that the cabin was about a mile or so away, and today he greatly despised the fact. However, he kept focus, watching for the specific landmarks on the way that only Hannah and he knew about. Such clues were the rows of pine trees, the giant mossy boulder, the fallen branch of a thick cottonwood tree, the abandoned beehive, the little brook, and finally the overgrowth of poison ivy. The steeper the elevation, the closer he got. This was Colorado, after all.

He finally arrived at a grove that was crowded with aspen trees, creating the cabin’s own little privacy fence. He carefully walked through, squeezing his body through the narrow spaces between the trunks. Soon he saw the small, one-room log cabin, still standing sturdy after seemingly a couple of centuries. He saw Hannah standing outside the door, drenched and miserable, holding a canvas bag in her hand. She was shivering, tightening her black shawl closer around her body.

“You sure picked a great day to do this,” she told him in her usual sarcastic tone.

“Why aren’t you inside?” Nick questioned her as he dug around in his pockets for the key to a lock he added quite a few months back.

She shrugged. “I forgot my key. I didn’t feel like going back. It’s raining, you know.”

Nick hurried to the door and unlocked it and they stepped inside, feeling relief from the relentless rain. Nick took off his soaked suit jacket and draped it over a chair. Hannah did the same with her shawl and placed the bag on the table. The cabin had minimal furniture--just a small table, some chairs, and a bed frame. There was a fireplace along the wall as well as shelving. Hannah and he cleared out what was broken and useless and cleaned up the cobwebs and dust earlier in the year. It was primitive, to put it into simplest terms, but it was still a secret place they could call their own. Hannah lit a match for the candles they set up around the room and Nick got started on the fireplace.

“I was thinking we could start on The Secret Garden,” Hannah told him as she browsed the shelf. It was only filled with a handful of children’s books that Nick scrounged around for, most from the black market. Hannah was a fast and eager learner when it came to reading and writing, having already completed half of the books he found. She would read out loud to him, sounding out the words and asking for help when needed. He was no perfect English teacher, but whatever he was doing seemed to be working.

“We can, but I need to talk to you first,” Nick said, lighting a match on the kindling. He watched as it caught flame, slowly spreading to the larger logs.

“Did I do something wrong?” Her voice was small and fearful.

Nick sighed, “No, I did. You can sit at the table.” He arose from his crouched position, satisfied with the fire, and brushed off any ash and dirt his trousers picked up from the floor. He chose the only other chair in the room and sat across from her. He looked into her eagerly waiting brown eyes, wishing he would get on with it. Oh, but he couldn’t, at least, not for a few more minutes. If he thought talking with MacKenzie was difficult, this was nothing in comparison. Usually, he felt free to talk with Hannah, but there was so much she didn’t know, so much that could change everything the moment he would open his mouth. What he was going to say was something he never told anyone in Gilead about, something he kept close to him, afraid that if he let go, there would be nothing left to remember. But the weight of it was getting heavier to bear. Why was it that he could open up to this child, someone who he’s only known for the better part of the year, and not to June? “I’m sorry about what I said last night. It wasn’t fair.”

Hannah lowered her eyes, remembering. “It’s fine.” She shrugged, “We’re all hurting.”

“I just want you to know that it’s okay to feel however you’re feeling about what happened,” Nick told her in a serious tone. “And I know nothing I say can make it better or bring her back.” Then, softly, “Because when it happened to me, nothing ever did.”

She sat there, thinking for a moment. “Your mother must’ve been really special to you, then.”

He shook his head, barely able to look her in the eye. “Not just my mother. I lost my brother and father, too.”

“You’re an orphan?” Her eyes were wide, shock painted all over her face.

Nick’s brow knitted and he looked at her in confusion. He never thought about it that way before. She was correct; he had no family left to take care of him, not to mention talk to. Holly was the only living proof of his short bloodline now, the rest of the Blaine narrative after his story was finished. No wonder he spent his nights worrying about her.

Hannah reached into the canvas bag and took out two sandwiches wrapped in fabric. “Want one? The Martha insisted.”

Nick shook his head. His stomach was still tense after all that has happened so far today and he didn’t believe food wasn’t going to make it any better. Besides, he smelled tuna salad. Did Dinah forget?

After taking a bite, Hannah asked, “Are we going to talk about her? Is that why you brought me out here?”

It was as if her words brought him out of a daydream. He blinked several times and offered a confused look. “Who?”

“My mother,” she answered plainly. “My real mother.”

Nick’s mind flashed back to last night in the entrance room of his house. June was on the stairs and terror was in Hannah’s eyes. He didn’t want their reunion to be like that. Neither one of them was ready. But there’s nothing he could do to take it back--it happened. June was here for her daughter and he needed to be the mediator, to make things right and smooth between them. How could he convince a child to trust her own mother?

“What are your questions?” Nick thought it would be best if she lead the conversation before he made any attempts to make it worse.

“Why is she here?” She took another bite of her sandwich.

Of course, this was the first question she asked as soon as she saw June. He had been expecting this. “She’s trying to get you home.”

“I am home,” she folded her arms and glared at him.

He wasn’t in the mood to be playing any of her games, especially not after playing MacKenzie’s. This was serious and quite dangerous. “Really? Is this the kind of life you want?” He slightly raised his voice at her. “You know what’s going to happen to you, right? They’ll make you--”

“I know, Nick!” She shouted. “Don’t you think I know that?” She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. “What I’m saying is she should go back where she came from. I’m not worth all the trouble.”

This shattered Nick’s heart. Couldn’t she see how important she was to June, to him even? Couldn’t she see how much she was missed and loved? Couldn’t she see her life was worth the risk of everything? “Hannah--” He cringed at this slip of the tongue, wishing he could take it back.

“I’m not Hannah,” she shook her head, folding up her half-eaten sandwich with the fabric. “Stop thinking I am. I don’t know what has given you the illusion that I could just go back to normal and everything will be fine! It’s just easier to take this life that was given to me and stay. That old life you keep telling me about--it doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

Her wise words stunned him for a few minutes. While he was happy she felt open enough to reveal her true feelings with him, he wished there was room left for hope and a new beginning. Gilead already jaded her, dulling her shine, and making her out to be like every other daughter of a Commander. What could he say to make her feel like his North Star, a light in the darkness? Perhaps she was just trying to be strong, being sacrificial for the ones around her. (Where did she get that from?) He knew deep down if, given the chance of freedom, Hannah would take it and run. It was only human to want something that is forbidden, after all. This was going to take some boldness and innovation, but he was up for the challenge. He had a way around this.

“Taking the easy way out, huh?” He shook his head and smirked at her. “You’re a hypocrite.”

She was taken aback, having never expected such an audacious accusation from him. “Excuse me? I am not!” She folded her arms again, holding her chin up high. “I’m just being practical.”

“A liar too! I will never trust another word you say or write.” He watched as her face turned red and her eyes looked downward. “What are you going to do when the masses find out their favorite high-stakes adventure author really is just a timid, rule-following, hopeless little girl?” He shrugged, hoping she’d take the bait and change her stubborn mind.

She sat in silence, letting his burn scab over. Having decided whatever was going on in that head of hers, she clenched her jaw and glared at him with a hint of determination. “For my next debut novel, I’m going to call it A Very Unlucky Man where not one good thing happens to him at all. I think I’ll name him Nick Blaine and make him wear suits that are way too big for him because there is no one around who wants to fix them and possibly be infected by his misfortune.” She flashed a conniving grin at him. “How about that? What do you think?”

Nick tried to hide his smile with his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her, curious. “Does it have a happy ending at least?”

She shook her head confidently. “No, not many tragedies do, unfortunately.”

He chuckled. “I’ll look forward to reading it.”

This surprised her. “Really?”

He nodded his head. “Of course. Don’t I always? Besides, your debut novels come with conditions, the most important being that you can’t stay here.” He looked at her more intently. “You understand that, right?”

She lowered her eyes and nodded humbly. “And how is that going to happen?”

Nick leaned back, feeling more relaxed now that Hannah seemed to have agreed with him. “Well, the first thing is that your Commander is going to ask you something soon,” he began. “It is something we both agreed on and I thought you should hear it from me first, in case he doesn’t do a very good job at it.”

She rolled her eyes. “He probably won’t. He treats me like a stranger sometimes.” She sat up straighter in her chair. “What is it?”

He took in a deep breath, preparing himself to break the news. “He is going to ask if you would like to stay at my house, for the time being.”

“Like a sleepover? I don’t know...last time I did that I had nightmares all night. There’s something weird about your house…”

“No, actually, it’ll be an extended stay of sorts.”

“Is there something wrong?”

Nick sighed. “Well, you’ve seen how your Commander has been…”

“He doesn’t want me anymore?” Panic was in her eyes and she choked back a cry.

Nick’s heart ached at such an upsetting question and his hand instinctively reached out and held hers. “No, no,” he said calmly, “he’s just overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on. He knows you deserve better than what you have now. I know you deserve better.”

Hannah twisted her mouth and thought for a moment. Then, she looked up at him and asked, “Do you think Ruth will make me do my piano lessons?”

Nick smiled at her. “No, but Dinah still will, no doubt. We live right beside each other, after all.”

She sighed heavily, slipping her hand out of his. “You’re the adults,” she shook her head, “I don’t see how I have any choice in this.”

“I don’t care, I want to know what you think. Would you like to stay with me?” This was a preliminary test, of course. This was the test preceding, Would you like to run away with us?, which was before the final exam: Would you like to stay in Canada? There was a lot of studying and practicing to do, but he knew she would ace it.

She opened her mouth, hesitating. “Yes,” she said painfully as if this was something she felt guilty about.

“This isn’t easy, I know,” Nick reassured her gently.

“No, actually, I think this is where it gets easier.” Hannah wisely told him, looking out the window, watching as the raindrops raced each other down the glass.

Chapter Text

Nick didn’t expect June to immediately fix all of his problems when she arrived, but a small part of him wished she did. It would’ve been easier that way. However, he knew better than to put that burden on anyone, especially her. Despite her finally being by his side at night, sleep was still difficult to come by. And when the Sandman was rarely gracious towards him, his dreams still never ceased in terror--something he assumed he wouldn’t get used to. Time would have to heal all this. For the moment, the quarter midnight moon and cold autumn air would have to keep him company at his usual spot in these circumstances.

Today was hard, but tomorrow will be worse. So much was left to be planned and arranged. He had a feeling MacKenzie would go rogue in tomorrow’s meeting, ruining the trust they briefly built earlier today. He would have to talk to him again on their commute. Oh, but did it even matter? Gilead will do whatever Gilead wants, never mind their meaningless vote. Nick already had it set in his mind that the Peacekeepers were going to come; it was just only a matter of when. They were going to inspect every house, get rid of whatever and whoever they wanted. He could feel the darkness creeping in, disguising itself as holiness. Could there be a way to reach their humanity? After all, they are only young boys, destined to rebel at some point. Or could it be too late? He’s seen the reports, training, and curriculums--all from which were way beyond anything he was given with the Sons of Jacob. He winced at those painful memories. He knew only a small taste of what these boys are going through. How did it become even worse so quickly? Who lets this happen?

No, he couldn’t give in to hopelessness. He had a family, an obligation, promises he made and kept to the people he loved. Time now proved to be the enemy rather than a healer. The longer he waited, the more the Peacekeepers had their opportunity to get to them, not to mention every other form of police Gilead collected too. Hannah’s arrangements came to mind--his proudest success of the day. Will this work? Could he really pull this off? How could he bring this up to Summer and Ruth? How could he influence the Aunts at her school? How could he patch up her relationship with June?

June. This was something else he had to figure out. They would have to move in the night. MacKenzie’s Guardians would have their suspicions during the day, for sure. And how could he present that shabby, barely livable cabin as her castle? He would need to fix it up as best as he can, in hopes of a short stay. It was the safest place to be, as far as he was willing to risk.

The unoiled door hinges from behind startled him, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. He looked back from his spot on the back porch stairs and saw June--no, Summer. They looked so alike in the dim moonlight. She paused in her tracks, wide-eyed, just as surprised as he was. Collecting herself, she slowly walked over to him and sat down beside him. Already she was shivering, having only a long-sleeved nightgown on. Nick opened the quilt that he wrapped tightly around himself and invited her to come closer. She gladly accepted and pulled her side of the quilt around her body. Nick can’t remember ever being so close to her, save for their short wedding ceremony (if one could even call it that). He wasn’t uncomfortable, but not entirely relaxed either.

“Bad dream?” Nick tried to offer up a conversation. It’s a start, at least.

“Having that assumption would indicate that I somehow managed to fall asleep,” Summer replied rather irritably.

Something was wrong, he could tell. “Summer” didn’t prove to be the fitting name for her tonight, not with the rare icy feeling she gave off. This was going to take some thawing out to do. He knew this would lead to their big talk that he had been putting off for a while. But he had to be better than this. He couldn’t afford to screw this up, especially not now. Maybe he’s been putting on too much pressure, expecting the worst. Summer was an understanding woman, someone he got along with and could trust. All he had to do was be honest with her--no tricks, no convincing, no power structure. This was simply two people navigating an arranged marriage, that’s all.

“I don’t know what you see in her,” Summer shook her head in disbelief, her tone laced with distaste. “She’s selfish and mean and impulsive. She’s nothing like you at all, Nick.”

Nick nodded his head somberly and understood what this meant. June had her talk with Summer today and it probably didn’t go too well. He would have to tie up the loose ends and make this work. He had a feeling this would happen. June didn’t know Summer as well as he did.

Summer sniffled, choking back on her cry, bringing Nick back from his thoughts. She was still going on about June, but something felt a bit off. “And the worst part is that you went behind my back.” She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I thought you were better than that.”

Heat rose to his cheeks and he felt embarrassed and ashamed. He couldn’t guess what she was talking about, but it seemed like she made a fair assessment. “I’m sorry,” he weakly offered.

She bit her lip and sighed. “Look, we need to be on the same page on some things. For instance, when I tell you something in confidence, that doesn’t mean you should go tell your stupid girlfriend about it.”

Nick knitted his eyebrows, more confused than hurt. “What happened?”

“You told June about Alex,” she answered plainly. “Even Ruth doesn’t know about him.”

Nick hung his head in remorse. It wasn’t his place to tell June something that was so personal to Summer. Alex’s story was inked with a mother’s pain that he had no right to distribute on his own. He cringed at what he said the previous night. He wanted to use Summer’s biggest weakness to his advantage. And for what? So June could live happily ever after with her child while all Summer had was only memories?

“She thinks we now have some type of ‘motherly bond’ or whatever--that she ‘understands’ my pain. Makes me want to throw up.” She looked over at him. “You know what she asked me?”

He could only imagine.

“She wants me to help her overthrow the government or something. Like, hello, what reality are you living in, Princess?”

Nick raised an eyebrow at her. “And what did you say?”

“Nothing that could convince her otherwise.” She shook her head hopelessly. “She’s too far gone. She lost her mind, I’m sure of it.”

Nick sighed. “She just wants her daughter back, Summer.”

“Don’t you think I want my son back, too?” Her teary blue eyes bore into his. “I’ve seen what they can do to us, what they are capable of. What happened to Alex is proof enough. There’s no use in fighting back, Nick. They will always win. Doesn’t she know that?”

He smirked. “You don’t know June Osborne, then.”

Summer held her mouth open and blinked several times. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re actually on her side. You have way too much sense to waste it like that, Nick.”

He could feel the anger rising up inside him. Everything he and June had been through--the torture, the raping, the killing--she had no idea where they were coming from. Summer thought this was a mere personal choice, something “fun” they could do together. But there was no choice to be made after such trauma, only revenge. Maybe a long time ago he would’ve agreed with Summer and given up on trying to be brave, but June changed something inside him--for good. He glared at Summer. “Not all of us were fortunate enough to hide away from Gilead in our father’s mansion until marriage, Summer.”

She scoffed. “You think living there was some type of fairytale?” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure half of Alabama’s laws were a way to get back at me. And that was only before Gilead. My father hates me.”

This made Nick more sad than angry. He met her father only a few times, which was more than enough to convince himself to get Summer and Ruth out of there as soon as possible. Though he wasn’t on Fred Waterford’s level of creepy and misogynistic, this man clearly enjoyed his power and what all he could do with it. All the more reason to strip it away from him. “Wouldn’t you want to finally get back at him, too?” Nick quietly suggested.

Summer let out a laugh. “You say that as if it’s a walk in the park--as if it’s been done before.”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen Gilead lose just enough times to know it’s possible.”

Summer raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head, remaining hopelessly silent.

Nick sighed and rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Look, if you want to see a change in this place, June is who I would stick with. She managed to send a whole plane of kids to Canada. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, and she killed just as many trying to get them out on a supply train, too.” She turned her head and looked out to the dark grassy field, the fog resting low and thick. “How she could live with herself after that, I would like to know.”

This was news to him. He had heard such a story happening, but that’s all he thought of it--a story. This was what Lawrence had to be so angry about, why he sent June to him in the first place. Given that Summer was the one who finally told him indicated that June was still wrestling with this defeat. Why didn’t she feel comfortable enough to tell him about this? Yes, it is shocking and devastating, but...oh, who was he to feel this way? Hadn’t he kept her away from his dark deeds, too?

“She got our daughter out,” Nick told her quietly, hoping to gain Summer’s trust and level out June’s rocky reputation. He’d intended to tell her about Holly under different circumstances, but this was his last resort in getting her help.

Summer’s eyes grew wide and she was speechless. “You’re a father?”

Nick’s gaze fell to the ground in despair. “Barely.”

Wheels were turning in her mind, with thoughts racing on through. She was silent for a while, thinking of what to say. Eventually, she shook her head in disbelief with a characteristically bright smile spread across her face. “Commander Nick Blaine, having to change diapers…I’d die to see it.”

Nick broke into a wide grin, thankful for Summer’s infectious joy finally making its appearance. “Me too.”

“What a shame, then,” she shrugged her shoulders rather apathetically.

The smile on his face quickly faded, bringing him back to reality. “I need to be with her, Summer.”

She shot him an icy glare. “Then go, Nick. I can’t give you anything that will make you stay. I have nothing to do with any of this. This is about you and June and that girl next door and this daughter of yours and not Ruth and me. Go and be with your family.” She was crying again, tear streaks shining in the moonlight. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll be fine.” She nodded her head as if the last part was told more to herself than to Nick. Her voice sounded lonely and abandoned.

Nick reached out to gently touch her shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She dried her face with her sleeve and sniffled. “We should’ve played it safe. We should’ve thrown out all the books and music. I should’ve broken things off with Ruth right from the beginning. We should’ve tried to love each other. We should’ve had a baby. Maybe then things would be different.” She shrugged weakly. “Maybe then you would have cared more about me.”

Nick’s heart sunk. Dark memories resurfaced. No, this can’t be about Eden again. He promised himself over and over he wouldn’t go there. How did he fail? Where did he go wrong? But more importantly, was she right? If they played by the book and had a child together, would he have felt more obligated to her? He didn’t believe so. He would’ve been more miserable, without even the smallest taste of such freedoms they had now. What they had was built on trust and, in a way, love. They didn’t need to manufacture a family to prove this. Couldn’t she see that? Or was he living too much in his own head to show it? Perhaps this was why he put off speaking with her for so long. He wasn’t prepared for the real, honest, and raw marriage talks. But this was where he was now. He had to grow up a little. He could fix this; he had to fix this.

Nick looked at her intently, hoping his eyes revealed the intentions of his heart. “From day one you and Ruth were a priority to me, nothing will change that.” He bit his lip. “Do you know why I chose to marry you?”

“Wasn’t much of a choice, Nick.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I suppose you had some sort of say in those ‘binders full of women’ they gave you. My guess is that I was probably near the end and you were running out of time.”

Nick shook his head. “No.” Then he gave a soft smile and tilted his head. “Well, maybe you were in the last half of the middle, but not the end.”

She didn’t reciprocate the smile. Instead, she focused her eyes on her lap. “I look like her.”

This saddened him. Having a lookalike copy of June around just to make him happy was an insult to both June and Summer, and maybe even himself too. Both women were so much more than their appearances and not once did Nick ever expect Summer to be like June or replace June. He only hoped she saw this. “Not at all,” he told her.

“I was the only one your age?” She suggested. “June said something about your last wife--”

“That’s not it either,” Nick replied sharply. He was a little hurt at this disclosure. June must’ve had a pretty good reason for telling Summer about Eden behind his back. He wanted to protect Summer and Ruth the best he could, and that meant keeping the truth about Eden and Isaac to himself. He tried so hard to keep the darkness out of his house and create their own little free world, but it proved to be a naive mistake. He should’ve known better than to think something like that could live on indefinitely.

“You felt sorry for me? I don’t know, you tell me, Nick.”

“I was curious,” he answered plainly. “I read your file and saw your picture and I knew there was something more they weren’t telling me. Something that you hid deep down.” He looked at her intently. “You need to give yourself more credit. No one I know has gone through what you have. You know where your true loyalties lie, I know you do. I saw it in you from the beginning.”

“Is that so?” Her voice was shaky, but there was a slight strength and boldness to it, as if she was emerging from a shell she protected herself with all these years.

“It’s scary, I know,” he admitted. “Doing the right thing always is.”

“I’m not as strong as June is,” Summer laid out her insecurity.

“Not now, but I have a feeling once you do this favor for her, she’ll see what you’re capable of. Strength comes in many forms, she knows that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, curious. “Oh? And what’s this favor?”

Nick took a moment before he spoke, just like he did before he told Hannah about the death of his family. What he was going to tell Summer will break her heart, and maybe even her spirit too. However, this had to be done if they were ever going to move forward. Maybe this could provide healing from her past and perhaps a little closure as well. “June’s daughter is going to stay with us for a while. She needs someone to look after her.”

Summer’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand.”

Nick held in a breath. “Tabitha died yesterday. I’m sorry.”

She bit her bottom lip and her shoulders slumped. “I’ve been expecting this. I just…never thought…”

Nick nodded his head, understanding her shock and grief. Death can always be a surprise, no matter how much you prepare for it. There’s always a hopeful part of you wishing, believing that the worse could never happen. You want it to be you instead, taking the pain, bearing the weight, going into the lonely unknown. Nick already had a handful of people he wished he could have switched places with.

“What’s going to happen?” Summer asked him, her voice small and broken.

“I’m not sure, McKenzie has a lot to think about. I offered to take care of Hannah in the meantime.” Then he added, “If that’s okay with you.”

After a moment, she finally nodded her head. “It’s what Tabitha would want. I owe her that much, at least, for being my friend.”

“I know June would be grateful, too,” Nick wanted to emphasize.

“She can’t stay here?”

He shook his head. “I’m moving her somewhere safer. It’s what’s best for all of us.”

She rubbed her arms, whether because she was cold or nervous. “I don’t know…it’s been so long since I had to care for a child. And even then I didn’t know what I was doing. I was still a child myself.” She bit her lip, struggling not to cry again. “I mean, I let my kid get killed.”

“Don’t say that,” Nick told her. “You knew what was happening. You didn’t want him to grow up in a place like this. That’s why you chose to run. That’s why you chose freedom. Remember that. What happened was not your fault.”

There was a sort of peace in her eyes and face as if the better half of her finally won after all this time of fighting with her conscience. “Alex deserves better than this.” She half-smiled at him. “And so does your daughter.”

Nick smiled at her, relief spreading over his body now that Summer finally understood who all of this was for. He felt a little apprehensive now that he had to take on more responsibility in his plan. But he was expecting this. Adding more people was always risky. The chances of being caught and even killed were something he didn’t take lightly. However, no ordinary women were on his team. They were smart, brave, strong, and trustworthy. This was what gave him hope, knowing that he wasn’t alone. He looked across the horizon, the morning sun’s rays already spreading golden light, painting the sky in purples, blues, and oranges. It was a new day.

Chapter Text

Not a single word was spoken since they left the house. All that could be heard was the crunching of the thick snow beneath their feet and the wicked wind in the naked trees. It was abundantly clear: Nick was breaking his own rule. He told her to never visit the cabin if the snow was on the ground, as footprints are easy to trace. This left her with one question: why? Nick had been so meticulously careful up to this point. What changed? Her left shoulder started to ache once again and so she shifted the heavy canvas bag on the other shoulder. She peeked in it before they left. Food, soap, clean linens and clothes, and other household items were stuffed in it. Nick’s bag probably held the same. Whatever it was, it was heavy and only slowing her down in this cold and snow. Nick was up ahead, making his way the best he can given that the snow had covered up most of the landmarks they followed to the cabin. She stopped to wiggle her little toes so she could feel them again, but she was certain they were frozen. Gilead didn’t supply shoes for journeys such as this.

Nick stopped and looked back at her. “Come on; we need to hurry.”

She could barely see his face in the falling snow. “Can you at least tell me why we’re doing this?” She was quite tired at this point, wondering why this couldn’t have been done on a day where the weather was much more agreeable. What was so important that it needed to be done now?

He came back to where she was and took hold of her bag, instantly bringing her relief. He nodded off to the side, “There’s the brook. We’re almost there.”

He didn’t answer her question. This must be serious if what he needed to say had to be done in the cabin. Her stomach twisted. Was there something wrong? She’d been living with him for a month now, having been the arrangement between him and her Commander. However, she thought she would be back home at this point. Maybe that has something to do with this. Was she going to live with him permanently? A tiny part of her wished she was, though she knew it was wrong. She was supposed to belong with her Commander. Oh, but the old man seemed to have done nothing since the funeral. Maybe he didn’t want her after all. She looked up ahead at the blurry black figure. Did Nick want her?

They finally made it to the crowded aspen trees, squeezing through the narrow white trunks. She held a tight grip on them so she wouldn’t fall. Once they made it to the clearing and the cabin was in sight, she knew something was up. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, for one thing. Candles were flickering in the windows. The weeds were pulled. The roof was repaired. Even a small wooden building appeared in the back. The old cabin wasn’t so old anymore. In fact, it sort of felt warm and inviting, almost like a home. How did this happen? she wondered. What was the purpose? Was this what Nick wanted to show her? Didn’t he know she was fine with the way it was before?

As she was thinking, the cabin door opened. Out came a woman in a long teal dress, her blonde hair down and loose. She knew who it was. It was her real mother. The young girl stared at her, not daring to take another step. So this was a setup, a trick, a plot. Nick certainly had a twisted way of making surprises. She had to admit she wondered where she went to since the last time she saw her. Fear slithered its way up her small body, constricting her in place. She wanted so badly to run, no matter that a warm fire was only feet away. The stories she was told of her mother and the scarring memories echoed in her mind, cementing her thin shoes to the ground. Nick stood close beside her now, emitting a type of strength she lacked. She felt better once she knew he was there with her. She knew Nick wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. If he trusted her mother, then she should try the same. Perhaps this won’t be as scary as what she thought.

"Blessed day,” her mother told her. She was noticeably shy and awkward, which slightly relaxed the girl. She didn’t feel or look intimidating, but she still maintained her distance.

“Your sleeves need to be hemmed,” the girl told her stiffly. It was the truth, at least. The woman broke out into a smile and pushed up her long sleeves a bit. Even Nick gave a quiet laugh. It seemed that she influenced both of them, and that was something she could use.

“Thank you for coming,” her mother told the both of them, but her blue eyes were locked on Nick. There was a softness in her gaze, peace in her cheeks. The girl couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. She looked up at Nick who had the same expression on his face, eyes locked on this woman. What was going on here?

The girl cleared her throat, growing uncomfortable and colder by the second. “We need to hurry.”

The woman blinked rapidly, finally back from wherever Nick’s eyes seemed to have taken her. “You can come inside.”

“But Nick said--”

Nick gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “We can stay; it’ll be fine.”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, trying to understand what his plan was. She sighed and went forward to the cabin, passing her mother on the way. Warmth hugged her kindly as she walked in. She smelled something cooking over the fireplace, reminding her stomach that she hadn’t eaten anything since this morning. She looked all around the small glowing room, admiring the amateur workmanship. She hadn’t been here since Nick told her about their arrangement over a month ago. Apparently, he was busy in the meantime as nothing was the same anymore. All those “meetings” he went to weren’t really meetings at all, of course. She smiled to herself. If only Miss Ruth and Summer saw this with all their complaints about the house. Nick wouldn’t come out alive for that fight, that’s for sure. This begged the question then: what made her mother so special? There was a mattress, a washing tub, a nice wooden chest, hearth cookware, an oil lamp, and other new things. Her books were still there on the shelf, but something didn’t feel right. This used to be a place only for Nick and her, somewhere special and secret. Now it’s someone else’s. She had been pushed out. Where would she go now?

Nick and her mother closed the door behind them, trapping the warmth inside. Nick placed the heavy bags on the table and explained what they brought for her. The girl turned him out as she had other worries to think about. So much was changing already and she was struggling to keep up. She thought her new life with Nick would be easy, but it turned out to only be more talks with her Aunts at school and eviction from her favorite place in the world. She wished she was back in her room reading her book, escaping from this troubled life for just a little while. Maybe if she stayed standing at the door with her coat on Nick would get the message she would like to leave.

“You can call me June,” her mother told her slowly as if it pained her. She looked toward Nick for reassurance, who gave her a slight nod. “What would you like to be called?”

Oh no, not this again. She was trying to be friendly with her, so she at least deserved a polite reply. “Nice to meet you, June.”

There were a few seconds of silence as if they were waiting on her to say something else. Nick cleared his throat. “Tell her about the book you’re reading.”

“The Secret Garden,” she said. “I haven’t gotten very far. Some of the words are hard to read.”

June closed her eyes and smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, I love all the books I read--even the bad ones.” Then, she felt the need to add, “One of the maids in the book is called Martha. That’s why they are called Marthas in Gilead.” She shrugged. “I thought that was interesting.”

Nick shook his head. “That’s not--”

“That is interesting!” June interrupted him. She sat sideways on one of the wooden chairs and folded her arms on the back of it, resting her chin on top. She looked at her with admiration and wonder. “Tell me more.”

The girl bit her lip nervously. “Well…it’s about this girl who gets sent away to her mean old uncle’s house where there’s a hundred locked up rooms and she isn’t allowed to go in any of them. She doesn’t have much to do or anyone to talk to except the old man in the gardens and the robin.” Then, quietly, “I wish I had a robin to talk to.”

June was silent for a moment. “You can sit at the table if you’d like.”

She was tired of standing at the door, which brought in a slight draft, but she still wanted to stand her ground. Weren’t they just here to drop off the supplies? Shouldn’t they be halfway home by now? “I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?” June asked her.

“Yes,” she answered before she could stop herself.

June went over to the fireplace where there was a pot hung on the cooking crane. She ladled some vegetable soup in a ceramic bowl and set it down at the table. “Do you want to try some? Nick likes it.” She prepared a few more bowls for Nick and herself.

“I thought Nick didn’t eat anything,” the girl said, wishing so badly to sit at the table.

“She makes it hard to say no,” Nick admitted, cutting some bread at the little countertop.

June poured some water into glasses and Nick brought the bread over and they sat down. The warm smell made its way to the girl’s empty stomach and only made it worse. Oh, just one bowl wouldn’t hurt, nor take up too much time. She walked over to the table and sat down across from them. Quickly, she bowed her head, thanked God, and shoved a piece of bread in her mouth. She could tell Miss Ruth made it because she always left too much flour on the crust. Nevertheless, it was good, especially with the soup. Eventually, she slowed down her eating and began to think. Where did Nick get all this? How was this possible? Remembering what was in the bags they brought, the girl knew exactly where. Those fresh towels were in the linen closet this morning, as well as the soap from underneath the sink and the potatoes from the pantry. Nick was stealing things from home. Did Miss Ruth and Summer know about this?

“Do you like it?” June asked her.

She nodded, eating another piece of bread. “Yes. It’s even better than my Martha’s.”

June smiled at her. “Thanks.” She swirled her spoon in her bowl absentmindedly. She took in a deep breath, “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you for such a long time.”

The girl wished she could say the same. She felt like a monster for not. The truth was she didn’t know her at all, really. The only memories of her were either too fuzzy to make out or too traumatic to dare to remember. She shrugged. “Nick just told me to come with him to the cabin.”

“Yeah? Do you like Nick?” June asked, looking over at him and smiling.

“He’s alright,” the girl said indifferently, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh, I think she does,” Nick affirmed. “She waits for me to come home every day like a puppy.”

Heat rose to the girl’s cheeks. “I do not.”

“You were always excited when your father came home,” June said quietly, thinking of another time, another world.

The girl’s heart skipped a beat. My father. She was so focused on June that she nearly forgot about him. She had even fewer memories concerning him. What was he like? She swallowed dryly. “Nick has told me a little about him before.”

June nodded her head. “He loves you very much and misses you every day. He’s been trying so hard to get you back.” She looked over at Nick and back to her. “We all have.”

Suddenly, the girl felt guilty for being so stubborn earlier. June did not come here all this way for her daughter to reject her at her doorstep. She wished she was more deserving of such dedicated parents. Why couldn’t she be more grateful? Clearly, Nick worked hard too, considering that he gave up their sacred spot for June to stay here. The fact that June was here in the first place felt humbling to her. She couldn’t imagine what all she had been through to find her here of all places. She lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”

June reached across the table and held her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay,” she told her gently. “We’re here now.”

The girl looked at their clasped hands and felt a little better. There was something between them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Was it love? Courage? A lot of other people would have given up and moved on. But not June. She came back. For me. She looked up curiously into her blue eyes. Was the type of strength she had the very same which resided in her too? “I think…I think you are very brave. A lot more than I am, at least.”

June looked like she was blinking back tears. “No, but you are. You are so brave.”

The girl glanced at Nick who barely said anything this whole time. He was quietly listening with a somber look on his face. She supposed he always looked like that, which was why it was her endeavor to make him smile once and a while. But what did a truly happy Nick look like? She looked over at her mother. “Nick said we are getting out soon to Canada.”

June nodded her head carefully. “That’s the plan.”

“Are you staying with us?” the girl asked Nick. This was important to her.

Nick looked at her, unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?”

“When we get to Canada, are you staying or coming back here?”

Nick didn’t answer right away. In fact, he didn’t answer at all.

“Of course, he’s staying with us,” June told her, a little shocked at Nick’s silence. “You would want him out too, right?”

The girl smirked. “Could you imagine? He probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He’d still wear his suit every day, I bet.”

June shook her head and laughed. “No, I think he’d switch to joggers as soon as he could.”

She crinkled her nose. “Maybe even grow a beard, too!”

June crinkled her nose back. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t let him.”

“I think if Nick had a choice, Nick wouldn’t do any of that,” Nick struggled to make his presence known.

“I guess you have to prove us wrong then,” the girl told him, holding her chin up proudly.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Nick said, pretending to be annoyed.

“Tell me about school, then,” June changed the subject eagerly. “Are you doing well?”

The girl shrugged, pushing away her empty soup bowl. “I’m around the Aunts more than my friends, especially Aunt Dawn.”

“Yeah? What are you learning?” June was curious again, taking in every bit of her as she could.

“What Aunts get to do. They have a lot more power than what I thought they did.”

“Do you want to be an Aunt someday?” Nick asked her inquisitively. This must have been a question he was waiting to ask in front of June.

“I think I do,” she lied.

The girl knew exactly what was going on. Nick had his name written all over this little scheme. Never before had the Aunts cared this much about her, considering how mediocre she was at some of her domestic classes--especially in cooking and childrearing. She was fortunate enough that her advanced sewing skills made up for what she lacked elsewhere. However, since she started staying at Nick’s house things have been different. The Aunts paid more attention to her, providing extra assistance and being overly friendly. Each day after school Aunt Dawn secretly took her to a private room and prepared her for Aunt special privileges, such as reading and writing. Of course, she pretended to know nothing to protect Nick, but Aunt Dawn must be rather certain that being an Aunt was in the girl’s blood. Either that or Nick gave her a convincing argument to make it happen. In all honesty, the girl didn’t like the idea of teaching handmaids, monitoring the Colonies, arranging marriages, and the like. However, if it meant not being forced to get married and have children, then she would try to be the best candidate. Yes, she would try for Nick’s sake.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” June asked.

“Forever, I think. I have to be on Aunt Dawn’s ‘good side’ or else she won’t put in a good word for me with the Founding Aunts. That will be a piece of work, let me tell you.” She rolled her eyes. “I heard Aunt Lydia is the toughest of them all. If she likes me, then I guess I’m in.” She shrugged and drank some of her water.

June closed her eyes and winced, apparently hurt by what she told her.

“Aunt Dawn keeps telling me your chances are good,” Nick wanted to emphasize, looking over at June. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

June put on a strong smile for her daughter. “Well, that must be exciting.”

The girl didn’t think much of it. So much so, she didn’t say anything further. She looked out the gray window and saw that the snow stopped falling, leaving a several-inch thick blanket on the ground. This worried her. Their previous footsteps were covered up now, but they still needed to get back without a trace. She looked over at Nick. “We need to go.”

Nick followed her eyes to the window and understood her concern. “She’s right,” he told June.

June sighed and gave a nod. “It was nice seeing you,” she told the girl sincerely.

“Can I come back sometime?” she asked, her words coming out before she could stop them.

“Any time,” her mother said with a smile, nodding.

Nick rose from his seat and gathered the dishes.

June took ahold of his arm. “I’ll take care of it. You need to go.”

Nick looked at her for assurance and back to the girl. “Are you ready?”

She got out of her chair and headed to the door. Before she left, she was unsure of how to say goodbye. She didn’t feel the need to hug her mother, but a wave felt too impersonal. Instead, she opted for a flimsy handshake. Upon June’s touch, she felt that unidentifiable type of connection again, making her want to know everything about her all at once. She quickly let go before it overcame her. She opened the door, the cold hitting her violently, leaving a sting upon the cheek. Oh, how she wished she warmed her toes up a little longer! She began to head back, knowing the faster she made the journey, the faster she would be warm again.

However, she made the foolish mistake of looking back. If she had not made this mistake, perhaps it may have avoided some anguish later. But she did and what she saw she would not forget. Nick and her mother were standing close at the threshold, so close she swore their noses were touching. There was a shared look between them. The girl knew this look. It was the same look her Commander gave to his wife and the same look Miss Ruth gave to Miss Summer all the time.

It all made sense now. Such terrible, awful sense.

The girl wanted so badly to cry. She ran as fast as she could through the woods, nearly slipping in the deep snow, not caring at all how cold it was anymore. She hoped what she saw wasn’t really what she saw at all. Because if what she saw was true, then that would change everything. That would mean that the context and meaning of everything Nick had done for her were different now. She wanted it to be genuine. She wanted it to be real.

Nick finally caught up with her once she was near the house. He was bent over, catching his breath. “Why’d you run?”

She knitted her eyebrows and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. She couldn’t find the words to say. Because if she did, she knew they would lead to the God-awful truth.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Nick asked her. Thankfully, the sound of a loud car passing by in the otherwise silent countryside averted his attention. Nick grew incredibly serious and maybe even a little bit scared. He quickly opened the cellar door and beckoned her. “Get in, now.”

She was more worried than confused now. What she was so concerned about as she ran through the woods vanished. Something else was more important. She had never seen Nick so panicked. “What is happening?”

He took hold of her arm and practically dragged her to the stairs. “Hide. Don’t make a sound. Wait till I say you can get out.”

She knew better than to argue with him. She began down the stairs. The last thing she saw before heading into the darkness below was a black van turning into the driveway. She knew who they were. They crowded her memories all the time.

Chapter Text

Nick closed the wooden cellar doors hurriedly behind her, sealing her into the dark abyss. With trembling hands and a racing heart, the girl hunted for a place to hide. There was only a small square window near the outside entrance that provided just enough light to plan carefully. She had never been down here before. Old, dusty boxes were piled up everywhere, probably from the previous owners. Thick cobwebs dominated all the corners and crevices. The air was cold and musty. There was a washer and dryer underneath the stairs going up into the house, as well as a water heater and furnace. She had nothing to crawl into or cover herself up with. Loud shouting could be heard right above her, sending panic through her veins. Quick! Quick! Where should she go?

Rather than wasting any more time, she chose the farthest corner where the faint rays of light did not reach. She did her best to pile the boxes high to hide behind, enclosing her in a small enough space that she could only crouch. She held her knees close to her beating chest and squeezed her eyes shut, despite the darkness she was already in. She barely breathed. Above, words were exchanged between Nick and some men, sometimes with Miss Summer chiming in. She couldn’t make out any of the words, either because they were too far away or her mind wasn’t able to focus long enough.

She thought about what would happen if they did find her down there, what she would say, what she would do. By far, she wasn’t an experienced liar or talented actress. Surely being at her neighbor’s home wasn’t in itself a crime. However, there were some vital things to hide. Things that were in wooden chests, things that were in bedrooms, things that were in a cabin not too far out of their reach. Did she have the courage to protect such things?

The ceiling above her creaked as they walked about, getting closer and closer. More talking. These men weren’t friendly. They never usually are. Oh, please don’t kill them. Oh, please don’t find me. Spare them. She prayed to God over and over again, hoping, begging, bargaining that he was listening. The upstairs door opened. A beam of a flashlight flooded the room, dust particles dancing through.

“Nothing is down there,” the voice of Miss Summer said, her accent coming out thicker when she was nervous, “just some old boxes.”

“It won’t matter to them,” a gruff male voice warned her. “Get rid of it all. Everything.”

The door closed and the girl finally breathed again. Hot tears burned her cheeks. Oh, how did all this happen? She bit her lip, desperately trying not to let a single noise escape her trembling mouth. More words were exchanged, a door was shut, and an ignition started. Several agonizing minutes passed before the basement door was opened again.

“You can come up now,” Nick told her.

The girl struggled to get back up on her feet after crouching for so long. Once she found her balance and strength, she pushed the boxes for an opening to get out. She went over to the stairs and saw Nick standing at the top of them, appearing rather frazzled.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded as she went up the stairs. “What about you?”

He sighed heavily and didn’t answer. She saw Miss Summer in the living room with a hand over her mouth, staring at something on the floor. Miss Ruth was standing off to the side of her, hands fidgeting. She was wearing her Martha head covering this time, which made her appear a lot older than she was. The girl stood beside her, unsure of what to do or say. There was tension in the room like no other. The sound of the crackling fire filled up the otherwise silent house. Nick flew open the chests which contained the newspapers and music. Many evenings she would help Miss Ruth and Summer with their crosswords, singing along to the songs on the records. She had never done anything like it before and looked forward to such moments. However, by the way Nick was looking at them, she knew it was all over. The music died and the words were erased.

“Burn it,” Nick said sternly. “Burn everything.”

“What?” Miss Summer cried.

“I said burn it,” Nick repeated, throwing a newspaper into the fireplace.

All four of them gazed as the flames consumed the paper, never to be read from again. The girl was scared. And something must have happened to make Nick scared, too. As if by sensing her fear, Miss Ruth put an arm around her shoulders and drew her a little closer.

“We’re lucky it was just the Eyes,” Nick said, already gathering a pile of old newspapers to shred and burn.

“Just the Eyes?” Miss Ruth asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means next time we won’t be so lucky,” Nick warned as he walked over to the records.

“Not Dolly,” Miss Summer snatched a record from his hands, her blue eyes piercing into his.

Observing this, the girl whispered to Miss Ruth rather worriedly, “Is she going to be okay?”

Miss Ruth didn’t answer. Instead, she lead her to the kitchen, appearing a bit frightened herself. She was pacing back and forth, folding and refolding her arms, tearing off her head covering and throwing it haphazardly on the counter. She was muttering to herself in a different language, a language the girl heard her use with Nick sometimes. Finally, she took in a deep breath and smoothed out her gray dress. “Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, but some hot chocolate would be nice,” the girl answered, trying to get comfortable at the island.

“Hot chocolate?” she questioned her as if she had never heard of such a thing. “Don’t have the tokens for that.”

“Tea?”

“Ran out a couple of days ago.” Miss Ruth was looking through the nearly empty cupboards.

“How come we never have tokens for anything?” the girl complained, folding her arms.

This was a true concern for her. For as long as she could remember, very few things her family wasn’t able to have. What she wanted was always there for her, never going without. She hadn’t once heard any of her Marthas talking about tokens or lack thereof. However, since she started staying at Nick’s house, things were different. There weren’t so many options as before. She had to ration out everything in case Miss Ruth wasn’t able to get any more for a long time. Sometimes the roof leaked. Sometimes it was better to dry the clothes out on the line. They didn’t even have a car, nor the driver to go with it. And not one Guardian had his post assigned there. They may as well be econopeople, according to the very little she heard about them. She didn’t know what being rich meant, but she knew it wasn’t this. Was Nick poor? She couldn’t believe in such a thing as poor Commanders in Gilead, not from all the ones she encountered before. Did Nick know he was poor? He didn’t act like he was. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t care.

Miss Ruth slammed the cupboard doors closed and turned around to look at her. “If you’re so unhappy here, then go to Dinah! I’m sure she’ll give whatever your spoiled self asks.” She went to the sink and started scrubbing something awfully hard. “You’ll never know how good you have it, little girl.” She turned around again, her hands red. “Do you have any idea how hard we just tried to protect you? Nick was right. Maybe we won’t be so lucky next time.”

If Miss Ruth wanted her to feel guilty, then she would be very pleased if she found out exactly how the girl felt. She took this as a sign to go to her room for the remainder of the night, hoping this will all be over by morning. Nick was tearing up newspapers in a pile as she passed by to go to the stairs. Miss Summer was sitting at the fireplace, gazing into some record, almost in a catatonic state. She hadn’t seen her so sad before. Miss Summer always had a way of effortlessly cheering her up and making her feel better. It seemed like everyone was in a sour mood now, eyes squeezed shut and lips too puckered to say anything sweet.

Once the girl reached her room, she changed into her white nightgown and collapsed on the bed with her collection of dolls she made, each one with a carefully stitched-on smile. She shoved them off the bed, hitting the floor below, hopefully never to be seen for a while. She laid on her side, facing the window, and watched as the snow fell again. She thought about June and wondered what she was doing all alone in her little cabin. She wondered how things would be different if she were here. Perhaps she would have a special way to make her feel better. Maybe everyone would be nice to each other again. Maybe she would’ve just agreed with Nick.

What she saw at the cabin threshold came back to her mind. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, there was another angle to this, all for some benefit of Nick. Was he using her to get closer to June? The thought only made her hurt more. She imagined Nick as one of her closest friends, and she believed Nick considered the same for her. What if that wasn’t true? Perhaps she could go back home, whether her Commander was ready for her or not, whatever that meant anyway. She didn’t want to be around Nick if all of this was a scheme.

After a few more moments of thinking, when the sun left very little light in the gray sky, she turned her lamp on. She figured she could start reading again. Most of her sewing supplies had to be left in her sewing room as all the space she was allowed in this small house belonged to a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. She cracked open The Secret Garden, just to see how far she could go without Nick’s help. She only read a few pages when Dickon appeared. She tried to read his dialogue the same way as Nick did when they read together, but it didn’t work. Only Nick knew how to do the strange accent and it wasn’t any use trying to imitate it. Therefore, she went back to the beginning again because, well, it is a very good book no matter what part you read.

After a while of truly believing herself to be Miss Mary Lennox with the hundred locked-up rooms, a buried secret key, and a mysterious secret garden, the girl heard a soft knocking at her door. She knew who it was. She took in a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come. “Come in,” she said.

Nick entered the room, wearing his pajamas, carrying a mug in one hand and his bible in the other. He gave her the mug. “I thought you would want some,” he said as he sat on the side of the bed.

Her eager fingers curled around the warm mug. Her eyes grew wide in surprise once she realized that it was hot chocolate. “But Miss Ruth said--”

“Don’t tell her,” Nick told her. “She doesn’t know where I keep it. Dinah sent some over for you.”

She took a small sip and closed her eyes at the oh-so-sweet taste she deeply missed. “Oh, Nick, you truly are the worst.”

Nick knitted his eyebrows and gave a small laugh. “Why do you say that?”

“How is this supposed to teach me a lesson? Miss Ruth is all about discipline.” She took one more sip before setting her mug down on her nightstand. She shrugged. “But all Marthas are, I think.”

He nodded towards her book. “You’re reading that without me?”

She looked down at the book defeatedly. “I can’t do the voices like you.”

Nick grabbed the book and moved himself to sit against the headboard, right at her side. “Alright,” he said with one of his usual sighs, “where did we leave off?”

The girl took the book from his hands and left it closed on her lap. “I have to ask you something first.” Nick didn’t say anything, he just looked at her patiently, as he usually did. She took another sip of her hot chocolate, hoping it would give her the courage she needed. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting her nightgown through her fingers. Here it goes. “Do you only care about me because I’m her daughter?” She dared to take a look at his face, which appeared disappointed and a little heartbroken.

“Is that how you feel?” Nick asked her.

She shrugged. “It makes sense.”

“How?”

“You like her.” She swallowed dryly. “You want to make her happy so she can like you back.”

He shook his head. “That’s not how love works.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she folded her arms.

He bit his lip, thinking carefully about what to say next. “Well, by your logic, you must only care about me because your mother likes me.”

“That’s not true,” she told him defensively. “I didn’t even know she liked you until today. And besides, that’s giving her way too much credit.”

He smiled at her. “I agree. Nothing has changed, alright?”

The girl took another drink of her hot chocolate. She was still left with so many questions. Among them, she decided to choose the one that worried her the most. “Is Miss Summer going to be okay?”

He hesitated before answering. “She’s going to have to adjust, just like the rest of us. We need to be more careful now.”

“Are those bad guys coming back?”

He nodded his head slightly. “Something like that.”

“Are you scared?” She looked up at him with troubled eyes. “I am.”

He thumbed through his bible absentmindedly. “‘Fear not, for I am with you.’” He gave her a small smile.

At that moment, the girl wished she had as much faith as he did. He always knew the right verses to quote at the right time, probably due to his habit of reading his bible every night with her. Such readings opened her eyes to what God was like if such a description could ever be made. Aunt Dawn was the only other person who read the Bible to her, but she did it differently than how Nick did it. What was it about that book that people made it so exclusive to read? Maybe she’ll understand more when she got older. For now, she invited Nick to say her evening prayers with her, kneeling at her bedside, hoping they were received in some way or another.

Nick pulled back the covers for her as she climbed into bed and gave her one of the dolls that fell on the ground earlier. She quickly drank the rest of her hot chocolate, wiping her mouth clean on her arm. “Hopefully that won’t keep you too awake,” Nick told her with a hint of regret.

She shrugged. “I think it was one of your best worst ideas yet.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, okay.” He kissed her forehead. “Try to get some sleep. You have school in the morning.”

Before he slipped out of reach, she held onto his hand. She had one more thing left to say to him, something she had on her mind since she said goodbye to June. There was a reason why she couldn’t hate her for so long. There was a reason why she felt a connection with her. There was a reason why she wanted to know so much about her. She looked into Nick’s eyes bravely. “You can call me Hannah.”

Nick blinked several times and nodded. He squeezed her hand. “Sweet dreams, Hannah.”

Chapter Text

Above the garage. The Boston Globe. A Handmaid’s room. And now a cabin in the woods. The spaces they called their own were moderately unconventional, but they were nevertheless their own. There was no time for soft rose petals or vanilla-scented candles; they had to go straight to the point. They took whatever they could get, relishing any newfound privacy and freedom. The fear of there not being a next time relentlessly crept in the background, giving them no choice but to be a bit rushed and rough. June wanted something to remember the next day, something to fall back on, something to tell her the truth. Because when Serena unfairly took it all out on her and when Fred played his sadistic games, the ache in her legs and the subtle secret bruises reminded her who she was and who she was not. She had something that they could never get in their loveless marriage, something they could never take from her. She treasured this possession with all her heart, for it gave her power and life, especially through the bad times.

But for now, their time together seemed to be endless. There was no Guardian outside their door to watch out for. No early morning sun to chase. No Commander to hide from. For the first time, this was on their terms. There was now the rare option of slow and gentle, never leaving the bed for more than a glass of water. Making love was only half the part of it now, rather than what used to be the whole. What happened after quickly became June’s favorite part. It was simply taking the time to be there, present, acknowledging each other that made her soft all over. In his arms, never saying more than a few words at a time, was where she was meant to be, her hometown, her stomping ground. Oh, could he please stay forever?

This was cheating on Luke, to put it into simplest terms. This was being as faithless as faithless could ever be. However, cheating on Nick was so much worse. She tried and tried and pretended as hard as she could, but at the end of the day, Luke wasn’t the person she wanted to be free with. No trip to the grocery store or a couple of beers could change that. She couldn’t live that life anymore, not without the man who truly and unconditionally understood and loved her. This was half the reason why she came back to Gilead, after all. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true, as painful as it was.

She had to give him credit, though. Nick was trying his best at normalcy (if one could even call it that). They were seeing more of each other than they ever have, thankfully never getting irritated with one another. June had to confess there was a small, foolish fear in the back of her mind that their relationship wouldn’t survive outside of Gilead. It felt like all they knew was heartbreak and goodbyes. But she couldn’t believe in that, not when Nick was always the one who gave her hope. She wanted to know what it was like rushing through their morning routines, figuring out what to make for dinner, fighting about who’s turn it was to wash the dishes, and putting the kids to bed. She wanted to roll back the covers and sleep next to him, knowing that a tomorrow, a lifetime, was promised. Did he want the same?

But she couldn’t help but feel like she only knew a few chapters of Nick, rather than his whole story. It was only a few weeks ago when she finally learned what fatefully happened to his family, but only vaguely. He was still upset about it, as anyone would. She didn’t prod or go anywhere she was unwanted, hoping he would open up freely in his own time. She felt closer to him and only loved him more for it, keeping a record of every fact of his. However, his involvement in the Crusades and what happened in Chicago were still left to be mentioned. Maybe it wasn’t that important, being altogether unnecessary and unhelpful. It wasn’t fair to judge him on this, though. She still didn’t dare to tell him what happened on that night with the supply train, the fire, and the children. Part of her wished Lawrence would just tell him for her, get it over with. She knew Nick wouldn’t love her differently for it, but it wasn’t really about Nick at all. It was about coming to terms with what she did and accepting it as true.

June felt like she was staring at the back of Nick’s head for hours as she wondered all about this. It’s been morning for some time now, the pale winter sun lighting up the small room through the windows. The melting icicles from off the roof sounded like a calming rain. The fire died a long time ago, but as long as she remained where she was on the bed, she had all the warmth she ever needed. He stayed the night again. This would make it the third night in a row. Maybe he didn’t like sleeping on the couch anymore. Maybe he missed his old, lumpy mattress. Maybe he just missed her. This was nice for a change. Nick was now the one sneaking out to come to see her, knocking softly at the door, impatient for what was to come.

She shifted closer to him on her side and kissed him softly wherever he was exposed. Her lips languidly traveled over his shoulder blades, his upper spine, and neck. She wrapped an arm around him and breathed him in.

“June?” Nick managed to say in a sleepy, rough voice.

June smiled against his warm, smooth skin. “Hi.”

Nick turned to face her and pulled her closer, keeping eye contact with her. After a few moments of simply gazing at her, he noticed that the room was filled with sunlight. “What time is it?”

June shrugged, playing with his hands. “I don’t have a clock. That’s the one thing you didn’t give me.”

Nick laughed softly. “I’ll add it to the list.” After a few silent moments, he yawned, saying, “I should probably get going.”

This type of statement used to depress June. It was said between them far too often with an uncertainty. Their respective Gilead masks had to be put on, their illicit time spent together never to be mentioned to anyone else. However, lately, she hadn’t felt so affected by it. He will come back. It won’t be too long before they’ll find each other again, just like this.

“Is Hannah coming?” she asked him.

Nick sat up and stretched, running his fingers through his messy dark hair. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked much with her. She’s been more moody than usual.”

June wrapped herself up with the blanket and sat up too. “Any news I should know about?” She grinned at him. “We were supposed to talk last night, remember?”

“And the night before.” Nick shifted closer to her. “You’ve proven to be very distracting,” he told her in a low voice and kissed her a few times, or maybe even more than that. “Perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong resistance partner,” he said against her neck.

June pushed him away playfully. “Nick, stay focused.”

He smiled down at his lap. “Okay…well, there’s been some progress.” He looked into her eyes. “I talked with Aunt Dawn again.”

June nodded, eager to hear any new information. “And?”

“She wants Hannah to go to see the Founding Aunts.”

June raised her eyebrows, a little shocked. “Already? It’s only been a few months.”

“What else can I say? Hannah’s a natural.”

She gave him a small smile. She wasn’t certain how much Aunt Dawn knew. Did she know this was all a scheme? Or did she truly believe Hannah was called to be an Aunt? Either way, Nick must’ve emphasized the importance of this, for how else did this happen so quickly? The thought of her daughter facing Aunt Lydia brought frigid shivers down her back. She knew Aunt Lydia proved herself with Janine and Charlotte’s freedom, but there were some doubts still. June remembered all too well how she was treated in the past. Could Hannah face the same punishments? Or worse, would Hannah have to initiate the punishments? And how would all of this lead--

“You’re thinking too much about this,” Nick’s comforting voice brought her back to the present.

“I have to,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, “she’s my daughter.”

He reached out for her hand. “Soon, we’ll be on the road to Ardua Hall and, you know, accidentally arrive in Canada somehow.” He ended this with a smile.

She smirked. “‘Accidentally’?”

“Yeah, it happened all the time when I lived in Michigan.”

June could tell Nick was joking with her, that he certainly had a better plan than that, but he still somehow managed to give her another little piece of himself. When I lived in Michigan. It wasn’t much and it didn’t mean anything at all, but it told June that this was something he still thought about. Nick was so much more than what Gilead made him out to be. Will she ever get to fully know that version of him?

Nick was quietly thinking, but not brave enough to tell June what was on his mind.

“What is it?” She looked intently at him, hoping it wasn’t any bad news.

He let in a shaky breath, not wanting to make eye contact. “She needs to know about Holly.”

There was a weight to Nick’s request, something he wished he was strong enough to do himself. However, June understood his shortfall; she didn’t believe she could do it either. This was the part where it got hard. Why was she so nervous to tell Hannah this? Perhaps there was a worry she would look at her differently. She would ask tough questions that had equally as tough answers. But June owed her the truth. She fought so persistently to be her mother again. She can’t cower now.

“I wanted you to be the one to tell her,” Nick said. “She would have questions…”

Nick’s voice was threaded with pain and regret. He couldn’t tell Hannah everything she wanted to know, even if he tried. He was denied a spot in Holly’s life for so long. He knew even less about her than June did. She held his face and rested her forehead against his. “It’s okay.”

Nick laid down on the bed, bringing June with him. He held on to her tightly, taking in her strength.

June knew how to fix this. “She has her little drawings posted all over the walls at home. Stickers, too.”

“Holly?”

June nodded with a smile. “Maybe she’ll be an artist?”

“I can’t draw for anything,” Nick admitted lightheartedly.

Suddenly, the door was unlocked and a sharp draft of cold air invaded the room.

“Nick?” It was Hannah.

Nick lifted his head from the pillow. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Hannah threw back.

“How is it that she becomes more like Rita every day?” Nick whispered to June.

June tried not to laugh. “Hannah, can you give us a minute?”

“I’ll gather some snow,” she said with a tired sigh, grabbing the bucket and going back outside.

Once she left, June slipped on her teal silk robe that hung on the bedpost. She got up and retrieved Nick’s clothes that were somehow on the other side of the room. She handed them back to Nick and watched as he dressed for her pleasure. As he finished knotting his tie, he hugged her closely from behind and kissed her cheek.

“I love you,” he told her quietly.

Warmth spread over her body, leaving an electrified feeling. How did this man make her feel so weak and strong at the same time? She leaned into his touch. “I love you,” she said back.

He sighed as he reluctantly let go of her. “I’ll be back tonight.” He opened the door and let Hannah in.

“Oh, is it safe now? Do I have to shield my eyes?” Hannah asked mockingly as she passed through the door.

Nick smiled and shook his head. He gave June one last look before leaving. June closed the door behind him and went over to the fireplace to get it started. “Thank you for doing that for me,” she said to Hannah who was sitting at the table, nodding to the bucket of snow. As the kindling took flame, she dumped the snow in the iron pot that rested on the cooking crane. Now all they would have to do is let it melt and boil. It’s a tedious way of simply getting any water, but the brook froze over and it was rather inconvenient to have it brought from the house.

“So how’s Hannah?” June asked her as she cleaned off the table. It was cluttered with Gilead maps, Mayday information, schedules, routines, itineraries, lists of names, copied files, Nick’s Council notes, and the like. She promised herself to be more focused tonight, strictly business. She could do that, right?

“I have cramps,” Hannah answered plainly, watching her gather up the papers. “What’s all this?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” She moved everything over to the counter. “Just grown-up stuff.”

“Are you worried about it?”

June paused for a moment and decided to tell her the truth. “A little bit.”

“I can help,” her small voice said.

June’s heart broke for her at that moment. She didn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t need to help escape from this hell. She shouldn't have to sacrifice her childhood to fight for the resistance. This was awful. June squeezed her hand. “I know you are already doing the best you can. I appreciate it.”

Hannah offered a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“Did you have any breakfast?” June was looking over her small shelf for anything to eat.

She smirked. “It’s the afternoon. I ate something at my house.”

June settled on an orange and sat down at the table. “What were you doing over there?”

“I had my piano lesson.” She rolled her eyes. “No wonder Beethoven was deaf.”

June smiled at that. “Well, it’s good for you.”

“You sound just like Nick.” She shrugged and drummed her fingers on the table. “Can I ask you for some advice?”

June sat up straighter, glad to be finally having this moment with her. “Of course.”

“Assuming you know Nick well, how do you tell him bad news? Like, really bad news.”

June stopped peeling her orange. The excited feeling she just had vanished and was replaced with worry. What Hannah could say could change everything, possibly even ruin it. Which made her question herself: how do you tell Nick bad news? At the time, the worst news she ever told him was her pregnancy. To her surprise, he took it rather well, hopefully even. June bit her lip. “How bad is it?”

“Well…” Hannah hesitated. “My Commander talked with me today and said I can move back as soon as this week. He’s getting married again, I suppose.”

June’s stomach twisted. No, that can’t be. Nick would’ve told me. “Really?”

Hannah nodded. “I’m just trying to figure out how to tell Nick. He seems to like me living with him.”

June popped an orange wedge in her mouth. “Do you like living there?”

“I do, but…” she sighed. “It’s all so different. I want my bed, my sewing room, things to be normal again at school and with the stupid Aunts…”

“I thought you liked the Aunts?”

Hannah froze as if she got caught in a lie--a big one. “Um, I mean, I do. I’m learning so much!”

“Hannah.”

She folded her arms and clenched her jaw. “I don’t want to be an Aunt, there. Now that makes two things I have to disappoint Nick with.”

June closed her eyes. “Don’t say that.” She leaned back, trying to relax. “I know Nick. He would understand. You just need to be honest with him. He won’t get angry at you, I promise.” Although this made their plans nearly crumble to dust now, perhaps it was for the best. Relying on a young girl to get all of them a way to Canada was flawed and unfair on Hannah. June would have to break the news to Nick in case Hannah backed out. It was better to fail now than get caught later. Besides, Hannah’s resistance to being an Aunt gave June a slight relief. She didn’t exactly want her daughter to be brainwashed with Gilead's “values,” no matter how much power it would have given her.

Hannah remained quiet and thought about this. June took the pot away from the fire once the water started boiling to let it cool down. Hannah kept her eyes on the messy bed in the corner, her mind somewhere else. Then she looked at June. “What is love like?”

June stopped chewing on her orange for a second and then slowly swallowed. She was not prepared for this type of conversation. Not yet. She’s still so young. Wasn’t she? “What makes you ask that?”

Hannah twisted her mouth, thinking. “Do you love Nick?”

“Yes.”

“More than my father?”

She thinks about him? This needed to be saved for a different conversation later when she was more ready. June bit her lip. “Hannah, we don’t need to be talking about this.”

“Why not?” she challenged. “Is it because it’s true?”

“I still love your father,” June raised her voice a little. “But with Nick and I, it’s different. A different type of love.”

“How?”

June sighed. How was she supposed to answer that? “Love is…different for everyone,” she began slowly and carefully. “Love can change as you get older, as you learn more about yourself. Once you find a love that you can grow with, that you can feel safe with, that you can trust, you grab on to it. And you can’t let go.” She reached out for her hand. “But if you do, it will come back, always.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“You move on,” she shrugged and ate more of her orange. “Try to love yourself in the meantime. Love isn’t something you can rush.”

Hannah nodded slowly, trying to understand. “It doesn’t sound easy.”

“Of course not, but that’s what makes it so rewarding.”

June felt closer to Hannah after telling her these things. She hoped what she said was adequate, opening her mind to all there is to this world. Suddenly she didn’t see her little girl in front of her anymore. Hannah was becoming her own person, understanding life’s strifes and harmonies. June wished she could tell her everything she knew, prepare her for what will come. But she will stay back, for now, letting Hannah choose to come to her whenever it was needed. It was better that way. Though it was sad to see her grow up, Hannah was now in a place where she could understand things better, handle concepts with maturity. And that was why June had to tell her the truth.

“Hannah,” June held in her breath. “I need to tell you something about Nick and me.”

Hannah’s smile faded and she became worried. “Is everything okay?”

June folded her hands on the table, hesitating. “Do you remember when I visited you at your old summerhouse?”

Hannah was thinking back on the painful memory. “Yes.”

“And you saw that I was going to have a baby?”

Hannah nodded slowly. “You couldn’t keep it.”

“No, that’s not what happened.”

She looked at her with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Some very good people found a way for her to be in Canada. That’s where she is now, with your father and Aunt Moira.”

Hannah’s eyes were wide, trying to understand this. “I have a sister?”

“Yes, her name is Holly, after your grandmother.”

“Holly…” She let the name linger in the air. “What about her Commander? Wouldn’t he want her back?”

June shook her head, thinking back on the sweetest dish of revenge she ever served. “He’s not her father.”

“Nick?”

“I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around.” She sighed. “And you can be as mad as you want at me. I deserve it.”

Hannah got up from the table and paced the small room. She paused for a moment to stare out the window, the snow melting off the aspen trees. She nibbled on her fingernails absentmindedly. Eventually, she turned around to face June. “She’s in Canada?”

There it was. This was the part June wanted to avoid most of all. Would Hannah reject her for it? Would she become jealous of Holly? Resentful even? No one could ever replace Hannah in June’s heart. She hoped she knew that.

“Yes,” June’s eyes welled up. “And I’m so, so sorry I failed to get you there first.”

“But you came back.”

June sniffled. “What?”

“You had to let go, but you came back.” Hannah walked over to her. “Wasn’t that what you said about love?”

June rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around her, relieved that Hannah held on tightly. How did she get to be so smart? “I love you so much.” She leaned down and gently kissed her forehead.

Hannah pulled back and smiled at her. “Lucky for you, I always wanted a sister.”

June let out a small laugh and pulled her back in again. She reminded herself of the promise she made to have her daughters be together and grow up free. It was going to happen. It had to. With all her heart, soul, and strength, she wasn’t going to let Gilead win. Here, holding her Hannah was the greatest triumph of all.

Chapter Text

It was the final night of Hannah’s extended stay at the Blaine household before she would return home. However, in just a few moments, “home” wouldn’t exist for anyone. In fact, this night was their last in Colorado. They were like sitting ducks, oblivious to the violence and fate of their lives. Little did they know that what they were capable of doing would be proven, by no other choice. A test of loyalty, a test of courage, a test of strength.

It would be a lie if Nick tried to say he didn’t see this coming. They were happening for a few weeks now, the executions. The gunshots painfully echoed in the Colorado mountainous countryside, every night like clockwork, getting closer and closer.

“What is that?” Ruth had asked him one night after dinner.

“Just hunters,” Nick tried to brush it off.

“At night?” Ruth could see right through him, as usual.

Oh, what was the point in lying to her? They needed to come up with a plan in case they were next, and they would be at some point. Now was the time to lay it all out on the table, no matter how much it reeked of hopelessness, fear, and death. So he told them. He told them about the Peacekeepers, the future of Gilead, and what the Council was planning. There was no mercy, no deals, no forgiveness. A slate wiped clean. A new era was upon them, along with a new impressionable generation who barely knew anything about the Before. This wasn’t about birthing babies anymore; it was about control. Perhaps it had always been that way.

Nick felt better once Ruth and Summer knew about what was happening, and a little closer, too. They didn’t take it well at first, and it took plenty of convincing, but he believed they understood the purpose of what they had to do. It turned out that Summer was no stranger to shooting a gun. Hunting was the only activity she and her father could enjoy without fighting. Ruth, on the other hand, needed some practice. If only her words shot bullets, she would’ve been an expert marksman. The gravity of it all wasn’t mentioned between the three of them. Maybe they were too scared. Maybe there was a slight hope that it couldn’t happen, not to them.

Keeping Hannah and June safe was also a priority. For now, Nick told Hannah to stay the nights at the cabin with June so at least they would be safe. He made another difficult deal with Commander MacKenzie to keep her until after his so-called “honeymoon,” which bought them some more time, but not enough. It helped that the Peacekeepers only came during the night, but that could always change, of course. Nick wasn’t prepared for that. Part of him felt foolish for staying. But what could he do? His request for a car kept being denied time after time as if someone didn’t want him to leave. Taking MacKenzie’s car was out of the question as that would take too long to convince him even on that.

This then left him with face-to-face confrontation. Dealing with the Eyes felt like a beachside vacation as compared to this. At least he knew their tactics and jurisdictions. However, with the Peacekeepers, anything goes. He’ll have to idolize Gilead itself, sing praises to it until the toxic vomit burned a hole in the back of his throat. Anything that they could have a problem with was incinerated and disposed of. Whatever had to be kept was hidden as cleverly as possible. His house was nearly empty now, just a shell, just a skeleton of what a home could be. Thinking that Summer, Ruth, and he could take down such a team of Gilead loyalists sounded unthinkable and impossible, but that line of thought had no territory in Nick’s mind. It was to kill or be killed, at this point.

And so, on their last night in Colorado (unaware to any of them), Nick stood guard at the front door as he did for the past week. He was looking through the window, waiting on that dark green van of theirs, listening to the proximity of the gunshots. He felt like he was back in Chicago, at the front lines of the war. Only this time he didn’t have a whole team behind him, just a Wife and a Martha. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever got them killed, so he avoided that avenue altogether. He had enough to worry about.

Suddenly, he heard the back screen door screech open and closed. He jumped, startled at such an unexpected noise. He turned around and saw through the darkness Hannah strolling through, out of breath.

“What are you doing here?” Nick asked her sternly, leaving no room for humor. “Get back to the cabin.”

“I will, just let me get my scissors first.” Hannah started going up the stairs. “I can’t believe I left them!”

“What?” Nick shook his head, “No, you need to go. Come on.” He beckoned her.

She waved him off and continued up the stairs. “I can’t get any work done without them.”

“Forget about the stupid scissors!” Nick shouted at her and brought her back down. “It isn’t safe here, and you know that.”

“It’ll only be a minute!” Hannah struggled to release herself from his tight grip on her arm. “Let me go!”

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” Nick was hurt that she wasn’t taking this seriously. Right now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. Didn’t she know how much danger she was in? “You need to leave, Hannah. Now.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be quick, I promise!”

Nick quickly took her to the back door and nearly dragged her down the porch stairs. “Go, you can’t stay here.”

Hannah stayed put, planting her feet on the ground, not moving an inch towards the woods. A cool breeze passed through, rustling her pink cloak in the air.

“This isn’t a game!” he cried out. “Go, Hannah! Please!”

“Why do you have to be so mean?” she complained, folding her arms.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Nick placed a hand on her shoulder and started leading her to the woods. “What can I do to make you understand that?”

“You’re overreacting!” Hannah argued back.

Nick sighed tiredly. Why does this have to be so hard? He let the gunshots fill in the silence for a few moments while they hurriedly walked. The ground was wet and soft from the melting snow, making it a little difficult to make time. “Don’t you hear that?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Guns?”

“Yes, and that means when I tell you to stay at the cabin, you stay at the cabin.” Nick kept walking her forward. “There’s no arguing about this.”

“Whatever,” she huffed.

Once they reached halfway to the woods, there was a pause in the gunshots, but only for a moment. An engine from up the road could be heard now, its headlights illuminating the way. The late winter full moon revealed that it was indeed a dark green van, with an olive branch emblem on the side. No, no, no, no. Nick placed both of his shaking hands on Hannah’s shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Go back to your mother. Do not leave. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”

Hannah watched as the van stopped at her house. Tears were in her eyes. “I-I can’t.” She shook her head. “I’m scared.”

“You can, I know you can.” He cupped her tear-stroked cheek. “You need to be brave for me, okay?” He pushed her forward a little. “Please, Hannah, go.”

There was a flash and the clear sound of a gunshot. Hannah stayed petrified, crying, shaking her head.

Nick pushed her harder this time. “GO!”

At last, Hannah started running towards the woods, looking back only a few times. Nick watched as she disappeared within the safety of the trees, hoping it wasn’t his last time ever seeing her again. The Peacekeepers were in the MacKenzie household now, his Guardians doing their best counterattack. As Nick sprinted back to his house, he tried to count the gunshots to see how much time they had left, but there were too many. Besides, his heart was beating louder than the shots anyway.

“Summer! Ruth!” Nick shouted up the stairs. To his surprise, he didn’t need to repeat himself. Their bedroom door opened immediately as if they already knew what was happening. Who couldn’t? They came slowly down the moonlit stairs, dressed in their day clothes. Ruth wore her gray head covering she hated, and Summer attempted to look nicer, wearing one of her best teal dresses, the silk taffeta one with a full skirt. They were expecting this, then. However, anxiety was thickly plastered all over their faces. They avoided his eyes, letting the shots become their only background noise. Nick began the plan by throwing Ruth his office keys. “Get the gun.”

Ruth turned and went back up the stairs, leaving Summer alone at the landing. Her fists were clenched tight, and she was visibly shaking. Nick pitied her.

“You know, there might be some time left,” he told her in a calm voice. “You could hide or go to the cabin.”

She tightened her jaw and stood up straighter. “No, I can do this.”

Nick nodded, feeling anxious himself. Should he get a couple of knives just in case? The shovel from downstairs? Just as Ruth returned from his office, slipping the gun in her apron pocket, there was a loud pounding at the front door. Nick swallowed hard.

Summer jumped and caught her breath in her throat. She slowly walked to the door, placing her hand on the cool brass handle, and painting on a bright smile. “Hello, gentlemen,” she welcomed them in a rather relaxed voice, thickening her accent on purpose for some added southern charm. “How can I help you?”

“This is the Blaine household, correct?” Four young men were standing at the door wearing dark green jumpsuits and helmets that completely hid their faces. Around their shoulders were automatic rifles and rounds of ammunition. Pistols were holstered on their belts. It was difficult to see them through only moonbeams, but deeds such as these had to be done in the dark. Whoever spoke sounded not quite done with puberty, which only made this worse.

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Blaine and this is my husband, Nick,” Summer gestured behind her where Nick was. She nodded towards Ruth, who was standing on the stairs from above, with folded hands and a lowered head. “This is our Martha, Ruth.”

One of the boys was reading off of a clipboard as if they were names that simply needed to be crossed off, stealing lives that weren’t theirs to take. “They’re accounted for.”

“Before we get to business,” the first Peacekeeper announced, “we found that the young girl from next door is missing, Agnes MacKenzie. Do you know where she is?”

Nick’s stomach tensed, and he could barely get any oxygen into his lungs. “She’s probably at a friend’s house. You know how girls are at that age.”

“Negative, we checked,” another Peacekeeper replied.

Nick had a feeling of what that insinuated, but part of him didn’t want to accept it as true.

“Well, I’m sure she’s somewhere,” Summer tried to offer with a smile.

“May we enter?” the first Peacekeeper asked as he led the way in. He stayed put in the entryway as the rest of them searched the house, going up the stairs and into the basement.

“Is there a problem?” Nick asked him carefully.

The Peacekeeper paced around the empty room, opening drawers and the hallway closet. “‘For you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.’” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Blessed are the Peacekeepers, for they shall be called sons of God.”

“Peacemakers,” Nick boldly corrected.

The boy got into his face, poking the muzzle of his gun in Nick’s side. “I said what I said!”

“She’s not here,” a Peacekeeper announced breathlessly as he returned from the basement, and the rest soon followed into the entryway.

“Alright, assuming you hid her, we’ll just add it to the list of your charges,” their leader told them.

“What charges?” Summer questioned, this time with more strength and hostility.

“Well, I think they deserve to know that much!” the leader said jovially to the rest of his team. “What do you think, Nathan?”

The one with the clipboard stepped forward. “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat, “Ruth Lau is charged with gender treachery, literacy, and illicit business. Punishment is death. Summer Blaine is charged with gender treachery, possession of contraceptives, literacy, and attempted escape. Punishment is death.” He took in a deep breath, “And Commander Nick Blaine is charged with, well, everything.”

A few of the Peacekeepers snickered, but their leader wasn’t amused. “Read it, Nathan.”

Nathan looked down at his clipboard. “Espionage, illicit business, assisting the resistance, attempted multiple escapes of a handmaid, having sexual intercourse with the said handmaid and a Martha, adultery, successful escape of a child, literacy education to a Daughter, manipulation of an Aunt, deception, and just general disloyalty, I guess.” He shrugged. “Punishment is death.”

“And?” the leader edged on.

Nathan hesitated, trying to remember. “Oh, and you’re all charged with the kidnapping and hiding of a Daughter.” He shrugged again and added weakly, “Punishment is death.”

“I voted for you on the Council,” Nick argued. “I’m on your side.”

“What Council?” A Peacekeeper scoffed. “The Council is dead. You’re the last Commander. Consider this mercy.”

“What evidence do you have?” Summer demanded.

“You’d be surprised how much people will talk to save themselves,” the leader replied. “Nathan, read them the list, just for fun.”

Nathan sighed and flipped over some papers on his clipboard. “First, we found the Martha Network--well, most of them anyway. Then what you call ‘Mayday,’ which was pretty hard if I’ll be honest. And Mrs. Blaine’s father proved to be exceptionally helpful. Finally, we got a hold of an Aunt Dawn and an old friend of Mr. Blaine’s, a Wife, who is in the Colonies.”

“My father?” Summer’s heart broke. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now,” the leader said coldly. “He’s dead. They’re all dead. Except for the Wife; it would’ve been a waste of resources, as you could understand.”

A Peacekeeper chuckled. “You should’ve seen how much they begged! On their knees and everything! Pathetic.”

Nick clenched his jaw. Anger was boiling up inside him, ready to spill out. The clear disregard for the lives they stole--the lives he cared about--offended him deeply. There had to be vengeance. He looked up at Ruth, who was silent and still on the stairs and then at Summer who was across the small room. He gave them a slight nod, initiating the next step in their plan. Ruth put her hand in her apron pocket and Summer carefully and gently removed the pistol from the Peacekeeper next to her. They were all too busy laughing and reminiscing about their little field trips and robberies to notice this exchange.

Once there was a lull in their heartless conversation, the leader cleared his throat and announced, “Alright, let’s get this over with.” Three Peacekeepers lifted their guns, each having their own target. “Make this one quick, please. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

“Get out of my house!” Summer shouted and aimed the pistol at all of them.

“Shè!” Nick yelled, telling Ruth to start shooting.

It all happened so fast, yet it felt like slow motion to Nick. They finally reached it. They finally got to fight back. All those weeks of planning and practicing led to this moment. And it had to be executed flawlessly; it was the three of them against four highly trained soldiers with multiple guns. This was the type of odds Nick didn’t want to mess around with. However, from what he saw in the corner of his eye, he knew who was going to be the victor tonight. Ruth shot as many times she could, barely able to balance herself from the kickback. Summer shot along with her, keeping her arms straight and eyes focused. The Peacekeepers retaliated expectedly. Nick, having no weapon of his own, fought with hand and foot. He had at least ten years their senior, so it wasn’t too overwhelmingly difficult to maintain control. The shots kept coming, bang, bang, bang, stimulating a sharp pain in Nick’s ears. Blood splattered over the white walls and wooden floors. Nick felt it drip onto his skin and dress shirt. Whose was it?

Nick kept throwing punches and kicks, all while avoiding the bullets, trying to seize a gun for himself. Every time he felt weak, he reminded himself again of his daily affirmations. June loves you. Holly loves you. They are both safe. They are both free. You can get Hannah out. You can help. Fred is dead. Serena will soon be, too. This was for them, the ones he was protecting and the ones Gilead killed in some way or another. Their faces came to mind as he threw a Peacekeeper on the ground and stood over him. He finally grabbed his pistol and made no hesitation to shoot, right under his helmet at the back of the neck where it was exposed.

It was over.

A few moments passed before Nick realized the dead silence that followed. His ears were still ringing, and he heard his heart pound like a drum. All four bodies lay lifeless on the ground in a pool of each other’s blood. Nick was relieved a light wasn’t on to reveal the honest horror of it all. The moonlight showed enough. Ruth was hunched over the stair railing, gagging. Summer was trembling and crying, her eyes focused on her hand holding the pistol. She released it, letting it clang loudly on the floor, absolutely disgusted with what she had just done. With fire in her eyes, she marched over to Nick and beat him hard on his chest repeatedly.

“It didn’t have to be this way!” She yelled at him, her tears merging with the blood on her cheeks. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

“There was nothing else we could do, Summer!” Nick shouted back, struggling to take her hands away. All of his strength was exhausted from the fight, and he felt his muscles giving up on him fast.

“This isn’t who I am,” she said, still hitting him. “They didn’t have to die. I killed them.” She was breathing hard now, getting caught up in her emotions. “I killed them! I can’t take it back. They’re dead. I killed them!”

Nick finally took hold of her wrists. “You’ve done it before; what’s the problem?”

“On animals!” she screamed. “These were people!”

“Boys,” Ruth managed to say after dry-heaving. She went down the stairs wobbly and knelt at the closest Peacekeeper. She removed the heavy helmet and revealed an acne-plastered face and a barely-there mustache. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “He was just a boy,” Ruth cried. She looked at her hands in horror once she saw they were covered in someone else’s blood. She gagged again. Once she gained her composure, she glared at Nick. “You did this.” She got up on her feet and strode over to him, nearly slipping on the floor. “You did this, Nick!” She shoved him backward. “There could’ve…there could’ve been some way to avoid this! Look what you’ve done.”

“You’re bleeding,” Nick told her. He tried to wipe away the blood on her face where a bullet must’ve grazed her. She flinched and stepped back, heading towards the kitchen.

Summer stood off to the side, arms folded, looking down at the bodies. She shook her head. “I guess the Princess and her daughter are safe, huh?” She glared at Nick. “You’re welcome.”

“What’s your problem, Summer?” Nick argued back, tired of getting yelled at. “You knew the plan, you knew what we were doing. I even gave you a way out.”

“There had to have been another way,” she cried quietly.

“Yeah, but we stopped them,” he offered. “We won this time.”

She frowned at him. “There’s no winning if people are dead, Nick.”

“He’s right, Summer,” Ruth spoke up, holding a damp rag to her wound. “They were just going to move on to the next house.”

Summer knitted her eyebrows. “You’re okay with this?” She gestured to all the blood and death.

“Of course not,” Ruth answered. “This isn’t who I am either. In fact, I blame Nick for all of this.”

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose where a headache formed. “Get to the point, Ruth.”

“We did save June and Hannah,” she shrugged. “Plus whoever was next. And we are still alive against some pretty terrible odds. I think that means something.”

Summer simply sighed and shook her head.

“Listen, I don’t feel great about it either,” Nick admitted. “You think this is who I am, too? I wish it never happened. I wish they didn’t feel like they had to send boys to do their dirty work. I wish Gilead didn’t exist. I wish we weren’t even here right now. But I’ve been here too long to know how this works. And what just happened was rare.”

Summer twisted her mouth and thought for a moment. “I suppose it did feel good to fight back for once. And to save lives, too.” She kicked a Peacekeeper’s leg. “So what are we going to do about this? I’m sure they have someone they need to report back to.”

“I’m not cleaning this up,” Ruth simply stated.

They all stood staring at the mess, knowing it would be impossible to get all the blood out of the floorboards, let alone figure out what to do with the bodies. There was a chill in the air, a strange stillness. Nick felt the same sensation he had when his mother died at the hospital. She was there, but not there at the same time, as if her soul remained for just a few minutes. The room felt sacred, knowing there was an indescribable presence in it that shouldn’t be disturbed. Call it post-murder euphoria, but Nick swore he felt those boys’ souls in that entryway. Something felt off or wrong. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be there any longer. However, as he kept staring, he saw something metal gleaming in the moonlight on the leader’s belt. He knew what it was. It was the keys to their van.

“I have an idea,” Nick announced, knowing this could very well change everything from now on.

Chapter Text

“Tell me exactly what he said, word for word,” June demanded. She was pacing the cabin wood floor, as she had been doing for the past half hour.

Hannah sighed and rolled her eyes. She already gave an account of everything Nick told her before she reluctantly returned to the cabin. Apparently, it wasn’t good enough. “I told you, he said to stay here until he comes back. We aren’t supposed to leave.”

June shook her head with her hands on her hips, determined about something. “He should be back by now.”

Hannah was sitting comfortably on the bed in the corner, going over June’s editing comments on one of her recent stories. She was tough, and a little mean, but Hannah knew she would have to accept criticism if she was ever going to improve. Besides, this was all that she could do for the time being. Nick’s black trousers hung over one of the chairs at the table, waiting to be hemmed. If only she had her stupid scissors, she could finish them. Why didn’t he just let her get them?

“Be patient,” Hannah told her calmly, “he knows what he’s doing. Everything is going to be fine.”

June began putting on a pair of socks. “You don’t know that, Hannah.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have let you go there.”

I shouldn’t have begged, Hannah wanted to say.

“They could be hurt,” June continued. “Or even dead.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out in the morning, now won’t we?” Hannah argued back. “We have to stay here. It’s not safe.”

“They might need our help,” June put on her wool cloak and began buttoning it.

“You’ll get me in trouble,” Hannah said quietly, knowing there’s nothing she could say that would change her mother’s mind.

June sighed, pausing at the door. “I’ll just take a quick look, and then I’ll be back, okay?”

Before Hannah could reply, there was an impatient knock at the door. Hannah’s muscles relaxed, knowing who it was and that he was thankfully still alive. It was finally over. June quickly opened the door. In came rushing Nick, Miss Summer, and Miss Ruth, looking ragged, tired, and worried. Splattered blood was all over their clothes and skin. It pained Hannah the most to see Miss Summer look so drained, her party dress ruined and sunshine eclipsed.

“What happened?” June asked them. Her eyes were stuck on Nick, watching his every move as if her brain was still registering that he was alive.

“I’ll explain later,” Nick told her breathlessly. “It’s time to go.”

“What?” June asked again.

“Let’s just talk about it with June first,” Miss Summer interjected, sounding desperate. “See what she thinks.”

“Talk about what?” June questioned, still confused.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” Nick tiredly responded to Miss Summer. He was collecting the important papers June didn’t allow Hannah to see.

“I agree with Summer,” Miss Ruth announced unsurprisingly.

June simply folded her arms, appearing annoyed, waiting on an answer.

“He wants to take their van,” Miss Summer told June, “under some sort of disguise, and make it to Canada. I think he lost his mind!” She threw her arms up.

June was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, what other choice do we have?”

“Are you kidding me?” Miss Summer retorted. “What happens if we get caught? With their van?”

“We won’t get caught,” Nick assured them. “I told you, no one would have the courage to question us. The van alone has enough power to scare anyone.”

“I say we take MacKenzie’s car,” Miss Ruth suggested. “Do it properly.”

“Now that’s a good way to get caught,” Nick disagreed, almost laughing. “It wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Then we’ll just walk to Canada!” Miss Summer said sarcastically. “Lord knows, we need the fresh air!”

June sighed. “What about the Eyes? Guardians? Checkpoints?”

“That’s why we’ll drive through as Peacekeepers,” Nick answered simply. “They own every inch of Gilead now. The Eyes and Guardians--they don’t mean anything anymore. We would have the power.”

Hannah sat quietly in the corner and listened as the adults argued back and forth on what they should do. They didn’t even bother to ask what she thought. But did her opinion even matter? The more she watched them, the more she felt like it did. They were behaving like children her age. They weren’t listening well to what was being said, and there was some bitterness lying underneath it all. Something happened back at the house that changed them. What was it? Hannah’s ears were starting to hurt as well as her head. This had to be over soon. How much time did they have left?

Hannah bit the inside of her cheek, thinking about how to stop this. What she had in mind wasn’t what good little girls did, but perhaps that didn’t matter anymore. She silently got off the bed and went to the shelf where June kept the ceramic dishes. No one noticed her movements. Hands were flying in the air and voices were raised just as high. She hadn’t seen any of them like this before. Taking in a deep breath, she grabbed a white plate. She glanced up at them, her heart beating fast, and threw the plate down on the wooden floor, shattering it into tiny pieces.

All was silent again.

Four pairs of eyes looked over at her, shocked.

“Hannah--” June began.

“I’m not sorry,” Hannah stood her ground.

Nick looked at her apologetically. His eyes softened, humbling himself. “Hannah,” he began, “what do you think?”

“We’re seriously asking a child--” Miss Ruth began.

Nick looked back at her and she stopped talking.

Hannah bit her lip, never thinking she would make it this far. “Well, um, what exactly are Peacekeepers anyway?”

“They’re like the Eyes, but ten times worse,” June explained to her.

Worse? How was that even possible? Why would Gilead do such a thing? It didn’t make any sense. She remembered the shooting she heard before running back to the woods. Was her Commander even alive right now? What did he do wrong? “So they’re bad guys?”

Nick nodded. “They get to do whatever they want.”

Miss Ruth’s idea was to take her Commander’s car. Hannah didn’t think that would work. First, there wasn’t enough space for all of them, and second, it smelled strange in there. She would surely become nauseous during the hundreds or so hours it would take for them to finally arrive in Canada. Miss Summer’s idea was to go on foot, but maybe that was just a joke. Hannah also didn’t like this option, mainly because she didn’t feel like walking that far. Was that a good enough reason? This left Nick’s plan, which June appeared to be leaning toward, too. It seemed logical. Hannah always wanted to go in disguise, like a character in one of her stories. And if everything Nick said was true, then certainly no one would catch them.

“Then let’s be the bad guys,” Hannah was solid in her decision.

There was a proud look on June’s face, which told Hannah she did the right thing.

“Alright, get what you need,” Nick resumed gathering the papers. “We won’t be coming back.”

Hannah didn’t have much to pack. As she was supposed to go back home tomorrow, all she had left with her was what she required for the night. She took a pink dress, her stories, one of her dolls, and her traveling sewing kit. There were a few things hidden at Nick’s house, plus everything she had at her own if they had time. Was that going to be too much? But she couldn’t leave her belongings behind. They were all she had in this great, big world.

It didn’t occur to her until she was finished packing that she would have to say goodbye to the cabin, never seeing it again for the rest of her life. It couldn’t be. This was her safe space. Most of her best memories happened in this small little room. Nick fixed it up so well and June made it feel like home. Where would she find that in Canada? Where would she go? She tried not to cry. She had to be strong for all of them, be an example. June seemed to have sensed her struggle, as she pulled her into a warm hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

“By the time we’ll be in Canada, you’ll forget all about this place,” June told her quietly.

Hannah doubted that was true. What place could be better than this? Maybe she could say she changed her mind. They could all live here in the cabin instead. No one would know. They could hunt for food and get water from the brook. She could take long walks through the woods. Make up some more stories. They could perhaps even build another level or something, in case things got a little too crowded. Her house and Nick’s house had plenty they could take from, too. It could work, couldn’t it?

“Ready?” Nick asked them, slinging a canvas bag stuffed with the papers over his shoulder.

“Hannah, it’s time to go,” June told her, withdrawing from the embrace.

Hannah took in a deep breath. It was time to let go and grow up. Maybe there already was a cabin in the woods behind her house in Canada. She didn’t want to ask June in case this wasn’t true. She had to hold on to this hope, as it was one of the few things that made their journey attractive. They blew out all the candles and tried to die out the fire in the fireplace as much as possible. Whatever was left could be for someone in need, as Nick put it. Hannah didn’t think about this before, and it made her feel slightly better.

It was better to say goodbye and not look back. And so that’s what Hannah did. They made their way through the cold woods silently. Nick and June were up ahead, walking close together and whispering. Miss Ruth simply had her arm around Miss Summer, who seemed to have given up. The full moon lit the way, but Hannah knew it by the back of her hand even in total darkness. This made her heart sink. Would she ever know anything that well? Nick and she worked hard to make the path, and now it will never be walked on again. This type of feeling troubled her. No one would ever know how the pine trees smelled or how the babbling brook sounded during the springtime. Or how the sun poked through the leaves during the afternoon, creating lace patterns on the ground or all the little woodland creatures that came out to say hello, just to her. No one would ever get to know what it was like. She wanted to hug each tree, saying sorry it had to be this way, that she would always remember them. Who would love them after she was gone? Would they die and shrivel up, just like they did in The Secret Garden?

Once they made it out of the woods, Hannah noticed something glowing orange in her front yard. Her muscles tensed. She picked up her pace, going ahead of everyone else, her walking turning into a brisk jog. Once she got closer, she saw something flicker and dance, like flames. It was a fire. Something was on fire in her front yard. She dropped her bag right where she was and ran through the grass field toward her house. About halfway there, grief overtook her and she fell to her knees. The air in her lungs escaped, hot tears running down her face. She didn’t need to see up close what the fire was for. She already knew the answer deep within her heart.

“Dinah…” This was the only time Hannah allowed herself to speak her Martha’s name. The curse was real, then. How many Marthas did that make now? She didn’t want to count. Suddenly, another Martha wrapped her arms around her and brought her up to her feet. Miss Ruth. She was still alive, wasn’t she?

“Come on, you don’t need to see this,” Miss Ruth told her, rushing her to the front door of Nick’s house.

Everything around her was blurry. “What happened?”

Miss Ruth tore off her blood-stained head covering and placed it in front of Hannah’s eyes and began tying it behind her head. “I’ll help you up the stairs.”

Hannah was led inside. She couldn’t see anything, just darkness. It smelled different, like something metal. The air was cold, but something else was there, something she couldn’t describe. Once she made it up the stairs, Miss Ruth untied the makeshift blindfold and told her to get anything she needed. Miss Summer was in Nick’s room, probably gathering her belongings. She had to move some of her things there, so the Peacekeepers wouldn’t know she shared a room with Miss Ruth. June was in Nick’s office, collecting whatever was in there. Hannah wasn’t allowed to know what was in that room.

Hannah went to her bedroom. It was mostly empty as most of her things were moved back to her house. They would have to be left there, forever. She didn’t want to go back, not with what she saw in her front yard. She went over to her dresser and opened the last drawer. Nick built in a false bottom, so she could hide her books underneath. She was glad she decided to keep a few here. She took The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Winnie the Pooh, and Anne of Green Gables. Oops, was that too many? Hannah didn’t think that was possible. Besides, would she have any books in Canada? She rather not take any chances.

She then went over to the bedside table and pulled out its drawer. Inside were those scissors she was missing, gleaming in the moonlight. She took them in her hands with great accomplishment. She might need them on their journey. These sharp scissors wouldn’t necessarily have to be used to cut fabric if it came down to it, and Hannah knew this very well.

“Here, change into these,” Hannah heard Nick say to the women. She saw him out in the hallway holding dark green jumpsuits, the very same he was wearing. It was a little tight on him in places, but Hannah didn’t think she had time to do anything about it.

“What did you find?” June asked him as she took her jumpsuit.

“These, some food, personal items, mostly gear,” Nick answered her. “There was an itinerary, though, and some directions. They were heading back east.”

“That’s good, right?” she asked, unbuttoning her cloak.

“I think so, but…” Nick trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Summer is right about one thing--”

“Thank you!” Miss Summer interrupted from the other room.

“Whoever sent them,” Nick continued, “they are probably expecting a report soon. Who knows how much time we have left.”

“Alright,” June sighed, handing him a box. “Everything should be in here. Let me change and we’ll leave.”

Nick stopped by Hannah’s empty room. She was pretending she wasn’t listening to their conversation by reading the back cover of Winnie the Pooh.

“Hey,” Nick said, leaning against the door frame.

Hannah looked up at him. The moonlight revealed his tired eyes and some blood left on his cheek. His dark hair was ruffled, and a stubble grew on the lower half of his face. He looked different somehow. She didn’t know what to say to him.

He nodded at the box in his hands. “I got your stories. They’re safe.”

She shrugged, “Thanks.”

“You ok?”

Her mind took her back to what she saw in the fire at her house. How did all of this happen? What did her Commander do to deserve this? Her Martha even? She felt guilty that she was still alive. She was probably the one that was breaking the most rules out of all of them. It wasn’t fair. Now she got to escape to the magical land of Canada while they burned to death. It felt wrong.

Nick set down the box and ripped a piece of paper. He grabbed a marker from the box also and handed it to her. “Can you do something for me?”

Hannah looked at the scrap paper and black marker in her hands. “What is it?”

“I need you to write a message.”

Me? Certainly, everyone else was capable of doing that. Why her? Hannah rose from the bed and placed the paper on top of the dresser. She yanked off the marker lid, waiting on his instruction.

“Just three words,” Nick said slowly. “‘You did this.’ Got it?”

“Who’s it for?”

“Them.”

Them? Hannah was too scared to ask what that meant. She did as she was told, writing the three words large and thick. YOU DID THIS. She handed it back to Nick, who smiled at the message she wrote. This must’ve been a pretty big deal if it elicited that type of response from him.

“You ready?” June was now at the door, wearing the green jumpsuit. Her’s fit a little better than Nick’s. It was odd seeing her in something other than teal dresses.

Hannah gathered her books to her chest and slipped the scissors into her dress pocket. She nodded. Miss Summer and Miss Ruth were wearing the jumpsuits, too. They looked even more different than June. Hannah wanted to wear one also, but maybe there were only enough for four. Besides, she wouldn’t think one would fit her, even if she tried some alterations. Miss Summer was holding a box of her belongings. Miss Ruth, on the contrary from everyone else, had nothing.

“They can keep it for all I care,” Miss Ruth told Hannah after she asked her why she wasn’t taking anything. She was tying a hand towel around Hannah’s eyes.

“What is this for anyway?” Hannah was trying to pull the towel down.

Miss Ruth tightened her knot. “That stuff will give you nightmares. I know I’ll have them.”

What stuff? Hannah held on to Miss Ruth’s cold hand as they went down the stairs. Once they were outside, she could smell the smoke and an acrid stench. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Wait, my bag,” Hannah stopped walking.

“It’s fine, Miss Summer has it,” Miss Ruth told her calmly. She finally removed the towel from her eyes. They didn’t need to adjust much as the only light came from the moon above and the fire at her house. At least the moon will still be the same in Canada.

After a few moments, Nick, June, and Miss Summer came out of the house, each holding on to supplies. They all met up at the back door of the dark green van.

“I’ll drive first,” Nick volunteered. “It took three days for June to get here, so it shouldn’t take us more than that.”

“Shouldn’t we come up with a plan if they catch us?” Miss Summer asked.

Nick opened the back door to the van. A warm light turned on inside, revealing two green padded benches along the sides and storage underneath. He pulled out a drawer closest to him and took out a helmet. “Wear these if we get pulled over. Guns are on the other side in the middle drawer.” He hoisted some of their supplies in the van. “But it should be a smooth ride all the way there.”

“What should we do about Hannah?” Miss Ruth asked.

“They won’t get to Hannah if you remember how to use your gun,” Nick replied curtly.

“I’ll be up front with Nick,” June offered, tying back her blonde hair.

“We knew that,” Miss Ruth said, finishing loading up the van.

Miss Summer pulled Hannah close to her. She said to June, “We’ll keep her safe.”

June looked sad for a moment and nodded her head. She cupped Hannah’s cheek. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be right up front if you need anything.”

Hannah nodded, wanting this to be over with already. She looked over at Nick’s dark, dilapidated house. She didn’t feel anything towards it. Perhaps it was dead all along. It gave her nothing but nightmares and a sense of lost permanence. Sure, she enjoyed the moments she had there, but the house didn’t have anything to do with it. Miss Summer, Miss Ruth, and Nick were still with her. As long as she had them, it wouldn’t matter where they would be.

She looked over to her house for only a moment. Her heart began to ache. That was her home. That was where she met Nick, hosted slumber parties with her friends, spent hours in her little sewing room, and even took those stupid piano lessons. She became a young woman in that house, if you could even call her that. But no, she didn’t want to go back. Not after what they did to her household. She’d seen enough death for now.

They climbed in the van and Nick closed the door behind them, the light shutting off. Moonlight streamed through the tinted windows, but it was still difficult to see. Miss Ruth collapsed on one of the benches, laying on her side. Hannah and Miss Summer sat across from her. She saw Nick and June climb into the front seats and close the door. There wasn’t a partition blocking the front and back of the van, which made her feel better and more connected to her mother and Nick.

Taking the road east apparently meant passing her house. Hannah kept her eyes glued to the window; she couldn’t help it. Miss Summer tried to distract her, turning her face away. But she kept on looking. They soon came upon her house, the fire illuminating the whole van, with an orange glow. She couldn’t see bodies anymore. Maybe that was a good thing. Hannah turned from the window and faced Miss Ruth, who was already fast asleep.

Miss Summer put her arm around her and started humming a dreamy song. “Somewhere, a river of happiness flows. We'll sit on its banks while the warm breezes blow.” She brushed Hannah’s hair away, and she smiled brightly at her. “Somewhere, there's a garden where only love grows. Somewhere, a river of happiness flows.”

Hannah knew this song, Miss Summer played it all the time. It was by someone named Dolly, which made Hannah like her even better. Miss Summer’s lovely singing tended to brighten her mood, taking her to a place that was somewhere else, somewhere she had never been to. Hannah’s muscles relaxed, and she laid her head on Miss Summer’s shoulder and breathed in her citrus scent that was somehow still around. She watched as the Colorado countryside raced on by, its colors blurring and bleeding into one another.

Chapter Text

“You didn’t tell me they were going to set them on fire,” June whispered at Nick after they drove past Hannah’s abandoned house.

Nick hesitated before replying, “The fires are supposed to be for the most delinquent households. MacKenzie must’ve done things I didn’t even know about.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “I don’t know… I don’t know anything anymore.”

It was difficult to see him like this. He was trying so hard to be everyone’s savior while his own body was beating him. Slept probably hadn’t made its sweet acquaintance in days. He wasn’t eating much anymore, either. June could see him fading right before her eyes. She tried to think of what she could do to alleviate the stress and responsibility. She kept all their notes, intel, and maps with her. But did any of it matter anymore? That plan was scratched, dead, worthless. She hated to see it as so. Nick and she spent countless nights working on it--coming up with answers to questions, solutions to fill in the holes, a safety net to fall back on. She found a flashlight in the glove box and tracked where they were on the map. Taking their original route could work; even the main road would offer no problems. They were Peacekeepers now: the entirety of Gilead was theirs.

June reached out and brought Nick’s right hand to her lap, intertwining their fingers. They were really doing it this time, together. Perhaps it was always meant to be that way. She felt stronger with him by her side, with a reassurance that she wasn’t alone. She hoped Nick felt that way, too. He didn’t have to do it all on his own. She will win against Gilead with him. Their story deserved that much, at least.

Could she have survived this long if the Waterford’s hired a different driver? It would’ve been inevitable to have his child no matter who it was, June believed. Saying no to Serena Joy was an impossible task, regardless of the amount of bravery you had. But what would that driver had done besides that? Care for her? Watch out for her? Believe that she was a human being and not a child-bearing vessel? Perhaps. But would he decide to risk his life repeatedly to save her and his child? Deliver her rapist to be killed? Care for her daughter as if she was his own? Not likely. Someone like that was special, rare even.

“Thank you,” June told him quietly, “for everything.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Nick said in his usual modest way.

If someone else became the second Offred instead, would that woman be right where June was now? Would Nick have cared for her in the same way? Thinking of her life without Nick felt awful, but thinking Nick’s life with someone else was even worse. Was that her being selfish again? Was wanting to keep him all to herself such a bad thing? He’s been married twice already. When would it finally be her turn? However, if she was being honest with herself, the second Offred would’ve met with the same kind brown eyes, gentle tanned hands, and the protective presence around every corner. But would it have been love?

Funny how things end up working out.

June looked behind her shoulder to check on Hannah. She was laying on the bench, using Summer’s lap as a pillow. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep. June used to stare at her when she was a baby, after a long crying fit, her tiny body exhausted. All was silent and right with the world again. Now she was older and moments like these were running out. But at least she was here now, with her. This was all she ever wanted for such a long time. She was finally giving her daughter freedom. A chance to be whoever she wanted to be.

“Is she okay?” Nick asked her.

June’s gaze remained on her for a few more seconds before she set her eyes on the dark road again. “Yeah, she’s sleeping.” Then she had to laugh, “Always sleeping right through the worst of it.”

Nick squeezed her hand. “Hey, everything’s going to be fine.”

“That’s what she told me before you came to the cabin.” June shook her head, “I didn’t believe her.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t think we would make it this far already.”

That actually didn’t calm her nerves at all, but she didn’t want to tell him that. They were passing by a neighborhood, or, what used to be one. All of the houses were emptied, lifeless. Front doors were left wide open, piles of ashes in some front yards, dogs barking in the background. They were driving through a graveyard, each house a headstone. It was a massacre, and it chilled June to her bones.

“What did they do with the children?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it. The thought alone made her body tremble.

“Most were spared,” Nick replied, words laced with hopelessness. “They will be taken to a center where they could be adopted or raised by Marthas.”

“Who’s left to care for them?” June wondered.

“High Commanders and their households,” Nick shrugged. “Otherwise, this whole operation wouldn’t be all that sustainable.”

The High Commanders? They were probably the most corrupt of all. Of course, they would get a pass. They probably fantasized about this moment for months. Now there was even more power to claim, districts to conquer. It was a game this whole time. Lives lost, respect gained. Ripping it up and starting over helps with writing letters, but not with human lives. As long as humanity exists, so will love, freedom, and rebellion. It had always been this way. The Garden of Eden was the most obvious example.

Disturbed, she averted her gaze to her reflection in the side-view mirror. The moon was kind enough to show the dark circles under her eyes, pale cheeks, and forlorn frown. She let go of Nick’s hand and attempted to get comfortable against the passenger door. She promised herself not to give in to sleep, to keep Nick company. The more she looked into her eyes, the more she felt like they weren’t her own. Who was that woman? Where did she come from? What was her story? Her past came at her in a flash, as it usually did when the time and silence allowed. Of all the messed up, terrible things she committed, here she was getting what thousands of women in Gilead dreamed about. How was this fair?

“I have to tell you something,” June began, “something I did that made Lawrence send me here.”

Nick shrugged. “It won’t change anything.”

She didn’t want to say the words out loud. She couldn’t take them back if she did. They’ve been living in her head for so long, collecting dust and cobwebs. They were rusty from lack of use and attention. But it was time to let them go now. She didn’t want the next chapter in her life to be shadowed by secrets, haunted by regrets. If she was leaving Gilead behind for good, she had to empty it from her mind to make room for what will come. She was oh so tired of this game, to which there were no true victor or loser.

“I tried to save them, I really did,” June tried to explain calmly. “I thought it would work.”

Nick’s eyes looked at her softly and then back on the vacant road ahead of them.

June remembered when she told Summer this story. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she met her, and already she was exposing her dark parts. Telling it to a stranger proved to be easier, especially if there was a goal; something to win, someone to impress. It was less personal and the scathing details could be glossed over, romanticized to a point. Summer never looked at her the same again, though. June couldn’t blame her.

“After all, the flight to Canada worked,” June continued as Nick turned onto the main road. “What could go wrong with a supply train heading north?” She shook her head as her eyes burned with tears. She sniffled and calmed her breathing, a strange memory coming back to her. “You know, on my way to Canada, I climbed in a train’s tank car with Janine. It was full of milk, out of all things. God, you wouldn’t believe the smell.”

Nick simply offered a quiet laugh. “I bet that was freezing.”

June bit down on her lip, the humor suddenly vanishing. “They said it was a malfunction or something, and there was a fire. All those children died. Every single one of them.”

He sighed heavily. “Stop blaming yourself; you had no control over it.”

“They were my responsibility,” June said sternly. “I failed them.”

Nick reached over and squeezed her hand again. “Hey, think about what all has happened since.” He nodded toward the back of the van. “That’s what matters now.”

Hannah. She still couldn’t believe her daughter was mere feet away from her, safe and sound. Despite what she did, she was given the rare chance to save Hannah. Maybe this was how she could redeem herself, to prove that she was still a good person. She’ll be getting Summer and Ruth out, too, and that had to count for something. She knew that Gilead changed her; some parts permanently, others she hoped that time could only heal.

June shone the flashlight on the map again. It was difficult to determine where they were, considering they took down all the road signs and replaced them with symbols and numbers. They were getting closer and closer to what Nick and she circled on the route. It was a plan they both agreed to, as a way to tie up loose ends--or, in this case, cut them off altogether. Did he still want to do it after what he had already been through tonight? She couldn’t imagine living peacefully in Canada while this particular opportunity lay bare.

“The Colony should be coming up soon,” June announced, presenting their last chance.

Nick gave a slight nod before saying, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Oh, if only June had her hands around Serena’s long, slender neck right now. She entertained herself in the meantime thinking ways of how to inflict her retribution. Would she give her an option, as she did to Fred? Should she just shoot her? Or, maybe, shoot and hang her for good measure. Yes, shoot, watch her bleed and beg, and then hang her. It would be the most fun.

They devised a quick, revised plan on how to accomplish this. Nick told her the Peacekeepers conveniently kept Serena alive despite her crimes, so this was good news. Naturally, they’ll arrive disguised as Peacekeepers, requesting more information on other Commanders and their households. Nick was sure it would work, as long as they had someone to guard the van simultaneously.

“Ruth!” June whispered loudly into the darkness behind her. No response. From the glove box, she retrieved a heavy metal pen and threw it at her.

Ruth shot up in the air and looked around, her icy eyes falling on June. “What the hell?!” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

“Come here,” June told her.

With a tired sigh, Ruth came over, kneeling behind the center console. “What is it?”

“We need you on the lookout while we do something,” June replied. “We shouldn’t take too long.”

Ruth looked at Nick and then at June. “You woke me up for that?”

“Please, this is important to us,” June implored.

“Look, I think what you two should be focused on is getting us out of here,” Ruth stated plainly. “Sex is the last thing on my mind right now, believe me.”

“What? No, Ruth, listen to me. We need you to guard the van while Nick and I are in the Colony.”

Ruth blinked slowly, brows knitted together. “I’m sorry, you woke me up in the middle of a sleep cycle.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “So, you’re telling me that you two are going off into some Colony? For what? What happened to this grand plan you had?” She laughed, “This is great! Everything is fine!”

“We’re just paying someone a visit, Ruth,” Nick tried to explain. “If you knew who she was, you would understand why this needs to be done.”

Ruth looked at both of them again, her expression downcast. “Oh, so you’re going to kill her.” Her voice sounded disappointed. “Must we sidetrack into more murder? She’s going to die there anyway. It’ll be a waste of time.”

“You have your justice, and I’ll have mine.” June saw that there was no use in explaining her motives when Ruth could never understand her pain.

“She’s the Wife of June’s Commander,” Nick explained for her, “the one she already killed.”

“Oh,” Ruth gulped and didn’t dare to make eye contact with June. “I see.”

It wasn’t long before the Colony was in sight. The land was desolate, dead, and diseased. A few lights were on at the camp, shining in the distance. Ruth gave them their helmets, which completed the disguise and also protected them from the toxic air as much as possible. They turned onto the road with the entrance to the Colony. June’s stomach was tied into knots, doubts racing through her mind. She wanted to look back at Hannah to make sure she was okay, but Ruth was blocking the view. Maybe that was a good thing.

The lone Guardian let them pass. He didn’t even stop them; he simply stepped off to the side, keeping his head down. Oh, how it filled June with utmost pleasure to show off this type of power. She felt invincible, unstoppable, victorious. Nick parked the van close to the entrance. Ruth handed them their pistols, and they exited. Ruth took Nick’s place at the driver’s seat, an automatic rifle in her lap, guarding a sleeping Hannah and Summer. June stood up straight and confident, stretching out her limbs, ready for what was to come. The cool, polluted air was difficult to breathe in, but she knew they wouldn’t be here too long. Nick and she walked further into the camp, arriving at a common space among each of the buildings and dormitories. The Colony was eerily quiet. Outside lights were sporadically posted, revealing how forsaken the land was.

An Aunt approached them, but she kept her distance. Her face was covered in a gas mask, unreadable. But her body was trembling with fear. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

“The Unwoman we spoke with before,” Nick began, his voice strong and authoritative, “we aren’t finished with her yet.”

“Y-yes, sir,” she nodded her head. “I’ll get her for you.”

A few long excruciating moments passed before a barely recognizable Serena Joy Waterford appeared within eyesight. Her honey-colored hair was matted, oozing sores peppered her once smooth skin, and the gray clothes she wore were filthy and tattered. A deep cough escaped from her lungs and one of her legs developed a limp. Despite this rough appearance, empathy did not strike June’s conscience at all. This was only icing to the cake, confetti to the party.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me,” Serena said, her voice hoarse, but entitled nonetheless. “Now, how about that promise?” She coughed a few times. “I have nothing to pack, so I won’t take up too much room.”

So the Peacekeepers played her. This was even better. It was almost comical to see her act so deserving, ignorant of the truth. Nick removed his helmet, causing Serena’s mouth to gape open and eyes grow wide.

“Nick?” Serena breathed out. She tried to straighten her posture, offering her classic stony glare. She folded her dried, cracked hands in front of her. “Well, I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Shut up,” June snapped, taking off her helmet as well. The air was even worse without it, motivating her to get this over with.

Serena looked at her and back to Nick. “I should’ve known after what you did to Fred.”

“You’re welcome,” June threw at her. “How’s the baby?”

Serena clenched her jaw, her hands forming fists.

“It must be so hard to be separated,” June mocked, slowly walking towards her. “How can you go on knowing you’ll never be able to raise your child?” She shook her head. “A good mother wouldn’t let that happen. Wow, I mean, that’s the type of failure I couldn’t live with.”

“I made you!” Serena shrieked, shaking with rage. “The only reason why you two have what you have is because of me. I knew what was going on the whole time. I let it happen. You would have nothing without me. You never thanked me.”

Nick shook his head, “It was rape, Serena.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, it was bound to happen between you two anyway. I just helped it.”

“You took everything from me,” Nick said, his quiet, yet unwavering, voice contrasting her shouting.

“You know exactly where you would’ve ended up--” Serena began.

Nick walked towards her. “My youth, my innocence, my life, my daughter…” He stopped directly in front of her. “I respected you.”

Serena glanced down at the gun in his hands, frightened. “It was Fred. You know, Wives have no choice against the Commander. Maybe, if things were different, I could’ve--”

“Go to hell, Serena,” June cursed at her, holding up her pistol.

“I’m sorry!” Serena cried out with all the strength remaining in her frail body. “I’m sorry, okay?”

In a swift movement, Nick whipped his pistol against her cheek, knocking her forcibly to the ground. “May God give you mercy,” he told her. He stepped over her, his right foot putting his weight on her left forearm. “Serena Joy Waterford, you are charged with crimes against humanity, including enslavement, torture, and rape. Other charges include forced pregnancy and kidnapping.” He aimed the pistol at her forehead. “Punishment is death.”

“No, no, please,” Serena begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Nick--”

June flinched at the bang of the gunshot. When she reopened her eyes, she saw Nick’s hand shaking, and he dropped the gun. His other hand was over his mouth, eyes wide at the gruesome sight underneath him. He was gasping for air, oxygen caught up in his throat. June ran over to him and pulled him in close, placing her forehead against his.

“It’s okay,” June whispered. “It’s over.”

His eyes were closed, and he was shaking his head.

“Thank you,” she told him once more. She held his face tenderly in her hands and kissed him again and again, hoping her sincere gratitude showed in each of her movements, just as it did in the woods in front of Fred. Nick responded just as eagerly and deeply, understanding that here, in a Colony of all places, was where they found their true freedom. June kept him close, relishing on their victory, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She felt like skydiving, jumping into an icy ocean, screaming at the top of her lungs on a mountain summit. She wanted to run.

“I love you,” Nick said against her lips.

June smiled, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I love you,” she said back, kissing him once more.

Nick broke the kiss as he nearly tripped over the lifeless body underneath him. From his pockets, he retrieved a box of matches, probably what the Peacekeepers used to set fire their victims. He handed June a match and stroke one of his own, dropping it on Serena’s corpse. June followed, and the flames gradually grew, its heat warming her skin. Oh, what a sight it was.

A gunshot from the direction of the van broke the silence. Nick and June exchanged a look of panic and quickly put their helmets back on. They sprinted towards the entrance of the camp, June’s feet pounding into the dirt path below. Oh, please let Hannah be safe. When they arrived, they saw Ruth outside the van, still holding her automatic rifle. The Guardian from before laid dead on the ground.

“Ruth!” Nick ran over to her. “What happened?”

“He got too close,” Ruth explained, her voice shaking. “I didn’t like it.”

June was impressed. “Nice job,” she told her.

Ruth appeared uncomfortable with what she had done. “Just…get us out of here, please.”

Nick turned to June, taking off his helmet. “You should get some sleep.”

June removed her helmet as well and shook her head. “No, I’m fine, honestly. You’re the one that needs sleep.”

Nick tried to shrug it off. “I will tomorrow. Just let me get us through Colorado at least.”

She twisted her mouth. Was Nick the one being stubborn now? She reluctantly nodded her head. Sleep was going to hit her probably sooner rather than later, despite the high she felt after what just happened. She climbed in the back of the van and took Ruth’s spot.

Summer yawned and stretched her arms. She gave June a weak and tired smile. “Want to switch places?” she whispered. “I’m pretty sure my legs fell asleep trying to keep her comfortable.”

June laughed softly and agreed. Hannah’s head was soon in her lap. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling grateful.

Hannah stirred, groaning. “Are we there yet?”

June smiled brightly and kissed her temple, knowing that a certain woman with a tight bun, malevolent eyes, and a deceiving smile will never separate her from her daughters ever again.

Chapter Text

The digital clock on the dashboard radio read midnight. Scattered chattering could be heard over the airwaves from other Peacekeeper groups, mostly talking about the team that mysteriously went missing in Colorado Springs. No report was given within the assigned deadline, initiating a search operation. They expected the search should last no later than the morning. If such efforts resulted in nothing, the quest would spread nationwide to each Peacekeeper headquarters. Above all, they made it clear that they would find the person responsible and provide the appropriate punishment. Such delinquencies within the corps will not be tolerated--

Nick switched off the radio as it offered no help to their predicament. His eyes were tired and his body hurt. But he had to keep going. Being the driver allowed him to have a false sense of control, knowing that he was doing everything he could to keep them safe. Besides, this was what he was familiar with, what he was good at. The idea that this grueling journey should only last a handful of days made him feel a little better. They haven’t run into any problems so far. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, hydration, and nutrition, but something told him that everything was going to be fine. He knew they would make it to Canada, that this would work. It had to.

Ruth was by his side, feet on the dashboard, eating an apple she found. They were conversing little in their shared language of Cantonese. Nick couldn’t help but feel a little awkward around her. He still didn’t know her that well, despite the past year of living together. He was afraid of getting attached, having something to lose. But here they are now. She saved his life, and he saved hers. Did that mean they were friends? Family, even?

“How much gas does this thing have anyway?” Ruth asked him casually, taking a bite from her apple.

Nick glanced at the fuel gauge and back on the dark road. “We’ll be fine.”

He felt Ruth’s doubtful eyes on him. “Nick, I think there’s a clear line between optimism and just plain lunacy, and you, my friend, are right on the edge of it.”

The corners of Nick’s mouth turned upward. “Trust me; I used to be a driver. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? And did they teach you how to make the impossible possible?”

Nick sighed tiredly. “It’s a protocol for drivers to keep gas cans in the garage for emergencies.” He shrugged. “If we need it, we’ll just take some from someone else.” He let this last sentence linger in the air, hoping Ruth would understand that this ‘someone else’ was killed and probably rotting on their floorboards.

Ruth shifted around in her seat, unable to find a comfortable spot. With one last bite, she finished her apple and threw the core out the window. Then, she went through the box that was at her feet and found all the papers June and Nick gathered from their previous escape plan. She skimmed through some of them with little interest. “I didn’t want to ask you before, in front of them.”

Nick’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t handle any more bad news. “What is it?”

“You guys are so confident that no one will catch us--the Guardians and the Eyes--and so far that has worked, miraculously.” She turned to him, hands fidgeting in her lap. “But the Peacekeepers will know. We can’t fool them.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a while. She was right. The search operation was no doubt in full swing already. They will check each house on the Colorado Springs schedule for tonight and find the Peacekeepers all dead at his house. It will be no secret who was to blame. How much time have they gained, miles they have covered? Did it even make a difference? There were dozens of Peacekeeper groups in each district. Nick knew as soon as he had the chance, he should switch the license plates. He tried to remember where their headquarters were throughout Gilead, already making a mental map on which cities to avoid. But right now they should be safe. All around them was empty countryside, the next big city not due for a while. Should he risk stopping by an already hit neighborhood for the night, to rest and regroup in the morning? Or should he keep going, knowing that the faster they went, the closer they were to Canada?

“Can you promise me something?” Nick asked her.

Ruth let out a sharp laugh. “I think I’ve done enough for you already tonight.”

“I’m serious, Ruth.”

She sighed. “I guess.”

“If something happens to me,” he began, “you need to do whatever you can to get them out. Okay?”

Ruth sat up properly in her seat, concerned. “If something happens to you?”

“Please, that’s all I ask.”

“You don’t think they’ll kill you, do you?”

He shrugged. “Why not? After all the things I’ve done…”

“I won’t let it happen.”

Nick looked over at her, trying to get her to understand. “This isn’t about me; this is about them now. You need to keep them safe.”

She shook her head. “I’m just a dumb Martha, what happens to me won’t matter. You, on the other hand…”

“Don’t say that.”

“If it comes down to it, I’ll stay back and fight them while you get them out. Use me as a distraction if you have to. But don’t leave it to me to save them. They need you more.”

Nick’s heart shattered at her confession. What could he say to make her believe that wasn’t true at all? She was integral to their little group of fugitives. Couldn’t she see that? He bit down on his lip, trying to figure this out. “What did you do, you know, in the Before?”

She folded her arms, obstinate. “You first.”

“Okay,” he nodded his head slowly. Was he really about to do this? Open himself up and let her in? But wasn’t he expecting her to do the same? It was only fair. He took in a deep breath. “By day, I worked at whatever job I could find. And by night, I searched for my alcoholic brother. But sometimes that was my day job, too.”

“Did you ever find him?”

Nick clenched his jaw as the horrific image flashed through his mind uncontrollably: finding Joshua dead on a fellow addict’s floor, cold and stiff. He swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” Ruth stared out the window.

“Your turn.”

She took a few seconds to answer. “Girl Scouts.”

Nick almost laughed. “What?”

“I was a Troop Leader.” She rubbed her arm and smiled shyly. “It’s embarrassing, I know.”

“No, no, I did scouting as a kid,” Nick tried to make her feel better. “I bet Gilead hated seeing that on your record.”

She shrugged. “It was never on my record since it was technically a volunteer position. All Gilead knew was my work at my family’s produce market. Never let the enemy know more than the bare minimum, my friend.” She leaned her head on the cool glass of the window. “But still, I liked teaching those girls. Gave me a purpose, you know?” She looked off into the distance. “It was the next best thing after not being able to have children.”

Nick nodded sadly. “You’ll get your chance in Canada.”

“Nick, we went over this--”

“I can’t leave you here,” Nick told her sternly. He nodded towards the back of the van, “Don’t you want to be with her?”

She became quiet. “I don’t have that kind of luck, Nick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Summer can get anybody from off the street.” She glanced behind her and back on the road. “I mean, look at her; she’s perfect. What makes you think she’ll still want me? I’ll just be a reminder of the hell she came from.”

This hit Nick like a ton of bricks to the chest. This could easily be said about him and June. Wasn’t he just a reminder of Gilead to her? What made him so special for June to still choose him? He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up a bit more. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“What about you?” Ruth asked. “Have you ever talked about it with June?”

Getting out of Canada was the only item on the agenda between Nick and June. They haven’t given life outside of Gilead much thought, considering that wasn’t the hard part. However, Nick had a feeling they weren’t on the same page. Out of all the dangers they will encounter on their journey, coming face to face with June on his decision was the scariest of all.

“I’m staying here,” Nick answered quietly.

Nick felt Ruth’s wide eyes on him. “Alright, now I know you lost it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “And what did June say to that?”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek. “She doesn’t know.”

She smirked, “Yeah, and I wouldn’t want to be around when she does.”

Nick shrugged. “It’ll just be better for everyone if I stayed here.”

“Not better for me, at least,” Ruth said quietly, punctuating her sentence with a long yawn.

Nick left it at that. He had no energy to explain himself. Besides, there wasn’t anything she could do to change his mind. He thought about it over and over again within the past few months, and maybe even a little before that, and he convinced himself it was the best option. How else could he be useful? Wasn’t this what he deserved?

Hands were gently shaking him awake, the sun's rays rudely intruding his eyelids. Nick fought away the sleep and blinked his eyes several times until his gaze focused on June’s relieved face. She was smiling at him, a jar of water and a peanut butter sandwich in her hands.

“Good morning,” she softly greeted him.

Nick sat up from the green cushioned bench beneath him and leaned on his elbow, yawning. He couldn’t remember how he got here, nor when. All he knew was that the longest night of his life was finally over. He strained his brain to think of all the events that led to his current position. Nothing was coming up. Based on June’s cheerful disposition, everyone was safe and things were fine. His body didn’t feel as stretched thin and worn out, but he wouldn’t mind a few more hours of rest. He took the jar from June’s hands and nearly drank all the water.

“Hey, share some for the rest of us,” June told him lightheartedly. She offered him the sandwich. “Here, eat this.”

The thought of having to shove food down his throat made him want to vomit. He hadn’t been hungry for days, his mind too preoccupied to focus on such a silly thing. Reluctantly, he took the sandwich from her hands and picked away at the crust, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“We found some gas and switched out the license plates.” June got down to business. “They’re inside, seeing if the plumbing still works.”

“Where are we?” Nick managed to say, taking a small bite.

June shrugged. “I’d say Kansas.”

“That’s all?”

“Hey, Ruth found you nodding off at the wheel,” June told him. “I think we’re doing pretty well considering.”

His exhaustion must’ve got the best of him, then. He didn’t even remember having one of his nightmares. How long had he slept? He looked out the long panel of glass and saw they were in an abandoned neighborhood, just like all the others they have passed so far. Silence filled the air. They were parked in someone’s driveway; the family existing only as a strewn pile of ashes in the front yard. Oddly, this filled Nick with hope. Punishment by death through gun and fire indicated you aided the rebellion in some way, even if it was small. These were good people, and clearly, there was more in Gilead than he thought.

His eyes drifted down to June, who appeared deep in thought. She looked a little rough around the edges, but that’s what he was familiar with. His heart swelled with emotion. How was this possible? How did they end up here? He never thought he would get another chance to get her out, let alone Hannah, Summer, and Ruth. But here they were, doing it together. Would he survive this? Would he live to see them take the first taste of freedom? He didn’t want to die knowing he could’ve done more, tried harder, been a better man for them.

His conversation with Ruth last night echoed in his thoughts, the only thing he could remember. His mind still did not clear or change, no matter the few hours he ended up sleeping. He was going to stay in Gilead. They needed him on the inside, to fight from within, to prove himself useful. How could he possibly help the resistance from some refugee apartment in Canada? In time, he would get restless and bored--purposeless, even. Wasn’t that what this was about? Not letting Gilead grind you down? All he knew in this life was fighting, whether that was through poverty and death or an evil government regime. Yes, it was best to stick to what he knew. That way, he couldn’t screw it up or risk being a disappointment.

“I made that for you,” June nodded at the barely eaten sandwich in his hands, taking him out of his deep thoughts.

He shrugged. “I’ll have it later. I’m not hungry.”

She pursed her lips, sadness clouding her eyes. “I’ll take the next shift to drive.”

“No, not during the daytime,” Nick told her. “If anyone passes us and sees a woman driving--”

“I’ll wear my helmet,” she weakly offered.

“That’ll look suspicious, don’t you think?”

She sighed in frustration. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She tied and retied her black boots, fidgeting anxiously. “You can’t do this all on your own, you know.”

Nick folded his arms, thinking of what to do. They couldn’t risk being stupid simply for the sake of sharing the burden equally. Driving was what calmed him, especially now. He needed to feel in control or else the panic would creep in. He looked at June, who was brushing hair off her face, anxious and tense. He’s seen her like this countless times before. And so the better side of him decided to give up on the matter, letting go and trusting June.

“Besides,” June continued, “I need you to spend some time with Hannah. She’s scared. She may not act like it, but I can tell.”

Me? What made him the designated person to calm her down? “But you’re her mother.”

“I’ve tried everything,” she bit her lip, struggling to stay strong. “She knows you better.”

He could tell how much this bothered her. It wasn’t her fault; it was just the way things were. None of this would’ve worked if Hannah didn’t know and trust him. He only hoped that once free and safe, Hannah could form a stronger relationship with June. But that was only half the battle. Hannah would have to be raised by Luke, too, once she was in Canada. How would that work? How could Nick convince Hannah to trust another man who she barely remembers? It wasn’t like Hannah would have the chance to run to Nick every time she felt like it. Although Nick was proud to be of the few who truly understood Hannah, it will only make things difficult from now on.

Nick sighed. “June, she has to learn when I won’t be around--”

Suddenly, the van’s back doors loudly opened, bringing in more sunlight. Summer, Ruth, and Hannah appeared fresh-faced and in a good mood. Their hair was damp, indicating that they took the rare opportunity for a shower. Hannah was in a different pink dress, but Ruth and Summer were still in their dark green jumpsuits.

“We have to go back!” Hannah announced. “I forgot my toothbrush!”

Already the heavy clouds in Nick’s mind cleared at her infectious exuberance. He chuckled freely. “Well, I think that’s a good enough reason,” he joked. “What do you think, June?”

June rolled her eyes and shook her head with a hint of amusement. “Can’t we go back to when you hated brushing your teeth?”

Hannah plopped herself on the bench next to Nick. “Nice to see you again, Sleepyhead.” She poked his arm a little too hard. “You almost got us killed.”

Nick knitted his eyebrows together. “I don’t remember anything.”

June took one last gulp of water from the jar Nick drank out of. “And that’s why I’ll be driving.”

Hannah simply nodded her head, a little bored already. Summer and June moved up front, taking a few snacks with them. Ruth sat on the bench across from Nick and Hannah and simply stared out the window, quiet and a little detached. Nick attempted to eat more of his peanut butter sandwich, but his nonexistent appetite made it a struggle. He quit after two bites. Hannah was biting on her nails, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.

Nick took her hand out of her mouth. “Don’t do that.”

Hannah shoved her hand under her thigh, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He might as well get into it while they had the time.

Hannah looked into his eyes, and she knew what he was talking about. She shook her head. “It’s too late to change anything.”

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Nick tried to tell her honestly. June wanted him to make her feel better, but he didn’t want to lie to her. Telling the truth to Hannah was something he promised to do right from the beginning. Sugarcoating and pretending could only get them so far. Being real with her was the only way he knew how to be around her. Nevertheless, he could already feel her slipping away, becoming someone from her past, fading into a distant memory.

“Hey, I bet by the time you get settled, you can start on that garden,” Nick tried to cheer her up. “I’m sure Ruth knows a thing or two about gardening.”

Ruth came out of her daydream at the mention of her name. “Huh?”

“Don’t you know how to plant a garden?” Nick asked her, his eyes darting over to Hannah.

She seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “Oh, yeah. I can teach you all about dirt and stuff.”

Hannah offered a small smile, eyes full of wonder. “You really think so?”

“We could never do it back at home--I mean, at the house,” Ruth corrected herself. “You can’t grow anything from something dead.”

“I think I’ll plant poppies, just like Mary and Dickon did,” Hannah decided. “At least, I think they did.” She grabbed her stuffed canvas bag and searched inside for The Secret Garden. It wasn’t long before she got swept into the moorland of Misselthwaite Manor all over again.

Nick glanced around the van, each woman preoccupied with whatever was on her mind. He supposed now was a good time to think and process everything. He sewed together the bits and pieces of what he remembered from last night, arranging them as a scrap quilt in his mind. Too much has happened in such a short timeframe. For one thing, he killed two people last night. One a stranger, a boy, and the other a twisted, familiar abuser. Not only that, but he got Ruth, a sworn pacifist, and Summer, someone who greeted each day with naive innocence, involved. Was he hurting more than helping? What happened last night certainly changed each of them permanently. Would they be able to move on from this?

He thought about Hannah and the amount of bravery she had. No child should ever have to prove so much of themselves. She watched as her household burned in her front yard, leaving everything she knew behind. There was no use in trying to give her a “normal” childhood now. All he could do was make her feel loved and important. Did he even succeed at that? The thought of giving her away to Luke felt like cutting off a piece of himself. Would Luke know how to care for her? Talk to her? Would he take the time to understand her? But it had to be done. Nick had nothing else to give him for raising Holly.

Holly. Would he get another chance to see her? Even if it was for only five minutes, the 1,500+ mile treacherous trip would’ve been worth it. He just wanted to tell her he loved her and that he will never stop. Perhaps this was too much to ask, especially after all the wrongs he made last night, and maybe even before that. But even if it was a glimpse through a window, a picture, or an opportunity to send her a message, that would be enough. His heart tore on where he wanted to be and where he deserved to be. Oh, if only someone or something could tell him what the right thing to do was.

He leaned the side of his body against the wall of the van, head on the window. He blinked away tears as the flat, grassy Kansas landscape blurred in his vision. The sky was a particular blue, one that probably belonged to February, deceiving everyone into thinking the long winter was finally over. Old, battered barns punctuated the fields, not a living creature in sight. Behind them, the dusty road rose in clouds, as June drove as fast as her heart desired. At least Nick could check “take a road trip across America” off his bucket list. He never imagined he’d get to see so much of it, how beautiful it all still was, how nature prevailed. And for a fleeting moment, he wasn’t in Gilead at all; he was simply traveling through the arteries of the Midwest heartland, which still resided deep inside him after all this time.

Chapter Text

Hushed arguing caused Nick’s haunting dreams to fade away and bring him to the present. He was back in his tragic reality, only a small step above where his mind cruelly enjoyed sending him at night. He heard June, Summer, and Ruth discussing what to do next. Their whispers overlapped one another, making it impossible to distinguish what the problem was. But that wasn’t important. What he wanted to know first was why they weren’t moving. He slowly opened one eye and then the other, his vision adjusting to the darkness of the night. He blinked several times, shaking off the sleep. The first thing he saw was the black ceiling, his back flat on the padded bench, his body sore from the cramped position.

“Oh no,” Hannah announced worriedly. “He’s awake.”

The murmuring silenced, and Nick felt everyone’s eyes on him. He slowly sat up, rubbing his tense back muscles. A streetlight up the empty road provided barely enough light for him to see everyone. The women were up front while Hannah sat across from him.

“What happened?” Nick asked. “Why did we stop?”

The road trip had not been entirely kind to them, one would have to admit if this story has any room for honesty and practicality. The previous few days painfully passed by, teaching everyone in the van a tough lesson on patience. A sudden snowstorm delayed them by several hours in Missouri, but hopefully, it derailed the Peacekeepers’ search operation. They stopped a few more times for gas and amenities. All the neighborhoods were consistent, empty, and lifeless. However, they spotted a handful of econopeople and their families along the way, trying to go business as usual like obedient robots. The mere sighting of the dark green van made them run inside and draw window blinds, hoping they weren’t next.

They were held up at certain checkpoints, to which they had to state their business to the Guardians. It appeared they were working with the Peacekeepers to find the killers of the Colorado Springs team, no doubt in exchange for another day of life. Perhaps even the Eyes were under the same obligations. Everyone in the van did their best to put on a good show, worthy of a standing ovation given their successes.

Everything changed when they passed by a group of Peacekeepers in Indiana. Nick tried his best not to remember what happened, to block it out, and delete it from memory, but it always came back to him in his dreams, reminding him what could’ve happened. He could still hear the shots June had to fire out the back: bang, bang, bang. Bullets pounded off the steel of the van like thick hail, cracking the windows. He could never forget the sound of Hannah’s terrified screams as the enemy’s van veered off, driving uncontrollably down the street until it crashed violently into a building.

Everyone was on high alert after that. Nick flipped the communications radio back on, so he could hear the Peacekeepers’ next moves. It was better to stay one step ahead than to go in blind. They made sure to take the back roads, no matter how much longer it would take. Making it to the border safe and alive was the top priority. Anxiety hung thickly in the air, making it hard to breathe in the van. Now that most of the back windows were cracked, they couldn’t see much of the outside world anymore. Nick swore the van felt smaller and smaller the longer they were driving. There was no more than a couple of feet of separation between all five of them since they left Colorado. How they had not ripped each other’s throats out was beyond what Nick could figure out.

Their current location was a mystery to Nick, as June took his place at the wheel after she noticed how unwell he appeared. That had to be hours ago now that it was night. How long was he asleep? Their eyes diverted from his, no one fessing up to answer his questions.

“Where are we?” Nick pressed.

“We have to find another way,” Summer answered reluctantly.

“There’s only one of them,” June argued. “We can fight him.”

“You don’t know that,” countered Ruth.

Nick looked over to Hannah, hoping she would give him some context.

“The bridge is blocked,” Hannah told him simply.

What bridge? Nick got up from his seat and hovered over Summer, who sat on the floor behind the console between June and Ruth. He looked out the windshield in the direction they were looking. About a hundred or so yards away was a small, brightly lit bridge. In the center was parked a dark green Peacekeeper van, blocking the two-way road entirely. He narrowed his eyes to see better, and if his vision was correct, he saw a lone Peacekeeper, sitting against the front tire. This was expected. All of Gilead’s borders were heavily guarded, given that that was the primary location for the war. The Eyes seemed to be quickly replaced by the Peacekeepers, Gilead’s preferred military at the moment.

“This wasn’t in the plan,” Nick said to June.

“Canada is right there, Nick,” June replied, pointing at the dark land across the bridge. “All we have to do is get past this one guy.”

June was getting impatient. So was he, if he had to admit. They should already be in Canada if not for the few setbacks they had. He wanted this over with, the hard part finished. The bridge presented itself with its tempting accessibility and convenience. Could they risk it? What was the alternative? Waiting on Mayday? They were lucky enough if anyone from Mayday was left, at least on the Gilead side. Nick squinted at the solitary figure sitting on the ground against his van. He carefully calculated it in his mind. This was a teenager, a kid. It was five against one. Plus, they had a van full of weapons and people capable enough to use them efficiently. This could work.

Nick sighed. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“What?” Ruth gasped in disbelief. “Am I the only one who thinks this is a trap?”

“I’m with you, Ruthie,” Summer put her hand on Ruth’s arm.

“I mean, who lets one person guard a whole bridge by himself?” Ruth tried to reason with them.

“Teenagers,” was all Nick replied.

June started up the van, and they slowly drove closer to the bridge, making sure not to make too much noise. They parked the van right at the entrance. Nick’s heart broke once he saw the boy on the bridge. He was visibly weeping, his shoulders hunched and hands shaking. His face was red and wet with tears. Nick knew how he was feeling. It wasn’t so long ago that he was in his shoes, fighting in a war for a side he didn’t believe in anymore.

“Is he crying?” Ruth wondered out loud.

“Poor kid,” Summer sympathized.

“I can talk to him,” Nick said confidently. “Maybe he’ll let us pass.”

“Sure, Nick,” Ruth said sarcastically, “and maybe I can also grow a third arm.”

“Let’s pack,” June put them back on track. “We’re leaving the van here. It’s too risky.”

Nick slipped a handgun into the back pocket of his jumpsuit just to be safe. He took one last glance at the pathetic Peacekeeper and opened the van’s back door. He welcomed the cool, refreshing night air upon his tired skin. Suddenly, he felt a tight grip upon his wrist. He turned and saw Hannah’s pleading eyes.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she begged.

Nick could barely breathe, understanding the all-consuming worry that she unfairly carried. All he could do was give her a nod, hoping this wasn’t the last time he would ever see her again. He jumped out of the van and stretched, thankful for not being in a crouched position for once. Breathing in deep, he stepped out of the safety of the van’s shadow and into the open. The boy was too busy crying for him to notice. Nick bravely continued forward, stopping about twelve feet away from him. The boy first saw his black boots and then slowly looked up, all while tears streamed down his face. He wobbled onto his feet, poorly aiming his gun at Nick.

“Who are you?” The Peacekeeper sniffled, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

“Your way out,” Nick told him calmly.

The boy’s eyes narrowed. He looked behind Nick and back at him. “Hey, what happened to the real Peacekeepers?” As soon as he said this, shock and realization overcame him. “You’re them! The people who killed the team in Colorado!” His hands were shaking even more now. He closed his eyes. “Think, think, think,” he muttered to himself. “What am I supposed to do again?”

“How old are you?” Nick asked him.

“S-sixteen,” he answered fearfully. “Why?”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “They have you guarding this bridge by yourself?”

“As punishment,” the boy answered. “Captain doesn’t think I have it in me. He thinks I’m weak.”

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Yeah?” The boy tried to aim his gun better. “Why is that? You’re gonna kill me? I know how to use this!”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Used the gun.”

The boy’s eyebrows knitted together in anger. “Now, what kind of stupid question is that?” His voice sounded rough, but the tears in his eyes gave away his fear.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nick gently told him. “It’s okay.”

“My country is in a crisis; I have to be a man and stop it,” the boy said, his words sounding rehearsed and hollow.

“Where are the others?”

“Jezebel’s, probably,” he shrugged. “Look, I don’t want to kill you. You can turn around and pretend this never happened. I won’t tell.”

“Or I can give you a better option,” Nick rubbed the back of his neck. Here it goes. “You can leave this all behind and come with us instead.”

He smirked. “You want me to abandon my post and join your little group of misfit murderers?” He moved closer to Nick, clenching his jaw. “You think I’m an idiot, don’t you? Huh?”

Nick’s stomach tensed with anxiety. He didn’t want this to be a bigger deal than what it had to be. He had to calm him down somehow. “No, sir.”

“You think you can win me over, so you can learn everything I know? Get me to tell you all my secrets? Dress up like one of us and act like my friend?” The Peacekeeper shook his head, his face turning to stone. He aimed his gun precisely at Nick’s head. “You have thirty seconds to get off my bridge, Commander.” He spat on the ground.

Nick quickly reached around to his back pocket and took out the handgun. He hated this. The more he looked into the boy’s sad, brown eyes, the more he saw himself staring right back at him. Gilead took another perfectly innocent soul and made him be a soldier, another piece in their game. Nick was done playing around. He didn’t want to see another generation wasted to the horrors he had to go through. How could he possibly get that through this boy’s head?

“If they promote you for this,” Nick began courageously, “don’t take it, trust me. It’ll only ruin you.”

“Quit talking!” The Peacekeeper yelled, firing off a warning shot, which scared him more than it did to Nick. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the arm he used to shoot.

As expected, Nick heard frantic running behind him. June was right at his side, gun in hand, as well as Ruth. Summer must still be in the van keeping Hannah safe. Nick’s heart was pounding, thoughts racing through his mind. He couldn’t risk getting any of them killed--not after all the trouble of getting them so close.

“Let us through!” June yelled fiercely at the boy.

“You brought women?” the boy asked Nick. He began to shake his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “No, no, no…”

“My offer still stands,” Nick suggested to him calmly, lowering his gun.

The Peacekeeper brought down his gun also, defeated. “What does it matter? It’s not like there isn’t war in Canada, either. You’ll be lucky if you survive two days over there.”

“Wanna bet?” Ruth countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t bargain with a dead man,” the boy said quietly with a sigh.

“So we can go?” June asked.

“Are you waiting on my permission?” he smirked.

Ruth shared a glance with June, communicating their sheer relief, and they went back to the van.

Nick watched as the boy’s mind spiraled out. He was in even worse shape than before. He was pacing now, hands on his head, crying. Mutters escaped from his mouth, but Nick couldn’t understand. How could he leave him here like this?

“Hey,” Nick approached him.

The boy glared at him. “Oh, what do you want? You know, my life was fine until you came along. Now, who knows what they’ll do to me. I might as well jump off this bridge, get it over with.”

“You can still fix this,” Nick tried.

The young Peacekeeper rolled his eyes.

“Do you even like being a Peacekeeper?” This was Nick’s sole opportunity to connect with this boy, to wake him up from all the brainwashing he’d been through. Not many people got second chances in Gilead, especially ones like these.

“This isn’t my choice,” he replied with his head down, drying his face with his jumpsuit sleeve.

Nick nodded. “Then make it worthwhile. Be useful.”

The boy stopped pacing and looked at him with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Volunteer to guard the bridge from now on.”

“And just let people through?” he questioned. “You make it sound so easy.”

“You said so yourself: you’re not an idiot. Be smart about it.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his dark curls in distress. “I think we already killed everyone who wanted to leave.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Even the Peacekeepers?”

The boy’s mouth nearly fell open, his movements frozen and eyes wide. Clearly, this information was only meant to be shared in hushed tones with the most trustworthy or left unsaid altogether--a known secret of sorts within the corps. The Peacekeeper bit his lip. “Morale’s been low. I guess we were never cut out for something like this.”

“You can save them.” Nick looked over to the direction where Canada was--a dark, unknown void. He couldn’t believe everything he’s been through led to this moment: bargaining with the enemy to switch sides. He then looked toward the van where June, Summer, Ruth, and Hannah were gearing up for the next phase of their journey. This was all for them. Every word Nick said and move he made was to ensure their freedom. He just needed to complete the deal. “You can give them that chance.”

The boy looked up at him, a glimmer of hope in his eye. “Do you think it’ll really work?”

Nick shrugged. “I ask myself that all the time.”

The boy nodded. “Maybe this will keep me from crying like a little girl each night.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Nick searched his young face for any fear or doubt. He wasn’t completely rid of them, but he was still human, after all. A part of Nick felt awful for recruiting a sixteen-year-old to the brutal resistance, however, as a Peacekeeper, the boy had leverage. Such power should not be wasted. Nick hoped he wasn’t sending him to his death, but he had to take the risk. If it wasn’t for such risks, he wouldn’t be here right now.

June, Ruth, Summer, and Hannah came walking back, each carrying a heavy pack of their own. June held the map in her hands, while Summer and Ruth held their guns. To Nick’s greatest surprise, Hannah gripped her sharp sewing shears firmly in her small hands, pointing them fiercely at the Peacekeeper. Her face conveyed as much strength and power she could muster. Of course, those stupid scissors, Nick had to think to himself. Ruth transferred off a pack for Nick to carry. They all stared at the boy in the dark green jumpsuit.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to himself. He looked around and down the bridge and back at the group. He licked his lips nervously. “Um, so I have never done this before, so I guess this is the part where you leave and don’t come back. I don’t know your name, and you don’t know mine, are we clear?”

They nodded.

“Okay,” he also nodded in agreement. Then, his face changed to the cold and hard expression of a Peacekeeper. He held up his gun. “Now move it!”

Nick felt his legs move before he was ready, picking up pace and advancing towards the darkness ahead. He didn’t dare to look back. No one did. Onward they went, down the open road and then cutting into the woods for safety. Their feet pounded into the earth just like their hearts beat in their chests. It was difficult to run with their supplies around their shoulders, but this was all they had left to survive the wilderness. The group used the moonlight to venture through the trees. June used the flashlight to look at the map and compass, making sure they were on track to a safe house. Nick didn’t have time to think, all that was running through his mind was keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.

“Guys, wait,” Hannah gasped breathlessly after a short while. She was falling behind, readjusting her pack.

June stopped and looked back. “Hannah, we need to keep going. We’re still in a war zone, remember?”

Hannah doubled over, leaning on her knees, catching her breath. After a few seconds, she looked up, a wide smile on her face.

“What is it?” Summer asked.

Hannah let a laugh escape her mouth. “We’re in Canada.” She laughed again, longer and louder, jumping and skipping amongst them. “We’re in Canada!”

The realization suddenly struck them all. Nick looked over to June and their eyes locked, relief and joy spreading over their faces. Summer and Ruth embraced each other, tears in their eyes. June reached out and held Nick’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her, trying to let the moment last. They were all here, alive and well and free. Nick didn’t want to know how. Thinking about it too hard would ruin the moment, and maybe even the very miracle itself.

Chapter Text

The perilous warning from the boy on the bridge proved to be right. Sounds of war echoed through the nights and haunted them by the day. Gunshots and explosions blended with birds chirping and brooks bubbling. Nick was familiar with such ambiance from the fighting in Chicago, but that didn’t make it any less painful. With every mile accomplished, the sounds grew softer and softer, but the horrid images remained.

The safe houses were few and far between, as it seemed. Some were not even houses at all. The Canadian side of Mayday was just as secretive and diligent. Nothing much was said between them, just a job that needed to be done. They only knew as much as they were willing to risk. It was better that way, from Nick’s experience. Some offered food and a sense of direction, others courageously drove them short distances. Every bit helped.

The Peacekeepers and other members of Gilead’s malicious military spread like a deadly fungus along the Canadian border. Nearly everywhere they traveled, they saw them, prowling the woods and major roads. They passed by their camps, both inhabited and abandoned. Once, they even came upon a massacre. A couple of Peacekeeper vans were burned to a skeleton while their passengers’ necks got caught in nooses in surrounding trees. Similar scenes arose with members of the Canadian army as victims. Blood and death were everywhere.

But with time, their journey became more bearable. Nick saw the change gradually as a Mayday operative carefully drove them forth. It had been days since crossing that small bridge into the unknown that was Canada. Life on the run started to hang comfortably on their backs. They took what they could get with no complaints. This was something June taught them, as she was more familiar with the art of escape. From the gaps in the cattle trailer they were cooped up in, Nick saw the military presence become absent, and the air was peaceful again. This went on for miles, confirming Nick’s theory that they were finally out of the war zone. The driver went on for another hour or so, letting the sun reach higher in the morning sky. The trailer soon came to a stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, from what Nick could tell.

“Alright, folks,” the older man greeted them with a smile once he opened the back door. “This is where the road ends for ya.”

“You got to be joking,” Ruth muttered after she jumped out, and her feet hit the pavement. The vacant road ahead stretched on with woods on the left side and an empty field on the right, not a building in sight.

“It’s like we never even left home,” Summer commented, hiking her bag up on her shoulder.

“Oh, you’re not going that way,” the man corrected. He stretched his hairy arm out to the woods and pointed. “That’s where you need to go.”

The five of them looked up and down at the tall trees, intimidated. Great, more woods, Nick thought. I could go on for the rest of my life without seeing another stupid tree. Their driver walked forward, pushing an opening through the thick bushes. The ground revealed a thin dirt line, a path that had been worn down from use. He smiled at them, the gaps in his teeth prominent.

“Just follow right here this path and everything should be alright,” he said. “Got your map with you?”

June held it up in her hands. “How far does it take us?”

“Not sure, never been on it,” he shrugged. “All I know is that this is the right spot.” He sauntered over to June and glanced over her shoulder. He pointed somewhere on the map. “Well, it should take you there. Makes sense that way.”

“I don’t understand,” Ruth sighed, brushing strands of her dark hair away from her face. “We’re away from the war now, can’t you just take us to where we need to be?”

Nick cringed and closed his eyes in embarrassment. They were lucky enough that this kind man took them this far, he didn’t want to push it.

“With all respect, Miss, that is not my job,” the man responded. “I agreed to do this part. I’m not in charge for the rest of the way.” He sighed and snapped his suspenders against his chest. “Well, I have to go on home now to kiss my worried wife, feed the horses, and get ready for another trip. There’s always more work to do, you know!”

“We’ll be fine,” Summer said with a warm smile, trying to make up for any rudeness they may have caused. “Ruthie here is just a bit tired.”

“A bit?” Ruth countered, raising an eyebrow.

The group extended their thanks to the gentleman, offering anything they carried as a gift of gratitude. He politely declined and watched them disappear into the woods. They followed the windy trail for more than a few miles. Spring was slowly revealing herself through the song of the birds and the tolerable temperature. The trees were still naked but no doubt preparing for a full cloak of thick leaves. Nobody said a word; the crunching of the dead leaves beneath their feet filled in the silence. Perhaps all that could be said about their journey has already been said, and the energy to comment further on it was depleted. They continued in the direction the older man sent them. There was a barely marked path for them to follow, but they managed with Ruth’s Girl Scout training (which she was reluctant to offer). Nick was just glad that they could go through the woods without the fear of running into any Peacekeeper camps or crossfire.

Only June and he knew where they were going. It was the last circled safe house on their crumpled map, the most sacred and secret of all. After that, they should be sent home to Toronto, and it would all be over--for good. But that was the easy part. Nick still hadn’t made his intentions of leaving clear yet. He wanted them to be safe before breaking such news to them. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially after Ruth’s sincere reaction. But if only they would give him a chance to explain his side, to prove that it was necessary, then it could soften the blow.

They didn’t arrive at the safe house until nearly noon after all morning walking, and Hannah forcing them to take (many) breaks. Their packs had grown a little lighter throughout the journey with their food supplies dwindling, making the trek less strenuous. Personal belongings and Nick’s Council files mostly remained, all that was left from their lives in Gilead. Summer held tightly onto hers, careful that no one else touched or opened it. Ruth, in contrast, was the only one who chose not to bring anything but still willingly bore the burden of the supplies. Finally, through the clearing, they saw the building. Familiar in the eyes of Nick and June, the Maria Magdalena Academy stood straight ahead in all of her abandoned glory. Without the snow, as Nick fondly remembered, it appeared a little larger and duller. They all took a moment to stare at it, breathing in relief.

“Alright,” June sighed, breaking the silence, “let’s find a way in.”

The entrance Nick and June used at their meeting long ago was locked now. The front entrance and a couple of side doors were no use, either. However, Ruth found success in the back part of the building, presumably the chapel of the Catholic school. Without much hesitation, they all filed into the vestibule, talking softly amongst each other, setting down their belongings, and taking in their strange surroundings. To their surprise, they immediately heard an older woman’s passionate voice ring out. In a panic, they quickly hid behind the open doorway. Nick couldn’t see much from his point of view, but what he did see he could not believe.

“And Jesus cried out with a loud voice and breathed his last,” the woman said, undoubtedly reading from the Bible. “Then the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. So when the centurion…” She cleared her throat. “So when…” she repeated, her words slow and voice shaking. A pause, and then, “Wh-who’s there?”

Everyone behind the door moved further into the corner, remaining silent.

“Who is there?” the woman repeated louder. “Everyone is welcome in the presence of the Lord.”

Before anyone could stop her, Hannah bravely revealed herself in the doorway. She fidgeted with the hem of her dirty pink sweater, appearing small and humble. Different female voices gasped in shock and threw out exclamations.

“It’s a girl!”

“She looks like she’s from Gilead!”

“Is she alone?”

“If I am correct, and I am almost positive that I am, I believe she is Agnes MacKenzie!” This voice belonged to the older woman who was speaking when they first arrived.

They know who she is? Nick wondered. There was only one explanation on how that was possible. Nick’s muscles slowly released their tension, and he stood beside Hannah. June, Summer, and Ruth followed. Inside the sanctuary were three Aunts at the altar: two sitting in chairs facing each other, and the other Aunt was standing, holding the Bible in her hands. They looked at them in fear, shaking.

“They’re Peacekeepers!”

“No, women can’t be Peacekeepers, Abigail.”

“Then they killed the Peacekeepers.” The Aunt shuddered.

“Agnes, honey, come over here,” the Aunt who was standing beckoned. “Get away from them.”

“My name is Hannah,” Hannah announced boldly. “This is my family.”

The Aunts appeared confused, considering they were rather a dissimilar bunch. However, the longer the seconds passed, the less they looked threatened and more curious.

“You know my daughter?” June asked the women.

“Oh, Aunt Dawn wouldn’t shut up about her!” Aunt Abigail answered with a smile. “She was certain she would be a great Aunt someday.” She looked down at her lap solemnly. “God bless her soul.”

Nick moved into the sunlit sanctuary, but the Aunts recoiled, glancing at the gun slung over his shoulder. He carefully set it down in a nearby dusty pew. It had been long without ammunition, anyway. “Where did you all come from?”

The Aunts blushed and avoided eye contact. The first Aunt carefully chose her words, “We hope it isn’t too much to ask for your forgiveness. I’m Aunt Deborah, this is Aunt Abigail and Aunt Miriam.” She gestured to the respective women. “We come from Ardua Hall. We’re here to seek refuge.” She said this slowly and painfully.

There was a long, traumatic story behind her kind, brown eyes, Nick could tell. However, he didn’t need an explanation. If children weren’t safe from the Peacekeepers, neither were the Aunts. Nick was moved by their courage. He rarely saw Aunts choosing to leave Gilead, let alone survive this far. How many Aunts were left? More importantly, how did these Aunts get here?

Aunt Deborah shared briefly about their journey, being selective with her words with Hannah being around. Using their connections and government intel, they contacted someone from Mayday, who arranged a plan to get them here. Now, they were simply waiting to see what happens next. Nearly three days have passed since they first arrived.

“They must stop by weekly,” Nick wondered, more to himself.

“What do you mean?” Aunt Miriam asked him.

“Mayday,” Nick answered. “This is one of their safe houses. Someone has to at least check this place once in a while.”

A silence passed before Summer asked what was dreadfully on everyone’s minds: “What if they’re dead?”

“We’ll think of something,” June assured them.

“There’s still time,” Aunt Abigail added, although not too confidently. “I’m sure of it.”

Ruth shrugged. “We can rest up and head out tomorrow. We have a map. Why wait?”

“I can’t go that far with my bad back,” Aunt Miriam replied sadly. “I’m lucky I made it this far.”

“There’s no reason to make the journey any more difficult than what it already is,” Nick stated. “Let’s be patient.”

Ruth folded her arms, not entirely happy with his response.

“Um, where is the bathroom?” Hannah said off to the side.

“Oh, yes!” Aunt Deborah smiled, a little relieved to talk about something else. “Right down the hall from where you came. Here is the chapel, the central part of the building has the classrooms, and the far wing holds a small convent where the sisters used to stay. That’s where we sleep.”

“We have hot water, electric, food, and anything else you may need,” Aunt Miriam added.

Hannah rushed down the hall, and they thanked the Aunts sincerely. Aunt Deborah picked up her sermon right where she left off, while they gathered their belongings and headed to what used to be the convent. The hallways were dark and long, covered in wood detailing and dust. It felt just like home to Nick. They chose the floor above where the Aunts were staying as a courtesy. Nick picked a room at the end of the hall. He stood at the doorway, being thankful for these meager accommodations. Out of the many places he has laid his head before, this room left him feeling quite spoiled.

“Jeez, this is smaller than my dorm room in college,” June stated, dropping her bag.

The room had bright white walls and only one window bringing in the early afternoon sunlight. There was a single bed shoved against the corner with a crucifix right above it. A wooden desk and chair were along the opposite wall. The closet stood empty. That was all.

“We don’t have to share,” Nick told her, leaving the option in the air.

“Oh, we’re sharing,” June confirmed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled him into a deep kiss, backing into a wall.

Nick naturally got lost in the kiss, her touch, their desperation. The past few weeks without being alone together were getting old and tiresome. Already, he felt his body relax and indulge in the rarity of privacy. How long has it been? He gave in to the push and pull, the give and take, the emptying and filling up of each other’s souls. This was what they lived for, as it was the very thing that rescued them.

But wasn’t there something else he needed to accomplish? Oh, yes, there was. As soon as his mind took hold of it, a curtain was drawn away from her light, leaving him once again in the shadows. After one last, slow kiss, he stepped away from her--while every bone in his body told him not to. They were still close, but any closer, and he knew he wouldn’t accomplish what he set in his mind.

“I think it’s best if we didn’t,” he said quietly.

June’s eyebrows came together and she was hurt. She was desperately searching in his eyes for an explanation. “What do you mean?”

Nick sighed heavily. His heart told him not to do this, but his mind knew this was for the greater good. June’s safety had always been his priority. Throughout their journey, he convinced himself this was the only way. Wasn’t it?

“I’m not staying in Canada,” he answered, looking directly into her eyes.

June was left breathless, and she stepped off to the side, setting a cavern between them. “What are you saying, Nick?”

He hesitated, trying to think of the right words to say. There were multiple reasons for his decision, but which one was sufficient? He ran his fingers through his unwashed hair, a headache forming again. “You know what they’ll do to me if I stay.”

“What? Send you to prison? Do you think after getting all of us out, they’ll still arrest you? What you had to do in Gilead wasn’t your choice.”

“Not all of it,” Nick argued.

“Then I guess they should put me in a cell right next to yours, too.”

Nick sighed. This was going to go nowhere with her stubbornness. “Okay, then what about Mayday? How can I help from the inside if I’m in Canada?”

“You already know what they did to Mayday,” June answered him, “they told you themselves. They’ll kill you.” Tears were in the corner of her eyes. “I won’t let that happen.” She clenched her jaw and walked up to him, staring deep into his eyes. “I didn’t come back to Gilead just for Hannah, and you know that. If you’re not staying, then I’m not either.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, June, you know that’s stupid.”

“Is it? I’m not going to let the man I love die alone just because he thinks he deserves it.”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek. Her honest words shattered him inside, though he was barely keeping it together in the first place. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do, then.”

June dried her eyes with her hands, thinking of her response. Once decided, she smiled bitterly and shrugged. “I want you to look into our daughter’s eyes and tell her you’re sorry you can’t raise her. I want you to tell Hannah--that little girl who looks up to you and loves you so much--that you can’t see her grow up. You need to tell them that you gave up on them.” Her face was hard as stone, and her eyes were filled with fire. “I’m not the one you have to convince.” She snatched her bag off the floor and left the room, closing the door behind her.

It was at this moment that Nick finally let his body give in to the exhaustion and sickness that was building up inside him. The room was spinning, and the air was running out, prompting him to collapse onto the mattress. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, begging for his dreams (good or bad) to take him somewhere else. And soon, his world became very dark.

Chapter Text

The small room was silent, except for the chirping birds outside the window. The afternoon sunlight came through, basking the wooden floorboards. The air smelled stale and old, but it was neither hot nor cold. Nick slowly opened his eyes and for once didn’t feel the constant panging inside his head. The sleep must’ve done him some good, then. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands, waking up a little more. He tried to think of what to do next. What were his immediate needs? He picked at his dark green, ill-fitting jumpsuit he’d worn for a few weeks now. Dirt and mud stains and who knew what else covered the malodorous fabric. He supposed he should finally take a shower while the opportunity was still here.

Rising from the bed, his head spun, and his vision was blurry. He closed his eyes, willing it to stop, but it still felt like his head was floating off in space. His stomach tensed, and he tried to breathe through the dizzy spell to somehow ground himself. After a minute, he felt fine enough to continue the task. He opened the room’s door and poked his head out. Not a soul was around. He sauntered over to the communal bathroom on the other end of the hall, keeping close to the wall for balance.

The room was lit with dying fluorescent lights that buzzed loudly. Sunlight came through a small frosted glass window. The walls were covered with pink tile and the floor was brown. On one side were toilet stalls, the other showers. A row of sinks and mirrors lined another wall. A range of toiletries and towels were piled on the counter, some already used. His attention was caught on the towel wrack. On the rod hung a suit and tie of his, as well as his shoes on the floor, with a note attached.

A small smile tugged on his lips, uplifting his mood a little. Somehow, Summer managed to carry these garments throughout their long, perilous journey, knowing he would eventually want to change into them when the appropriate time came. This had to be why she was so protective over her bag; she wanted to keep them safe.

Nick took what he needed from the counter and picked one of the cleaner shower stalls. He was reminded of church camp, with how narrow and confined the space was. Oh, where did the time go? Turning on the faucet, he relished the feeling of warm water beating down on his skin. He didn’t realize he would miss it this much. He washed as best he could, his elbows hitting against the tiled shower walls. He stood there for a while, zoning out, appreciating the moment of having to be nothing. No one was asking him anything, waiting on him, or even looking for him. Here, for the first time in ages, he was under no obligations. No performances, no mask-wearing, no navigating. He was simply Nick Blaine.

He turned off the water and grabbed himself a towel, taking comfort in the built-up warmth and steam surrounding him. Once dried off, he put on his suit, his brain going on autopilot, relying on mere muscle memory. He has done the same act daily for years now. It’s funny how you could get so used to something. Once a hated ensemble was now his preference. Who was he without it?

Straightening his tie in the mirror, he brushed his fingertips along his prickly jawline. From the supplies, he fished out a razor and shaving cream and got to work. A Commander has to look his best, after all. Once he was smooth-skinned, he combed out his curling hair. He was long due for another cut, but he figured he could get away with it for a few more weeks. His reflection showed a version of himself he’d grown comfortable and familiar with. Although it was hollow and fabricated, this was what he used to survive.

His feet nearly trip on the discarded jumpsuit beneath him. He held it up, taking notice of the dried blood and dirt. There was no other choice but to part with it. Such a uniform represented one of the worst ideas Gilead has had as yet. And disguising oneself as a member left a bitter taste in the mouth. With no remorse, he tossed it in the trash. He supposed he wouldn’t need it anymore. He would much rather die in his suit, anyway.

Feeling much better than before, he exited the bathroom. He decided to find Summer and offer thanks. He went down the many stairwells and through the long hallways, finding no one. Circling back to whence they came, he passed by the chapel. Inside, the three Aunts were speaking to June about their journey, coming up with a plan of sorts. He heard the mention of Aunt Lydia, but the other Aunts seemed to be in pain because of it. For a brief moment, Nick’s eyes met June’s, but she quickly looked away. He felt so foolish for expecting a reception with their broken connection. The line was cut off. But could it be mended?

Warm air greeted him as he opened the door to go outside. The temperature had risen a little since they arrived. He noticed Summer sitting on the steps going up a side door, wearing a teal sweater and long skirt. She even had on her heels. Ruth was pacing the perimeter, drinking from a glass in her hands, occasionally picking up wildflowers. Hannah was nowhere to be seen. Nick saw daffodils sprouting up against the walls of the school, providing pops of yellow against the dreary brick building. He picked a handful, not especially caring if that was allowed or not. They were beautiful and meant to be given to someone. At least, that’s what Eden would’ve wanted.

Clearing his mind, he walked up to Summer on the stairs and handed her the flowers. “Thank you,” he told her.

Summer brightly smiled and took the flowers. “I’ll add them to the collection from Ruth.”

Nick took a seat next to her, feeling rather comfortable. It hadn’t always been this way. They did start as wedded strangers, after all. Had it been over a year already? He couldn’t help but wonder how his life would have turned out if he was forced to marry a different woman. Would she have been someone he couldn’t trust? Someone manipulative, controlling, or abusive? Would she have forced them to have children? Or, would a Handmaid have been necessary? Perhaps Summer was the sole reason why their escape was even possible in the first place.
On the other hand, what would have happened to Summer if he hadn’t come across her file? Would her father have turned her (and Ruth) in for gender treachery? Would he have separated them? If not, then what kind of man would have married her instead? Nick wasn’t sure if many men in Gilead could be trusted with everything that Summer was.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Summer lightly punched him in the arm, her cheeks turning red.

Nick bit the inside of his cheek to stop him from smiling. “Like what?”

Summer rolled her eyes and took a better look at him. Her smile faded. “Are you feeling okay?” She put her hand up to his hot forehead. “You haven’t been looking too well.”

Nick brushed her hand away, his eyes catching on her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight. Instinctively, he fidgeted with his fingers, coming across his gold wedding band. How was it still on? How long had it been there? He slowly slipped it off, the hefty weight lifted from his shoulders. He kept it in his palm for a moment, thinking, and then simply handed it to Summer.

She stared at the ring in his hand, taken off guard. Her mouth was open, but no words came out. She offered an uncomfortable smile. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Give it to Ruth,” Nick suggested.

Summer’s smile faded, and she looked down at her lap. “I can’t.”

Nick shrugged. “Why not?”

She bit her lip, hesitant about her answer. “What makes you think we’ll make it in Canada?” she questioned. “I mean, look at her; she’s perfect. And she’s so smart and so funny and so beautiful…” She sighed. “I wish things were different. I wish we met somewhere else. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard.”

Oh, if only you knew, Nick wanted to say to her.

Summer looked down at Nick’s hand with the ring and back to his eyes. “You should give it to June instead.”

Nick’s spirits sunk lower. He shook his head, “I don’t want to marry June.” After a pause, he added, “Besides, she’s already married.”

“She loves you,” Summer said sincerely.

“It’s not about that.” He struggled to find the right words to say. Eventually, he said, “Marriage stopped having meaning for me a long time ago.”

Summer winced. “Thanks for that,” she replied sarcastically.

He sighed in frustration. “All I’m saying is that you deserve better.”

“Well, of course, I do, silly!” She grinned. “Nobody is worth my time if they don’t give a fraction of theirs to Miss Dolly! And that’s the truth!”

He shrugged. “I guess I just never seen the appeal,” he teased.

Summer gasped and snatched the ring from his hand. “I’ll have this, thank you very much.” She fidgeted with it in her hands for a few seconds. She became serious again. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Isn’t that the greatest part about it now? Having a choice?”

“I think you’re wrong,” she said quietly. “You’ve always given Ruth and me a choice. You could’ve been like all the other Commanders, but you weren’t.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Nick was flushed. “It was literally the least I could do, Summer.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time at the house when….everything happened. You didn’t deserve that. It was just my first time killing somebody.” She shuddered.

Nick’s heart broke, hearing how affected she still was by that horrific night. He knew this was going to happen. What he made her do tragically changed her forever. This will never go away, coming back forever in dreams and triggers. What could he do to alleviate that pain? What could he do to make her forget? And here she was apologizing to him? “No, I was the one who forced you to do it,” Nick told her. “It’s my fault.”

Summer smoothed down the front of her skirt, saying under her breath, “Oh boy, June warned me about this.”

Nick wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. “What did she say?”

She flashed him a smile. “Nothing!” Then she turned her head out into the yard, “Ruthie! Ruth! Come here!”

“What did June tell you?” he pressed, but she didn’t listen. “Hey,” he grabbed her arm, “I’m sorry. If I could--”

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered, her words bringing a bit of peace and clarity.

Ruth came skipping over, knocking back the rest of her drink. She was loose and relaxed, and if Nick’s eyes were correct, she was happy. He had never seen her like this before. This was strange. “Oh, I could go for another one of those.”

Summer gave her a mischievous look and said to Nick, “Ruthie found some ancient wine down in the kitchen.” From under her skirt, as if by magic, she brought out a paper cup of said wine. “Wanna try some?”

It took everything within him not to reach out for that cup. His body told him he would feel better if he did, that all his problems wouldn’t only be solved, but be erased. After all, he could use some help to lighten up and be easy for a while. He wouldn’t even have to drink that much, right? It was just wine after all, not actually anything that would leave him with regrets. Besides, this day required a celebration. They were free in Canada, on the way to starting new lives. And who knows when he could drink again.

But was he willing to take the risk? It wouldn’t be just one cup, would it? With everything crowding his mind, he knew the relief would be addictive--dangerous, even. Was it so wrong to think of the fates of his brother and father? What were the odds of ending up just like them? He was feeling low, but not that low, at least not yet.

“No, thanks,” Nick politely declined.

Nick watched Summer discreetly put the wedding ring in her skirt pocket. She arose from the stair and brushed the backside of her clothes. She took a drink of the wine as she stepped down. “Come on Ruthie,” she linked her arms with Ruth’s. “I have a story to tell you about a little boy named Alex.”

“Who’s Alex?” Ruth questioned with a giggle as they walked away.

“Hey,” Nick called after them. “Have either of you seen Hannah?”

Summer looked back. “If she’s anything like her mother, she’s exactly where I told her not to go.” She nodded off to a rotted wooden shed next to the woods, so decrepit that Nick was afraid a slight breeze would knock it down. “Check over there.”

Of course, Nick thought to himself. He got up from his stair and walked slowly towards the structure. Through the cracks in the wood, he saw Hannah’s pink uniform. He found the threshold without its door and saw Hannah fully, sitting on a pile of old wood planks. She had a branch in her hands with some leaves still on it, teasing a thin, orange cat. She had a wide smile across her face and she was speaking softly to the little feline.

“You have a name for it yet?” Nick spoke up.

Hannah looked up and saw him, a little startled. “I know better than to do that, Nick.”

Attachments. Nick nodded sadly, and he made his way to her. He so badly wished this were different, that this was a perfect world, free from violence and hate. He wished their lives were normal, and he could be at home with her. June’s fierce words tugged at his mind, straining with the truth. After a year of being around Hannah, he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to see who she will become. But what he was doing was for her, in a way. It was a way to protect her future, to fight for that better world she will inherit.

“All my friends are dead, aren’t they?” Hannah questioned out of the blue. Her eyes were empty, and her face was expressionless as if she grew numb to the pain.

Nick hesitated, a little shocked she could say something so dark but true at the same time. The more he tried to make her life better, the more it seemed he made it worse. What more could this girl handle? At what point would she break? Nick bit his lip, figuring out what to say to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a weak smile. “Not all of them.”

She rolled her eyes. “You hardly count.”

“I’m sure you can make new friends in Canada.”

“Right,” she folded her arms. “I’ll be the freak from Gilead who’s dumber than a pile of rocks. That’ll win a lot of people over.”

“Don’t say that,” Nick sighed. “That’s not true.”

“Clearly you’ve never been a twelve-year-old girl, then,” Hannah rose to her feet. The cat rubbed itself against her legs, wanting attention. She offered a few quick pats on the head. “Is it so wrong to wish we never left?”

“No,” Nick answered quietly. “I wish it didn’t happen the way it did, and I’m sorry.”

Hannah picked up the branch and began playing with the cat again. “I suppose I should be more grateful.”

Nick remained quiet. He hadn’t exactly made her feel any better. He’ll have to try another way. Telling her his news will have to wait. He watched as she played with the cat, holding on to this moment as long as he could, so he could remember it later. “You know, plenty of kids your age in Canada escaped from Gilead.”

Hannah looked up, curious. “Really?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. You’re not alone, Hannah.”

“Do you think they’d want to be friends with me?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Nick shrugged. “I think…I think you’re going to love Canada. You’re going to have so much fun, you wouldn’t even remember what Gilead is like.”

She smirked. “Yeah, okay, Nick.” She turned her attention to the cat. “Are you hungry? Huh?” She bent down and petted him, a series of meows following. “I think so!”

They walked together back toward the school. All were gathered in the cafeteria for a helping of Aunt Miriam’s potato casserole. Usually, Nick wouldn’t find casseroles all that appetizing, but he gave it a shot, knowing there wasn’t any room for complaints given the limited food supply. It was nice to finally have something hot and solid after all those days of traveling. There wasn’t much to go around, but everyone had their fair share of it. Ruth and Summer were sitting close together at a table away from everyone else, whispering to one another. Nick didn’t notice a ring on Ruth’s finger, so maybe Summer got too nervous. The three Aunts also sat close together, reminiscing on their lives from the Before. Hannah was outside feeding the cat, as promised. June kept herself busy in the kitchen, away from everyone else, but if Nick had to guess, she wanted to be away from him most of all.

Nick wasn’t sure how much more he could take. June had avoided him in the past, but they always came back around. However, this time was different. He didn’t want to waste time figuring out who was to blame; he knew it was him. This was his decision, his responsibility. Certainly, June knew how important the fight was; he knew it was still inside her and probably will forever be. So couldn’t she see where he was coming from? He wasn’t abandoning his family; he was protecting it. That was all he knew.

It came down to fear. June was scared of losing him, right when she felt they no longer had to let go of one another. Nick understood this fear; it was within him, too. He didn’t think he could mean this much to somebody. He wasn’t all that special or interesting. But for June he was. What could he do to make it up to her? To make her understand? He loved her too much to leave her this way.

Ruth caught his eye, and before he could look away, she excused herself from Summer. She moved to his table and sat across from him. He didn’t greet her. He just wanted to be alone. Besides, he had a feeling about what she wanted to talk about.

“I take it you told June?” Ruth began, her eyes looking over toward the kitchen and back at him.

Nick sighed and stood up, grabbing his plate. “It’s none of your business, Ruth.”

Before he could leave, her hand was around his wrist. “You’re getting bad again.”

What was that supposed to mean? “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m your Martha,” she said this painfully, “it’s my job.”

Nick’s brow furrowed and he sat down again. Ruth never liked her Gilead role. Why was she accepting it now, in Canada, of all places? “I’m fine, Ruth.”

She rolled her eyes. “If I had one of those stupid tokens every time you told me that….”

He folded his arms. “Well, Dr. Ruth, what is your prognosis? You’re the expert here.”

Ruth snickered. “Wrong doctor. Well, actually…”

“I can handle this on my own, thank you.”

“All I know is that you started to get better when June came around,” the words poured out of her honestly. “Now you’re getting worse.”

Nick could see the concern in her eyes, and hear the pleading in her words. Please don’t kill yourself over this. I still care about you. Was Ruth right? He had lived with her for over a year now; surely she would pick up on anything. All he remembered was foolishly pushing her away. But her intentions were for his benefit. All of her efforts were to keep him alive and not give up. Could he afford to add another name to the list of people he was going to miss?

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll talk with her again tonight. I can’t promise anything.”

Ruth's shoulders slumped as if he didn’t say what she wanted to hear. “Whatever, I need to get back to Summer.”

For the rest of the night, Nick remained in the convent’s hallway, where everyone’s rooms were. He didn’t have much else to do. He checked and rechecked his bag, making sure his father’s bible and picture of Joshua and him were still there. He was on edge, thinking of what to say to June, to bring them back together again. Against his closed door he sat, waiting on her, who was yet to make her appearance. The hour was late, and he was nearly nodding off to sleep. However, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs awakened him. He saw June in the dim light of the hallway, looking exhausted. She was hurting, so he was, too. They made eye contact, and for a moment the wall she built up between them started to chip away. She leaned against her door, facing him. She was only a few rooms down from him, but the distance might as well have been in miles.

“The Aunts figured it shouldn’t take more than a few days--” she began.

“Stop,” Nick interrupted.

He didn’t want to waste this time talking about Gilead, Canada, escaping, or anything related. It made neither of them feel better, and only dreadfully reminded each other of what was going to happen. He wanted time to stop and everything and everyone else to fade away. He wanted to be with her, just the two of them. After all, they didn’t have many chances such as this.

Nick got up from where he was sitting and walked over to her, already sensing her need for him, too. It was as if she finally came up for air or let go of a weight that held her down. He backed her up against her door, keeping his head inches away from hers, both of them nearly breathless. He brought his hand up and held her face, rubbing his thumb gently across her cheek and bringing her closer until neither one could stand it. This was when he kissed her, taking her into his mouth, not daring to let go. Her hands desperately roamed underneath his suit jacket, inching up to his hair and giving it a slight pull. This simple but carnal act was just enough to nearly push him over the edge, falling into the inescapable pit of June’s fiery desires. This, of course, was something he would gladly repeatedly fall to his knees for until they turned black and blue, his fate eternally sealed to her devotion.

June took her hands away from him just long enough to open the door behind them. She pulled him in and locked the door. Not a word was said between them, as touches and glances communicated just fine. This was their preferred language, after all. They both instantly freed themselves of the costumes they both wore: a rough, dirty jumpsuit and a clean, black suit--both representing something their hearts were miles away from. This was an exceedingly vulnerable place to be for someone like Nick, but it didn’t feel wrong or dangerous; he believed this was the only time in weeks that he felt truly safe. June pressed her body against his and Nick was finally able to answer the call, their connection back online.

The way this ought to be described, in the most accurate way possible, was that for Nick, making love to June was like having an affair with Miss Mother Nature herself. Because sometimes it was like a wildfire: scorching hot and untamable, spreading forth relentlessly. Sometimes it was like a storm: electrifying and rolling with thunder with built-up energy. Other times it was an earthquake: tearing them apart with pleasured power and reaching deep within the cracks. And it was like a tornado: strong enough to blow them off their feet, but too mesmerizing to look away. And, yes, other times it was like a summer sun shower: gentle, warm, and oh so special.

They settled as their collective lengthy heat wave passed, letting the steam rise and dew bead and drip off their bare backs. It was a meteorological phenomenon like no other if Nick could wedge in his opinion. Soon, the chill of the night would seep through, but with their bodies side by side, it wouldn’t be such a problem. Nick brushed his fingertips up and down her arm, kissing along her neck, shoulder, and back. He simply breathed her in, holding her tightly, believing that the closer she was, the farther his intrusive thoughts had to be.

And on the third day, the chapel doors were finally opened by an outsider. Rain poured outside, forcing everyone to gather in the sanctuary and pass the time together. From the leaky ceiling, water dripped in buckets and bowls scattered all over the floor: plop…plop…plop. This took Nick back home, and no doubt Ruth, too, whose job it was to catch those drips every time it rained. Aunt Deborah was giving one of her daily sermons, speaking about the ascension of Jesus Christ. Aunt Abigail and Aunt Miriam were eagerly listening, interjecting with their comments from time to time. Hannah was sitting off to the side, writing, as she had been diligently doing throughout their journey. Summer and Ruth were together, half-listening, while Summer french braided Ruth’s hair. As far as Nick could tell, June wasn’t listening at all. She was daydreaming, glancing at him every once in a while with a smile. Nick tried not to pay attention to her, but his eyes kept drifting away from his father’s Bible in his lap. He wanted to make things right and build up his faith a bit before he had to leave, but the distraction of June proved to be much stronger.

“When they heard that Jesus was alive and that she had seen him, they did not believe it,” Aunt Deborah read. “Afterward, Jesus appeared--”

This was when the chapel doors suddenly squealed open, and everyone turned back to look, startled. There was a man who appeared in his late thirties, wearing jeans and an off-white half-zip pullover sweater. A smile was across his bearded face, with welcoming brown eyes behind wired glasses. He stood and took them all in.

“Well,” he clapped his hands jovially, “Welcome to Canada!”

Chapter Text

Day 15 (morning)

Another sleepless night. It was that moaning again. I think this place is haunted, like Nick’s old house. Did the ghosts follow us? Maybe they wanted to be free from Gilead, too. I wouldn’t mind if only they left me alone when I’m trying to sleep.

An apple for breakfast. Miss Ruth said we have to be careful. Well, I’m still hungry. Maybe I can have another apple in secret?

I’m in a fancy room they call the chapel. This used to be a school, but I don’t think it was all that fun. It’s raining, inside even, so I have to be careful where I sit, so it won’t ruin the paper. The Aunts are talking about Jesus. I forget their names. Does it matter?

Hold on, some strange man came in, talking about Canada or something. Aren’t we already in Canada? I’ll come back and tell you what I know.

Hannah set down her dull pencil and decided to pay attention to this man, who appeared to have all the answers. He looked nice enough, someone they could trust, definitely not one of the bad guys. However, he looked a little worried around the edges, as if he wasn’t quite prepared for this.

“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long,” he said apologetically. “There’s been an influx of refugees recently, so we’re trying to cover all the bases. Wow, it’s awful in here.” He looked up at the ceiling. “We’ll have to fix that.” He looked back at the eight pairs of eyes staring at him. “Oh, I’m Simon, by the way. I’m here to take you to your new lives!” He said this part a little too cheerfully, with the sounds of the dripping as the only response.

“Great,” June eventually said and stood up. “We’ll start packing.”

Mr. Simon looked panicked. “Well, I can’t take all of you.” He scratched his head nervously. “We weren’t expecting this many.”

“What?” June asked, a little surprised and maybe even a little angry.

“Take the family first,” one of the Aunts generously offered. “Us three can stay. ‘Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.’ Yes?” She looked around with a sad smile on her face.

Nick sighed. “Take the Aunts, they were here the longest. We can wait.”

“I can take a few more,” Mr. Simon replied.

“My daughter,” June told him, the decision settled and nonnegotiable.

“Alright, the Aunts and mother and child,” Mr. Simon calculated in his head. “Let’s see…”

“No, I’ll stay,” June corrected.

“June--” Nick began.

“How about we check and see how many seats there are since Simon here can’t seem to remember?” Miss Ruth offered, a little bitterly and condescendingly. “We don’t have to make sacrifices just yet.”

Everyone seemed to agree and headed back to their rooms to get their belongings. Hannah hastily packed her few things: her dirty pink dress, her disorganized traveling sewing kit, her doll that’s missing her eye now, her stories, sewing shears, The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Anne of Green Gables, and Winnie the Pooh. Nine things--ten, if she included her written travel log that she was quite proud of. She used to have many other things, but this was what she had grown content with over the past few weeks. Most of them had mud smeared all over, as she accidentally dropped her pack in a puddle that one time. But she was certain she could have room for more things when she moved into her new house in Canada with June, Nick, Miss Summer, and Miss Ruth. She would get her sewing room back, a shelf for all of her books, a desk for her to write on--

“Hannah, let’s go!” Miss Ruth impatiently shouted from the hallway.

Hannah zipped her bag and hurried back to the chapel, where everyone was waiting. Mr. Simon led them to his van outside, the cold rain pouring relentlessly on their backs.

“I probably have room for five people,” Mr. Simon pulled open the door, “no more than that. We’ll have another team come back next week if that makes you feel better.”

Miss Ruth poked her head in and looked around. “We’ll make it work.”

“Ruth--” Nick began, getting cut off again.

“I said we’ll make it work,” Miss Ruth glared at him.

Hannah wasn’t sure what this was supposed to mean. Was there something going on between them? Why was Nick so adamant about staying? She didn’t spend much time thinking about this, as something was running towards them through the rain. The bright orange contrasted with the dreary background, making it hard to miss. The poor cat’s fur was drenched, making him appear even thinner. He stopped a few feet away and meowed pitifully at Hannah, but she dared not to look at him. It only made it worse.

Before they got any more soaked, they all squeezed in, the Aunts taking the seats closer to the front. Hannah’s hips were crushed against the side of the van and Nick’s body, making it impossible to get comfortable. She supposed it could be worse. Of course, if she thought about it long enough, she has had it worse before. She tried to dry her face with the damp sleeves of her pink sweater, rainwater dripping from her messy hair. Shivers crawled up her spine, and she scrunched up her wet toes, confirming a hole somewhere in her shoes. Turning her head to the window, she watched as the surrounding woods became a blur as the van sped down the road.

Was this really happening? They were on their way to for-real Canada, where the people and houses were. Hannah wondered what those people were like. She was smart enough to know that life outside of Gilead was nothing like what it was on the inside. There were no Marthas, Guardians, Eyes, Aunts, Commanders, or Handmaids. What did these people do if they didn’t have assigned roles? All Hannah knew was that she would be able to read and write without it being a secret, and she wouldn’t be forced to marry someone she did not know. Maybe that was enough for them.

Hannah’s stomach tensed, and she felt it grumble angrily. She was grateful she didn’t have that secret apple. Nerves overtook her body. A few of those people in for-real Canada were her father and sister. What were they like? How were they supposed to fit in the family she already had here with her? They were total strangers. She’ll have to become used to them. But what if she didn’t want to?

Hannah took out her wrinkled and messy travel log from her bag. She tapped her pencil, thinking about how to pick up where she left off. She glanced around the crowded van, taking in her surroundings. Mr. Simon was quietly talking on a type of phone, mentioning a hotel, reporters, and other grown-up-sounding stuff. The Aunts had their heads bowed, praying. Summer was humming a song, something Hannah noticed she did when she was nervous. Ruth was biting her nails, June was bouncing her leg as much as she could in the confined space, and Nick, well, he looked awful. Nearly all the color was drained out of his skin, and his forehead was damp with sweat. Hannah hoped there were doctors at this hotel.

Day 15 (a little later)

Could this all be a dream? Maybe I finally fell asleep, and this is what my mind came up with. That would explain a lot of things. Or maybe I died sometime back in Colorado, and this is the afterlife. If so, this wasn’t what I thought Heaven would be like. First, there wouldn’t be any rain, and second, I’m sure God would have chosen a better way of traveling. I can barely breathe in here.

We are in a van driven by Mr. Simon (he’s the strange man I mentioned before). We almost didn’t all go, but I guess we had to stay together. I’m super nervous. Nick said I’m going to have fun in Canada. I think he was just trying to make me feel better. There’s nothing fun about strange people and strange places. I don’t think I want to meet my father and sister. Is that mean?

I miss home. It’s too late to go back. Besides, everything and everyone is gone. I suppose it’s more of a feeling than it is a place.

Sirens, beeping, and flashing lights distracted Hannah from her writing. She looked up, and suddenly they were in a city full of people, cars, and tall buildings. They were all moving so fast. Bright lights were everywhere, changing colors and reflecting off of the rainwater. The people were dressed in all sorts of clothes and doing all sorts of things, all of which confused Hannah slightly. Women were wearing pants, men were carrying babies, a boy was playing the guitar, friends were eating outside--it was all so fascinating. Hannah saw a few girls her age; they were all so pretty and happy. What for? Hannah didn’t see one tree or field of grass. Maybe they didn’t exist in for-real Canada. The lights kept changing, and the beeps kept beeping, making her head hurt.

They finally arrived at a busy street where it seemed all the cars and trucks with flashing lights were gathered there. A large group of shouting people with microphones and cameras and colorful poster signs gathered outside the door, waiting for them to exit the van. Hannah tried to calm down, but there were just too many people and moving things going on at the same time.

“Can’t we go around back or something?” June spoke up.

“The police are here,” Mr. Simon said casually, parking the van as best he could. “You’re safe.” He looked at them through the rearview mirror. “You weren’t expecting this, were you?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Miss Ruth admitted.

“Oh, you guys are all over the news!” Mr. Simon turned and looked at them, a big smile on his face. “What you guys did in Colorado, I mean, wow! Now that was brave. Gilead’s been looking everywhere for you.”

“Are they going to make us go back?” Hannah whispered to Nick, but he was too sick to answer.

“Alright, well, this is the end of the road,” Mr. Simon said. “And the beginning of a new chapter. Adventure awaits!”

Miss Ruth groaned, rolling her eyes. “This guy is seriously getting on my last nerve.”

A policeman pulled open the door, and the blinding camera flashes began. The wave of people rushed forward, shouting all sorts of questions. A few members of the police started pushing them back, forming a narrow path to the hotel door. Hannah locked her eyes on that door, knowing all of this will be over if only she could make it to the other side. She thought Canada was supposed to be safe, but she felt far from it here.

“Hold on to my hand,” Nick told her. “Don’t let go. Stay with me.”

Hannah tried her best to get a good grip, but his hand was too clammy. She put her bag’s strap around her shoulder and took a deep breath. She was glad the rain finally stopped, but something told her that wasn’t going to make this any easier. They made it out of the van, keeping their heads down. Several people touched Hannah’s shoulders and arms; one person even grabbed her sweater, yanking her back. Cameras and microphones were shoved in her face, everyone trying to get a piece of her. But she kept going forward until she finally stepped through that hotel door.

Someone locked the door behind them after everyone was finally inside, with the police guarding. Then, even more people came running at them. When was it going to end? Hannah hid behind Nick, hoping they would all go away. More questions were thrown at them, but they were all too stunned to answer.

“June! June!” A man’s voice shouted from far away. It sounded like he was running. “Hannah!”

Hannah looked out from behind Nick and was soon face to face with a man. He had dark skin and eyes like she did, a shaved head, and a short beard. Tears were streaming down his face. He rushed forward and hugged her tightly, kissing her head multiple times. Hannah’s muscles were tense, and her skin was crawling. Who was this man, and why did he keep touching her?

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he kept muttering. He let go long enough to hold her face in his hands. “I’ve missed you so much.” His thumb rubbed her cheek gently. “My Hannah Banana.” He smiled at her.

What was this? Was he referring to her as a piece of fruit? “Um, may the Lord open?” she managed to say, a little rusty from lack of practice.

The smile on the man’s face instantly faded. He blinked several times, wiping the last of his tears away. “What? No. Hannah, don’t you remember me?”

The way her name came out of his mouth made her uncomfortable. It was as if he owned it. Couldn’t he have waited for her to introduce herself first? She looked up at Nick, wondering if he had the answers. He looked like he was barely holding on to a rapidly breaking thread. Kneeling before her, he looked at her with watery eyes. He brushed off her shoulders, fixed her hair a little, and started buttoning her sweater. He didn’t say anything. Because maybe if he did, he was going to lose it, that fraying thread snapping right in half.

“Nick, what is happening?” Hannah whispered. She didn’t care what was going on around her. For right now, her attention was on him. Something was unsettling in the way Nick was behaving, something that was a little too familiar yet strange at the same time. What was it?

He bit his trembling lip, hesitating. “You’re going to have to be brave one more time, okay?” His shaking hand cupped her cheek, a set of tears streaming down his face. “This man is your father. You’re going to live with him now, alright?”

Hannah shook her head. That wasn’t part of her plan. Not at all. “No,” she cried, tears also forming in her eyes. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Oh, but I know you can do it,” Nick pressed, another tear falling. She had never seen him cry before.

“No,” Hannah insisted. “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.”

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, more tears running down his cheeks. He licked his lips and looked at her again. “Give your sister a big kiss for me, okay?” He was breathing hard, sweat beading around his forehead. His hand was on his chest.

Hannah’s eyebrows came together in confusion. She didn’t understand. “Aren’t you coming with me?” She sniffled, the tears coming faster than she could wipe them away. “I don’t want to go with him. I want to go with you.” Nick was barely looking at her. She touched his cheek. His skin was cold.

“I can’t,” he breathed out. After saying this, he looked broken, sort of like when a light bulb uses up its last efforts to conduct electricity: there’s nothing left, it's completely used up and powerless, impossible to ever work again. The light was gone.

Suddenly, Nick fell motionless at her feet. Hannah screamed out his name, shaking his body over and over again. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. She can’t be losing him. Not now. People in uniform rushed over to assess his condition. June, Miss Summer, Miss Ruth, and the Aunts stopped talking to the other people in the room and were by his side in an instant.

“Hannah, leave him alone now,” her father grabbed her arm. “They know what to do.”

Hannah yanked her arm out of his grip and glared at him. “Don’t touch me.” She kept her eyes on the crowd around Nick’s body on the ground. Eventually, they lifted him on a stretcher and rolled him away, disappearing down a hallway.

Soon after, the Aunts, Miss Summer, and Miss Ruth were escorted into an elevator before Hannah could even say goodbye. They were gone forever, probably. Now it was just her, her father, June, and a few government officials (or whoever they were supposed to be). The room seemed so large now, and Hannah felt so small. Every noise echoed. Her heart felt like it was going to rip out of her chest.

“Let’s go home,” her father spoke up.

“What about Nick?” Hannah questioned.

He sighed, not wanting to deal with the situation anymore. “They’ll probably call us if they have any updates.”

Hannah wanted to ask if he was dead, but she didn’t have the strength to say it. She didn’t want it to be true.

“Let’s go to our room,” June put her arm around Hannah. “I’ll find out which hospital they took him to.”

“I can take you home,” her father pressed. “We don’t have to stay here.”

June looked at him. There was a chill in the air. “We’ll just stay the night. Tomorrow, maybe.”

He wasn’t entirely pleased with her answer. He sighed. “Alright, I guess. I’ll come back in the morning.”

June nodded, and he came over and kissed her. He gave Hannah another hug.

“Hey, tomorrow, we can do whatever you want,” he smiled at her. “How does that sound?”

If Hannah wanted to be more than strangers with this man, she had to make the first move, or else the rest of her life would be unbearable having him around. She held out her hand. “I’m Hannah, what is your name?”

The man’s brows knitted together, caught off guard. He gave an uncomfortable laugh and shook her hand. “Dad.”

Oh, he wasn’t going to be honest with her. Hannah looked over to June for some help.

“Luke,” she answered. “His name is Luke.”

“Like the gospel.” She nodded her head with approval. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Luke.”

Mr. Luke rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah.” He sighed. “I should get going. Get some rest.” He hugged them both one last time and disappeared down the same hallway Nick’s body went.

As soon as Hannah was alone with her mother, it finally hit her. Nearly everyone she loved was gone. The people she grew close to, the ones who survived the long, dangerous trip through Gilead and Canada’s war zone were missing. So much for staying together. Hannah started crying again. She was overwhelmed by everything that had happened within the past few hours. The people, the noises, the touching, the shouting…everything was just too much. Was this the way it was going to be from now on?

June held her tightly, rubbing her back. “I know, I know. It’s okay.”

Hannah’s head was throbbing with pain, her eyes were droopy, and her muscles were begging for sleep. She sniffled a few more times, forcing herself to bottle the rest inside. Nick told her to be brave one more time. Although she didn’t feel like it, she’ll have to fake it for a few minutes. This dream was starting to become a nightmare.

“Let’s go up,” June told her softly. She put on a smile, trying to stay strong for her daughter. She grabbed her bag and then Nick’s and waited by the elevator.

Hannah’s bag felt like nothing but bricks were inside it. She felt so stupid. She didn’t need her silly sewing kit, doll, or even her stories. She would trade all of it for Nick to be okay again. Not only that, but she didn’t even know where they took Miss Summer and Miss Ruth. Yet, they were the only other people in the world she wanted to be with.

The elevator doors opened, and June stepped inside, holding the door for Hannah. “Come on.”

Hannah looked inside the small metal box with doors that looked like they could chop her in half. No way was that happening.

“Hannah, you know what an elevator is,” June told her. “Come on.”

She shook her head.

Sighing, June grabbed Hannah’s arm and dragged her in, the door quickly closed behind her. She punched in numbers on a keypad, and up they went.

Hannah held tightly to the railing, trying to not fall. It was a dizzying feeling, being lifted so fast up in the air. But before she was going to complain, the elevator slowed down and dinged. The doors opened. She followed her mother obediently down the quiet and empty hallway to their room. June took a card from her dark green jumpsuit pocket and held it in front of the doorknob. The door made a small beep, and she opened it.

Most of the hotels in Gilead Hannah wasn’t allowed in, or, at least, her Commander never brought her to one before. But from what she could tell, they were like little homes, similar to what the Econopeople lived in. This room was just that. There were two large beds, a wardrobe, a dresser, a television, a desk and chair, a nightstand, a small refrigerator, and a bathroom. The air smelled like new furniture and clean linens. The window showed the view of the street and the tall building across the way. June quickly drew the curtains, though it did nothing to drown out the sirens and the loud crowd from below. There were ugly pictures of squiggly lines and shapes on the walls, nothing like what Miss Summer used to paint. What happened to her?

Hannah set her bag on the closest bed. There was a plastic bag on top, filled with all sorts of things. “What’s this?” she asked her mother.

June picked up the plastic bag that was on the other bed. “Oh, it’s just things they gave us now that we’re home in Canada.” She dumped it on the blanket. “New clothes, shoes, toothbrush, underwear, things like that.”

Hannah didn’t want more things anymore. She wanted things to be normal again, with the people that made her feel at home. She shoved the bag with disinterest and sat down on the bed, dangling her feet. Scary thoughts came into her mind, and she didn’t know how to stop them.

“I’m going to draw you a bath, okay?” June came up to her, holding her chin up. “You probably haven’t washed in a good while.”

“No, you first,” Hannah yawned, wanting to be alone.

“You’ll feel better,” she tried.

Won’t bring them back, Hannah wanted to say. “I’m tired. I’ll do it later.”

Her mother sighed. “Okay, but we have to get you out of those clothes.” She started to open Hannah’s plastic bag, going through her things.

Hannah shoved June’s hand away. “I don’t want new clothes.”

June bit her lip, trying very hard to be calm. “Okay,” she nodded her head, “okay.” Instead, she took her new things and locked herself in the bathroom, the shower turning on.

Hannah pushed her things off the bed. She untied her shoes and let them fall on the floor. Her socks had giant holes in the soles and weren’t anywhere near the color of white anymore. Then, she crawled up the bed and set her head down on the fluffiest pillows she had ever known. Already, her eyes closed shut, sleep being only around the corner. She let the sound of the shower water splashing against its floor calm her down. Before she gave in, she made one more mental note for her travel log.

Day 15 (a lot later)

Canada sucks.

Chapter Text

Why didn’t they make beds this big and comfortable in Gilead? Hannah stretched out all of her limbs and still didn’t reach the edges of the mattress. She opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and brand new to the world. She didn’t think she had ever slept for so long without once going to the bathroom. Speaking of which…

Hannah sat up and rose from the bed. Off to her side, June was fast asleep in her bed. The room was silent except for the heater underneath the window. The loud crowd from yesterday must’ve left in the night. The early morning sunlight slipped through the cracks behind the curtain, lighting the room dimly. But Hannah didn’t need much light to know what happened while she slept. A deep crimson stain the size of her fist appeared where her body had laid. She felt it rush as soon as she stood up.

“Oh no,” Hannah panicked, dashing to the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. She quickly pulled down her skirt and underwear and sat on the toilet, receiving confirmation of her suspicion. Oh, where was her Martha when she needed her most? Hannah looked frantically around the small hotel bathroom. She didn’t see any of the napkins she used back in Gilead, just crisp white washcloths and paper-thin toilet paper. What was she to do? She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “J-June?” she asked, then louder, “June!” No response. “Mom?”

Soon, June came through the doorway. Her hair was a mess but finally clean, and sleep still heavily lingered on her face. She yawned, her eyes barely open. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” Hannah looked down at her blood-stained underwear and back up at June, feeling helpless and stuck.

June cursed underneath her breath. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “Hold on.” She left the room and returned with Hannah’s plastic bag of her new things. In it was a box of pads and a pair of bright white briefs. “We’ll just throw this away.” June gathered her stained clothes.

Hannah reached out for her skirt. Getting rid of that would be like getting rid of a part of herself. “No! I can fix it!”

“Hannah, you have to let go of it,” June pulled on the skirt, brushing her hair out of her face. “It’s ruined.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hannah pressed, tugging the skirt until June reluctantly released it from her grip.

June folded her arms, watching her daughter. “Do you need anything else? Medicine? Water?”

“I’m fine,” Hannah replied sternly, sticking the pad to her new underwear. “You can leave.”

June nodded. “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?” She stayed for a few seconds and then closed the door behind her.

As soon as the doorknob clicked, Hannah got to work. She ran the sink until she saw steam and pulled the drain stopper. Dunking in her skirt, she began rubbing the stain with hand soap. She also added her spit for good measure. The hot water burned her hands, but this was the only way to fix it. She knew what to do. This wasn’t her first time, after all. After more tough scrubbing, the stubborn stain released its tight grip on the cotton fibers, ultimately conceding. The water turned a reddish brown and smelled like blood and other mysterious things from its long journey. This was possibly the skirt’s first cleaning in weeks. She draped it over the shower curtain rod, letting it air dry.

Hannah stopped and took a look at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t had much time or liberty to do it much before. It sounded strange to admit, but this was, probably for the first time, she realized she had a body. A live, breathing, growing, changing body. And boy, did she not like it. Small bumps emerged on her chin and forehead. She brushed her fingertips over them, and they hurt a little. Her skin was dry, and she was outgrowing her top fast. Her hair hasn’t been properly taken care of in weeks, and it stuck out in odd places. She couldn’t help but remember those pretty girls she saw on the sidewalks while they drove through for-real Canada. What did they have that she didn’t? She didn’t think she saw anyone more ugly than what she saw in her reflection. She was, without a doubt, the ugliest girl in Canada, maybe even in the whole world. How come no one ever told her this before? Tears formed in her eyes. Her picture was probably all over the news by now. And she looked like this?

It is with great misfortune, then, that Hannah didn’t know better. She wasn’t ugly at all. She was just twelve. And everyone knows you can’t trust what you see in an atrociously lit hotel bathroom. But Hannah went and scrubbed away at her face and teeth as she did to the deplorable stain, expecting, by some miracle, it would all rub off. Once finished, she exited the bathroom, hoping she would never have to see herself again.

“Feeling better?” June asked, sitting on her bed, brushing out her hair.

The cramps hadn’t started yet, thank God, but Hannah knew they would come eventually. She shrugged and went to her bag. She took out her pink dress and began to change. “It’s amazing, actually,” Hannah told her, pulling her head through the neck. “Imagine if I got it while we were in the van. That would’ve been something else! When I lived with Miss Summer and Miss Ruth, we all got our period at the same time.” She shrugged again. “They said that happens when women live together. I guess you’ll be getting yours soon, then, too.”

June’s eyebrows knitted together, thinking. “I… I suppose so,” she told her, but her voice sounded unsure--concerned, even.

Hannah got out her travel log and set it on the bed. Her eyes locked on the red stain.

“Don’t worry about it,” June told her, noticing the stain too. “They have special ways of getting that stuff out.”

“But, but,” Hannah couldn’t quite put it into words. “It’s embarrassing.”

June snickered. “It’s okay, Hannah. It happened to me a few times when I traveled for work.”

“They didn’t say anything?”

June smiled, trying to make her feel comfortable. “No, I always left in time before the maids saw me.”

Maids must mean Marthas in Canada. Hannah tried to remember this.

“Are you hungry?” Her mother asked her. “There’s breakfast downstairs.” She bit her lip and added, “Maybe we’ll see Miss Ruth and Miss Summer there, yeah?”

Hannah’s ears perked up at the possibility of seeing them again. Still no Nick, but she’ll take what she could get. She’ll probably get more answers once they are all together, anyway. Quickly, she put on her shoes and sweater and was ready. June looked so different in her new clothes. They were just simple blue jeans and a plain gray sweatshirt, but Hannah guessed she was so used to seeing her in Miss Summer’s clothes and that green jumpsuit.

They left the room and went into the elevator, but Hannah wasn’t so scared this time. Soon, they were on the first floor again, the place where they took Nick away. Off to the side was a buffet and tables and chairs. There were other people dressed like June, too, most of them women. But in the corner, sitting alone at a table, was someone dressed in teal.

“Miss Summer!” Hannah gasped and rushed over to her.

Miss Summer turned and faced her, a big smile on her face. “Hey, chickadee!”

Hannah wrapped her arms tightly around her. Somehow, she still smelled like citrus. “Where did you go?”

“They gave me a room,” she simply answered. Her smile faded when she looked up at June. “Have you seen Ruth?”

“What?” June asked, confused. “I thought she was with you?”

Miss Summer looked down and faced forward in her chair. “They separated us.” She folded her arms, her chin trembling. “We haven’t been apart--ever.”

June bit her lip and sighed. She looked over at Hannah. “Stay here; I’ll get you something to eat.” She took one last glance at Miss Summer and left.

Hannah sat across from Miss Summer. Her blonde curls were a mess, and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Mascara was smudged all around her blue eyes. Barely anything was eaten from her plate. Hannah’s heart broke for her. Now she had to worry about Miss Ruth, too. What was happening?

“It’s going to be okay,” Hannah told her quietly. She didn’t believe it entirely, but she hoped Miss Summer didn’t know that.

Miss Summer gave her a weak smile and held her face in her hands.

Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she had to give a grown-up comfort, let alone Miss Summer. She was, after all, the one that kept her calm while they tried not to get killed through Gilead and Canada’s war zone. Hannah squirmed in her seat and twisted her mouth. “If you want a rainbow, you have to have rain,” she tried. “Isn’t that what that Dolly lady told you?”

Miss Summer looked at her, drying her tears, nodding. She cleared her throat and painted on a new face. “‘The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain!’” She squeezed Hannah’s hand. “Thank you.”

June came back with their breakfast tray and sat down next to Hannah. Bacon, eggs, and French toast were what she had to eat with a glass of white milk. Hannah bowed her head and said a quick prayer to God, even though he felt so far away. She took a small bite of the French toast, not sure what to expect. It was cold and gooey, nothing like what her Martha used to make, and definitely not Miss Ruth’s cooking either.

“And Nick?” Miss Summer asked June, an eyebrow raised.

June stopped peppering her eggs. She hesitated. “I called the hospital last night, but they couldn’t tell me anything.” She stabbed her fork in her food. “I’m not related.”

Miss Summer scratched her head, swirling a pancake piece in maple syrup. “Well, I’m still his wife, I think.” She took a drink of her orange juice. “Maybe they’ll talk to me.”

June gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

“We’ll try to find Miss Ruth, too,” Hannah offered, though she had no clue how she could accomplish this.

Miss Summer set down her fork and smiled slightly. “If I know Ruth, I’m sure she’s giving them hell for this.” She gathered her dishes and stood up. “I should go. These cramps are killing me.”

“Tell me about it,” Hannah said into her glass of milk.

Back in their room, after breakfast and a warm shower, there was a knock at the door. It was a friendly woman dressed in a black skirt suit, wanting to speak to June--alone. Hannah couldn’t tell what this could be about. She looked important enough like she could help them. Maybe it was about Nick or Miss Ruth. Maybe it was another one of those government people, or worse--a nosy reporter.

“Hannah, we’re going to be right outside the door,” June told her. “Put the TV on. I don’t want you listening.”

“TV?” Hannah asked back.

“Yes, Hannah, I know you remember,” June sighed. “You used to beg me every morning before school.” She handed her the remote and pointed at different buttons. “This is how you turn it on, and these control the volume and channel.” Before she left, she told her, “Remember what I said about not listening.”

Hannah nodded and turned the television on. Right away, the black box lit up, her reflection replaced with colorful videos and pictures. Words were scrolling at the bottom of the screen, too fast for Hannah to read. She sat closer, mesmerized. She knew what they were showing. It was the very hotel they were staying at, as well as pictures and videos of them in Gilead. People were talking about them as if they were there themselves. But Hannah didn’t know them at all and certainly not the story they made up.

“Back to the refugee crisis at the border,” a blonde lady with too much makeup began, “yesterday’s migrants only confuses the story we’ve been covering in Gilead over the past few weeks. On the screen is the hospital where Commander Nicholas Blaine is being held. Now, officials are being tight-lipped about his condition, but reporters tell us he fell ill shortly after arrival. With him, he brought three women, one of which is confirmed to be a Wife, as well as a girl and three Aunts. But being a Commander himself, was this escape mission enough to excuse him from his crimes? Joining us now is an expert on immigration and political author, Paul Cato. Mr. Cato is currently living in Toronto, searching for his missing wife and daughter in Gilead. Welcome!”

The camera panned to the stocky man sitting across from the lady. Mr. Cato had a balding head and a short beard, with an arrogant way about him. He smiled at the woman. “Thank you for having me.”

“What was your reaction to the arrival of this family?” the woman asked, eager for his answer.

“Well, for one thing, family doesn’t exist in Gilead, only power,” he replied, talking with his hands. “We don’t really know who these people are. We know who Commander Blaine is, and we know one of the women was dressed as his Wife, Mrs. Blaine, but she was unfairly forced into that marriage. Then we have a Daughter--who knows who her real parents are. Of course, we were all shocked to see the three Aunts, who seemed to come out of nowhere. Now the remaining two women fascinate me. They are dressed as the Peacekeepers they brutally murdered in Colorado, we know that. But could they be Mr. Blaine’s sex slave and house slave--”

“Mr. Cato--” the woman looked embarrassed.

“It’s true, that’s essentially what Handmaids and Marthas are! Or worse, they could both be his sex slaves. We don’t know what is in the sick minds of Gilead Commanders.”

“But he did get seven people out of Gilead,” the woman countered. “Don’t you think that counts for something?”

He waved her off. “The Aunts barely count. They were never in any of the pictures or videos released by the media. Maybe they aren’t even Aunts at all.”

She smiled uncomfortably. “Are you saying they faked it?”

Mr. Cato leaned in. The more he talked, the more he used his hands in exaggerated motions. “Look, the way I see it, Commander Blaine is in a tough spot he doesn’t want to be in. He needs something to make him look good, like the hero. But that does not excuse his behavior. He is still a Commander--an active, loyal agent of Gilead. Don’t you think it’s pretty odd he suddenly ‘fell ill’ as soon as he arrived in Canada?”

“Well, I do find it a little strange…”

“Right! I think he’s buying time. Because as soon as he recuperates, he knows he’s a dead man. I say we need to find everything about him, dig deep. I know he’s hiding something; I feel it. This whole situation is just too bizarre to happen the way it did. I know I keep repeating this, but we need to have stronger border control. We can’t keep taking people in like him and ruining what we are fighting so hard for in Canada.”

“What do you suggest we change?”

“Only women and children.” He paused, nodding his head. For once, his hands were still.

“Only women and children?”

He nodded again. “Only women and children.” His eyes teared up, and he struggled to continue. “Because I can’t keep having these sleepless nights, knowing what people like Commander Blaine are doing to my wife and daughter.” He shook his head. “I can’t. He needs to be charged to the highest degree as soon as possible. He is, without a doubt, mark my very words, a sadistic war criminal, murderer, liar, rapist--”

Suddenly, the door beeped and was opened. June’s face was covered in shock, staring at the screen. “Hannah, what the hell are you watching?” She rushed over to the television and turned it off. The room was silent.

Tears were in Hannah’s eyes. “I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “I thought…”

June took her face into her hands, her expression serious. “Listen to me: you were there, you know what happened, you know the truth. Those people know nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Hannah looked down at her lap, thinking. “Maybe I need to talk to the lady on the TV. Then people will know the truth.”

June collapsed on her bed, sighing tiredly. “They will never leave us alone.”

Hannah hesitated before asking, “What did you talk about with that lady?”

She propped herself up on an elbow and shrugged. “They want me to tell them everything that happened. She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Hannah bit her lip, “I’m strong.”

June smiled at her. “No, I mean up here,” she pointed to her head. “She wants you to talk to a therapist.”

“What’s that?”

She sighed. “A type of doctor. Don’t worry about it. I want you home first.”

Hannah nodded. She, too, wanted to be home, but she had a feeling it won’t be with the right people. “Did she say anything about Miss Ruth and Nick?”

June avoided eye contact. “She said they’re fine and to let them take care of it. Worrying about it would be ‘counterproductive’ or whatever.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

June sat up properly and twisted her mouth. “Well, she could be a little right, don’t you think? You should focus on the good, not the bad.” She put a lock of hair behind her ear. “I want your life in Canada to be…to be everything you missed out on in Gilead.”

What in the world was she saying? Does she seriously not care at all what happened to Miss Ruth and Nick? The lies about them on the TV? Heck, the lies they were being told right in front of their faces? Hannah knew that Miss Ruth and Nick were far from “fine,” or else they would be able to see them. Why couldn’t June see this?

Hannah got up from her bed and went to the desk. She pushed aside the notepad with her mother’s scribbling all over it and got out her travel log. She had a lot to say this time.

Day 16 (morning)

The hotel is really nice. The bed is super comfortable, and I wanted to stay in the shower forever. The food here isn’t that great, though. But I can’t complain. I got to see Miss Summer. She is really sad. Both Miss Ruth and Nick are missing. I think something bad happened to them, but I don’t know what. I don’t even know what happened to those Aunts. Maybe they were just imaginary, like that mean man on the TV said.

Some lady came by and talked to June. She’s supposed to work for people like us. People who escape from their country, I mean. They want me to talk to a doctor person. June said I should go home and get settled first. I’m glad. I don’t like doctors very much. Besides, I feel fine. Nick is the one that needs a doctor.

I met my father yesterday. He isn’t anything like Nick or my Commander. Maybe someone in between? He’s nice, as long as he gives me space. I’ll have to figure out what to do with him.

June is acting strange. Almost as if we didn’t escape death multiple times. As if Miss Ruth is just on vacation and Nick went out for a drive and will be back soon. Almost as if everything is fine. But it’s not.

A knock on the door startled both June and Hannah. Hannah dropped her pencil, and June stopped sifting through Nick’s belongings. Judging by the time, they both knew who it was. June got up and answered the door.

“Hey, good morning!” It was Mr. Luke, as expected. He was smiling and hugging June tightly. He kissed her deeply, and she kissed him back. What was that about? He then put his attention on Hannah. “Hey, Hannah!”

Hannah stood up, smoothed down her dress, and cleared her throat. “Blessed day, Mr. Luke.”

His face fell. “You don’t have to talk to me like that. I’m your dad.”

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized uncomfortably.

The following few minutes were spent getting ready. Hannah gathered her old and new things, stuffing her damp skirt into the top of her bag. She took one final look around the hotel room, understanding that she will never get to see it again, just like the cabin in the woods. It was the bridge between her old home and her new one, and it will be closed forever now. Hannah followed her parents out into the silent hallway.

“Have you thought about what you want to do today?” Mr. Luke asked Hannah.

“Maybe go outside?” Hannah suggested, not giving it much thought. “Do you have trees?”

He smirked. “Of course.”

It was another quick ride down the elevator and back to the floor where Nick disappeared. That loud crowd gathered again at the front of the building, and police guarded the door. Mr. Luke led them toward the back, but something didn’t feel right to Hannah.

“Wait, what about Miss Summer?” Hannah stopped them. “And Miss Ruth? We have to find her.”

“Hannah, they can’t come home with us,” June told her.

“Why not?” Hannah replied. “Where else are they supposed to go?”

Her father sighed. “They have people who figure those things out. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about it. It’s all Hannah has ever been told so far. She was getting sick of it. How could she not worry? No one was giving any answers, and they didn’t seem to care. However, their silence told Hannah everything she needed to know. Nothing was being done about Miss Summer, Miss Ruth, or Nick. And that’s just the way it had to be.

“Come on,” June said to her gently, holding her hand.

Hannah slipped her hand away and crossed her arms. She followed them down the hallway, where they took Nick. They went through the back door and into Mr. Luke’s car without any trouble. It was a short distance, but every step was painful to Hannah.

“I figured it was easier leaving this way,” Mr. Luke told them as he backed out. “Those reporters and protestors are everywhere.”

“Tell me about it,” June commented not too happily. “You wouldn’t believe what they’re saying on the news.”

“Oh, I’ve been watching it,” Mr. Luke took them down a side street. “Don’t let it bother you.”

Hannah drowned out their insignificant conversation and kept her eye on the tall hotel building for as long as she could. They left Miss Summer there alone, without even telling her goodbye. She was already in a fragile state to begin with. Now, what was going to happen to her? Will she ever see her again? Will she see any of them again? All these things were changing, and people were leaving; it felt like she was trying to get a handful of sand, but the grains kept slipping through, leaving her with nothing.

Chapter Text

After a short drive away from the busy city and into the quiet suburbs, they arrive at a house--presumably their house. Hannah studied it through the backseat window. It looked a little like her old one with the brick, but it definitely wasn’t as big. So this was where she was going to live now. She saw a few tall trees growing up front and in the back. The neighborhood was still, with a couple of dog walkers and cars passing by. But no one was yelling at them or taking pictures. Hannah got her bag and stepped outside, thankful for the bit of fresh, cool air.

She followed her parents wordlessly to the front door and entered. She remained in what she assumed was a living room, looking around at the furniture and decorations. There was a warm tone to everything, with books piled on shelves and scattered baby toys. Strange paintings were hung on the deep green walls, but not one of them was a picture of her. Sunlight cascaded dreamily in the next room, while the room on the left was cast in shadows. Here she was, caught in the middle.

Suddenly, a toddler came running into the room, holding a makeup brush. She had pink blush all over her face, getting into her blonde curls. She was giggling mischievously and quickly hid behind Hannah in hopes of not getting caught. Hannah’s heart skipped a beat, looking down at her and understanding exactly who this little troublemaker was already.

“Nichole!” a woman’s voice yelled out exasperatedly.

The toddler giggled again and played with the bristles on the brush. She sneezed as a cloud of makeup dust flew into the air.

The woman entered, catching her breath. She also had dark skin and eyes like Hannah, but her infectious smile was what drew her in. Her whole face lit up with joy and excitement. “Hannah!” she exclaimed, bringing her in a tight hug. “Oh my God!”

Hannah felt slightly uncomfortable and didn’t hug back. Who was this person? “Blessed day.”

“Hey, Moira,” June hugged her, smiling widely. “This is our Hannah.”

Miss Moira took Hannah in, her eyes going from her face down to her feet and back up again. “She’s so big!” She lifted her chin and looked at her closely, her eyes falling on her hair. “We’ll fix that in no time.”

June put her arm around Hannah. “This is your Aunt Moira.”

Oh yes, her Aunt Moira. It seemed that she had forgotten all about her. Was this someone she had to worry about, too? “Aunt?” Hannah asked.

Miss Moira looked a little uncomfortable. “Oh, not that type of Aunt. I’m your mother’s best friend. And I’ve missed you so, so much.”

Hannah nodded, not knowing what else to say. It was hard to miss someone you don’t know or even remember.

“And this,” Mr. Luke said, picking up the toddler, “is your little sister, Nichole.”

Hannah’s eyes zeroed in on Nichole. She was confused, but mostly disappointed. Great, the first friend I made in Canada is someone who can’t even talk. She was a baby. How was she supposed to relate to a baby? She was someone she would have to take care of instead of the other way around. Oh, if only Hannah cared to do the math, she would have expected this. Of course. Nichole didn’t know anything about Gilead, or even life for that matter. She was just a baby. A dumb, stupid, little baby. Hannah didn’t want to look at her anymore.

Sensing Hannah’s discomfort, June changed the subject. “Let’s go find your room.”

Hannah nodded. “Nice to meet you, Miss Moira,” she told her before leaving, holding out her hand.

Miss Moira tilted her head, appearing a little confused, and hesitated on shaking her hand. “Uh, you too.”

Hannah followed June and Mr. Luke up the wooden stairs to her new bedroom. If she was disappointed in meeting Nichole, then her reaction to seeing her room was even more disheartening. It was a plain room, set up like her room in Nick’s old house. More importantly, though, there was no desk, no shelf, and no sewing machine; just an empty dresser, blank walls, and curtainless windows.

“What do you think?” Miss Moira caught up with them, Nichole on her hip. She was drooling all over a toy in her hands. Gross! “This used to be my old room.”

“You moved out?” June asked her, a little shocked.

Miss Moira held up her left hand, a shiny ring on her finger. “I think we have some catching up to do.”

Hannah ignored the meaningless conversation and moved further into her room. There was a feeling creeping up on her, and it wasn’t good. Seeing this empty, neglected room made her feel lonesome, like she was an afterthought, a second-place recipient. She bit down on her trembling lip, trying not to cry again.

“Hannah, what are you thinking?” Mr. Luke asked calmly.

Hannah slowly turned around, her eyes making their way up to his eager face. “Didn’t they tell you about me? Weren’t you waiting for me to come home?”

Mr. Luke sighed. “Of course, Hannah, I--”

“Then where can I put my books? Where can I write? Where can I sew? There isn’t any room for me here.”

“Write?” Mr. Luke questioned as if it was impossible.

Hannah walked over to the only window in the room and saw two pathetic trees in their small, fenced-in backyard. There was another yard behind it, then a house, then some pavement. This pattern repeated itself for as far as Hannah could see. Two little trees were not enough. It will never be enough. There wasn’t any woods she could run to or a secret, magical cabin she could hide in. There wasn’t a kind neighbor only a grass field away. It was fences and pavement, fences and pavement. Where could she run to now?

There had to be some way she could fix this, get it back to what it used to be when she lived among mountains and aspen trees. She’d go out and find that spacious, beautiful cabin herself if she had to. She’ll get Miss Summer, Miss Ruth, and Nick back, and they will never have to be apart again. Hannah put her bag on her shoulder and marched toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Luke asked her.

“Back to the hotel,” she answered straightforwardly.

“Hannah, you can’t go back,” June stopped her. “This is your home now, okay?”

“I don’t want to be here!” she finally shouted. “I want to go back to Colorado.” She shrugged. “At least there’s a place for me there.”

Mr. Luke put his hand on his forehead, distraught. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known…”

“You did nothing this whole time,” Hannah threw her dagger, stabbing him right in the heart. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hannah!” Miss Moira gasped.

Hannah glared at all of them. “Go away. All of you. I want to be alone.”

They listened, for the most part, but June remained, closing the door. She folded her arms, thinking of what to say. “I’m frustrated, too,” she told her.

Hannah sat on the bare mattress, arms crossed. “Then why don’t you care about what happened to Nick and Miss Ruth? Why couldn’t we bring Miss Summer with us? You’re just going along as if there’s nothing we can do.” She squeezed her eyes shut, tears coming down her face. “And why did you kiss Mr. Luke? And why is her name Nichole and not Holly? And why are there only two trees in the backyard?” She nearly shouted this last part.

June sat beside her, being patient. “I know it’s confusing, but that’s how complicated things are. I don’t expect you to understand everything on your first day.”

She looked at her mother, confused. What was so complicated about wanting her family together again? What happened to the June that fought back? To the June that killed the Peacekeepers and drove them for hours across dangerous lands? What happened to her? “You’re different,” Hannah told her in a low, honest voice.

June bit her trembling lip and brought her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She looked so small like she was a little girl, vulnerable and scared. Hannah had never seen her like this before. “Do you ever feel like…” she hesitated, going over the words in her head. “Like you have to be someone else?” She looked over at Hannah, sadness clouding her blue eyes. “And you do it because it’s the only way you can get through something?” She sighed heavily, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this..."

Hannah was in a tough spot. Here was her mother trying to relate to her, probably for the first time, and she didn’t quite know how to respond. But she felt like the real June was here now, trying to break through the walls she built to protect herself. Hannah thought about what her mother was trying to tell her. She was someone else before: Agnes. And that role was hard to play, even if she knew the lines by heart. But it kept the peace and helped her survive one more day. And here she was now, being granted the part of “Hannah the Banana.” This one was going to be even more difficult. She didn’t even like bananas--too mushy.

“Yes,” Hannah admitted, too scared to look at her in the eyes.

June sniffled. “Sometimes it does more harm than good, as I keep learning.”

Hannah moved closer to her mother and draped her arm around her. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

June looked at her, surprise in her eyes. She gave her a sad smile and kissed her cheek.

Nichole-not-Holly was getting on Hannah’s nerves. She cried whenever things didn’t go her way and liked to put food everywhere but in her mouth. This included Hannah getting pelted with peas and carrots. Hannah, instead, kept her food neatly on the plate, moving it around with her fork. Her mind was too preoccupied to eat whatever Mr. Luke thought she would like. She believed it was macaroni and cheese, but for some reason, there were indistinguishable pieces of meat in it. It didn’t taste good.

“So I was thinking we could go shopping tomorrow,” Mr. Luke continued the very much one-sided conversation. “Get some new clothes, new shoes, whatever you like.”

“No, thanks,” Hannah responded unenthusiastically. “I can make my own clothes.”

“We could go get your hair done,” Miss Moira suggested. “I know a great place we can go.”

Hannah sighed. “My hair is fine. I just forgot my hairbrush at home.”

“Hairbrush?” Miss Moira retorted. “Girl…”

“There’s that new Disney movie coming out this weekend,” Mr. Luke tried again. “Maybe you want to see that?”

“Movie?” Hannah asked back, setting down her fork.

June sighed and took a drink of her water. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe the zoo?” he offered. “They have lions, hippos, and polar bears. I know you like those.”

Exactly how clueless could this man be? Hannah felt like she just got out of a cage, and now he wants her to visit them for fun? “No, thanks,” she told him.

“What about the library?” June spoke up, a small smile on her face.

“Like the one in Ardua Hall?” Hannah asked, curious. “Aunt Dawn said they had one.”

“Well, sort of,” June answered. “But this one has a lot more books that you would like.” She took another drink. “Plus, it’s nice and quiet in there. No one will bother you.”

Sounds like paradise, Hannah thought. “Okay.”

“You know how to read?” Mr. Luke questioned.

Hannah took a bite of her food, suddenly hungry. “Of course. Nick taught me. And Aunt Dawn.”

“Nick?” he asked as if he didn’t know who he was.

June looked uncomfortable. “Toronto has some good libraries, yeah?”

“Oh, the one downtown is--” Mr. Luke began, but a phone ringing cut him off. He got up to answer it.

June smiled at Hannah. “You’re going to have so much fun there, I know it.”

Hannah didn’t quite know what to expect, so she simply smiled back.

“Who is this?” Mr. Luke talked on his phone in the other room. “Summer? I don’t know--”

Miss Summer! Hannah nearly gasped. She was okay, and maybe even Nick and Miss Ruth.

June jumped up from the table, her cutlery clattering on her half-eaten plate. “I’ll answer that!” She rushed over to him, taking the phone out of his hands. “It’s June,” she said on the phone, quickly exiting the room and going outside.

“Well,” Miss Moira sighed and leaned back on her chair. “I should get going.” She knocked back the rest of her white wine.

“What?” Mr. Luke seemed panicked. “You’re leaving me alone with--”

“Hey, you got this,” Miss Moira assured him, rising from the table. She went over and kissed Hannah’s cheek. “See you later, Banana.”

“May the Lord open, Aunt Moira,” Hannah rehearsed back.

Miss Moira sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeah, we’ll have to fix that.” She kissed Nichole-not-Holly, giving her stomach a little tickle. Then she was gone.

Hannah took a drink of water, suddenly realizing how quiet and uncomfortable she was with only Mr. Luke and Nichole-not-Holly. She looked around the kitchen and sighed. The room was exceptionally boring, with gray walls and white cupboards. The only interesting aspect about it was the colorful, scribbled drawings (if you could even call them that) by Nichole-not-Holly hung up on the fridge. Oh well, it wasn’t like the kitchen back at home was all that fun, either. She rested her chin in her hand. “So, who washes the dishes if there’s no Martha?”

Mr. Luke sighed and set down his fork a little angrily. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled under his breath and left the table.

“It was just a question,” Hannah told him, but he ignored her.

An hour after dinner had passed and June was still outside on the phone talking to Miss Summer. They must have a lot to say to each other, Hannah thought. Maybe it was about Nick. Maybe they found Miss Ruth. Maybe Miss Summer was yelling at her for leaving her alone at the hotel. Maybe it was all of it at the same time. The point was now they had a way to talk to each other. Hannah held on to this comfort.

Since there was no place to write in her room, Hannah took out her travel log on the coffee table in the living room. She looked over the pages and pages she wrote, feeling slightly detached from it all. She knew it all happened, but it felt like a different Hannah went through all those terrible things so long ago. But it was the truth, and it was real, and no mean person on the TV could tell her otherwise.

Day 16 (evening)

Well, I’m home now, whatever that means. I don’t feel like I belong here. At least not yet. My room doesn’t feel like mine, and there isn’t anywhere I can run away. There are just two trees and a fence. Another cage.

I met my sister. Her name is supposed to be Holly (at least, that’s what June told me), but everyone here calls her Nichole. I don’t know why, and something tells me I’ll make them mad if I ask. Mr. Luke is bathing her now, and then she’ll go to bed even though it’s still light outside. Did I mention she’s a useless baby? Because that’s what she is.

I also met Miss Moira. She’s my aunt, but not like Aunt Dawn or those other Aunts from the school. I think “aunt” in Canada means “a friend of your mom.” She’s nice, I guess. She wants to change my hair. I haven’t really paid attention to it. I think that’s the problem (or her problem, really).

I think Mr. Luke wants to play pretend. He doesn’t like it when I refer things to Gilead or remind him about it. What else am I supposed to do? Forget the past eight years? Act as if nothing happened? I don’t know what to do. Should I care?

June is talking on the phone to Miss Summer. No word about Miss Ruth or Nick yet. But I think they’re still alive. They have to be. I think I would feel it if they weren’t.

Mr. Luke came into the living room and sat on a chair, staring at Hannah. “Doesn’t that need to be sharpened?”

Hannah looked up from her writing. “Huh?”

“Your pencil,” he said, “it looks dull.”

“Oh,” Hannah removed her sharp sewing shears from her pocket. Throughout their long journey, she had to break the number one rule of sewing, and that was to never use your fabric scissors for anything other than fabric. But it was a risk she had to take, a sacrifice for one passion to fuel the other. She took the sharp blade against the nub of the pencil and started shaving away.

Mr. Luke got up from his chair and rummaged through a drawer. He came back and handed her something that had a blade screwed onto a purple piece of plastic. “Here.”

“What is it?”

“A pencil sharpener,” he answered. He took her pencil, shoved it through an opening, and twisted it. The shavings came out long and curly without much effort. He handed it back to her.

“Wow, you could kill somebody with this,” Hannah commented with amazement, her fingertip testing the sharpness. “I could’ve used this when we were going through the war zone.”

“War zone?” Mr. Luke asked, concerned.

Hannah shrugged, returning to her writing. “It wasn’t that bad, really.”

Her father watched her for a moment and scratched at his beard nervously. “So, uh, I see that Nick taught you a lot of things, didn’t he?”

Nichole-not-Holly began crying from upstairs. Hannah gave him a few seconds to leave, but he didn’t. “Yeah, he even taught me how to shoot a gun.”

Mr. Luke raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Hannah smiled. “That was a joke, Mr. Luke.”

He winced, Nichole-not-Holly’s cries becoming louder in the background. “You call your mother by her first name, too?”

“Of course,” Hannah set down her pencil. Between the crying and all these dumb questions, she could hardly focus. When will she ever get a desk of her own?

“What about your parents in Gilead?” he pressed, a little upset. “What did you call them?”

Something was wrong with Nichole-not-Holly. Why else would she be crying this much? Hannah looked toward the stairs and back at her father. “Aren’t you going to check on her?”

He shrugged her off. “I just put her down, she’s fine.” He leaned forward. “What were they like, your Gilead parents?”

Why was he so worried about them? They were dead. Hannah didn’t want to think about it. “She sounds like something is wrong,” she tried her best to divert the conversation.

Mr. Luke shut his eyes and closed his fists. “Hannah, I’m trying to talk to you. Nichole is fine; she cries like this all the time. You’ll get used to it.”

That’s enough! Hannah gathered her travel log and stood up. She didn’t trust Mr. Luke enough to leave it out in the open, especially after all those strange questions. “Well, somebody has to make sure she’s okay.” She walked to the stairs.

“Wait,” Mr. Luke stood up. “You don’t know how--”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said, going up. “They taught us in school.”

Hannah reached the top of the stairs and found that the crying came from the room next to her empty one. She opened the door and closed it behind her. The room was painted in a deep pink color lit up by a table lamp on the dresser, with scattered toys and books on the floor. Colorful stickers were placed haphazardly on the walls at a toddler’s height, with those silly drawings taped up, too. Hannah’s eyes made their way to the crib where Nichole-not-Holly was whimpering. It was just the two of them now, sisters who couldn’t be any more different. Hannah set aside her resentment toward her and went to the crib. Nichole-not-Holly’s little face was red and wet with tears. Hannah was nervous. She never actually cared for a real, live baby before. They gave them sacks of flour to practice on at school. But Nichole-not-Holly very much wasn’t a sack of flour.

“Now, remember, girls,” Hannah could hear the Aunts lecturing her class at school, “there will be times when your Martha won’t be disposable to tend to each of your baby’s needs. So, as mothers, you need to know specific ways to care for your son or daughter. The most common question we hear from Wives is how to soothe a crying baby. Understand that a baby can’t communicate what they want. You have to figure it out yourselves.

“First, check if the diaper needs to be changed. We will go over this again and again until all of you pass, including Agnes.” (This, of course, was punctuated with an icy glare across the room and several classmates’ giggles, sending heat to Hannah’s cheeks.) “Second, your baby may be hungry. This is why keeping your Handmaid even after birthing your child is vital. She will be able to breastfeed the baby until solid foods are appropriate. If both of these don’t work, holding and rocking while singing or talking can help. This may take a while, but with some patience and prayers, all will be calm again…”

Hannah checked Nichole-not-Holly’s diaper and was beyond relieved to see that it was dry. She was possibly hungry, but Hannah didn’t see any snacks lying around.

“Bad dream?” Hannah asked, feeling a little foolish talking to someone who couldn’t talk back. “I get those, too.” She reached into the crib and lifted Nichole-not-Holly with some struggle. “Goodness, what are they feeding you?” she grunted as she collapsed in the nearby rocking chair. “Are you okay?” she asked her sister, rubbing her back soothingly. Slowly, she quieted down, sucking her thumb as a pacifier.

Hannah noticed that Nichole-not-Holly was holding tightly to a doll with yellow hair and a pink dress. “Where did you get that from?” She tried to look at it closer, but her sister almost started to cry again. But she saw all she needed. This was the doll she gave to Nick when they first met. The doll he gave to a Commander’s baby daughter named Nichole. Nichole and Nick. But what about Holly?

Hannah sat and stared at the baby on her lap, thinking. She looked like June and didn’t say much like Nick. But that was obvious. Hannah couldn’t quite put it into words, but if she had the help, she would understand that this was a miracle, a rarity. Nichole-not-Holly wasn’t even supposed to be here; she’s supposed to be with her Commander in Gilead. The same with Hannah, but only if that were true, she would be nothing but ashes in her old front yard. But by some strange fate or work from God himself, they were here together, aware of one another’s existence.

It was only now that Hannah truly understood her mother’s sacrifices and past behavior. She was just trying to be a good mother to her daughters. That’s all. If that meant leaving one to save the other, so be it. Nichole-not-Holly didn’t understand even a fraction of what it’s been like on the other side. But Hannah didn’t want her to. Here was a chance to start over and look forward to something. For so long, Hannah wanted someone to play with and talk to. Someone closer than a friend and someone to run to when things got bad. Someone to tell secrets to and get in trouble with. Hannah wanted to teach her how to read, skip in a field, jump a rope, climb a tree, fish in a lake, write a book, sew a dress, tie a shoe.

Hannah lifted Nichole-not-Holly’s little chin and looked into her big, round, blue eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you stupid and dumb. You’re not. I think…I think you’re pretty amazing.” She bounced her on her knees and smiled at her. “Miss Holly,” she whispered, liking it better than the name she’d been referring to her as all night. “I was given a name once that I didn’t like. But that was a long time ago. You can call me Hannah. Well, whenever you’re able to.”

Little Holly squealed a response and rested her head against Hannah’s chest, breathing evenly.

Hannah put her cheek on Holly’s head, slowly rocking the chair back and forth. She placed a big kiss on her forehead. For Nick.

Chapter Text

Spiders. That was what it felt like crawling up June’s cold, goosebumped skin as she finally entered that house. Here she was, caught in a disguise and web of lies. A sticky situation indeed. She felt this way the first time, but it was only so long before her rage cracked its cage and shined through. Clearly, murdering her rapist and being a devoted wife and mother at the same time didn’t quite correlate with today’s expectations of women. That was around the time she left Luke and Canada to put her inner turmoil to rest. To get her daughter back. To get Nick back.

And here she was now, after a lifetime it seemed, in Luke’s living room, him staring right back at her. Who was she now? What did he think of all this? Where did she fit in this mess? Was she going to play along with him? She was only fooling herself. She knew this little act could only last so long before she would break. The more she thought about her sudden phase of passivity, the more she heard her mother’s words of warning that rang more accurately every time. Something about this reminded June of a book Holly used to rave about. She didn’t remember the title but could hear Holly’s strong voice as she read it aloud to some of her friends during evenings when they were frustrated, passionate, and downright angry:

The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night--she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question-- “Is this all?”

Is this all? Living life with a man she wasn’t in love with anymore, while pretending everything was fine in front of her daughters? Moving on from her pain, torture, and trauma as if none of it ever happened? Letting revenge sort itself out? Letting go of what felt like the most genuine love she ever held on to? It can’t be. There had to be more to this. She didn’t fight this long only to remain unchanged by it.

June returned Luke’s cell phone, already feeling the tenseness in her muscles and how oh, so badly she didn’t want to be here right now. She could barely look at him.

“Any news?” Luke asked, his question seemingly sincere.

June slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, thinking. She didn’t want Luke to know more than what was needed. She wanted some parts kept to herself, the parts that kept her hoping, grasping for a different life. A life with Nick. “That was Summer,” she began carefully, “she just wanted to let me know that Nick is okay.”

“You were out there a long time,” Luke said, his words drawing suspicion.

She shrugged. “She has no one else to talk to.” After a beat, she decided to give him a little more to avoid being completely cold toward him. “They’re moving her to an apartment and getting her life set up. You know how hard that is.”

He nodded. “Hannah is taking it pretty rough, don’t you think?”

Anger quickly replaced June’s awkwardness. She wasn’t going to pacify his cluelessness. Not this time. She twisted her mouth before she laid the truth on him. “You know, the least you could’ve done was make her bed.” She began to pace the room. “You knew she was coming. How do you think she felt? You don’t know what she’s been through.”

Luke set aside his beer bottle and stood up from his chair so he was level with her. “I’m trying, June. I’m trying to understand my daughter all over again. And she…she looks at me like I’m some stranger. Don’t you know how that feels?”

More than you will ever know, June wanted to tell him. “You’re just going to have to be patient with her. It’s going to be hard before it ever gets better.”

Luke rubbed his tired face with his hands, not entirely satisfied with her answer. “What about us?” His question was quiet and concerned. He stepped closer to her, his cologne mixing with the alcohol on his breath. “Are we…okay?”

June bit her lip and nodded, not making eye contact.

He put his hands on her upper arms, massaging gently, and pulling her a little closer. “Good,” he whispered. “Maybe we can start over for real this time. We have Hannah now. Everything is back the way it should be.”

June kept quiet, understanding her silence was the better option. Oh God, but this can’t last forever, can it?

“You know what I realized the other day?” Luke said with a low chuckle. “We’re not even married anymore. They annulled it, remember? I can’t believe it.”

This was it. Here was her way out, tantalizingly presented and oh so hard to resist. All she had to do was give him an answer. A simple, two-lettered answer. “I guess I have forgotten…” she stammered.

His hands slowly slid down to hold her own, his forehead resting against hers. His body was imploring for intimacy, a connection on a higher level they haven’t visited in a while. “What do you think?”

June felt nauseous, her stomach twisting in knots. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she finally told him, slipping out of his grip and fleeing for the stairs.

She found Holly’s warmly lit room and crept inside. Air poured into her lungs as she felt she could breathe fully again. Her baby was sleeping peacefully in her crib, clinging to the doll Nick gave her. The fond memory tugged at her heart, finding her own little happiness in the new family she created. She sat down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs, a few tears falling down her cheeks. Her eyes fell on the duffle bag that Nick carried throughout their trip across Gilead. She reached out for the strap and pulled on it, bringing it closer. She only had a brief moment this morning to find out all that was inside it. But she could figure out the details later. Because she knew what was inside it; it was Nick, the closest she’ll ever get to him tonight. She brought it up to her lap and held it close against her chest, not caring about the smell, dirt, and unpleasant places it's been within the past few weeks.

“I would be lying to you if I said he was okay,” Summer’s uneasy words echoed in June’s mind from their phone conversation earlier. “I could barely look at him, I was so scared. But he’s alive. And if he isn’t giving up, neither should we.”

He was alive.

June clung tight to Nick’s bag and even tighter to this truth. Nick was alive, and she will be with him again soon. This was a promise.

The bedroom curtains rustled softly with the cool morning breeze, sending a series of shivers down June’s barely-awake body. She was alone in the room--the heavy weight on the other side of the bed was gone, as well as from her shoulders, at least for the moment. She heard muffled conversations and giggling from downstairs--the girls were awake. This was June's first morning when she woke up with both daughters in the same house. A grin pulled on her lips, never feeling more accomplished than now. She did it. They did it.

The exciting feeling soon turned into nausea as soon as June sat up. She felt this way for a few days now, blaming it on the stress of her situation. Today felt a little worse, but she pushed through it, throwing the covers off to the side and heading down the stairs. In the kitchen, she saw her family sitting around the island. The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes and vanilla wafted in the air, something she had long missed. Little Holly had a few pieces in her hands and purple smeared all over her face. She saw Hannah dressed in one of Luke’s gray t-shirts for a change, eating a syrupy stack herself. June looked at Luke with a bit of shock on her face while he smiled back.

“Good morning,” Luke greeted her, getting up from his seat.

“No, I can get it,” June dismissed him, placing a kiss on Holly’s head.

“‘Reaction to poison ivy,’” Hannah read from the newspaper in front of her.

June put a few pancakes on her plate and turned around, seeing her eldest daughter deep in concentration. “Crossword?”

Luke shrugged and drank the rest of his coffee. “Apparently, she’s really good at them.”

“Rash,” Hannah scribbled in pencil in the appropriate boxes.

Of course, June thought. All those nights spent with Ruth and Summer taught her a thing or two about words and clues. June poured herself some orange juice and grabbed a seat next to Hannah. About a third of the boxes were filled in already, no doubt with some help from Luke. So he was trying, at least. A new day, a better start. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Hannah wasn’t wearing her Gilead clothes anymore. She was eating pancakes and playing word games, like any other kid her age would be doing. She looked happy. How did he do it?

June looked at Luke for a moment, trying to understand and know him. He didn’t seem to change much in the past several years they were separated, while she, on the other hand, wouldn’t recognize the woman she used to be. What did this mean for them? June’s eyes drifted to her other daughter, baby Holly. She was still so little and naive to the great, big world she lived in. A part of her felt empty, no matter how hard she tried to fill it with frivolous things. But there was no way around a growing hole for the place where something or someone used to fit.

A buzzer went off from the basement, Luke lifted his head from the sound. “Clothes are done,” he commented, rising from his seat and leaving the room.

Hannah watched as her father disappeared into the darkness below. Then, she looked at June. “How’s Miss Summer? And Nick? Did they find Miss Ruth yet?” Her voice was low, and her words poured out faster than June could think of a response.

June took a few bites of her pancakes before answering. “Nick’s fine, and so is Miss Summer.”

Hannah’s deep brown eyes lit up with joy and relief. “Can we visit them today? After the library?”

June hesitated, watching the maple syrup slowly drip off her fork and onto the plate. “Remember all those reporters outside the hotel? And those people on TV?”

Hannah nodded.

“Well, they’re being very careful about who gets to see Nick at the hospital,” June admitted painfully. “Only Miss Summer is allowed to see him.”

“But that isn’t fair,” Hannah shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. “There has to be another way. We have to try harder.”

June felt moved by Hannah’s relentlessness. She was smart, a believer, a dreamer. She knew better than to accept bad news for what it was. Who taught her that? They weren’t going to give up. And June was grateful to Hannah to make sure of that. Because if she learned anything from her bad days, and she has had many of them, she knew it would be easier to fall apart than gear up for a bloody battle.

“Alright, Hannah, you can have these back now,” Luke announced loudly as he closed the basement door behind him. He walked over to his daughter, a small pile of pink in the basket he was holding.

Hannah reached in and removed her sweater. Well, what was once her sweater, anyway. “What have you done?” Hannah was horrified, handling the garment in disbelief. “What have you done?” she repeated, trying to stretch out the shrunken fibers, but to no avail.

“That’s wool, Luke,” June told him, taking a drink of her orange juice. And just like that, all of his positive qualities from this morning were clouded by this one small, but major, mistake. She caught herself keeping score. Was this wrong?

Luke scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “Sorry,” his voice trailed off. “We can get you another one. And I promise I’ll leave it to your mother to clean.”

Great, June nearly rolled her eyes.

Hannah shoved the once beloved sweater into her father’s chest. “Just give it to Holly,” she shouted behind her shoulder as she stomped away. “It’ll fit her better!”

“Holly?” Luke questioned quietly, eyes darting over to the messy toddler in the high chair.

June quickly finished the remainder of her breakfast and placed her dishes in the sink. She grabbed a baby wipe and cleaned off Holly’s face and hands, grateful nothing got into her blonde curls. She was at peace with something even this mundane, cleaning food off her baby’s face. This was something she was denied and was absent for, this little chore only residing in her dreams. Oh, of all the things she had to catch up on.

“I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle,” Luke’s voice disrupted June’s thoughts. He was slumped over at the island, tapping the pencil against the crossword puzzle. “One moment, everything is fine, and the next…”

June took Holly out of her high chair and held her close to her hip. “It’s only going to get harder,” she told him honestly. “She’s turning thirteen in a couple of months, after all.”

Luke’s eyes grew wide, and he leaned his head on his hand: an image of a father in which the realities of life finally caught up with him.

Staying calm in the place where her life once spiraled out of control was a rather difficult task. June used to go here for support group meetings with former Handmaids and, yes, Aunts. The chairs were still arranged in the large circle, only this time occupied by a group of older women with needles and hooks in their hands and skeins of colorful yarn at their feet. The clacking of the metal knitting needles reminded her of all the nights Serena spent making clothes for her nonexistent child, not to mention the long drive they took when Serena visited Hannah and June was left tortured in the locked car. Sometimes it’s the small things that bother you the most.

“Come on, June!” Hannah dragged her mother across the library, looking for the books she would like.

Oh yes, those days are over. June squeezed Hannah’s hand. She won in the end, and that’s all that matters.

But as they crossed into another section of books, something caught June’s eye. Placed under a sign titled “CURRENT EVENTS” was a book with a picture of a female angel, statued and cold, stuck in time. The name at the bottom read Serena Joy, its title, A Woman’s Place. At least ten copies were remaining on an otherwise empty, large shelf. Just as June couldn’t comprehend why such a book happened to be so prominent in a Canadian library, a flash of teal passed by in her peripheral vision.

“Blessed day,” the woman greeted her with a warm smile. Her brown hair was tied up in a tight chignon bun, her long skirt nearly swallowing up her petite frame.

June’s mouth went dry and her heart pounded. What was going on? Her eyes followed the woman as she walked across the room, meeting up with friends who were dressed the same. June’s vision became blurry, and she felt nauseous again. No. This can’t be happening. Not here. Steadying herself on a nearby shelf, she tried to breathe evenly. She thought it was over. She felt she outran and slaughtered that awful monster long ago. But it’s here, and it’s back, setting fire to her paradise.

“M-mom?” Hannah was shaking her arm as if she’s been at it for a while now. “Are you okay?”

June tore her eyes away from the wanna-be-Wives. She put a smile on her face. “Did you find something you like yet?”

“Um, how come nobody told me there was more to Anne’s story?” Hannah questioned, balancing a large pile of books in her arms, the first titled Anne of Avonlea.

June let out a laugh, stationing her body so Hannah couldn’t see the group of women. The world was changing so fast. How much longer could she protect her from it? The hair on the back of her neck rose. She didn’t want to ask herself the question looming in her mind. Was it really so naive to think that Canada could be free from evil and dangerous rhetoric? That nothing could penetrate its safety and peace? She knew one small idea could influence an army. But not like this. It can’t be like this. What has the world come to?

June looked into the young, promising eyes of her daughter. No, she can’t lose her again. She can’t let these people decide how she lives her life. June’s heart broke once she realized her freedom and protection weren’t promised. It didn’t matter how many miles they traveled or the number of people that died along the way to make it happen. Nothing, as it seemed, was guaranteed. They just went on a hope, a belief, a dream that things were better on the other side. But such was life when you are finally out of the frying pan only to get thrown into the fire. And boy, was she burning.

Chapter Text

Maybe Hannah didn’t see them. But it was all June could see now. Flecks of teal among the backdrop of dark winter coats; crisp, black suits peppered in a sea of blue jeans. Some young girls, even, wore baby-pink ensembles, all walking in straight, uniformed lines. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the drive home filled with apprehension. At least there, June would be safe and ignore it for a little while. There, she could think of what to do.

“June?” Luke’s voice suddenly pulled her out of her chasmic thoughts.

It was evening again; a full day had passed in this house already. The spring rain poured outside, blurring the view from the windows in the sitting room. June was curled up on a chair, letting her tea get cold and words remain unread from a library book. Her mind had wandered as soon as she sat down and glanced out the window. How many hours had passed? What was she supposed to be doing instead?

“June?” Luke said again, this time louder. He stood in front of her, waiting on a response.

She blinked several times, trying to return to the present. “What?”

“Everything alright?”

June’s eyes darted back and forth from the window to Luke. The raindrops raced down the pane just as fast as her mind jumped from thought to thought. She hesitated in answering. “It’s nothing,” she shrugged. “Canada is…different this time.”

Luke’s eyes drifted to the floor, and he gave her an empathetic smile. “A lot has happened since you left.”

June’s eyebrows knitted together. “I saw people--”

Luke’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He kept his hands at his sides.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” June asked him.

He shrugged. “All my people are accounted for.” He let out a small laugh and smiled widely. “That’s the greatest part about this. I don’t have to expect a life-shattering phone call at any minute of the day anymore. I get to be with my wife and children. Nothing is more important than that.”

A part of June felt sorry for him. It could not have been easy for him either this whole time. She was mature enough to admit that. However, a much larger part of her felt empty, apathetic. They may be physically together in the same room, but her heart was way off in the distance. June waited for the phone to stop ringing, only for it to start again after a brief moment. “I still have people.” She got up from the chair and held out her hand, like a teenager waiting for permission from her parents. Luke hesitated but gave in.

“Hello?” June answered the phone.

“June?” Summer’s voice responded, shaky and scared. This wasn’t like the last time. This time, it was worse.

June’s stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“Turn on the news,” she told her, seemingly crying.

June cursed under her breath and quickly went into the other room. She turned on the television, the channel already set to their local Toronto news station. June had a little difficulty focusing and understanding what she was seeing. She stood motionless before the screen, its brightness hurting her eyes slightly.

“June?” Summer asked. “Are you there?”

June swallowed dryly. “Y-yes, I’m here.”

“Oh God, please tell me this isn’t true,” Summer cried. “She looks so scared.”

Before June’s eyes was Ruth sitting down for an interview, its efforts clearly to expose Gilead and criminalize Nick. June didn’t need to know where she had been this whole time. She could see it in Ruth’s bruised face and hollowed cheeks, her sunken eyes, and bandaged wrists. She had been tortured by the state, grilled for answers, and held captive for an admission of what was not the truth. Her voice was hoarse, and she could barely look the interviewer in the eyes.

“Now that we’ve gotten to know a little about you,” the woman continued, “tell us how you managed to be under the property of Commander Nicholas Blaine.”

Ruth scrunched up her face and bit her lip. June was pleading through the screen for her to keep her tongue. Ruth answered carefully, “I was the Martha of his Wife, Summer, before they got married.” She looked directly into the camera for a few seconds before continuing, “I wasn’t going to let her go alone.”

“Because you were afraid of what Mr. Blaine would do to her?”

“No, because I loved her,” she looked into the camera again. “I still do.”

The woman blinked a few times and shifted in her seat. “Was he aware of this? It is against the law in Gilead to engage in a same-sex relationship. You could get killed for that.”

Ruth clenched her jaw, appearing annoyed. “Yes. Nick protected us. He made sure we were safe.”

“But he did still rape Summer, correct?” the woman pressed. “It is part of his job as a Commander, from what we understand.”

“He did no such thing,” Ruth replied sternly. “He wasn’t like the other Commanders.” June could tell she was getting more uncomfortable and angry the more questions she was asked. She couldn’t blame her.

“How much more can she take?” Summer cried into the phone.

“Ruth is smart,” June tried to calm her, “she knows what she is doing.”

“What was it like living in Nick’s household?” the interviewer moved on. “We still don’t know much about the home lives of Commanders. Did he ever get angry with you? Hit you?”

“Life as a Martha is very limiting,” Ruth answered with a tired sigh. “I never had any real power. But Nick stayed out of my way, and I stayed out of his. He never told us what to do or how to be, except when it got too dangerous.” She bit her bruised lip, a tear falling down her cheek. “He was a good man.”

Was.

“I think they’re lying to her,” June spoke to Summer.

“Of course, they are,” Summer replied with a little more vigor. “It’s easier to spill the truth about someone after they’re dead.” She sniffled. “Oh, June, we have to do something.”

“You don’t blame him for anything?” the woman questioned Ruth. “Not even your last night in Colorado?”

Ruth shook her head. “Everything I did was to protect the others, including Nick. I’m not proud of what I did, and it doesn’t represent me as a whole, but I did what I had to do. We needed to get--” she stopped mid-sentence, perhaps before she revealed too much.

“Do you think, maybe, in some way, that he made you think that was true?”

Ruth knitted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“He knew you were loyal from the very beginning,” she explained. “Do you think he manipulated you to believe what you were doing was for the greater good? That killing random teenagers was the only way? He was a Commander; he had connections and access to information. There had to have been a better plan.” She shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know, he had ulterior motives. Some experts say he only got you out to make up for his crimes.”

Tears filled Ruth’s sunken eyes. “That’s not true.”

“It was a stressful situation, I understand,” the woman went on. “He was desperate to leave a dying country by whatever means necessary. Taking advantage to control the women around him seems possible, does it not?”

Ruth stared into the camera for a moment, clearly done with this. She dried her cheeks and straightened up in her seat. “You want to talk about control?” She let out a sharp laugh. “What do you think this is?”

The woman looked uncomfortable, and her eyes darted to the people behind the camera.

“After days of being beaten and isolated, you want me to come on here and talk,” Ruth told her. “No, no, no. You people are just as bad as the ones in Gilead. I’m not saying anything more. I’m done.” She rose from her seat as fast as her sore, frail body allowed. “So good luck trying to find someone else to villainize Nick. You’re going to need it.” She began ripping off the clip-on mic she was given. “Go to hell, lady.”

“Oh my God,” June breathed out.

“Ruthie!” Summer gasped.

The screen quickly and awkwardly flashed to the next big story of the night. Scenes of the war-torn border were shown, as well as pictures of police and mourning families.

“Up next after the break,” the news anchor reported, “police investigations are trying to get to the bottom of a new and tragic mystery happening in towns along our border: why are so many young women going missing? We have a local detective here to answer our questions. You don’t want to miss it.”

“I have to go,” Summer’s voice was cold and distant.

“I’ll talk to you later,” June kept staring at the screen even though it went to commercial. “I’ll think of a way to fix all this, I promise.”

Summer didn’t respond; she only hung up.

Luke switched off the television, silence filling up the room.

June turned around and looked at him. “They tortured her.”

He took a moment to respond. He rubbed his hand along the side of his face anxiously, keeping his eyes down. “You should have never killed her.”

“What?” June felt a shift in the room and tension like no other.

“Serena,” he simply answered. “They turned her into a martyr. Both her and Fred. Things…” his voice trailed off, and he finally looked at her. “It’s gotten really bad ever since you left.”

June’s chest got heavy. So it was true. Canada was no longer safe. And neither was her family.

“Why did you do it?” Luke questioned her accusingly.

Although it was Nick who technically put a bullet through Serena’s skull, the fact of the matter was that it happened. And it did the opposite effect June wanted. Luke expected an answer, just like when she came home from Fred’s makeshift particicution. Oh, how the look on his face had haunted her ever since.

“I just don’t see how you could do it,” Luke continued, having enough of June’s silence. “Twice. This isn’t who you are.”

Twice. There were only two times Luke was aware of. The others will have to be kept secret. After all, she was who Gilead made her be. Salvagings, particicutions, hangings on the Wall--these were all ordinary activities given to Handmaids. They didn’t want them to become too idle, bored, or comfortable. Death was around every corner, and if not, the very threat of it was just heavy enough to keep your head down and out of the way. Understanding the complexities of death was the only means to survive Gilead.

June didn’t know what to say to him. He was so blissfully ignorant of what she had been through that perhaps it just wasn’t worth getting into tonight. There were more important matters at hand, after all. Besides, there had to be some type of blood on Luke’s hands, too, if he managed to escape to Canada. How did he do it anyway? Why haven’t they talked about this? Did she care?

June offered Luke a weak, apologetic look and passed by him, only with him right on her heels as she made it a few steps up the stairs. He reached out for her hand.

“Hey, talk to me,” Luke spoke to her softly, pleading.

June bit her lip. He said those words the same way Nick did so many times before. Oh, how badly she wished he was here right now. He would know what to do. Even if it wouldn’t be much, just to be held again in his loving touch would be enough. June slipped her hand out of Luke’s and quickly continued up the stairs. No more wasting time.

For the second night in a row, June found comfort in her youngest daughter’s room. Holly was sleeping peacefully in her crib, June carefully stepping around the toy-cluttered room so as not to wake her. She got on her knees and reached underneath the crib, pulling out Nick’s bag where she had hidden it last night. Unzipping it, she pulled out the folders and binders filled with papers. Nick took care in lugging them across Gilead for a reason, just like he took care in writing everything down and keeping it all in order. There was a purpose for all of this. June wasn’t going to waste it. Not when it could be the very thing that saves them all.

The thumping of the loud bass rattled rhythmically against June’s chest, caressing her body in the sound of music and the energy of the half-inebriated young people around her. It’s been a long time since she found herself in one of these places. Too long, in fact. She wore a black bias-cut dress, showing more skin than she had since her discreet evenings at Jezebel’s. Twice already, she had to remind herself she was far away from that place. This was Canada, and she was free to be with her friends while the opportunity was still there.

“Are you sure I look okay?” June picked at the satin material that hugged her hips a little too well. This being her first night out, she suddenly felt self-conscious and doubtful.

Moira laughed loudly and looked at her up and down. “Are you kidding? If it weren’t for Luke, you’d definitely be going home with someone tonight.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks. “Moira, what did I say about--”

Moira sighed, knocking back the rest of her drink. “We can’t keep ignoring it, June.”

June sipped on her ginger ale. “For tonight, we can.”

It was a night of celebrations. For what? Well, Moira and Oona had been engaged for six months already (Moira had yet to tell June the story of how that happened). Emily was slowly starting to get into professorial work again (and enjoying every challenging moment, of course). And for Janine, well, it was a Tuesday night, and why can’t that be celebrated for what it was? There were only three simple rules they decided to follow: (1) no Gilead, (2) no men, and (3) no guilt.

“You don’t even want a beer?” Emily asked June at their small cocktail table.

June smiled slightly and shook her head. “I’ve been feeling sick all day.” She shrugged. “Must be a stomach thing.”

Emily threw her a knowing look.

“It isn’t that.” No, it can’t be.

“I’m pretty much a dead weight when it comes to things like this,” Emily sipped on her drink. “I’m boring.”

June’s jaw dropped, gasping. Before she could stop herself, her mind recalled all the moments of Emily’s bravery, courage, and strength. She was, perhaps, the most interesting and bold person in their little group of rebels. “No way!”

Emily smiled and chuckled at herself. “It’s true. I catch up on some science journals, and I’m in bed by nine.”

June grinned and rolled her eyes, giving Emily a little shove on her arm. She watched as her friend’s blue eyes sparked to life again, a sight that had been missing for far too long. June kept finding little victories peppered throughout her days now, reclaiming what was once taken from her. The touch of her daughter’s skin. The reading of food labels. The chatter of morning radio shows. The kind look in an old friend’s eye.

Only a few seconds had passed before she felt It.

It was only for a brief moment, a few seconds, but it was enough to extinguish all of June’s joy and liberation. A large, hot palm had touched her backside--the culprit: a young, handsome guy who looked back at her with smoldering eyes. June quickly looked away. It was no big deal, right? This happened to her plenty of times, even while she was with Luke long ago. This was normal male behavior at places such as these. A silent, agreed-upon expectation as you walk through that door. This was what she signed up for.

June still felt It. His handprint burned where he touched her, skin crawling and cracking. Soon, it felt like he was all around her, on top of her, inside her. June tried to rationalize the senseless situation, desperately trying to play it down in her mind, to not turn it into anything bigger than what it was. It was an accident. Maybe he thought she was somebody he knew. Maybe he was simply trying to pass through innocently. Maybe it didn’t even happen at all.

The cold night air hit her boiling skin, waking her up suddenly, breathing it in as if for the first time. How did she get here? Her heart beat fast in her chest. She backed into the bar’s brick wall for support and closed her eyes. She was safe. She was fine. She wasn’t alone.

“June!” Moira’s voice finally came in clear. Though it was night and the outside lights were dim and flickering, one could see how distressed and concerned Moira was for her best friend.

“Moira,” June simply responded, quiet and a little weak.

Moira put her hand on June’s shoulder and tried to look at her properly. “What happened?”

June wiped her damp face from her tears and sweat and shrugged. “Nothing, let’s go back inside.” She stepped toward the door, but Moira stopped her.

“No, talk to me, June,” Moira pleaded.

June sighed and leaned against the wall again. She watched as the street traffic passed through and listened to some karaoke song Janine was singing. Her hands smoothed down her dress, its slippery satin material comforting her. She bit her lip. “Nothing’s changed.” She paused, waiting for Moira to say something, but she was patient with her and only kept listening. “Men still think they can do whatever they want with us. Even after everything that’s happened.”

She smirked. “You know how hard it is to teach a man something? I can’t count how many times I had to tell Luke how to do his own laundry.”

This made June smile briefly, taking her back to when things were normal. “I don’t know; I guess I’m just tired.”

“No, don’t say that,” Moira countered. She pointed to June’s head. “Whatever plan you have going on in there, I’m with you.”

“What? There’s no…no plan.” This was, quite obviously, a lie.

Moira raised her eyebrow. “Really? I can see how unhappy you are. You want things to change; you said so yourself.”

The corners of June’s mouth turned downwards as she kicked loose stones on the sidewalk. She felt called out but at the same time, seen. Did Moira really know her this well? “Things between Luke and I--”

“Hey, the rules, remember?”

June nodded. Perhaps another time would be more appropriate. She couldn’t keep it inside forever, after all. She sighed and tried to fix her hair before joining the girls again.

Suddenly, Moira’s hand wrapped around June’s arm before she got too far. She looked nervous but knew what she had to say was important. “Hey, what you did to Waterford--”

June was a little surprised by this. “Moira--”

She took in a deep breath. “After what he did to me, after what he did to you… I just want to say thank you. I hope he rots in hell.” She offered one of her joyous smiles, alleviating the mood immediately.

June shook her head. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me something about ‘healing properly’ or whatever?”

“That’s fair,” Moira answered. “But things are different now, June. Gilead has turned into Ultra Gilead or whatever crap they came up with, Canadian women are going missing at the border, we have pseudo-Wives walking around this place, now they’re torturing your friend Ruth and who knows what they’re really doing to Nick…”

June tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and nodded sadly. “We need to get out of here, Moira.” There it was. Those simple words have been pressing down on her shoulders, sinking her deep into the earth, trapping her in place. They’ve been in the back of her mind ever since she caught Hannah watching the horrid news at the hotel. Moira was right. Things were different now. She didn’t see it before in America, back when it was still her home country. But now it was all clear.

“I have an idea,” June let out a big breath.

Chapter Text

June stared down at her brown boots, a brand new daisy-patterned welcome mat lying underneath. Her hands were nearly shaking, not out of cold, but out of nerves. She had a million things to say, but she had to decide what was right for this to all work. Why was she so anxious? She’s talked with Summer before. After what they’d been through, she was sure they had an unbreakable bond by now. But it’s been over three weeks since she last saw Nick, and Summer had been the only one permitted to see him. Maybe it wasn’t Summer she was worried about.

June heard the chain locks and deadbolt unlock, the apartment door opening. Despite the atrocious hallway lighting, a glow seemed to come from Summer, beaming warmly at June. Her smile was back, as well as her tight blonde curls and makeup on her face. She was still wearing teal, but this time it was a pair of skinny jeans, a slouchy off-the-shoulder sweater, and heels, of course. She pulled June into an embrace, her citrus scent ever so present.

“It’s so nice to see you, June!” Summer strung out the words with her endearing accent. “I made banana bread. Well, I tried to anyway.”

June stepped into the small apartment and took in her surroundings. She immediately smelled the banana bread as well as a hint of lemon. There wasn’t much to it, just basic mismatched furniture and appliances. She supposed these were donations intended for refugees trying to live independently. Different parts struggling to make up one whole piece. However, there were some captivating paintings hung up on the right wall, and June could tell exactly who made them. One depicted Nick’s poor old house, another of Ruth, and one of Colorado’s mountainous landscapes.

“Did you miss it?” June asked, studying the paintings.

Summer was in the kitchenette off to the left, pouring fresh lemonade into glasses. A record of Dolly Parton was spinning softly in the background. “Miss what?”

“Painting,” June simply answered.

Summer handed her a cold glass, and she sipped some from her own, ice cubes clinking against one another. She glanced at the paintings casually. “I suppose. I just needed to get those images out of my head.”

Nick’s house. Ruth. Colorado. These were the things that haunted Summer. June couldn’t blame her. June looked around the rest of the studio, items still in boxes and very little light shining through the single window. Summer had enough personality to fill this entire room, but barely any was visible. There was only a vase of yellow roses on the small table, a novelty mug in the strainer, Dolly Parton’s voice, and those paintings. June glanced at Summer in her teal outfit. She didn’t notice any books or crossword puzzles. Her food was contained in jars instead of grocery store packaging, and she didn’t own a microwave. A golden wedding ring was still wrapped tightly around her finger. June’s heart sank. She noticed this clutching to the past in Hannah. It was comfortable, familiar, safe.

“This is a nice place,” June commented politely, trying to warm up to her. She took a sip from her lemonade, which was more sugar than lemon.

Summer shrugged and set down her glass. She opened a cardboard box at her feet and looked through it. “None of this is mine. Just things they think I need.” She sat down on the floor, looking defeated. “I was thinking to myself last night and realized I own nothing. Not anymore.”

“Hey, you have to make it yours,” June weakly reassured her, “that’s all.”

Summer nearly rolled her eyes. “I have all these people now telling me what to do and where to go and who to talk to. None of them are really telling me what I need to know.”

June sat on the floor next to her and glanced into the box of used kitchen utensils and devices. She tried to understand what Summer was going through. Sometimes you can be given the whole world and be taken care of entirely, but if there’s something or someone still missing, you might as well have nothing at all. June reached out for her hand and squeezed it.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” she told Summer sincerely.

Summer glanced down at their hands. “You want something, don’t you?”

June’s eyes fell. This was true, but she hoped she could come to Summer as a friend. They were in this together, weren’t they? June swallowed thickly. “I need to see him, Summer.”

Summer sighed and rose to her feet, balancing herself perfectly on her teal stilettos. Her back was turned, cleaning up lemon rinds from the kitchen counter. “I thought you were done with him,” she told her. “You got what you wanted. Miss Hannah is safe and alive here in Canada.” Her words were just as bitter as the citrus in her hands.

“I just want to talk to Nick,” June tried, rising to her feet, “nothing more.”

Summer turned around, crossing her arms. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

June’s chest tightened. “Why not?” She paused for a few seconds, then, “You haven’t told me anything in a while.”

Summer couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I don’t want all his progress to end as nothing once you show up again.” She finally met her eyes. “He’s a whole new person now.”

June knew what she meant. Showing up again in Nick’s life would only bring him ruin, not closure. She would be a reminder of where he came from, his struggle moving on. He was better off without her. She certainly didn’t want to hurt him like that. Maybe she needed to get better, too.

June bit her lip. “Can you at least tell me what is happening to him?”

“I don’t like going there,” she confessed, a little frightened. “It’s like I’m back.”

“Back?”

“In Gilead.”

June knitted her eyebrows and tilted her head, confused. What is she talking about?

Summer sipped on her lemonade. “He’s out at some rehab place in the middle of nowhere. Very restrictive. Guards everywhere. I feel like we’re being watched.” She put a hand behind her neck, massaging it slightly. “They have a driver that picks me up on a schedule.” She bit her lip and shrugged. “And then I get to see him; for however long they allow.” She let out a small laugh. “I’m sure he’s sick of me by now.”

This new information certainly put up red flags in June’s mind; however, she couldn’t help but be distracted by one small detail. “You said he was a whole new person?”

Summer grinned and nodded. “He really does have a sweet smile, June.”

Tears welled up in June’s eyes, and her heart sank. What she would do to see that rare sight again. “Yeah?”

Summer looked at her sincerely. “Look, I want him home as bad as you do, but I can’t do anything about it. Besides, he’s not who I’m worried about anymore.”

They were in the same boat, then; waves crashing, wind howling, rain pouring in. It was a hard life at sea; their lifeboats cut off clean, impossible to ever get to. June understood this well. It’s been a week, maybe more than that, since that shocking live television interview with Ruth. Some talk had been stirred, but nothing all that useful. Ruth was a strong woman, and June knew she could handle most anything, but she didn’t have to. She deserved better. She deserved justice.

“I have a plan,” June told her, excitement in her eyes.

Summer was unfazed, finishing her lemonade. “I’m done killing people, June.”

“No,” June nearly chuckled, shaking her head. “What if I told you I had a way to get us all out of here, including Nick and Ruth?”

“Now, I know you’re insane!” Summer exclaimed, walking over to the living area of the small studio. “Do you realize what we have been through to make it to Canada alive? And now you want out? Where else is there to go, June?”

“America,” June simply answered.

Summer looked quizzical at her, spreading the quilt on her bed neatly.

“Tell me you’ve seen what I’ve seen so far in the short time we’ve been here,” June continued. “The men dressed in suits, and the women with their teal…”

She rolled her eyes. “Those women know nothing. They have no idea what it’s like being a Wife.” She fluffed her pillows but with a little more aggression than necessary. “They think I’m in their little ‘club’ just cause I dress this way. With their little greetings and stupid tone in their voices… They don’t know how hard it was! It isn’t some game, playing dress-up. It was my life.” The more she spoke, the more her words grew passionate and angry. Good.

June was pleased with this. “And with Wives and Commanders, only comes…”

Summer sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “So what are you going to do? Take down Gilead and Canada? I suppose you’re asking for my help, then, too?”

June bit her lip and looked at her expectantly.

Summer only huffed and plopped herself down on the queen-sized bed. “Just get to the part on how I can save Ruth. That’s all I care about.”

June invited herself over to sit next to her. “Only one person can do that with your help.”

Summer looked at her, studying her face and trying to understand who she was talking about. She slowly shook her head. “No, I’m not asking him. No. You need to keep Nick out of whatever this plan of yours is.”

Oh, what have they made Nick out to be? A fragile doll? Cooped up inside, ignorant of the world? Whatever happened to the brave man June knew him to be? The smart Commander? The strategic Eye? What have they done to him? The more June understood Nick’s circumstances, the less confident she was of the care he was being given. She remembered what Summer told her. No outside communication. Only his wife was allowed to visit him. Living in a facility in the middle of nowhere. Was he really getting better? Or were they simply shaping him into being someone else? Less of a problem. Less of a rebel.

“I am not asking; I am telling,” June stood her ground. “I need to speak with him.”

Summer shifted her focus to the box at her feet and brought it up to her lap. “I don’t see how that’s possible, June. They check the special I.D. they gave me; I have to sign papers, I’m only allowed there at certain times, there’s a guard outside the door…” She stopped sifting for a moment to look at June. “Have you ever tried getting Ruth out yourself?”

June shook her head. “Face it, Summer, they only want one thing from Ruth; and that is information. Clearly, what she’s telling them isn’t enough.”

Tears well up in Summer’s mascara-clad eyes. “Don’t say that!”

“I might have what they are looking for,” June continued, “I just need to see Nick, please.”

“Why are you acting like I’m the one in charge of that?” She continued looking through the box. “There are rules, cameras, security. What do you expect me to do? Sneak you in?”

June took a compact mirror from the box and held it up. The glass was too small to reflect both of their faces entirely, but from that limited image, there was something that the two of them could not deny. Summer leaned her head on June’s shoulder and chuckled warmly. That was the moment June knew everything was going to change.

“Well, my, my,” Summer drawled out. “It seems we’ve been blessed with the same face!”

Was this part of Nick’s plan all along? June had wondered right from the beginning why he chose a Wife of similar appearance to her. But he couldn’t possibly have seen this coming. They do say luck is when preparation meets opportunity…

“Hold still!” Summer chastised her, attempting to put a full face of convincing makeup on June. She was giving June a crash course on All Things Summer, a semester only lasting a few days. Today was the final exam, and if June didn’t pass, she was going to get something way worse than an “F” on her records.

“I think we should go over the accent again,” June commented nervously, trying to stay still so Summer wouldn’t poke her eye out with the eyeliner.

“I told you,” she drawled out, “you have to talk slow like this and elongate your vowels. When in doubt, drop your g’s.” She finished applying the makeup and fluffed up June’s tightly curled hair. “Besides, we’re women; we have certain…assets.”

June stared at herself in the mirror, appearing more and more like Summer every minute. With curled hair, a painted face, and a flattering dress, she believed she could fool anyone. June tried a wide smile but let it fade quickly, as her teeth would be a dead giveaway to her disguise. She played this role before. A Jezebel. A Martha. A Peacekeeper. Now a Wife. Her skin prickled at the reoccurring thought going through her mind: she’ll get to see Nick today. She was too preoccupied with her scheme to even practice what she would say to him. But it’ll come naturally to her; it always does.

As Summer fixed June’s hair the way she preferred, her fingertips brushed over the red Handmaid tag on June’s ear. It could’ve been like touching fire the way she reacted to it. She quickly covered up the tag with freshly curled hair, frowning slightly. “Just…really make sure they don’t see that, okay?”

June tried to give her a reassuring smile, and she nodded.

“Oh, I forgot one last thing!” Summer exclaimed. She pulled the golden wedding ring off her finger and placed it in June’s palm. “You’ll definitely need this.”

June rubbed over the smooth, warm texture of the ring before slipping it on. Her eyes fixed on the unusual sight before her. For just a day, she’ll get to play as Nick’s wife. What will that be like?

Summer stood beside June, and she looked at their reflection in the mirror of her small white bathroom. Twins, she probably thought. She beamed. “I think this will work out just fine, don’t you think?”

“Thank you,” June told her sincerely. “I know I’m not… I know how I can sometimes be… And with Nick and I and you in the middle--”

“I’m doing this for Ruth,” Summer’s face became serious. “That’s all I care about.”

June nodded and tried to smile again. “That’s what I care about, too.”

Summer looked into her eyes for a few seconds before walking out of the room. “You’ll need my I.D. and passes,” she said out in the kitchen.

June followed, her teal high heels clicking against the hardwood floors with each step, giving her three inches of fake confidence. She took hold of the documents from Summer, glancing down at them. They strangely displayed no words, just Summer’s picture, an identification number, and a barcode on the back. And if the printer had done its job more clearly and if June squinted her eyes ever so slightly, she would have seen a small insignia of a bird with a sun above it in the corner of each special pass. But such insignificant things do often become so overlooked.

“The driver should be here at any moment,” Summer smoothed down her teal cotton dress. Her eyes were darting around the apartment, going over an extensive list in her mind. She looked over at June several times. “Be polite but cheerful. And only speak when spoken to. And please, keep it brief.”

June nodded, taking in another deep breath. “How long do you think I’ll have with him?”

“An hour, if you’re lucky,” she responded. “That’s why I never bother telling Nick much of anything.” She bit the nail of her thumb.

One hour. Even in Canada, their meetings had to be cut short. How could one hour cover everything? How could one hour ever be enough? Oh, but they’ve had it shorter. Back then, it was a glance across the room, a touch of a hand, a brush of a shoulder. An hour will have to do just fine.

It wasn’t long before June found herself in the back of a black sedan, responding to Mrs. Blaine as if it were true. She fidgeted with her hands in her lap and stared out the window. The driver was an older gentleman dressed in black and treated her kindly, not once questioning her. He kept quiet, and so she did too, thankfully. Her stomach twisted again at the thought of seeing Nick. She was scared of what she might see, someone who wasn’t better at all, just someone who they want him to be. She was scared he would be mad at her, or worse, afraid. So she had to be careful of what to say. She wished she could bring in all his papers or even just a picture of Holly, but Summer knew they would never approve. So it was only her. This would have to be enough.

The drive took nearly an hour, the rehab facility being located far out in the country. It was nice again to be in wide open spaces, surrounded by trees rather than tall buildings. Soon enough, they turned down a windy, tree-lined, narrow road that opened up to a large campus with a gray building on a hill. Very few cars were parked on the lot, the only surrounding sounds coming from the chirping birds in the trees and a nearby flowing fountain. The early afternoon sun beat down warmly. The driver opened her door with a smile.

“I’ll wait for you in the car, Mrs. Blaine,” he told her, holding her hand as she climbed out.

“Thank you,” June tried her best with the new accent.

Per Summer’s instructions, June walked up to the main doors, showing her I.D. and special pass to the guards, feeling like a Handmaid all over again. She wanted to keep her head down, but she knew Summer wouldn’t do such a thing. So she painted on a smile and stood up straight, shoulders back.

“I’m here to see my husband,” she told them.

“Of course,” one of the guards said, opening the door with his key card. “Right this way.”

She passed through, the hair on the back of her neck sticking up. The lobby was dead silent and lifeless, the smell of bleach in the air. The walls were bare, spare a few scenery paintings, but nothing was labeled, and no signs could be seen. Everything was white, right down to the pens at the front desk, where June once again showed her documents. A young man examined them, staring far too long at Summer’s picture.

“You’re here to see your husband, I presume,” he eventually said.

June nodded her head. “Yes, I am.”

He handed her a clipboard. “You know the drill, sign in here. You’re permitted one hour today. If you don’t sign out within an hour, we will send someone to escort you.”

June nearly froze in her spot. She supposed Summer and her were too caught up in the appearance and accent that they seemed to have forgotten one crucial part of this whole operation: her signature. June took the clipboard and thankfully noticed that it was specifically Nick’s visitation records. However, it wasn’t what she was expecting. Summer’s identification number had been written repeatedly over the page in big, loopy penmanship. But not her name at all.

“What’s the matter?” the man at the desk commented sharply.

Heat rose to June’s cheeks, and she clicked the pen, setting it on the paper. Slowly she wrote, large and curvy, just like Summer. For some reason, this made her feel only like a number.

A security guard patted down June’s body, and once free, she went inside the elevator. It was only when she watched the metal doors slide shut that she finally noticed it, the insignia: the bird’s outstretched wings, a large sun behind it. It was on the wall across the lobby, its image fleeting just as fast as June was boxed up in the elevator and taken to the third floor. At that moment, she understood how Summer felt when visiting this place; she was back. How can this be? Red flags and resounding alarms went off in June’s mind once again, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She needed to get Nick out of here more than ever now.

Upon exiting, June stared down the pristine long, white, lonely hallways of the rehabilitation center. Her heels echoed painfully against the polished tiled floor, past all the closed doors. A feeling of emptiness and loneliness crept in, nearly suffocating her with its sterile scent. Per Summer’s instructions, room 307 was her destination, a short but agonizing walk. She took in a deep breath and knocked.

Silence.

She tried the door handle and discovered it was locked. Remembering, she held up her I.D. to the scanner on the door, the light turning green, a beep of approval. She opened the door slowly. Minimal furniture was placed around the room, but it all came to a blur in June’s teary eyes. There on the bed was whom she was searching for all this time, sleeping soundly and comfortably. She stood there, taking him in while she had the chance. Nick was wearing a black jumpsuit as if it was a uniform for someone in his unique position. Though he was on his side facing away from her, she could tell his body filled out a little since she saw him in the hotel lobby weeks ago. His hair was longer and curlier, a mess atop his head. But most of all, he looked alive, not like the ghost that floated around her in the past.

Quietly closing the door behind her, June slipped off the noisy heels and tiptoed around the bed to see his face. Life had a cruel, twisted way of being separated from someone as beautiful as he was. She wanted to reach out and touch him, be reminded of how it feels again, how it changes everything in an instant. But she held back, living off his mere presence for the moment.

Soon everything came into focus. There was just a small wooden desk, wardrobe, chair, and side table placed around the white room. A few books were laid beside him as well as a glass of water and a pill case. A door in the corner was opened to a small bathroom. The view from here was rather disappointing now that the clouds came in and cast the Canadian country landscape in a dreary shadow. June’s heart hoped the view was better in the sunshine or at sunset, anything to make this less depressing. She didn’t want all of this--

“June?”

Relief washed over June’s body, and she closed her eyes and smiled before turning around to see him. There he was, like time never stopped or seemed like an obstacle between them. His thick eyebrows were raised in surprise, and his mouth was open, slowly forming a grin. Without breaking eye contact, he sat up on the bed, not saying a word. June shed the teal cloak and draped it over the chair, keeping her eyes on him. Then, she walked over and sat beside him, already feeling the warmth of his body.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, feeling a little nervous.

“Hey,” he replied casually, too mesmerized to say much of anything else.

June tucked her curled hair behind her ear. “I’m not Summer.”

“No, you’re not.” He took hold of her hand and placed it on his lap, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He appeared amazed as if this moment resided only in his dreams.

June tried to keep breathing, missing such an intimate gesture that wasn’t forced or disingenuous. She supposed he missed this too, given how he didn’t dare look away from her. Simple hand-holding shouldn’t push either of them over the edge, but this was how it was always for them. Peace filled the room as a silent victory roared all around them. They both felt the power they both had, always coming out stronger than before. However, this time it seemed complete, final. And it felt good.

Nick leaned in and kissed her slowly and naturally, releasing the desperation he kept up all these weeks. June pulled his face closer, nearly dragging his body on top of her. Nick steadied himself by placing a firm hand on the mattress, kissing her deeply as they slowly sunk further down on the bed. And oh, how she missed this, being kissed like she was the sweet water to his seemingly endless drought.

Unexpectedly, Nick pulled away breathlessly. He looked around the room, then back at her, his face merely inches away. “Where’s the baby?”

June couldn’t help but smile at him. She found it endearing how he still referred to their walking toddler as a baby. Even after all this time, Holly was still at the front of his mind, a permanent place in his heart. June had no doubt of this, which is why she felt it was the right moment to break some news with him. With much bravery, she asked, “What do you mean?” She took his hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. “She’s right here.”

Nick nearly coughed out a laugh, being caught off guard by such a revelation. “What?”

June tried to sit up a little. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but…” She bit her lip and looked at him, smiling. “I think so.”

Nick merely shook his head in disbelief.

June placed a hand on his cheek, grounding him. “Nick,” she spoke softly, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

His face fell, eyes drifting away. “How’s Hannah?”

He was changing the subject on purpose. Did he not believe it was possible? Had he simply accepted the fact that this was his life now? What was told to him to make him think that? June swallowed thickly. “She’s fine,” she replied. “Her birthday is coming up. Thirteen.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “She’ll go through one hell of a rebellious phase, that’s for sure.”

June smirked. “I think we’ve been deep in it for a while now.” She paused, sensing his need to know more about her. “We hired a tutor to help her get caught up before she enrolls in school again. While her reading and writing are good, you haven’t exactly taught her anything about math or science.”

“Oops,” he admitted, chuckling softly.

June smiled at him, the ticking clock on the wall filling the silence. Oh, right. Time. The inevitable passing of time. She reached for his hand, a lot softer than she remembered it being. In fact, all his sharper edges were filed down now, making him appear much younger and smaller. What did they do to him? What did they take from him?

“How are you?” June asked him genuinely. Her eyes danced around the room. “I mean, this place, wow…”

Nick became visibly tense, avoiding her eyes. “I’m fine.” His eyes met hers for a second, and he nearly crumbled. He sighed. “I’ve learned it’s better to just do what they tell me to do than to argue with them.”

June knitted her eyebrows. Nick was the bravest man she had ever known, wise enough to play the game and win. They stripped him of his power, his identity. Who did they think they were? A wave of rage crashed over June, and she wanted to hurt them and hurt them badly.

June bit her lip. She had to hit him hard with something, waking him up. “Do you know what happened to Ruth?”

Nick looked up at the mention of her name as if he hadn’t heard of it in months. “Ruth?” He shook his head. “Summer hadn’t mentioned anything.”

Summer’s excuse was lack of time. But maybe it was something else, too. “They did an interview on TV with her,” June told him, remembering the frail condition Ruth was in. Tears filled in her eyes. “She looked bad, Nick. Like she had been taken by the Eyes.”

Nick cringed at the mention of Gilead’s secret police. He shook his head again. “I don’t want to know.”

“Nick, they’re torturing her,” June spoke louder, trying to get through to him. “We need to save her.”

“We?”

“I have all your Council notes, intel, Gilead secrets, everything…” June’s eyes lit up. “We can do an exchange. We can set up a meeting of sorts, get you out of here, talk to them--”

“No,” Nick simply told her.

“What?” June felt deflated. “Don’t you want Ruth to be free? Don’t you want to get out of here?”

Nick looked back at the door, making sure it was closed. Then, he glanced up at a corner of his room where, not until now, June noticed a camera watching them. He leaned in close, their foreheads almost touching. “You won’t be giving them information,” he whispered, “you’ll be giving them instructions.”

June was taken aback. She remembered the haunting scene in the library, the pretend Wives and Commanders. A new political wave was approaching in response to Serena and Fred’s death. Gilead’s dark shadow was spreading over Canada slowly but effectively. June felt a tingle on the back of her neck. Was Nick right? Would she be basically giving them blueprints to build Gilead 2.0? That can’t be true. There still had to be good reasonable people left to make sure that won’t happen. But she thought back to Mark Tuello and his so-called justice of letting Fred walk free. Was there anyone left to trust?

“But,” she looked into Nick’s warm brown eyes hopelessly, “we have to do something.”

“How bad is it…out there?” Nick asked, sounding desperate, almost worried. “They won’t tell me anything.”

“Serena’s book is flying off the shelves everywhere,” she rolled her eyes. “People are dressed up as Wives and Commanders, acting so pious.” She took a deep breath before adding, “Young women…are going missing at the borders for some reason.” She shared a look with Nick, hoping to communicate the same thought. “Some want to see Gilead pay, but in the same breath, they want to villainize you, make you into some kind of monster.”

Nick’s shoulders fell. “Phase Two,” was all he said.

June knitted her eyebrows. “Phase Two?”

“I take it you haven’t read much into those papers, then.” His soul looked crushed like he was too late to save anyone from a cataclysmic disaster.

“No, I’ve been busy taking care of the girls and…” And Luke.

Nick nodded. “There was a second part to the Peacekeepers’ operation. The first part you already know about.” He bit his lip. “I was supposed to go back and try…” He sighed tiredly, running his fingers through his thick hair.

They already had this argument before, and it wasn’t worth repeating, considering where they were right now. June was more curious than angry. “What exactly are they planning to do, Nick?”

“From what you told me, they already did it.” Nick stood up and leaned himself against the windowsill, crossing his arms. “The missing women at the borders? Who do you think is the blame for that?”

June shook her head in denial. No. It couldn’t be true. Oh, but for logistical reasons, it had to be. Gilead was still a running government; they had to balance out the losses, make up gains, and have the upper hand somehow. They had to take whatever resources were available to them, even if they belonged to someone else. Turned out that killing all those “rebellious” Handmaids during the raids wasn’t as beneficial as they thought.

“The Council was supposed to vote on it, but they killed most of the Council. It was supposed to be a backup plan in case the numbers didn’t make sense.”

“The whole thing doesn’t make sense!” June dared to raise her voice.

“Well, they wanted their ‘perfect’ society, and this is what they were left with. Maybe it was never supposed to be a backup plan, after all.”

June got up from the bed and began to pace, thoughts rushing into her mind. “I don’t see how kidnapping women will contribute to this fantasy. They will rebel just as easily as we did.”

Nick shrugged. “You can’t really rebel if you’re stuck in a hospital bed, connected to tubes.”

Now, this really punched June in the gut. They weren’t only stealing women from their homeland, they were literally making them unconscious vessels, kept alive for one purpose and one purpose only. June remembered the Handmaids in D.C., the rings in their mouths, stripped of their voice. Dehumanized, she thought. At least those women had their day-to-day lives, their memories, their feelings.

“Do the Canadians know who is responsible?” Nick asked her.

“They think Gilead, but nothing can be proven,” June replied. “They must be having help from people in Canada, taking them, and bringing them over, and, and…” Tears were in her eyes again.

Nick came up to her and wrapped his arms around her. He held her like that for a while, not saying a word, just brushing his hand along her back soothingly. Suddenly, the door opened, and a guard poked his head in, ruining the moment.

“Five more minutes. I’ll be waiting outside.”

June watched him stand beside the doorway, keeping the door wide open. Oh, if looks could kill. She clenched her jaw and focused on Nick instead. “I don’t know when I can come back,” she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nick’s gaze drifted to June’s abdomen, and he gently placed his hand there. He looked into her eyes, solely giving her his undivided attention. Then, he kissed her, resting his forehead against hers. “You keep yourself safe, okay?”

June nodded. “What are you going to do?” she pressed. “You can’t stay here, Nick. Not when we know--”

“One minute!” The guard shouted a little too loudly.

She looked intensely into his eyes, holding on to the collar of his black jumpsuit. “Who are these people, Nick? Gilead?”

Nick hesitated. “They’re not enemies, but they’re not exactly friends either.” He glanced at the impatient guard. This answer will have to suffice. He put his hand around the back of June’s neck, his fingers pressing into her skin. “Find someone you trust. Give them the papers. Go find Ruth. Send Summer next time,” he whispered, words fast and shaky. He kissed her one last time, squeezing her hand. “I love you.”

A tear fell out of June’s eye as she nodded her head. “I love you,” she echoed. She slowly went to slip on her teal heels, keeping hold of his hand until she moved too far away. He then handed her the wool cloak, communicating countless things with just his eyes. She dared not look back at him as she left for fear of doing the unthinkable.

Chapter Text

Sandwiching his head between the stiff mattress and the lumpy pillow, Nick tried to drown out the screams. He knew what time it was without even looking across the room at the ticking wall clock. This happened every morning right on time, a scheduled event, a religious routine. Although they sounded far away and muffled, anything became louder than it was when one was accustomed to such silence. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. It was bittersweet, this feeling. At least he wasn’t alone.

The screams only lasted about ten minutes--then it was silence for the rest of the day. Nick at one point thought he imagined it, something his mind manufactured to break up the monotony. Was it even real? It had to be. However, like clockwork, the screams were different from day to day. Sometimes they were determined, and other times they were distressing. On occasion, he thought he heard words expressed, but maybe he was looking for something that wasn’t truly there. But he knew it was a woman, young and disturbed.

If he could hear her, then she could hear him too, right? Would that make her feel better? Knowing that someone out there who was just as trapped as he was made him feel less alone. Oh, but what did he have to scream about? The pills that made him sleep all day? The daily check-ups that proved to be more unnecessary the longer he stayed? The way the sink endlessly dripped? Yes, that could be something to articulate his grief towards. But he didn’t have the energy. Besides, what benefit would it have? If They found him screaming in here for no reason, who knows what They would do to him? Could he accept the risk?

Walking down the hall would be the most logical option--if this was a normal hospital. He would simply climb out of bed, follow the screams, knock on her door, and ask what the matter was. Was there anything he could do? Would she like for him to stay a while? Oh, but his door was locked, a prisoner to his own room. He once made the foolish decision to ask why that was so, why he couldn’t leave. “What is out there that is of your concern?” one of the nurses retorted. “Everything you need is right here in this room.” A small bathroom. A bed. A desk. A chair. A wardrobe. A bedside table. A ticking clock. A camera in the far upper corner. Everything he needs.

Aside from the weekly visits to the doctor, Nick did not leave his room. Everything was brought to him and taken away just as appropriately. There was no need to worry about food, clean clothes, or fresh towels. All was provided. He didn’t have to stress about anything, not anymore. He kept himself occupied with books selected by his nurses, not particularly appealing if he had the privilege to complain. Sleep filled his schedule most of the time; that, and staring out at the glass rectangle in the room and the thought to just jump right through it.

They didn’t knock. The beep of the electronic lock had to suffice--had to give Nick a fair warning. His nurse came in, dressed in pristine white scrubs. He was a pale young man, taller than Nick, with dark wavy hair, rectangle glasses, and a few small moles on his face. He greeted him pleasantly. Nick knew what this was about. Had another week passed already? Tiredly, Nick rose from his bed, adjusting his black jumpsuit, and followed the nurse without bothering to put on his shoes.

Conveniently, the doctor’s office was right down the hall. Nick never had to care about elevators or stairs--everything he needed was on the same floor. He often wondered what resided on the other levels and if people were kept there like him. They were walking toward the direction the screams came from earlier. However, it was no use looking for the woman. All the doors were locked tight and windowless, just like his. Nevertheless, Nick enjoyed the exercise wherever he could find it. As a former soldier, one could become dangerously restless without such rigorous activities.

The large, white room was divided into sections by hospital curtains to make more room for patients--if there were any. As usual, his nurse placed him in the first little section. Nick sighed as he took his seat in the hard plastic chair. Without warning, the nurse proceeded to check his vitals. The blood pressure arm cuff screamed apart at the Velcro and was wrapped snugly around his right bicep. Then the nurse squeezed the bulb, while Nick anticipated the slight tingly feeling as the tightness increased.

If Nick paid attention enough, and he certainly did, he would have heard a sniffling noise on the other side of the curtain beside him, coinciding perfectly with the sound of the Velcro straining around his arm.

There was someone else in this room.

He was not alone.

Nick pretended not to take notice; the nurse certainly did not. Thoughts raced through his head with this revelation. Not once in the weeks (months?) he had been there had he seen another patient. By what means made this possible? Was it the woman? Oh please, do something so I can make sure, Nick wished. His heart was beating fast, which was just what he needed during this checkup. The nurse placed the cold stethoscope on his chest. Nick tried to relax, but this was the very moment everything changed.

Green lights started flashing around the room, an alarm blaring. The nurse immediately removed the stethoscope and looked around, a grin on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Nick spoke out for the first time in what seemed like days.

The nurse shook his head. “Oh, no, Commander, it is quite the opposite! What a glorious day this is!”

In a commotion like no other Nick had seen before in his time there, hospital staff flooded the hallway and rushed toward the direction of the elevators. Excited whispers filled the air, and his nurse was invited to join Them.

“Sh-should I follow you?” Nick asked over the alarm as the nurse walked away, oddly feeling like an abandoned puppy.

“No, stay there,” he replied absently, “we’ll be back soon.”

Nick waited for the hallways to be silent and was sure the last elevator trip had commenced. After a while, the alarm quieted down, and the green flashing lights stopped. Nick didn’t hear the sniffling again, and now he was halfway thinking he imagined it. He looked around the white, sterile room. There was nothing particular about it, only that there weren’t any detailed medical posters to read while you nervously waited for the doctor. There wasn’t anything to read at all. Nick knew there weren’t any cameras due to privacy and sensitivity, so he could get away with anything he wanted if there were such a thing. He carefully stood up, stretched, and peeked out the door. Not a soul was in sight. Then came the more frightening task of all.

He slowly walked toward the hospital curtain, swallowing hard. Since when had he become so afraid? He used to be brave back then. But never mind that. He wasn’t that person anymore, as his doctors had explained many times before. He pulled back the curtain a bit. At first, he didn’t see who it was; his vision was blurry and unfocused, almost deliberately working against him. He blinked a few times, and it all became so clear.

“Nick?” the woman asked. Her black hair was a tangled mess, but that was the least of her troubles. Cuts and bruises decorated her exposed, pale skin, especially at the wrists and ankles. She wore a simple, cotton, faded red dress, torn a little at the sleeves as if she was caught in an altercation. Her deep brown eyes were damp and tired.

“Y-yes?” Nick responded in disbelief.

“It’s me, Ruth,” she said, begging for recognition.

So it was true, then. Nick gave a slight nod, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. This was Ruth. It had always been Ruth. All those screams, day after day, had been from her. Nick’s memories were hazy, but he couldn’t forget her, not after all she’d done for him, not after all he’d done for her. They’ve been brought together by some fate, some green light that washed everyone else away. This had to mean something.

“What have They done to you?” Nick asked, reaching out for her wrist.

Ruth painfully inched away from him, holding her wrist closer to her body. “They don’t believe me. They think it’s still possible.” A few tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What is?”

She looked down at her lap, shameful. “I’ve already had a miscarriage.”

Nick looked solemnly at the bruises and cuts again at her wrists and ankles, some of them still freshly open wounds. He understood. He understood perfectly well what They were doing to her and what those helpless screams meant. Every day it happened, unbeknownst to him, right down the hall from his room. Images flooded his mind of what They were doing to her, what They are doing now, even. Deep inside him, a match lit, burning, and growing.

“How did you get here?” Nick asked sincerely. He wanted to put the puzzle pieces together again, to get the full picture, rather than living off of detached fragments that didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

“I was pulled aside for questioning at the hotel,” she answered slowly. “It seems so long ago now. I guess I was an easy target amongst everyone else. They thought I could tell Them some secrets, reveal something ‘sensational’ about you.” She scoffed. “Nick Blaine, you are the most boring man on the planet.”

A grin pulled on Nick’s lips, a long missed interaction.

Ruth looked off into space. “I guess once They decided I wasn’t going to give Them what They wanted, They placed me here. Their personal lab rat.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick didn’t know what else to say, but he knew none of this was right. He vaguely remembered June saying something about Ruth’s condition, but he rejected it, believing it wasn’t true. But here was his proof.

Ruth shrugged. “What about you?”

Nick glanced around the hospital curtain to make sure no one was there. “They said I had a heart attack,” he answered, “amongst many other things. I was sent here for recovery, but I’m not sure for how long.”

“Forever, I presume.”

Nick knitted his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did They remove parts of your brain, too? Can’t you tell what this place is?”

“I’m locked in a room for days, Ruth.” He glared at her, but not too harshly. “Besides, They give me certain pills to help me not think about that stuff anymore.”

“Think about it. The way no women work here? How They only care about getting women pregnant? Keeping a rebel Commander as a prisoner? The freaking bird logo on everything? It’s Gilead, Nick, wake up.” She folded her arms. “We’re back to where we started.”

Nick thought this over. June had suspected this, too, from what his poor memory had allowed him to keep. (God, why won’t They let him remember anything?) Of course, it made sense the more he thought about it. There were the signs Ruth mentioned. As well as how hard They tried to reconstruct his past and role in Gilead. He was a Commander whose sole mission was to save the human race by any means necessary. His rebel espionage days were over. They were futile. Too many people died because of it. Families were torn apart. It was time for the New Gilead. All he had to do was surrender.

Nick looked at his friend, who had seen much better days. He failed. He promised to protect her, and he failed. What these people have done to her will never be forgotten or forgiven. Nick didn’t want to think about it. But could he really let it happen again? The fire inside him was burning away, making room, transitioning to an old familiar self he thought They buried not so long ago.

“How much time do you think we have?” Nick asked, his mind racing.

Ruth appeared confused. “What do you mean?”

“When do you think They’ll come back? Where are They?”

“I don’t know.” She was looking at him, expecting an explanation.

“Alright, come on,” Nick tried to usher her out of bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ruth struggled to get on her feet, wincing in pain.

“We need to go. Now.” Nick held her close by his side, helping her a little.

Ruth stopped in her tracks. “Go? Go where? There’s nothing out there for us. You’re just as crazy as June.”

Nick looked her straight in the eyes, not entirely listening to her protests. “Don’t you want to see Summer again?”

Ruth knitted her eyebrows, shaking her head. “Summer? Summer is gone.”

Nick shook his head. “No, Summer is still here. She visits me. She wants to see you, Ruth. She loves you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, disbelief covering her face. “She’s been here the whole time?”

“Yes. Don’t you want to see her?”

Ruth nodded slowly, finding new strength in her small, frail body. But then, suddenly, she clutched his arm. “What about June?”

June. This time, Nick really heard her name. June. Just hearing her name out loud took the air out of his lungs. He remembered their bittersweet and brief visit, a strike of genius on her part. Nothing much was accomplished other than another goodbye and an ominous warning. Something was happening at the border. Something was changing in Canada. Something was happening right here, in this very building. Ruth was proof of it.

Nick gave her a nod. “Yes, she’s still here too. Now, come on.”

They looked out the empty and quiet hallway. It would be an understatement to say Nick had no idea what he was doing. He just knew he had to get them out of there as safely as possible. He relied on his former driver and Guardian life and what he knew about complicated building exits. They slowly made their way to the elevator and waited for the excruciating moment for it to arrive. Nick didn’t even bother to remember what he was leaving behind. He didn’t own anything, nor would any of it help their efforts. Although he would never forget his time here, he would never miss it.

The elevator dinged, and they pushed themselves inside. Nick reviewed the button panel and chose the lowest floor available, B1—the basement. Surely the parking garage would be in its vicinity. That was the goal, anyway. Whether there even was a garage or not was for him to discover later.

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick,” Ruth held her stomach, leaning against the railing as the elevator whooshed them down into the ground; such a movement she wasn’t used to, not even in Gilead.

Nick simply prayed that no one would be on the other side of the door when they arrived. He had no weapons and was slightly out of shape for a physical altercation. This place softened him up and convinced him that such violence, such rebellion, was unnecessary. Oh, what all has he lost since being here? What could he gain back? What would be gone forever?

The elevator slowed to a sudden, dizzying stop, and the doors silently slid open. Nick’s heart was racing, anticipating a threat. This level appeared the same as the one they left, only instead depending on artificial light. The Gilead insignia welcomed them, sending a chill down both their backs. The message was loud and clear now. They looked to their left and right, both hallways identical--white, empty, and long. Nick wasn’t about to suggest the foolish idea of splitting up, so naturally, they both chose to go left.

Directional signs would’ve been helpful, but this wasn’t an ordinary building. They passed doors they didn’t waste their time with. Nick knew what kind of door he was looking for; at least, that’s what he thought. However, as they traveled deeper into the basement maze, doubts clouded Nick’s mind. What did he get themselves into? What was he thinking? They were out in plain sight, just asking to get caught. He in his black jumpsuit, and she in the red dress, both shoeless. It looked bad. They had to find an exit out of there. The buzzing fluorescent lights weren’t making it any better, nor was the icy coolness in the air.

They heard voices around the next corner, a sign of life, a sign of trouble. Nick took a quick look, holding his breath. This hallway was unlike the others so far. It appeared like a regular hospital wing, with large windows to peek inside the rooms, not to mention the patients in beds. There were several beds in each room, all occupied by women connected to various tubes. They weren’t alive, but not necessarily dead either.

“What do you see?” Ruth whispered over his shoulder, trying to get a glance.

Nick bit his lip, a pit forming at the bottom of his stomach. “I know where all those nurses and doctors went.”

“What’s happening?” Ruth was getting restless.

“See for yourself,” Nick backed away, making room for her.

What she had seen was Nick’s most dreadful predictions come true. Without a doubt, he knew who those women were. He knew where they came from and what was being done to them. The alarm didn’t flash red--no, that was for danger. The alarm had flashed green--the light of life, of growth. While Nick was upstairs, sleeping the night away and daydreaming while wide awake, the unthinkable was happening right underneath him the whole time. Guilt washed over him. Oh, what could he have done? And right down the hall from him was Ruth, enduring it all the same day after day.

“Who are those women?” Ruth asked.

“Gilead’s new Handmaids,” Nick joylessly responded. “Maybe even Canada’s.”

Ruth turned from the horror show she was watching and looked at Nick. She shook her head. “This can’t be real.”

“Phase One was the executions,” Nick explained, trying to remember his Council meetings. Some of it was still a blur. “Phase Two is the kidnappings. I’ve known about this for a long time.” He couldn’t look her in the eye.

Ruth tucked a lock of tangled black hair behind her ear, revealing a red Handmaid tag. She was thinking, trying to make sense of a senseless situation. “That’s why you’re here. That’s why they took you away. You know too much.” She almost took another look at the scene, but she decided not to. Once was enough.

She was right. Nick’s disappearance wasn’t about punishment or even a smart political move by the Canadian government. Nick had not dealt with a non-Gilead official this entire time. He was taken so as not to spoil the secrets of war. The medicine, the mind games, the isolation, and the “therapy” were all a plot, a scheme, a distraction. He would not go as far as to say that he was the most important man of the resistance, but all the resources put into keeping a spy quiet were quite evident.

But why keep him alive at all? It was common practice to eliminate secret agents and tattle-tales in war. Kill the weed by pulling out the root. But all this? A nearly empty hospital, amenities provided, in the middle of nowhere? Why go through all of this for one person? It had to mean something more, a message of some kind. His thoughts traced back to June, his connection to the outside world. They had to have known about her; They’re Gilead, after all. They know her power, her history, her capabilities.

Her weakness.

They kept him alive only to fool her. What would she have done if she found out They killed him? Therefore, a few good reports from Summer would be sufficient--to keep her happy. He was alive; be grateful. But They didn’t know that her greatest weakness was also her greatest strength. Nick looked at Ruth and saw it in her, too. It was in all of them. Yes. It was true he was alive because of June.

Seeing those lifeless women connected to tubes, carrying the next generation unbeknownst to them, finally gave Nick the push he needed to wake up. It unveiled the truth that was buried deep inside him for so long. He remembered who he was, but most importantly, who They were. Their sick and wicked experiment didn’t work on him. He was going to be free. They were going to be free.

Nick started walking, knowing the exit had to be through some other way and not through Hell itself. “They’re giving Canada no choice but to join,” he whispered to Ruth, feeling like his old self again. It was an angry and unhappy place to be, but at least he was feeling something. “By executing a large portion of its population, Gilead has shown its true power, its unwillingness to compromise. The war is only delaying the inevitable. Gilead will gain a new obedient country, and Canada will be ruled by a new government by force. Either way, women will lose.” Then, quietly, “I tried to stop it.”

Ruth shook her head. “But you’re just one person, Nick. It would’ve been impossible. I tried telling you that in the van ages ago.” She followed closely beside him, limping slightly, getting lost in the endless, identical hallways. “Why’d you bring us to Canada if you knew all this would happen?”

Nick hesitated before answering right away. “I can’t leave my daughter here.”

She nodded, understanding. Love is sacrifice.

They eventually found their way back to the elevator and explored the right wing, feeling unaccomplished. The hallways were about the same, ever confusing, and not all that helpful. They came upon a hallway ending in a set of double doors. They pushed through, and a rush of cold air and darkness greeted them. Emergency lights were on every fifteen feet or so, just enough so they knew where they were going. Nick felt they were getting closer, though there wasn’t much to prove.

A flickering light was coming through a room down a long hallway, illuminating the area better. Nick and Ruth carefully approached, hearing no voices this time, but still on the lookout. Of course, they could have made as much noise as they wanted to. Who they were disturbing wouldn’t mind or even hear them at all. They were dead.

Ruth gasped. “Are they--”

No matter how sickening it was, Nick couldn’t look away. Such a sight was customary in Gilead, anyway. It’s been a while, but it’s all the same: a rope wrapped tightly around a cold neck, another mess to clean up, another memory to forget.

“I can’t even remember their names now,” Nick admitted shamefully, covering his face with his jumpsuit from the putrid smell. The fact he could remember them at all was a shock. If he was correct, the stiff bodies hanging before them, swinging gently in the air-conditioned room, belonged to the three Aunts who helped them at the Maria Magdalena Academy. The last he saw them was in that van, going to the hospital--no, it was the hotel, wasn’t it? Either way, he didn’t have to worry about where they went anymore.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ruth coughed, tugging on his arm, pulling him forward into the darkness.

Death. It seemed everywhere he went, it followed him. Was he really just that unlucky? The scary part was that he had his whole life ahead of him, with death itself chasing after him until the final fateful strike. How many more? How many more names will he have to add to his list of guilt? He was now following Ruth down the hallway, who was frantically searching for an exit. Was this a trap? Was she next?

“I don’t understand,” Ruth commented, pulling on locked doors. “What are we even looking for? Where are we going?”

“Parking garage,” Nick simply answered.

“And then what? Hijack a car? Burst through the gates?”

“Something like that.”

Although he couldn’t see, he knew Ruth rolled her eyes in response. Truthfully, Nick didn’t know what to do when they got there. Hijacking a car and bursting through the gates in record time would be convenient--if this was one of the movies he grew up watching with his brother. None of his military or Guardian training involved stealing a car. He was handed the keys, given the car, and told that would be his life from then on--expect no promotions. Even the Peacekeepers were kind enough to have their keys on them that pivotal night.

Nick shook his head from that hazy memory. He now knows multiple angles of the same story, and he doesn’t know which one to believe. These people told him such an event had never even happened. He couldn’t have done such a thing if he was the loyal Commander They knew he was. It was someone different entirely that did such heinous acts.

But sometimes, he could still feel the hot blood on his face, the insistent pounding of Summer’s fists on his chest, the eerie moonlight, the dead silence. It had to have been real. How else did he get here? How else did they determine him as a dangerous threat? Surely, he was capable of such violence, such bravery. It was a part of him, no matter how much they tried to erase it.

Naturally, the door was locked when they finally reached it. The small, square window revealed a warmly lit parking garage, barely filled with cars. This had to be where they kept the hospital vehicles; visitors stayed outside. Half a row of black vans were parked on one end, and one lone black sedan sat on the other close by. The headlights were on, the motor running. An older gentleman was outside it, dressed in a black suit, checking the tire pressure and dusting off a few spots. Nick knew what he was doing. He used to waste such time at the Waterfords, risking a moment to see June, even if it was for the few seconds it took for her to join her walking partner. Top off the wiper fluid, check the oil, make sure no headlights are out, check the oil again. What was this man waiting for?

Nick crept back into the darkness, figuring out his next move. Should he risk it?

“What is it?” Ruth asked, a look of concern in her eyes.

“A driver,” Nick answered, thinking. “I don’t think he saw us.”

Ruth took a peek at the window. She shook her head. “That’s not an ordinary driver. I remember all the drivers I’ve had. This one is too…nice.”

Nick nearly asked what she needed drivers for, but he would instead not bring it up due to her condition and possible trauma. “What about the car?”

Ruth shrugged. “I’ve only been in the van.” She glanced at the car again. “They must use it for something. Whoever’s in charge, maybe?”

Nick shook his head. “Maybe, but I don’t think so.” He bit his lip and thought for a moment. “Summer said They arranged a driver for her to visit or something like that.”

Ruth’s eyes slowly made their way to his. “Is she supposed to come today?”

Nick shrugged. “I gave up keeping track. It was never on the same day. On purpose, I think.”

Without much warning, Ruth began slamming her palms against the cold metal of the door. After all the silence they were consumed by, such an impulsive act made Nick jump. Relentless was her pounding, soon mixed with her loud shouting.

“What are you doing?!” Nick yelled, trying to pull her away from the door.

“He knows where Summer is,” Ruth answered breathlessly. “He can get us out.”

“You don’t know that,” Nick argued. “We can’t trust him, it’s too dangerous.”

She shook her head, tears coming down her cheeks. She looked so broken in this lighting, with the bruises, scratches, and scars. But, underneath it all, she was still Ruth. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She shook her head. “I’ve followed you this far, and now you’re too scared to follow through?”

Nick’s heart sank, and he stepped away from her. He tried to accept either outcome. If this man turned them in, then at least they did something different for once--a bit of freedom, a bit of answers. However, if they could trust him, he could see June, Summer, Hannah, Holly. This was who he was risking it for. Was it worth it? Could he take the chance?

Nick began beating on the door, Ruth quickly joining. Minutes passed, yet the man still needed to look in their direction. But who would be using this exit anyway? This was the hallway of darkness, death looming in the air. But they kept on trying. They had to. The man checked his watch, opened the driver's door, sat down, and closed the door. He then adjusted his mirrors before leaving, revealing Nick’s desperate reflection.

This was it, Nick thought. This could be the point where everything changed. There was no other option but to pray that this was a good man, a man who knew what was right. After some hesitation, the driver exited the car and approached the door cautiously, but his hands weren’t on a gun, perhaps because he wasn’t given one. Once he reached the door, he scanned his identification card, and the door’s lock beeped and flashed green.

Chapter Text

“Did anyone follow you?” the old man quietly asked, struggling to see in the vast darkness behind them.

Nick’s mouth opened, but the words were trapped and cloudy. He was expecting aggression and chastisement, a wildfire of hostility, but he was asked a simple question instead. The driver was rather calm and gentle, a lot warmer than anyone else Nick had dealt with in this sham of a hospital. He seemed relaxed but perplexed at the strange situation before him. His voice wasn’t loud, a weapon wasn’t raised, and he hadn’t touched them. All that was expected from Nick was an answer.

Nick shook his head, catching his breath from all the pounding and shouting. “I don’t think so.”

“Eyes are everywhere,” he commented ominously, looking around.

“Can you help us?” Ruth went straight to the point.

“Only so much,” the man replied, noticing her numerous cuts and bruises.

“You have a car,” Nick offered, looking behind the man’s shoulder.

The driver looked at his vehicle and back at the two pathetic beings before him. “I’m on a tight schedule…”

“Well, squeeze us in,” Ruth said, limping to the car.

“Where are you going?” Nick asked him, following Ruth.

The man looked at Nick for a few seconds. “The city, to pick up your wife.”

Nick swallowed hard and nearly stopped in his tracks. So they were right all along. This was their only out, their only chance. He supposed his identity was no secret. Who else had a visiting wife from the city? There was no benefit in explaining his situation; perhaps this humble driver knew even more than he did. The question was: could he alone save them?

“Is there a chance I could visit her instead?” Nick asked, hinting at something more.

The driver sighed, considering. “Luckily, the windows are tinted so They won’t see you,” he explained casually. He reached the car and held the door open for them, an invitation. “We have to do this quick before they find out you’re gone.”

Nick and Ruth sighed in relief and soon climbed into the back seat. The car smelled of new leather, and the heat was on, bringing a warm feeling back to their limbs. Nick looked Ruth in the eyes, communicating something far beyond their two shared languages, something wordless, something victorious.

“How’d you manage to get out anyway?” the old driver asked, putting the car in reverse. The engine was soundless, its swift movements smooth and secure.

Nick cleared his throat. “The--the alarms. The green ones. Everyone suddenly left, so we took our chance.”

“It’s a maze in there,” Ruth added.

The man bowed his head in sorrow for a few seconds and returned to driving, exiting the garage. “Ah, the miracle of life. Manufactured exactly how They want it.” He shook his head and sighed.

“Thank you,” Ruth told him sincerely. Her eyes squinted at the late morning sunlight, and she tried to crouch below the window just to be safe.

“I’m just a driver,” he simply told them, shrugging. “This is my job.”

I’m just a driver. Nick let those words sink in and cover him. He was just a driver. That’s all they were, looking back. Wives looked to them for “favors,” treating it like a job, another task on the list. A simple decline could put you on the Wall. All he had to do was drive them around town, keeping his head down and mouth shut. It was just a job, and that was how Nick got through it, day after day. But it ate him up inside, leaving nothing but sickly, hollow bones. But there was something more out there. He saw it in her eyes the first time he saw them--a shade of blue he wasn’t familiar with but wanted to memorize all the same. He didn’t have to be just a driver anymore. He could be a friend, a participant, a rebel, a lover. Life was still out there, his for the taking.

Nick made sure not to press his face to the cool glass as they left. He gazed at the prison he was held in, with all its pious wretchedness. It was a lot bigger than he imagined it from his small, locked room. All of this and for what? To control people’s bodies? To control people’s minds? Such a futile endeavor when both the mind and body will choose freedom every single time, without fail. He tried not to reminisce on his time there. Besides, he already had enough trouble deciphering which memories were real. But he was here and alive, with Ruth, of all people.

He used to want things bigger than himself. He intended to foolishly go back and stop Gilead’s rapid progression. It’s what he thought he deserved. He didn’t think he would succeed, but succeeding wasn’t entirely in his plans. He needed to be out of the way, set aside so the ones around him could get better. If that meant dying for a failed cause, then so be it. But what was remaining of Mayday was dead, meaning he would have to recruit and start all over. After Phase I of the Peacekeeper’s plans, who would risk that? He would be doing it alone, building trust from scratch. Did that mean he would still have to play both sides? Would they issue him another Wife? A Handmaid? How far could the misery drag him?

He didn’t want to know anymore. He nearly died because of it. Something in his body still clutched on to life, with what little was left. Although these people who kept him captive were evil in the most unimaginable ways, They did save him. He was truly sick in the beginning, requiring honest, professional medical attention. But all those days locked up in that small room have left him plenty of time to think and daydream. He didn’t know it then, but after a while, They were trying to turn him into someone entirely different, a brand-new person. And he did feel different and new. He was no longer tied down to his Commander responsibilities. There was no war to fight anymore. There was only the life he had built up in his head. Oh, of all the things he imagined doing with his daughter, all the conversations he had with June, all the stories Hannah told him. It was a wonderful world to be in.

He had to ultimately choose this, for how else could he get better? It wasn’t the pills or therapy or unnecessary doctor visits; it was simply the desire to be loved that could save him. Perhaps that was all he was meant for in this life. He didn’t need to be the superhero or savior of the world; he just needed to be human.

He didn’t know how, but it will all work out. Of all the things he had endured so far, surely what must follow won’t break him. He glanced at Ruth, who kept her eyes on the countryside flashing past them. He still had her and Summer, too. They were a part of his life. They’ll figure it out together; if Ruth could do it, he could, too.

And, of course, June. She would know what to do. He remembered their meeting last week (was it only that long ago?). Nick’s chest tightened, realizing she risked everything for that one hour. Her plan could have crumbled, but she held it all together. It felt like life was brought into him again, a seed of hope. She still loved him. Wasn’t that what she said? Yes. After everything that happened, she still loved him. And she was trying whatever she could to get him back to her and their daughter. But wait a minute, wasn’t there something else? Something more? Oh, yes, a baby.

Nick couldn’t nail down a particular feeling for this, and that was allowed. He was overjoyed and pleasantly surprised while also scared and uncertain. This new life could change everything for him. It could give him a second chance, a way to do things right again. He would have the opportunity to be with June the whole time and hold his baby every day, for however long he wanted, without the fear of being killed for it. But at the same time, what type of world would this new being be born in? Everything was changing for the worse, and Nick finally accepted he had no control over it. All he could do was make sure his family was safe. And he would have to rely on more than just himself to do it.

Luke. The man hadn’t crossed his mind since the hotel incident. Did he know how to take care of Hannah? Did he know how to talk to her? Is he giving June her space? Her power? The very thought nagged on Nick. Something was happening, or maybe not enough was happening. Where did Nick fit in all of this? Did June talk about him? His inclination was no. But he had to have seen this coming. He didn’t mean to cause trouble, but there has to be a decision made. After all, does he know how to take care of Holly? Does he know how to talk to her? He knew the answer, and the more time ticked on, the more scared he felt.

While Nick was thinking about this, they soon arrived in the busy city. Nick finally saw it for what it was, with all its colors, lights, traffic, and crowds. He ignored all the honking and sirens and tried to appreciate the moment, understanding how incredible this was even possible. Yesterday, this was a daydream, kept and locked tight. But here he was, here they were. He sat upright and took in a deep breath. This was the beginning. However, just behind them, if Nick cared to crane his neck and see, were a group of women neatly dressed in teal and a gray cloud following them with their heads down and hands neatly folded.

Presently, the driver parked in front of a tall apartment building. Summer patiently stood outside, fixing her curly hair from the wind, her turquoise cape flapping silently behind her. For now, she couldn’t see them due to the tint on the windows, but Nick could. She was dressed up, as usual, appearing a bit nervous. Nick squeezed Ruth’s trembling shoulder, who was beginning to cry.

“She’s the real one this time, I see,” the driver muttered, more to himself. He exited the vehicle and politely greeted Summer. Then he opened Ruth’s door, the one closest to the sidewalk.

Summer stopped short, breathless and shocked. She stared deep into Ruth’s tearful eyes and then into Nick’s. Her chin started quivering, and she gasped, throwing her arms out to Ruth. Ruth scrambled out of the car and clutched onto Summer’s body. They held each other while sobbing, not caring about the crowded sidewalk. Nick made his way out of the car, the cold cement hitting his socked feet. Summer caught his eye, and she hugged him too, crying into his chest.

“You’re home,” she said to him, sniffling. Her mascara stained her cheeks black, but she was still beautiful all the same.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nick tried to calm her.

“Are you staying this time?” she asked, drying her face.

“Of course, I’m not an idiot,” he answered with a slight smile.

Summer let out a small chuckle and invited them upstairs, promising Ruth a new pair of clothes.

As Nick was about to go inside, he told the driver, “You shouldn’t go back.”

The older man merely shrugged. “You think you were the only ones in there?” He hopped back into his car as if what he did was only an errand, a check off his list. And he drove away, just like that, probably never to be seen again.

Nick shut his eyes, already seeing the driver’s demise. He knew what would happen to him. It was obvious. He has to know this, too. He seemed like an intelligent man, understanding the consequences of his actions. Has he done this before? It doesn’t matter. It was his last. Nick prayed that he would somehow change his mind, knowing that being brave and stupid can be the very same thing.

“Sorry about the mess,” Summer apologized nervously once they entered her small apartment, “I wasn’t expecting any guests.”

Nick glanced around the rather simple studio, breathing in a warm, vanilla scent. Perhaps it was the mismatched, cheap furniture she was talking about and the discolored cream carpet. A bouquet of yellow roses was wilting in a glass vase on the kitchen table, the sunlight from the single large window just out of reach. There were no decorations save the three small paintings on the wall. Nick stared at them. He stared and stared until he felt he was in the paintings themselves. Through them, he was transported to his old house, in desperate need of repair, but without all the blood and dead bodies. He felt Colorado’s picturesque mountains surrounding him, the aspen trees in full color, the smell of the earth, the song of the babbling brook. He remembered an old friend, Ruth, youth still in her deep brown eyes and black hair smoother than silk. Oh, how he had missed her.

“No, it’s fine,” Ruth replied a little awkwardly, “it doesn’t matter.” She paced around the room, her finger running along the different textures. “We don’t mean to dump all of this onto you.”

Summer turned to face her. She was in the small kitchen, finding something for them to drink. “I thought you were dead. Last I saw you… On the news…” Tears welled into her eyes, her shoulders hunching. “Where have you been?”

Ruth shrugged. “In the same place he was.” She gestured in Nick’s direction.

Summer looked over at Nick and then back to Ruth. “And that dress?”

Ruth picked at the blood-stained, tattered red fabric in her hands. Shame crossed her face. “You know what it means.” She tucked a lock of dirty hair behind her tagged ear.

“Oh, God,” Summer held her face, crying.

Ruth walked over and put her arm around her. “It’s okay, we’re out now. Nick saved us.”

Nick’s stomach dropped. He didn’t want to be the hero. It was the driver that did the hard part. And Ruth was the one who gave him courage. If it wasn’t for her, he probably would have talked himself right out of it. He would keep living his days there, oblivious of what was happening directly underneath him. Ruth was the hero all along. She kept him alive back in Colorado. She shot the first bullet through the Peacekeepers. She took care of Hannah and kept her safe. It was her, not him.

“Here, let me get you a change of clothes,” Summer offered, sniffling. She walked over to the clothes rack in the corner, not a single color deviating from teal. Nick found this a little sad, but he kept it to himself. She glanced at each outfit until she found one suitable for Ruth and showed her the bathroom. Almost immediately, the shower came on.

Nick sat on the old couch, a colorful crocheted afghan draped on the back. There wasn’t a television or any books. Strewn cardboard boxes were about the floor, half unpacked. He oddly felt back at home. This made him uneasy. Summer wasn’t well. She put on the smile for him at the hospital and the cheerful mood and came home to this every time. A life on pause. A book, missing pages. A swing left in midair.

“Sorry, I don’t think I have anything for you,” Summer told him, rummaging through her dresser drawers. “I can pick something up later, okay?”

Nick nodded. “Thanks.”

Summer came and sat by him, but not too close. “Is she okay?” she whispered.

He looked towards the bathroom, the sound of the water splashing against the shower floor filling the silence. “Be patient with her,” he began, remembering June fondly. “Give her space. Listen to what she has to say. Don’t try to be in control all the time.”

Summer shook her head. “I’m not like that.”

He sighed. “She’s not going to be the same person, Summer. Things happened to her.”

Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t look at him. “I have to know her all over again.”

“She’s still the same Ruth in some ways,” he offered sincerely. “We would not be here if she wasn’t.” He swallowed. “I changed, too.”

Her eyes slowly met his, fingers toying with the wedding ring on her finger. “Nice to meet you, Nick.”

Nick nearly laughed. “Hi, Summer.”

Summer stretched out, feeling a little more comfortable with him. “I suppose you have a plan, then?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think I would even be here when I woke up this morning.”

She nodded. “Let’s stay quiet, then. We don’t need the wrong people finding out where you two are.”

After a few moments, the bathroom door opened, and Ruth exited. Her black hair dripped on her teal-smocked dress, finally clean. Though the same old bruises and cuts remained, she looked like a brand-new person. She picked at the elastic bodice encasing her thin torso. “Don’t you have anything more comfortable?”

“You know how much I wish they let me wear that in Gilead! Ungrateful!” Summer teased as she rose from the couch. “You look beautiful.”

Ruth’s scowl quickly turned into a grin, and she chuckled. She pulled Summer into an embrace, kissing her cheek. “I love you.”

Summer kissed her properly, in freedom and love, as if it was the first time.

Chapter Text

He reminded himself he’s slept in worse places. This wasn’t a rowdy school bus, a military cot, a pile of rubble, a lonely apartment above a garage, an old lumpy mattress, a stiff van bench, or a hospital bed where all his movements were recorded. No. This was his wife’s second-hand couch. Sleeping on the couch meant war to many husbands, but to Nick, this meant peace. He stretched his legs as far as they could, willing the blood to flow back through them. The pillow smelled old and dusty, and the crocheted afghan didn’t provide much warmth. Something was poking him in the middle of his back. Darkness surrounded him, the calming presence of Summer and Ruth not too far away on the bed. Outside, brakes screeched, sirens blared, horns honked, and drunken pedestrians yelled. Despite today’s dramatic events, sleep took his sweet old time on his nightly visit to Nick.

Just as he was finally nodding off, repetitive pounding jolted him wide awake again. It sounded too familiar for comfort. It couldn’t be the Eyes, and it couldn’t be the Peacekeepers, right? Nick’s heart pounded fast; his first instinct was to cower. This is what They taught him.

Strange, southern curses poured out of Summer’s mouth as she got out of bed and slipped on her teal robe and house slippers. She shuffled to the door, the chain lock clinking and the deadbolt shifting. The warm hallway light seeped into the room, causing Nick to cover his eyes, not seeing who it was at the door.

“We need to talk,” the voice was breathless and demanding. “I need to get back there again and talk to him.”

“It’s two-thirty in the flipping morning, June,” Summer whisper-shouted. “Get some sleep and call me in the morning!” Then, “How’d you get in anyway?”

“We have the same face, remember?” June answered, getting antsy. “One of your neighbors let me in, thinking I was you. We need to talk.”

Summer sighed. “Right now really isn’t a good time.”

“It never is,” June’s voice came into the apartment.

“June, you can’t--” Summer began.

An overhead light turned on, waking Ruth and Nick even more. Nick slowly uncovered his eyes, blinking, and saw June, appearing rather disheveled and stressed. Her jaw dropped, eyes shifting from Nick to Ruth.

“Nick?” June asked softly. She licked her lips, movements hesitant. “H-how…?”

“June, please, let him rest,” Summer nearly begged. A lock of curly blonde hair fell out of the turquoise silk scarf she tied around her head.

“You’re home,” June said, tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was all Nick could say.

“No, no, for what?” June walked around to sit on the couch. Her eyes were searching his, trying to find answers.

“For not being here sooner,” he replied sadly.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. How did you get here? When?” She seemed like what she saw before her wasn’t real, as if it were imaginary--a dream. They were here, together, in Canada, no tricks, no disguise. What else could be better?

“Today,” Ruth said sleepily, who was not too happy with the rude awakening.

“Ruthie was there the whole time, June,” Summer’s bottom lip trembled. “Those monsters.”

June saw Ruth, and tears came down her cheeks. The fresh bruises and cuts told June everything she needed to know. She covered her mouth and shook her head. “You got out? Together?”

“It was the driver,” Nick said, not taking any credit.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “And who led us to the driver?”

“And who got the driver’s attention?” Nick shot back.

June shook her head. “I don’t understand. You just walked out?”

“The staff was…preoccupied,” Ruth answered simply. “So yes, we just walked out.”

“We saw something,” Nick began, almost too scared to finish his sentence.

“You did?” Summer asked, curious.

June was worried. “What did you see?”

“Those women,” Nick continued, “the ones you were talking about, being taken from the border. We know where they are.”

Confusion entered June’s eyes, looking to Ruth for answers.

“Birthing machines,” Ruth answered in her usual curt way. “And you thought you had it bad.”

“Ruthie!” Summer shouted, embarrassed. “She didn’t mean that, June.”

“They were right underneath us the whole time,” Nick went on, “kept in the basement, like some sort of secret.”

June was thinking. “So it was Gilead. That means…they’re already all around us, in Canada.” She shook her head, trying not to panic.

Nick looked at June, and his heart ached. He reached out and held her hand, the feeling helping him all the more. He was reminded why they were better together than ever being apart. Some things you just can’t forget, unlearn, or deny, no matter how hard some people will make you try. She was a part of him now, permanent like a tattoo, necessary like oxygen.

“Did you find out something?” Summer spoke up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What was so important?”

“Oh, right,” June tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her Handmaid tag still on. Nick wondered why, just as he wondered why Summer held on to that specific shade of blue. She took in a deep breath. “You said to find someone I could trust,” she looked up at Nick and smiled. “Rita.”

Nick’s stomach sank. He meant someone with power. Sure, Rita had her connections in the Martha network that made Holly’s freedom (and many others) possible, but that was then in Gilead. Who was Rita now? Did she even want to be part of all that anymore? Nick understood she did it for survival reasons, but now she wasn’t in such conditions. What could Rita possibly offer to stop the growing shadow of Gilead? Nick’s mind flashed to the three hanging dead bodies in the cold morgue from this morning. The more people involved, the more they get killed. He hadn’t seen Rita in so long, and he didn’t want to see her again in the same circumstance.

Nick shook his head. “June--”

“She was just a Martha,” June seemed to say what he was thinking. She looked over to Ruth, as did Summer and Nick. Silence stretched for a few seconds as they were in thought.

“Looks like they ticked off the wrong people,” Ruth muttered.

“Once they saw what was happening to Ruth, to one of their own,” June continued, “they knew they had to do something.”

“Nick, you know better than to underestimate the Marthas,” Ruth told him, almost smugly.

Nick had to grin at this. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, I just got back from one of their meetings,” June went on, “and I gave them everything you had, Nick. That’s why I’m here so late.”

“What did they say?” Ruth asked, curious now.

“They were going to fight to get you back,” June replied. “But now that you’re out…”

“We have to do something about that hospital,” Ruth told them.

Nick shook his head. “I’m not going back there.”

“No one is,” June reassured. “At least, not yet. They’re hitting them where it hurts the most: the borders.”

Nick remembered those women he saw, connected to tubes, their bodies being used for all that they could offer. The light that flashed green: green for evil, green for greed, green for sickness. How did They not know what They were doing to those women? How far did They think They could get away with it? Not much, was Nick’s assumption if it had to be in secret. A sense of urgency coursed through his veins. He suddenly wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

“They’ve gained some ground,” June continued, “but not as much as it should be. They needed some proof, witnesses.”

Ruth twisted her mouth in thought, her thumb rubbing against the bruises on her left wrist. “No one is safe.”

“Alright,” Nick sighed, nearly turning into a yawn. “We should talk to them.”

“Do you really think it would make a difference?” Summer doubted.

“The people need hope, Summer,” June said sternly. “Right now, they’re all we have.” She looked at Nick and Ruth. “And I don’t think we should give up on that any time soon.”

After their discussion dwindled to yawns and stretches, Nick offered to walk June back to her car. Summer’s apartment keys jingled in his pocket. Earlier, she bought him a set of day clothes, flannel pajamas, new underwear, a warm jacket, and a pair of shoes. Anything was better than the jumpsuit and dirty socks. The night air was cool but not uncomfortable. The city lights shined all around them, but he wished it was only moonlight like it was before in the cabin. Oh, of all the things to think about now.

June parked in a nearby, well-lit parking garage, nearly empty. She was going off about how annoying city parking is and how much she had to relearn driving, the busy traffic not making it any better. Driving in Gilead was different: they had no rules, and their main objective was to remain unseen and alive. Nick was only halfway listening, but not rudely or selfishly. He was still so amazed that here they were, in public together, without the fear of being caught or killed. He was so caught up in her presence that everything else faded away.

“--like they don’t even care, they keep on going anyway,” June complained. She looked at him. “Are you even listening to me?”

He kissed her. He couldn’t help it anymore. He held her face and kissed her again and again, not ever wanting to wake up from this dream. And he didn’t even feel embarrassed that he was in his pajamas, and this lighting made them both look atrocious. He just wanted her closer and closer, and after that, closer still. They leaned against a cement pillar, hands roaming in every direction, never getting enough. He felt young and bold again, stupid and in love.

“Nick,” June gasped, breaking away briefly.

Nick kissed her a few times more, going for her neck. “Hmmm?”

Her fingers raked through his longer-than-usual curled hair, pleasure spreading everywhere. “We’re in a parking garage,” she almost laughed.

“Always garages,” he mused, going for the other side of her neck. He didn’t want it to end.

June pulled away gently, resting her forehead against his, her arms around his neck, bodies close. “Thank you for coming back.”

Nick nodded. “Is everything okay?”

She shrugged. “It hasn’t been easy without you.” She gave him a quick kiss.

“How’s the girls?”

She smiled at him. “Holly is growing so fast and learning so much. As for Hannah, a lot has changed. She loves school. She has this new club she’s in that meets almost every day.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

June rolled her eyes. “She won’t tell me anything about it. Very top-secret.” She sighed, almost in defeat.

“You don’t think…”

“I trust her.” She bit her lip. “She’s happy, Nick. But she misses you. I can tell.”

And he missed her. They used to talk about everything. They would have their jokes and then their serious moments. There were stories and made-up games and mountain climbing. There were long walks, rainstorms, and water-fetching: clothes-mending, doll-making, sandwich-eating. There was so much between them. Was she the same stubborn, imaginative, smart girl he used to know? No doubt. But she was getting older now. Would she need him as much anymore? Would she come to him for everything? Does she care? He’d have to sprint a marathon in record time in order to catch up on all that he has missed already.

Early morning sunshine fell upon Nick’s shoulders as he strolled down the nearly empty sidewalk. He wore black sunglasses (Ruth’s suggestion) and black clothes (his preference), feeling more like himself each day. Summer trimmed his hair as she was used to the curly texture, and he gave himself a good shave after a warm waffle breakfast. He took walks after the morning rush hour and before noon to avoid most crowds. He’s been the talk of the town for a few months now, and he'd rather be left alone. It was none of their business anyway.

Of course, escaping the hospital didn’t help him create a low profile. According to the news, he and Ruth were still missing. The driver was “mysteriously” killed. And nothing got out about those women in the basement, including the Aunts. If Ruth and he were discovered, he knew it would be bad news. They would be forced to return or be torn apart by the public. The consensus seemed that one side hated him for being a Commander, and the other side hated him for not being a Commander enough. No one cared about the plausible third option: perhaps he was a lost man looking for his way back home. So, for now, he was merely a ghost in the streets, floating from here to there, unseen and unknown.

This all made it more difficult for Summer, and he hated it. Somehow she had to support the three of them, all while playing innocent and ignorant to protect them. It was driving Ruth crazy. She was becoming impatient, and so was Nick. How long would this have to last? How long would they have to stay here? Were the former Marthas doing anything at all? He didn’t want to stay this way forever.

Oh, these walks were supposed to help with all those anxious thoughts. Nick went on, breathing in the spring air and breathing out what he didn’t need anymore. He reached a corner and hesitated. Normally, he didn’t walk this way, but that was because he had an important meeting soon at a place he hadn’t visited yet. He heard an organ playing and muffled singing. This was a Sunday, and church was in session. The grandiose building sat with its stained-glass windows, sculpted stone arches, and pointed steeples. It’s been a while since he’d seen one of these. Gilead tore them down, making more room for houses filled with Commanders and Wives and their Marthas and Guardians and Handmaids--

Nick took another deep breath. He was not there anymore, and he never will be. He could simply walk into this church if he wanted to. It was his right, a right that was taken away from him. So this was what he did. He had no profound intentions; he just wanted to remember what it was like, to see how things were different or maybe still the same.

The heavy wooden door squealed at its unoiled hinges, and no one greeted him as he entered the large vestibule. He found this odd, but he continued nonetheless. Another set of doors opened to the sanctuary, where the people were singing old-fashioned hymns. One of the doors was propped open, so he peered in before taking a seat. His heart beat fast, taking in the view before him. It wasn’t at all like the Maria Magdalena Academy chapel. In fact, it wasn’t like any church he had been to. Women stood on the left, the men on the right. Children occupied the first few rows. Other people took up the back rows, and Nick had a feeling what kind of people these were.

The men wore black suits, and the women wore teal dresses. The children wore their pastel blue or pink ensembles. The people in the back wore less formal clothing, but plain all the same. No color had been assigned to them. Yet. Nick’s mouth became dry, and he stood nearly petrified. Their singing held in the stuffy air as the organ played on. Everyone was stiff and well-behaved.

“Are you lost?” A small voice came out of nowhere.

Nick looked down and saw a short, young woman, no older than twenty, dressed in beige. She was pregnant. “I… I was just leaving.”

Her thin eyebrows cinched as she looked closer at him. “You’re the--”

Nick was out the door before she could finish her sentence. He stood on the sidewalk, taking deep breaths, looking around him. So far, everyone looked normal, no Commanders, no Wives, just regular people having brunch or shopping. Alright, okay. That totally didn’t happen at all. But what did just happen? Nick crossed the street, hands in his pockets, and continued, trying to place it out of his mind. It wouldn’t do any good at his special meeting.

The playground was slightly crowded, as expected for a nice weekend. Parents and grandparents stood around, drinking their takeout coffees and talking to one another. The sound of laughter and high-pitched screaming was in the air, all in good fun. Nick found June sitting on a wooden bench next to a stroller. She was smiling, having a careful eye on her children.

“Hi,” Nick approached her.

She looked in his direction and grinned. She wore sunglasses, too. “Hey.” She set her paper coffee cup down and got up to hug him. Her arms wrapped around him and brought them closer. She smelled like roses. “She’s the one in pigtails.”

Nick kept his eyes on June for a few more seconds and then to the bright yellow jungle gym. Hannah was next to her on the slide, being encouraging and supportive. A part of Nick’s heart broke at June’s words. He was her father, and he didn’t even know what she looked like anymore. But there she was, blonde curls and big blue eyes and all. Holly.

This was it. This was the moment he fought so hard for. The past year or so flashed before his eyes. Negotiating with Commander McKenzie, the Peacekeeper raids, the killing, the fire, the execution of Mrs. Waterford, the bridge crossing, the war zone, the separation, the loneliness, the hopelessness, the confusion, the small voice of a friend, an escape, a hope. He was here for her. His treasure: jewels, pearls, diamonds and all.

“Oh, she’s…she’s…” Nick stuttered. Were there words for such a sight?

“So big?” June suggested.

“Beautiful,” Nick eventually finished, looking into June’s eyes. How did they do it?

June’s cheeks flushed. “And there’s Hannah, being the big sister.”

Nick nodded. Already, he saw a change in her. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, unlike the baby pink dresses. Her hair was well-kept now in its natural state, and she wasn’t carrying a doll anymore. All grown up.

“How was yesterday?” Nick asked, taking a seat on the bench with June following.

She sighed. “Oh, well, a few minor meltdowns, but that was all.” She shrugged. “She’s only made a few friends from tutoring and that secretive club she has. So they came and celebrated with her. Luke got her a sewing machine, so she’s happy.”

Nick smiled at that. He needed to know that Luke was trying. He needed to know that Hannah would be alright. It was a small gesture, but Nick was certain it made all the difference to Hannah. And with these new friends and tutoring, she could start fresh and be a teenager. But he so wished he was there for her. He didn’t want this to affect her expectations in life, thinking that people come and go whenever they pleased. She needed stability, permanence. He had his regrets, there was no denying it, but he was here now, despite all odds, showing up and making the time. That’s all he could do at this point.

Hannah looked over to June and saw him. Her movements halted, and her jaw nearly dropped. She carefully led Holly down the slide for probably the fifth time that morning and carried her over to them.

“I see you’re in that dumb color again,” Hannah teased, smiling.

Nick smiled back. “Happy birthday, Hannah.”

“Thanks,” she replied. She looked at him for a few seconds longer, something in her eyes. Maybe it was gratefulness, maybe it was relief, maybe it was unbelief. Was he truly here, right in front of her?

Nick set his black sunglasses on his head, taking the risk. He looked down at Holly, who was drinking from a juice box like she never had a drink in her short life. When she decided she was finished, she was gasping for air. He chuckled at such a simple action, bringing him to life again.

“Holly, this is your daddy,” June introduced him again. She had a hand on her back so she was facing him.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said quietly. He had nothing to give her--to any of them--so this would have to be enough.

Holly was shy and a little awkward, as expected. “Hi,” she said, not really looking at him.

From the stroller, June retrieved the doll he had given her so long ago. She snatched it up quickly and held it to her chest. “He gave this to you. Isn’t that nice?”

She looked at him and down at her doll. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Nick told her, being patient. “Did you give her a name?”

“Daisy,” she said and flipped her doll around so she could see him, too.

“I like that,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back and went over to Hannah, who was eating pretzels and staring into the nearby woods. Holly whispered something to her.

Hannah groaned. “If I have to take you down that stupid slide again--”

“Hannah,” June warned, giving her a look.

“There are other things to play on!” Hannah complained.

Holly already had her by the hand, directing her to the slide on her short, little legs.

Nick laughed softly. “Is she the boss?”

June smiled. “She sure acts like it, doesn’t she?” She sighed and took a drink from her coffee. “So, how are things with all of you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Nick shrugged. “It’s…not ideal.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not exactly in a better position, either.”

Nick looked at her, trying to understand. “What’s wrong?”

She twisted her mouth. “I feel like a guest in my own house.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s not my house, but still. I’m getting along with Luke, but that’s it. I’m not…connecting.” She looked at Nick to see if he understood.

“Do you want to?”

She shrugged, placing a hand on her lower abdomen. She wore a thick jacket, concealing her growing figure. “I haven’t even told him about this.” Her voice was defeated, cloaked with shame and guilt. Heavy was the load on her shoulders, it seemed.

“June,” Nick sighed. Something had changed in her, he could tell. She wasn’t the brave or confident June he knew and loved. Somewhere along the line, she lost her strength, her belief. What kind of hold did Luke have on her? And what made June give in to it so easily?

“I know, I know,” June replied. “It’s just that things are changing, and I don’t want to make it any harder.”

“Are they?” Nick pressed. “Are things changing? Because you won’t believe what I just saw in the church on the corner.”

June bit her lip, searching for the right answer. “The Marthas are working on it.” She said this quietly as if she didn’t believe in it herself.

“I don’t care what the Marthas are doing,” he admitted.

“What?”

“We have to leave, June. We can’t stay here.” He looked over to Holly and Hannah, who were by the swings now. Hannah was pushing Holly, who was laughing as the cool breeze swung her pigtails back and forth. “This isn’t where they belong.”

June nodded, thinking. “We can’t lose them.” She sighed. “And I want to keep you safe. I just got you back.”

Nick shifted closer to her, placing a hand on hers. “Wherever I’m going is with you.”

June looked into his eyes, perhaps thinking of a memory or a memory that was yet to come. A future together, a lifetime, if they were ever so lucky. It seemed that every time they became separated by powers beyond their control, it only brought them closer in the end, time after time. By some chance, some miracle, he came back to her. Here he was, not giving up on them, dreaming of a better life. He was her compass, guiding her to safety, grounding her in truth. Nick always found a way. It was in his nature.

“I’ll talk with Luke,” June finally said, “and tell him everything.” She nodded to herself, mustering up the courage.

Nick agreed and looked toward the playground once more. Holly was now around the grassy edges picking dandelions and giving them to Hannah, who was appearing more tired and bored. Perhaps even antsy? “He’ll understand. He’s a good man.” He had to believe this was true.

Chapter Text

The land had to be cursed, no doubt. How else had they avoided being caught? It was left alone for all it was worth, not wanting to risk bringing home any uninvited misfortunes. But that didn’t concern Hannah one bit. Bring it on. Bad luck? She had to laugh. In this game, there was no time for such fantasies. Get in, get out, don’t be seen, and above all—don’t tell anyone!

They met precisely at three-fifteen after school, at the large children’s playground down the street. It was an innocent, sacred place. No one would have any issues or raise suspicions. No one paid much attention to anyone her age, anyway. Stuck in the middle, she felt invisible, ignored, and underestimated. Her mother appeared unconcerned about this. She believed it was an “extracurricular” activity that would enhance her “social skills.” Oh, mothers, what do they know?

“Nick is picking you up from school today,” June told her during the school drop-off this morning. The line was long, filled with suburban moms and lapdogs in the back seats. The occasional honking and door slamming were in the background. This was one of the few special moments they could talk and share things. Sometimes, there was silence, and other times it was filled with laughter. Occasionally, there was shouting, but Hannah tried not to let it go too far.

This sudden news caught Hannah off guard. “What?”

“Is that okay?” June asked, driving forward a little. “We thought it would be a good idea for the two of you, since after all this time…”

“I have a club meeting, you know this,” Hannah said, zipping up her purple fleece jacket with front pockets. It was the first project she made in Canada. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Hannah, you can skip just once,” her mother countered. “You go there every day; what could you possibly miss?”

Dangerously too much, Hannah wanted to say. But this was against their number one rule. She had to think of an excuse, quick. “I can’t. It’s my turn to present today.” She’s learned to lie a lot better now. It came off her tongue sweet as honey, smooth as butter. Was it enough to convince her mother?

“You can’t keep this from me forever,” June said sternly. “I’m not dumb.” The line was moving forward again, and they were almost in front of the school. Hannah hasn’t quite gotten the point across that this sort of thing ruins a reputation. But if it kept her and her friends from being caught, she would endure the loser status for as long as needed. After all, this sacrifice was nothing compared to all the other life-or-death decisions her group made daily.

Hannah will have to compromise. “Maybe we can hang out after dinner or something.”

June turned to face her, displeased, her thin eyebrows knitting into a deep crease on her forehead. “Do you realize what that man has gone through just to be here? And now you suddenly can’t find time for him?”

Heat rushed to Hannah’s cheeks. She knew she was acting ungrateful and disrespectful. She truly did want to see Nick and tell him so many things, but now wasn’t the time. June just didn’t understand. She had much greater responsibilities elsewhere and had to bear that weight alone. Someday it will all make sense, she was positive. She would be able to tell June everything and she would be so proud. But for now, her story had to be written in invisible ink, with only the privileged skilled enough to reveal and decipher it.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah hung her head, “just…” she sighed. “Make sure he isn’t late.”

June nodded and kissed her cheek. “I love you. You’ll do great on that presentation!”

Hannah was confused for a split second but quickly recovered. “Thanks.” She said goodbye to her little sister in the back seat and left the car. Sometimes she wondered what they did all day without her…

Snaking through a dense crowd of popular kids can be the most humiliating task for some people, but for Hannah, it causes her to count her blessings. So many eyes were on them at all times, setting the standard, setting the trend. People followed them, hungry for just a glance or a touch, to be miraculously healed from hormonal acne and bad style. They attended every game, party, and dance. This was the expectation, of course. Relevancy was currency.

Hannah remembered when all eyes were on her in school. She was the best at all the sewing classes and the worst at child-rearing. Remember, class, babies are not to be held like one of Agnes’s rag dolls, the Aunts would teach. Oh, how much has changed in so little time. It made Hannah cringe just thinking about it. But she had a secret then, and has an even bigger one now. Being unseen, unheard, and unrecognized was absolutely vital to her mission.

For this reason, the gang hung out under the first-floor stairwell beside the boys’ bathroom. It was a dark, dusty corner of the building where recess equipment was stored. At this time of the morning, the teachers were more concerned with the school entrance and cafeteria, leaving this area unpatrolled. The hall was silent and empty. No one was missing them, for to be missed, you have to be known first.

There were five of them: Lilah, Rebecca, Jude, Barry, and herself. They were all in her tutoring classes, which was another way of saying that they grew up in Gilead. Gilead kids were outsiders in the school, for reasons that would be obvious. Their complicated past and abandoned culture were seen as a burden, an awkward problem. Sometimes, even, their decision to leave such a place was feared by parents who were too scared that they would organize a dangerous rebellion right in the hallways. This didn’t matter to Hannah or her friends much, especially since they were doing far, far worse things. They couldn’t entirely relate to the other kids, anyway. So the five of them banded together for a common purpose. Hannah wouldn’t know how life would be without them. Life was already hard and lonely enough.

Hannah was the last to arrive. “Sorry, I’m late.” She leaned against the brick wall, catching her breath.

“Did you bring the stuff?” Rebecca asked. She was among the special group that arrived on some miraculous plane ride, and she didn’t let them forget. She liked to wear jeans with colorful button-down shirts tucked into them. This made her look older, and, thus more demanding. Her long brown hair was straight and swept to the side. Hannah admired her freckles the most.

“Yeah,” Hannah answered and patted her backpack. “Soap, toothpaste, and some band-aids.”

“Good,” Rebecca approved, nodding her head. “Everyone else?”

A few of them nodded.

“I couldn’t get the drill,” Barry admitted. He was the biggest, tallest, and oldest of the group. This made him extremely resourceful, but he was merely a teddy bear in all other aspects. Hannah liked the way he made her laugh.

“Barry, that was the most important item!” Rebecca nearly shouted. “What are we going to do now?”

“Did you expect me to walk into my dad’s shed and slip it into my backpack?” Barry wondered aloud. “I can’t bring that to school!”

Rebecca sighed. “You’re being a baby. We need that drill.”

“It will need electricity, Becca,” he argued back. “What do you think we’ll do when it runs out of juice?”

By the way they argued, Hannah knew better than to bring up the Nick situation. What was she going to do? Bring him along? He’ll tell June for sure. But she couldn’t skip today’s meeting, or any meeting, really. Maybe she’ll have him walk to the park with her, which will have to be enough. This was getting to be complicated.

The first bell rang, and the quiet hall began infiltrating with students.

“We’ll talk more about this at lunch,” Rebecca finished, bringing her backpack up on her left shoulder.

“She can be so mean sometimes,” Barry walked with Hannah to the first period.

“She isn’t being mean,” Hannah corrected. “She’s being the leader. There’s a difference.”

“Well, she can be a nicer leader,” he said.

She shrugged. “Just get a couple of screwdrivers. I’m sure they’ll work just fine.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Barry realized, and his voice nearly cracked.

School rushed on by, assignments were given as soon as the others were turned in. According to her teachers, Hannah was doing well. They were surprised at how literate she was, being able to read full-chapter books and write essays. She kept Nick a secret and played it off as just a coincidence. Math and science frustrated the hell out of her, but Lilah helped her plenty, and she managed to get Bs on her quizzes. She liked learning about history the most.

Jude stared at Lilah in their free period before the last bell rang. Hannah found this funny, or, she played it off as such. Love was still uncharted territory for her, just like swearing, shaving, cellphones, and makeup. Everyone else around her seemed to have perfected this behavior, besides her. She was trying to watch the movies and read the magazines to understand, but it was still a little foreign to her. June didn’t even allow eyeshadow.

“Hannah!” Lilah was now shouting, getting her attention.

Hannah was studying the popular table, subconsciously noting that no one wore zippered jackets anymore. Denim was king. And they certainly weren’t tying them around the waist. Hannah caught Lilah’s thin waving hand in her vision, her silver charm bracelets clinking together. She had her hair in long braids and wore wired rectangle glasses. Everything she wore hung on her stick-like figure. Her skin was slightly darker than Hannah’s, smooth except on the face. Most of all, Hannah loved how she could come to her when she needed a friend.

“Oh, sorry,” Hannah blinked. “What’s up?”

“The bell rang,” Lilah said as if it was obvious. She was packing up her books. “It’s time to go.”

They usually walked together to the park, Jude following slowly behind them with a random stick or rock in his hand. Rebecca and Barry had band practice on the other side of the school during their free period, so they walked a different way. The walk took about fifteen minutes, leaving no time to waste. They required as much time as possible before dark to accomplish what needed to be done. Being in school all day was already nerve-wracking enough. Sometimes Hannah wished they could meet on the weekends, but explaining that to their parents would be impossible. They would have to make do with the few hours they were given after school.

“We would need solar panels,” Lilah continued their conversation from lunch as they made their way to the school’s exit. “It’s the most logical way.”

“Where are we gonna get those?” Jude asked from behind. Hannah felt pity for him most of the time. His nickname was “Jude the Dude” because that’s all he was, really. He wasn’t all that smart and he didn’t contribute a lot. He simply followed everyone around and did as Rebecca told him. While he was quiet, Hannah knew he had his reasons. He still cared about their mission, even if he didn’t say much about it. Hannah hoped she would get to know his real story someday.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Hannah tried to keep them on track. “We’re still figuring out the garden situation and patching holes.”

They walked out into the bright afternoon sunlight, avoiding the older kids and the various cliques. Hannah surveyed the busy grounds and quickly saw a dark figure leaning against a telephone pole across the street. She nearly let out a frustrated groan. Nick looked suspicious--too suspicious--to be standing outside a school. She understood the secrecy of his identity, but this was a bit much. She had no choice but to intervene.

“Uh, hi, Nick,” Hannah said, her friends behind her. She rocked back and forth on her heels, feeling awkward.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked, eyeing Jude and Lilah.

“No,” Hannah said quietly. “This is Jude and Lilah. They’re my friends.”

“Hello,” Nick nodded to them. “I’m Nick.”

Lilah glanced at her watch. “We really have to get going.”

Hannah bit her lip. “Nick will be walking with us to the park.”

“But we don’t need a grownup,” Jude argued, rolling his sweatshirt sleeves. “We’ll be fine.”

“You guys go ahead,” Hannah told them. She knew Jude wouldn’t waste a moment to be alone with Lilah. “I’ll catch up.”

“Alright,” Lilah sighed. “But I’m not saving you if Rebecca starts yelling.”

“I know,” Hannah nodded. She watched them walk down the sidewalk, Jude not so slyly brushing his elbow against Lilah’s every few seconds. She looked at Nick. “Sorry.”

Nick started following the other two. “Your mom told me about your meeting.”

“We don’t have much time,” Hannah continued walking. “This is important.”

“It must be,” Nick said. She wasn’t sure if he felt hurt by this. Maybe he was.

“Thank you for coming,” Hannah tried to seem polite. “I missed you.”

“Are you doing okay?” He really wanted to know this. Not some made-up answer; he wouldn’t settle on anything that wasn’t the truth.

Hannah took her time to reply. She wished it was easy. But with her responsibility for this club and what she was doing, she couldn’t risk any more people knowing. She finally felt like she belonged here, with people who understood her journey because they had been through it themselves. What they were doing mattered. But it was dangerous and complex. If her mother found out what she was doing, that would certainly be the end of it. They didn’t come to Canada just to cause more trouble. They just needed more time to prove themselves.

“I’m learning,” was all Hannah could say.

He nodded. “Me too.”

“Do you think this is it?” She was reluctant to say this, but it had been on her mind lately.

“No,” he answered. “But I do think this is the end.”

“Something else is coming,” she said what he was thinking. On the other side of the street, a Wife was pushing an old-fashioned stroller, with a Martha following dutifully behind. At least, that’s what it looked like to her.

“I’ll be with you,” Nick assured her.

She didn’t hold him to it. Grown-ups always had their ways of letting her down; she half expected it by now. Was this the way life was? Being hurt by your own expectations? Then what was the point? No more hoping, just doing. She felt more in control that way. The only person she could be disappointed in was herself. So whatever her parents or teachers tried to put her faith in, it rolled off her shoulders. Sorry, I couldn’t make it. You have to understand there are certain ways of doing things. I’ll help you. She was better off without them.

They were getting closer to the park, and neither had said much. She wished it didn’t have to be this way. Would Nick understand? After all, he inspired her idea for this club. The fight was in her, she couldn’t deny it. It was clearly in him, too. They were cut from similar cloth, and tied together with a common thread. They may not be of relation, but somehow of the same blood.

When they arrived, Rebecca and Barry were hanging around a wooden picnic table. Barry’s long, dark hair shone brown in the afternoon sun. He appeared deep in thought. Rebecca stood, arms crossed, waiting for them to show up. The playground was slowly filling with children, screaming and laughing on their way to their favorite spots.

“No way!” Rebecca gasped a little too loud when they arrived, eyes on Nick.

Jude and Lilah looked back at Nick and Hannah, confused.

Hannah’s stomach tensed. Here it goes. “This is my friend,” she explained weakly. “He was just walking me to the park.”

Rebecca approached them, her eyes locked on Nick. She seemed more shocked than angry, which put Hannah at ease a little. She tilted her head, getting a good look at him. “Now, this is what I’m talking about!” she dared to raise her voice. "You three, take notes,” she said, looking over at Jude, Barry, and Lilah.

“I don’t understand,” Hannah nervously replied.

“Hannah, this is Nick Blaine,” Rebecca stated like it was obvious.

She nodded slowly. “I’m aware of that. I’m sorry--”

“Commander Nick Blaine. Rebel. Eye. Guardian. Peacekeeper Slayer. Fugitive.” She sighed in wonder. “Superhero.”

Nick shook his head. “No, I’m not--”

“Dude!” Jude exclaimed, running up to them. “Are you for real?”

Lilah pushed up her glasses, inspecting Nick. “Well, well, well, it seems so. I wasn’t sure at first.”

Barry was already at eye level with Nick. “I don’t get it. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, missing or something? Are you a ghost?” He reached out and touched Nick’s very solid, very real shoulder. He then looked at his hand in amazement.

“I’m Rebecca,” Rebecca introduced, holding out her small hand. “This is Barry, Lilah, and Jude. Welcome to the Midnight Blues. It's an honor!”

“Nick gets to be in our club?” Jude asked excitedly.

Nick reluctantly shook hands. “Thank you?”

“Um, I thought we had a rule,” Hannah interjected, trying to bring reality back.

“Hannah, this is the greatest thing that has ever happened to us!” Rebecca rejoiced. “We might actually do something now.”

“I thought we were doing fine,” Hannah said in a small voice. She did not like where this was going. “You said grown-ups just get in the way.”

“Nick knows what to do better than all of us,” Lilah said. “We have a professional now.”

“Yeah, but I’m the only one that actually knows him,” Hannah argued. “And I know he will tell. He’ll take one look at what we’re doing and tell us to quit.”

Nick cleared his throat, making his presence known. “What is going on?”

Hannah plopped her heavy backpack full of supplies on the table and unzipped it. Well, it’s not her fault anymore that Nick was here. He’s clearly a needed asset. So she’ll just let him have it. She took out the armbands--the club’s uniform--and handed them to the group. It was a strip of, well, midnight blue fabric, with an embroidered crescent moon and stars, fastened with Velcro. Rebecca said she read somewhere that armbands were used as an identity marker, a public display of whose side you were on, whether in war or ordinary life. Hannah didn’t know if that was true or not, she didn’t care. She simply liked to be in charge of the uniform, to feel important to the group.

“We call ourselves the Midnight Blues,” Hannah explained as they put the armbands on, the Velcro screeching as it was torn apart. “We meet every day after school until the sun sets. We go through those woods over there on our secret trail, which leads to the House. There, we work. And it’s the House and Barry’s miraculous ability to grow a full mustache in three days that keeps this whole darn club together.”

Barry rubbed his fuzzy upper lip. “It sure does.”

Nick wasn’t buying her story. “You’re building a house?”

“The House doesn’t matter,” Rebecca spoke up. “It’s who comes and leaves the House that’s important.”

“The rest is up to the refugee center,” Lilah finished, shrugging.

Nick’s shoulders fell after hearing this, eyes drifting to the woods. He didn’t say anything for a while.

Hannah knew this would happen. He didn’t want her involved in the dangers that brought them here. But it was all she knew now. How could she live on, being free, when so many others weren’t? Kids her age were about to go through things they should never have to. She decided to pay the cost of losing her innocence, her naivety, her ignorance. The world and all that was in it wasn’t going to give her hope. She would have to create it on her own. Could Nick understand that?

“How many people?” Nick decided to ask.

“We’ve sent two to the refugee center so far,” Hannah answered. “A Peacekeeper and a Martha. Right now we have a Wife.”

“Right now?” he asked for clarification.

Lilah nodded. “She’s very particular, too.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re late.”

“We’ll explain more on the way,” Rebecca said, pulling her backpack up on her shoulders.

“Mr. Nick,” Barry asked politely as they walked toward the woods, “would it be possible if you could bring a drill from home? Or could a screwdriver do the job?”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Mr. Nick, tell us your insight.”

Nick looked around, unsure why he was being led into the woods by a group of lame teenagers, let alone agreeing to it. “You need power for a drill.”

“That is what I said!” Lilah exclaimed. “Mr. Nick, how hard is putting in solar panels?”

Nick sighed. “You can just call me Nick, I don’t mind.” They pushed through some difficult bushes. “And very. You would need to call someone for that.”

“You can’t just pick them up somewhere?” Jude the Dude asked, his sneakers crunching the dead leaves and sticks beneath them.

“You said you got two people out?” Nick asked, not masking his doubt that well.

“It was an accident,” Rebecca began. “We were only exploring. Then one day, this Peacekeeper came into the House with his gun and Martha.”

“I thought we were gonna die!” Barry interrupted.

“We all did,” Rebecca continued. “But all they asked was where they were. I felt bad for them. So we gave them all we could for the night. It took us a while to decide what to do, and by then, Barry almost had a full beard!”

“Those refugee people,” Barry explained, “They don’t really question you much if you hand someone over to them. You get pushed out of the way. But just in case, I put on a tie.” He shrugged. “It’s just like Halloween.”

“The Peacekeeper decided to go back to get more people regularly,” Hannah tried to sound impressive. “So I guess we only got one person out.”

Nick looked at her and the group, amazed. “Really?”

Hannah shrugged. “He hasn’t returned in a while, so maybe he’s dead, but yeah.”

“Why the secrecy?” Nick asked as they freed themselves from some thick vines and ivy.

“Grown-ups ruin everything,” Rebecca answered simply. “They make it all so complicated.”

“I don’t see how keeping you guys safe ruins anything,” Nick replied with his usual mature way of thinking.

“You can’t be so safe that you let bad things happen,” Rebecca argued. “Isn’t that how all this started?”

“Yes, but…” Nick trailed off. “Do you guys even know how to use a drill?”

“Duh, that’s what the internet is for,” Jude rolled his eyes.

“Alright,” Rebecca stopped the group. They arrived at the cliffside, right at the edge of the woods. Just beyond was the House, surrounded by overgrown fields and cattle carcasses. Hannah assumed that the woods continued a little further afterward, blending into No Man’s Land and Gilead. There was a paved, cracked road that eventually led to civilization, but someone long ago tore down the telephone poles and blocked it with rotting logs and hefty boulders. And what use is an old abandoned farmhouse to anyone anyway? The proprietor must’ve left a bad taste in the mouth for the lack of care and visitors. And so, the Midnight Blues used this to their advantage.

Barry was breathing hard beside Hannah and reached into his pack for his water bottle. The trek here isn’t easy, but it’s meant to be that way.

Rebecca had her hands on her hips, meaning serious business was about to commence. “Once we start going down this hill, there is no going back.” She was looking at Nick. “Are you with us or not?”

Nick looked at the group, probably wondering how he got into this mess. Oh, of all things to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Just as Hannah was about to regret everything, he nodded. “I understand.”

“Okay,” Rebecca nodded. “Let’s get to work.”

Chapter Text

Stones and dirt slipped past their worn sneakers as they carefully and strategically descended the hill, loose from last night’s heavy rain. They then proceeded through the Graveyard, as Hannah called it, with cow and horse skeletons littered everywhere. Once the owner passed away, the animals probably died from starvation or the elements, left to fend for themselves. Hannah has seen the wild coyotes and vultures, the hunger in their eyes, the desire for something dead rather than alive. Shivers course through her bones every time.

The silence was palpable, a welcome change from the busy city. A few crows flew above the dead grass that they walked through, screeching. No one was around, but still, they whispered amongst themselves. Up ahead was the House, lifeless as the scenery. It reminded Hannah of Nick’s old house, standing on its last leg. The paint was chipped and flew away every time there was a slight breeze. The porch roof had a gaping hole, and the stairs needed a new railing. An overgrowth of weeds suffocated the House; a new breath of life was nearly impossible. The red barn, not too far away, stood ominously. There were a few carcasses in it, too. They checked. Everything turned to dust and rust. And this was only the outside.

“What took you so long?” A young, thin figure in a long, teal, blood-stained dress stood by the House’s decaying front door. She folded her arms, expecting an answer.

“Hello, Esther,” Lilah said, but not joyfully.

Although their acquaintanceship had merely lasted a day so far, Hannah felt annoyed by Esther most of the time. She was only a few years older but liked to boss everyone around, including Rebecca. Hannah didn’t know much about her other than that she was a Wife, which, really, meant everything. This is who Hannah would have become. She would have to wear the dress, the heels, the harsh attitude, and survive. And survive and survive she would have to do, whether ten minutes at a time or weeks on end. She would have to lie on her back and let it happen to her, over and over again, until the desired result decided to show itself. Maybe it wasn’t annoyance after all, perhaps it was secretly fear.

“We brought in some help,” Rebecca told her, nodding toward Nick.

Esther looked at Nick and froze. Hannah could tell she was breathing fast by how her shoulders were heaving. She turned and bolted into the House.

“Esther!” A few of them shouted after her, running up the rotted stairs.

“You scared her,” Hannah said to Nick, more curiously than accusingly.

Nick’s brow furrowed, thinking. Was he hurt by this? Hannah could tell something was a bit off with him.

“Come on,” Hannah told him, following the others into the House.

The air was musty and moldy, far from fresh, and stubbornly stagnant. Dust covered the old, tattered furniture, dancing in the sunlight through the dirty windows. The scuffed wooden floor creaked with every step, and each wall had at least one crack, the faded floral wallpaper peeling at various places. Hannah guessed the House was abandoned sometime before Gilead started. She knew this because she asked the school’s librarian how long a body could decompose and turn into a skeleton. With a horrified look, the librarian told her, and maybe even June, too. From then on, she decided to ask for help from the internet once Jude taught her how to use it. So she knew everything now, by the way.

Nick stopped short at what he saw in the dining room. “What the--” Terror struck his face, eyes wide.

“We call him Mr. Bones.” Hannah simply replied. The owner, as they have titled him, sat alone at the head of the wooden oval dining table, fully skeletal. His skull was split in two because that’s how he died; they found the bullet lodged in the china cabinet behind him. They kept the gun for themselves, obviously, just in case something happened. His dog lay on the floor beside him in the same ghostly form, waiting for something. “Pay your respects, and nothing bad should happen. Probably.”

Nick sighed, his hands fidgeting. “I don’t like this. I don’t think we should be here.”

“I don’t think we have a choice, Nick,” Rebecca told him. “This is where the people come.”

“Beats an overcrowded airplane any day,” Barry mumbled.

“Esther!” Lilah shouted, looking around. “We’re here to help you, remember?”

The swinging kitchen door squealed on its unoiled hinges, and Esther came out with a rusty steak knife pointed at Nick. Her hand was shaking, but there was a fire in her eyes. “I want him gone.”

Nick held his hands up. “It’s okay,” he said, stepping back. “I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say,” Esther came in closer. “You’re all the same. Commanders.” A thick wad of spit came out of her mouth, landing on Nick’s muddy shoes.

Hannah stepped in. “He’s here to help us, Esther. He’s on our side!”

Esther kept her eyes on Nick. “How do you know that? It’s all just a trick, a sick joke.”

“He got me and my family out of Gilead,” Hannah answered carefully. “And the Peacekeeper that brought you here? Nick convinced him to help people. Nick is why you are here in the first place!”

With the knife still pointed at Nick, Esther asked, “Is that true?”

Nick gave a careful nod, knowing better to just stay quiet for now.

Esther slid the knife in her dress pocket, but her eyes remained daggers. “Alright,” she sighed. “What’s for dinner?”

The Midnight Blues got to work, dumping their backpacks on the dirty wooden floor. Barry was responsible for construction, Jude was the bodyguard and groundsman, Lilah was on cleaning duty, Hannah ensured sustenance and supplies, and Rebecca supervised everything, with Esther overruling some of the time. Nick simply followed Hannah around like a nervous black dog.

“I don’t know what you’re all worked up about,” Hannah pushed down on the water pump out back. “You should have installed one of these back at the cabin,” she said under her breath.

“You still think about that?” Nick asked curiously.

Hannah didn’t bite the bait. She knew what he was doing. He was going to talk to her like one of her therapists at school. She was fine. There was nothing to say or add to the story. She couldn’t change what happened, so why go on about it? But if she were to strip away her bravery, she would admit she dreamt about the cabin all the time.

The water slowly filled the bucket. They were lucky there was even water, and the pump still worked, with some help from Barry’s dad’s oil. People must have come through here before, keeping it up and running. Hannah wasn’t sure how clean it was, but it would have to do. It was hard, tiring work, but it paid off once they could hand off their refugees properly.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Hannah felt her muscles throb at the constant motion. She stopped, kneading the tender flesh around her biceps and hands. She hasn’t developed calluses yet, only bulging, painful blisters. “Go find some firewood or something.”

Nick looked all around them, the sun already casting long shadows. Jude was nearby, pulling out the pestering weeds from around the House. You could hear hammering and Rebecca’s yelling from inside. “You guys really did it.”

Hannah tightened her ponytail. “Did what?”

“You figured out something the rest of us haven’t yet.”

Hannah could tell he was impressed. She didn’t know what for. What were they supposed to do? Deny these people help? Not care for them? Get someone else to do it? No. They’ve tasted too much freedom to selfishly keep it for themselves. Were they young? Sure. But waiting till they were older was not a given, not in this world. Besides, something changes in you once you get older. Hannah could tell. Things get complicated, spirits get crushed, and stuff gets in the way. She didn’t want that to happen to her.

“I know what it’s like,” Hannah shrugged. “Why should I let it happen to others?”

Nick nodded, staying silent. Then, “I’m sorry if I ever underestimated you.”

“No,” Hannah shook her head, forgetting about the chores for now. “All you’ve ever done is support me. Even when you shouldn’t have. Even when it was stupid.”

“I was just trying to keep you safe,” he said. “But the world keeps changing.”

Hannah knew what he meant. She saw it in the streets and at her school. Some parents didn’t like the idea of their precious children being with the refugees. They think they’re full of “radical thoughts” and rebellion, “ungrateful” for the government they “cowardly” ran away from. So new schools are being established, teaching the same gendered principles she used to be taught. Teal fabric had sold out, and libraries were drowning in unwanted books, being threatened with closures. June always cried when coming home from the grocery store. Was this how it was when it was all beginning? She couldn’t remember.

“It’s crept into my mind that all of our work here is useless,” Hannah admitted quietly. “I feel like we’re just throwing them back into a different Gilead.”

“So you’ve noticed,” Nick said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Out of the pan and into the fire.”

“It’s kind of an unspoken thought in the Midnight Blues. But we don’t know what else to do.” She shrugged, tapped off the bucket, and replaced it with an empty one.

“Why haven’t you told your mom about this?” Nick continued his questioning. Much to Hannah’s annoyance, he was still not being all that useful.

Hannah started pumping the water again. “Why can’t we have something that’s ours for once? Grown-ups got us in this mess in the first place, anyway. We went over this already.” She sighed. “Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, my mother is in a bit of a crisis herself. She doesn’t need this on top of everything else.”

He nodded, thinking. “What if the next person that shows up isn’t trustworthy? What if they’re dangerous?”

“The Peacekeeper makes sure that doesn’t happen. He only brings people who fit his criteria.” Hannah dried the sweat from her brow. “Look, are you gonna help or not?”

“Hannah, I’m serious.” Nick nearly pleaded.

“It isn’t over just because we made it to the other side, Nick.” She looked at him straight in the eye. “We have to do something.”

He did a slight nod, considering his words. “Are you willing to endure the consequences, then?”

In other words, was she willing to accept failure? The odds were slim with their lack of experience and resources. But they were trying. With what little they had, they managed to help a few people. Was all of this worth it, then? The danger, the work, the secrecy, the time? Hannah knew that they all wouldn’t be here if it weren’t. There were many more fun things to do after school besides working away at a dilapidated safe house.

Hannah looked into Nick’s eyes and wondered what had happened to him. June just said that he was captured, and he managed to escape with Miss Ruth. But where was he? More importantly, who captured him? Gilead, most likely. Maybe a different type of Gilead? Whoever it was, Hannah could tell they hurt him, not just physically, but mentally, too. The resistance was beaten out of him. He had become a blank slate, a new Nick they could control. Hannah finally understood why it felt a little different being around him; a part of him was missing. A part that was her favorite.

What could she do to prove that there could be good consequences of their work, not just the bad ones he was so focused on? How could she inspire him again, bring him back to life? The old Nick she knew perfectly understood the danger, but managed to do the right thing no matter the risk. What did he deem worth fighting for? Could hope’s flame be rekindled in his heart?

Pinks, blues, and oranges slowly painted the evening sky, signaling the group that it was almost time to leave. They gathered around out back on the deck. Barry had recently replaced a few boards and hammered any loose nails. It could use a new paint job, but that wasn’t necessary at the moment. Esther was eating her dinner: leftovers from their lunches and a can of vegetable soup. Without a working refrigerator and a stove, they had to get creative. But it wasn’t awful, and they knew better than to complain. The small fire crackled from the nearby fire pit, with as little smoke as possible. Hannah wrote down a makeshift shopping list of what they needed more of and discussed it with the group.

“Besides the usual,” Hannah began, reading from her list, “we need furniture polish, mousetraps, new books, and curtains--which I can make.”

“Solar panels,” Lilah insisted.

“We already went over this, Lilah,” Hannah argued, “It’s not going to work. Not with just us.”

“I thought this was more of a wishlist,” Lilah shrugged sadly.

“Moving on,” Rebecca took charge, “Lilah, how are things in your department?”

“Laundry still needs to be done, so, Hannah, I will need extra water tomorrow,” she reported. “Oh, and for the love of God, Barry, will you please stop leaving your sawdust everywhere!”

“That’s not my job!” Barry argued, nibbling on a cracker. “I literally keep this place from falling apart, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to take advantage of Lilah!” Jude defended her.

Rebecca took Barry’s hammer and pounded it. “Order! Order! I think we are all old enough to be responsible for each of our messes. Barry, since you are so willing to talk, update us on your projects.”

Barry’s cheeks turned red, his brief anger simmering. “Everything is fine,” he said quietly. “But I do still need that drill.”

“It’s on the list,” Hannah told him, though she doubted it would ever get procured.

“Perfect,” Rebecca agreed. “Finally, Jude, update us on…whatever it is you do.”

Jude the Dude sighed. “The seeds still aren’t growing yet. I think they went bad. Oh, and this thing,” he brought out the gun from behind him. “It keeps jamming.”

Hannah felt Nick tense up beside her.

“Give that to me,” Nick said, reaching out his hand.

“That’s because your puny hands don’t know how to hold it right,” Rebecca said, ignoring Nick. “I think it should be given to me. Who agrees?” She looked around, waiting for approval.

“I just need more practice!” Jude pleaded.

“Guys--” Nick tried again, but failing. He was an outsider, after all.

“You’re wasting bullets, that’s all you’re doing.” Rebecca turned to Hannah, a smug look on her freckled face. “Hannah, how hard will it be for us to get more ammo?”

Hannah looked down, hating to be put in this position. Sometimes she wished for better friends, but they are all she has right now. She took in a deep breath. “The gun won’t be given to any of us.” She paused, making sure they were listening. “I have a proposal to bring to the group.”

“Alright,” Rebecca crossed her arms. “You may speak. But don’t waste our time.”

“We need a new member.” Hannah began, laying down the groundwork, hoping for success. “The work keeps piling on, and we never have enough time, especially in the winter. With another member, we can do more things and help more people. We need someone older, someone more experienced who can be here all day.”

“What about school?” Barry interrupted.

Hannah shook her head. “They wouldn’t go to school.”

“I don’t understand,” Rebecca said. “We’re a student group.”

“I want Nick to join, permanently,” Hannah blurted, her eyes shut tight.

This was for him, after all. He needed to be reminded of who and what this was for. It wasn’t resistance for resistance’s sake, it was choosing to do the right thing, to not turn a blind eye to the horror that was clearly still happening. How could he enjoy his freedom when so many others couldn’t? How could he be so comfortable? He was better than this, she knew it. She just had to break down the walls his captors built in his mind. The fight was still in him, even though it was cloudy and a little blurred.

Hannah felt Nick’s eyes on her. Was it working? She sighed. “Rebecca and Lilah were right about him. We will never get anywhere if our only supplies come from whatever we can take in our backpacks. We will never know how to fix the roof, plant a garden, or fight the bad guys. I’m sorry,” She shook her head. “But we just won’t. If we want to be serious, then we need to trust Nick. He’ll know what to do. Besides,” she looked at each of them, “he’s the smartest person here. He knows exactly what we’re dealing with. I know what he’s capable of.”

They sat and thought about this for a while. Hannah nearly regretted it. Usually, she considered group proposals for a few days, building her argument steadily. But this one was straight from the heart. She thought about the Hannah she was now, compared to the Hannah she was then, how she had grown and changed. But there was nothing. Only Agnes. Agnes. She nearly teared up thinking about her--her pink dresses and rag dolls and fantasy stories. She was so sweet, so innocent. So content staying in Gilead.

“Does that mean I get to leave this dump faster than God can grant Barry’s prayers for his stupid peach fuzz to grow darker?” Esther bit into a slightly bruised apple. This was her first time speaking since they all sat down together.

“Hey!” Barry shouted, slightly offended.

“No,” Rebecca answered her question. “Nick is a fugitive. Once they find him, it’s over.” She looked at Hannah, brow furrowing. “Why the sudden change of heart? I wanted Nick in our group the moment I saw him. You were against it.”

“I know, but…” she sighed. “I was selfish. I wanted something that was just us. Something we made, something we created, something we could be proud of. But this is bigger than us.” She left out the part of hoping it would benefit Nick. He had to choose this on his own.

“What do you think, Mr. Nick?” Lilah asked him curiously.

“I think you’re playing a very dangerous game,” Nick finally snatched the gun away from Jude while he wasn’t paying attention.

Rebecca’s eyebrows came together. “This isn’t a game. We’re getting people out of Gilead. I think we, of all people, should know that.”

“You all want to be Mayday, but I know for a fact none of you would be able to face the outcome if things go south. And they will.”

“What’s ‘Mayday’?” Jude asked, clueless.

“Exactly,” Nick responded, “you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into.”

Rebecca looked at Hannah, expecting her to say something.

And what should she say? That Nick is right, and they’re all being dumb? Wouldn’t that be a great way to lose all her friends in one night. “Look,” Hannah sighed, “let’s not argue whether this is dangerous or not. We all know it is. We’ve all been through it before. But we can’t give up.” She looked at Nick, hoping he was listening to her. “The fact is, people will come here whether we’re here or not. Our job is compassion. Is that worth the risk?” She glanced at all the faces. “If not, then that means Gilead wins. They want us to be scared. They want us to be hopeless. But it doesn’t have to be. But for this to work, we’ll have to be a lot smarter than this.”

“Hannah’s right,” Lilah said after Hannah’s speech settled in the air. “It’s time we take this to the next level. Do this for real.”

“Hell yeah!” Jude exclaimed, though probably not fully understanding Lilah’s heavy words.

“Nick?” Rebecca wanted his seal of approval.

Nick looked at Hannah. She tried to understand what those dark eyes were telling her. She used to know them so well. The clouds were clearing, the light coming in little by little. Clarity, perhaps? Understanding?

“It’s a start,” Nick finally said, trying to give them at least some credit. “But Canada’s just a pit stop, you know that, right? Temporary.”

“Things are changing…” Lilah remarked, nodding her head.

“My neighbor,” Barry said quietly, “I think they have Marthas now. Or something like them.”

“Hey, guys,” Jude said, but his voice was drowned out.

“Maybe Nick could teach Barry how to properly cut wood for once,” Rebecca laughed, changing the mood.

“I know how!” Barry countered. “A saw only goes in two directions, it’s not that hard.”

“Then why does everything come out so crooked?” Lilah pointed out.

“Guys!” Jude tried again.

“Well, I don’t know much, but I’ll try,” Nick shrugged, giving in a little. “Maybe we could find someone else better at it.”

“I’ll have to make you an official armband,” Hannah said, taking hers off and seeing if it would fit his bicep.

“Why ‘Midnight Blues’?” Nick asked her, glancing down at the intricate embroidery.

“There’s this old song Miss Summer used to play…” Hannah tried to remember it and the time she first heard it. She could practically feel the evening Colorado breeze and the smell of Miss Ruth’s freshly baked bread. “It was about walking after midnight, searching for someone--”

“HELLO!” Jude the Dude screamed. “We have someone coming!!!”

Immediately, everyone quieted down, looking off into the distance. Two figures came approaching, one taller than the other. They were tired, but they didn’t stop. The taller had a gun strapped around his body, a white piece of fabric attached to it.

“That’s the signal,” Rebecca whispered. “It’s the Peacekeeper!”

“Is that…” Hannah squinted her eyes to see better. “Is that a boy?”

“He’s wearing blue,” Lilah confirmed.

“Oh no…” Barry groaned.

After a while, they finally reached the deck. They were out of breath, dirt and blood smudged all over them. The boy had brought nothing with him. He appeared about eight or nine years old, the youngest they’ve had so far. Fresh scratches and bruises could be seen through the holes and tears of his filthy pastel blue shirt and trousers. His body was thin, and his green eyes were lifeless. This was a boy whose entire life had been in Gilead. Why did he choose to leave? Most of all, why was he alone?

Hannah offered them water. “Welcome.”

The Peacekeeper gulped his water and splashed some on his face. Nick stared at him, the feeling of familiarity he could not shake. This teenager was no stranger to him. Not at all.

“Tough journey?” Rebecca asked him. “Any news?”

The Peacekeeper shook his head. “It’s getting bad, man.” He nudged the boy. “Get something to eat.”

Hannah offered him what was left: half a sleeve of crackers, an orange, and a peanut butter sandwich. She practically lived on this while she was out on the run herself. The boy started scarfing it down, not understanding the concept of rationing.

“There are these new groups of women they’re keeping in secured buildings,” the Peacekeeper began, “no one knows where they came from, but what comes out isn’t what came in. There was a big rebel commotion at one of them today, actually. But I’m careful where I put my hope these days.”

“What do you mean?” Barry asked, confused.

“Babies,” he simply answered. “They don’t have Handmaids anymore.”

“What?” Hannah could not believe this. Handmaids were a vital part of Gilead’s functioning, no matter the fact that it was rape and slavery. Without the Handmaids, who were having the children?

“And the boy?” Rebecca looked at the child behind her, who was chugging a glass of water.

“He was failing Peacekeeper training,” the older boy answered. “He was going to be sent away.”

“Sent away?” This time, Nick spoke up.

The Peacekeeper paused, a look of recognition in his deep brown eyes. “Yes, sir. There’s no room for weak men.”

“He’s a child,” Nick argued.

“Nevertheless,” he went on, “the moment I was assigned supervision over him, I took the chance and brought him here.”

“You idiot!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Then they’ll know for sure you are responsible!”

“Hey! You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for people like me who risked their lives to save you,” the Peacekeeper shot back. This, finally, shut Rebecca up. “I was supposed to drive him to one of the new Colonies for kids like him. I’ll just tell them the van stalled over some railroad tracks, and he didn’t make it. It’ll be no loss on them, believe me.”

Jude winced. “Ouch.”

“Do you have any information about him?” Nick asked.

The Peacekeeper took a file out of his pack. “He was born from the first generation of Handmaids. No one knows where she is now.”

Nick took the file and nodded. He understood perfectly well where the Handmaid went if they were now useless to Gilead. They currently have a better, more efficient system. No voices, no teeth, no fists to fight against. Just a human machine that could give them exactly what they want, no pushback, no emotions, no attachment.

“I know about those facilities,” Nick told him, everyone intently listening. “And I know about the women. I’ve seen with my own eyes what they are doing because I’ve been there.”

“What?” The teenager gasped.

“No way,” Jude breathed, eyes wide.

“Is that where you escaped from?” Rebecca asked.

Nick nodded, then looked straight into the Peacekeeper’s eyes. “If you see any women along the border, tell them it isn’t safe.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, a sadness in his eyes.

Hannah noticed the sun was now below the horizon, twilight settling in. “Guys, we have to go.”

“I’ll stay the night,” the Peacekeeper offered, setting down his backpack. “I’d rather dream of a nightmare than actually live in one.”

Hannah kept looking at the boy as they cleaned up. Now they’ll have to have double the supplies. But hopefully, it was only temporary. Maybe she could convince Barry to wear a fake mustache just once or have Nick wear a disguise. They’ll have to develop a better method, especially with Nick on board. What a turn of events. This could be where everything changes. Wasn’t this what they wanted? A chance to make a difference? Hannah knew it would be years before the young boy could talk about all that he had witnessed. But if they could show him some compassion and a bit of freedom, then that would be enough. Little bits of freedom are what Hannah used to survive it all, in the end.

Chapter Text

The blaring of the horn from the car behind her finally brought her back to reality. June had watched Hannah as she made her way into the busy school until she couldn’t anymore. She rolled down the window a little as she drove off, but the car still reeked of Hannah’s sly lies. It was every day now, something different. Hannah wouldn’t return until evening, without so much of a “hello.” Who did she think she was? There was no presentation. June knew such a harmless club didn’t exist. She wasn’t a fool, of course. She was her mother. And the other mothers or fathers knew, too. There was a rat in the group, but June didn’t have the heart to tell Hannah. After all, the poor boy was in love. And she dared not ruin that.

She furtively followed them once, but not all the way. Oh, how a part of her wished she were raising a normal teenage daughter. She would much rather catch Hannah drinking beer or smoking her first cigarette. Maybe even kissing a dumb boy. But that wasn’t who Hannah was. No. She was still innocent in that manner. As soon as June carefully trekked through the thick woods and saw the House, she knew what kind of business these kids were in. Piecing together the fragmented stories from the other parents, it all made sense. Such reckless, dangerous sense.

How was she supposed to feel about it? Each time Hannah came home, she was thankful she was alive and safe. She can admit this. They were out there, alone, with their limited devices and knowledge. While June didn’t know the full situation, she knew a safe house when she saw one. Oh, the ironies of a safe house being so dangerous. Were they aware? And why did Hannah strive to keep this hidden from her? This was what hurt her the most, truthfully.

On the other hand, however, Hannah had the courage to do something she did not. June struggled to piece her life together post-Gilead. There were too many traumas and ill memories to work through. She had more bad days than good. But when her mind would finally clear, and she saw things for what they truly were, there was that fury and strength she forgot she had—a part of her that helped her survive this far. In Canada, life was quickly changing as a new wave of politics and beliefs took over. She wished she didn’t find this all too familiar. She wished history were intelligent enough not to repeat itself. But here, her daughter and her friends were actively doing something about it; they were even seeing what was happening. So, where does that leave June? She didn’t want to wait too long, like they did last time.

“That’s all you have to do,” June told Nick, licking some strawberry jam off her finger.

They were at Summer and Ruth’s, in that teeny tiny apartment. Nick still had to lie low for now, considering his circumstances. June didn’t mind. He was here, with her and their daughter, safe and alive. What else could she need? They did this nearly every morning now, having breakfast and catching up. They had an old high chair for Holly, who was currently eating her cereal in her own little world. Nick would sometimes sit at the small table and look at her the whole time. His entire world, within reach.

Summer and Ruth were oddly away for the morning, leaving the space for just them. June was making toast, and Nick poured some coffee into his mug, the warm aroma wafting in the air. He still had his pajamas on, as well as some bed head and a stubble on the lower half of his face. It scratched her cheek where he had kissed her. There was a silent intimacy to all of this, as if this was what they had been doing for years. June craved normalcy, contrasting with the constant chaos outside.

“You say that like it’s easy,” he said, putting a few slices of bread in the toaster for himself.

“Are you scared?” she was teasing, taking a bite from her toast.

He let out a nervous laugh. “You’re sending me into a group of teenagers. Might as well be a pack of wolves. They’re vicious.”

“Nick, you’ve literally gone to war,” she countered with a smile. “You got this.”

He looked at her sternly. “Don’t make light of that.”

She lowered her eyes. This wound must still be tender. Why rub more salt into it? “Sorry.” She sighed, defeated, correcting herself. “You’re right. Maybe it isn’t a good idea.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, confused. His toast popped up, and he placed it on the plate.

“What?” She noticed his silence, the look on his face. Something was wrong.

He smeared some butter over the rough surface of the bread. He shrugged. “I just thought we would argue more about it. You dropped it like it was nothing.”

This has become a habit at home. Luke was suddenly right about everything, even the way laundry ought to be done. Yes, dear. Since when did she become that woman again? She had a place, and, before she knew it, she was set in it like cement. She couldn’t move or push back. And worst of all, Luke preferred it that way. To him, it was like she was the same old June. After all this time, nothing had changed for him. His wife was still his wife. What a blessing, a miracle.

The truth was, she was suffocating behind that mask she had to wear all the time. She was supposed to show she was still a loving wife and dedicated mother. That what she did to survive it all, was behind her, merely a means to an end. She glanced at Nick, drinking his coffee. Was Nick a means to an end? Just a vehicle to get her to her next destination? No. Not possible. Not when he revealed the smart, powerful, outspoken woman buried deep inside her this whole time. She could finally breathe with him around. She could have her thoughts, opinions, desires, and agency. Though Luke never made her feel weak, he didn’t push her to become stronger either. Screw that.

“Okay,” she bit her lip. Not many people would choose to argue with her, but here Nick is, requesting it. This poor man. “I just want them safe, Nick. We have no idea what they’re really doing. I figured she would trust you. You’re friends.” She threw the crust of her toast on her plate. “I’m just her mother.”

“Don’t say that,” Nick came up close beside her, their hands brushing against each other. Maybe this is why he liked arguing. “She still cares about you.”

“She’s lying to me,” she looked into his deep, brown, understanding eyes. “You know how awful that makes me feel? After everything?”

He nodded. “I know,” he said quietly, his face inches from hers. “I’ll see what I can find out, okay?” He shrugged casually. “It probably isn’t anything too major.”

“Still, it might be dangerous.”

He smirked, lighting up the mood. “Knowing she’s your daughter, there’s a chance it might be.”

She lightly shoved him, smiling. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

He intertwined their fingers. “Me too. She’s smart, strong, kind, brave…” He started kissing down her neck. “I could go on.”

June laced her free hand through his already messy hair, leaning into his gentle touch. Oh yes, this is definitely why he liked arguing. And she didn’t mind at all. “I guess I have nothing to worry about, then?”

He laughed, his breath hot on her skin. “Oh, please, I bet they barely know how to start a fire.”

“Well, in that case, I’d love to see you proven wrong.”

He rolled his eyes, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay.” He walked over to Holly, tousling her blonde curls and kissing her atop her head. “Do you think she’s getting too big for this?”

She finished the remainder of her coffee, decaf. “I don’t know, maybe.” She put a hand on her growing stomach, thinking. “We’re still gonna need it anyway.”

Nick’s eyes flicked down to her middle and then back up to her face, cheeks flushed. “Oh, right.”

She cleaned the counter of pesky toast crumbs, knowing Ruth would appreciate it later. Then, she walked over to him at the small table. “Everything is fine, by the way,” she told him. She placed his hand where the baby should be, smiling at him. Once upon a time, this simple yet hazardous gesture was only done behind certain backs and in abandoned places. And even then, it was quick, rare, and always for the last time.

“Yeah?” He was searching her eyes, hoping to find the truth.

She nodded. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.”

He shook his head. “You can’t say that. What if…”

She cupped his cheek gently. “It’ll be okay.” She bit her lip. “And if not, I still have you, and you still have me.” She turned to a giggling Holly, who was throwing some of her cereal on the floor because she thought it was funny. “And we still have her.” She let out a small laugh.

Nick smiled a little, accepting. He watched his daughter with awe and pride, even as she mischievously threw more Cheerios. “Hey, now,” he told her softly. “Stop that. I don’t think you’re hungry anymore.”

Holly looked at him, showing all her little teeth, cheeks so round you wanted to grab them. Then, suddenly, she outstretched her arms towards him, opening and closing her small hands.

June’s heart fluttered. This was the first time she had chosen him, fully and completely on her own; her big, blue eyes were so full of want, so impossible to refuse. This was what they had wished for; why they had set up these mornings. She had to know what he meant to her, who he was. Finally, they had crossed the finish line, basking in that winner’s glow. It had not been an easy race.

Nick’s eyes blinked several times, his body frozen in incredulity. Holly was still reaching towards him, growing impatient.

“Nick,” June whispered, encouraging him.

He got up from the table, Holly’s eyes following his every movement. “Come here,” he said quietly, lifting her from the high chair. He wrapped his arms around her securely, holding her close and kissing the side of her head. “Let’s go see the birds.”

June left for the bathroom, chest tight and eyes welling up. She splashed some cool water on her face, calming her down moderately. Why was she acting like this? This was what they planned for, after all. Oh, but to see it, to truly see it with her eyes, was something different. After enduring the cruel restrictions and years of separation, their love and sacrifice were in fruition. Nothing, nothing could take this away from them. And this was only the beginning.

Taking in a deep breath, June exited the bathroom. She found the two of them by the window, watching the birds out on the fire escape. Summer had placed some bird seed on the ledge, prompting mostly pigeons, but sometimes robins, blue jays, and cardinals. Nick was fully smiling at Holly, who was trying her very best at bird calling.

“Ooh, look at that one,” Nick commented, pointing.

This was it. This was what June wanted. Everything in her life pointed toward this; she just had to choose it for herself. Seeing Nick come alive—becoming the person he always dreamed of being—had solidified this. He fought so hard and risked his life for this small moment. Who would she be if she denied him of this? To take this away from him? Worse even: to pick and decide when he could be in her life?

She couldn’t keep playing this game, pretending her heart could belong to two different people. Her love for Nick could not be hidden in shame or secret any longer. This was a love she wanted to move deeper in, not to settle and float. There were still oceans worth discovering with Nick and her. With Luke, she was afraid she had circled the same shallow pond for long enough. It was time for a plunge into the deep end, no looking back.

“Hey,” Nick caught her eye. “You ok?”

She nodded, giving a reassuring smile. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “When will Summer and Ruth be back?”

He shrugged. “Not sure, they left last night.”

June furrowed her brow. “Where did they go?” She walked up to them, giving Holly a little kiss. Some pigeons were roaming about on the railing, pecking at the seed.

“Knowing them, probably just a hotel,” he answered with a chuckle. “It’s been hard with all of us in here. Especially when Ruth and I can’t really go out much.”

“It’s hard for us too,” June had to admit.

True alone time with Nick either wasn’t going to happen or had to be meticulously scheduled. When she was younger, she cringed with disgust at such an absurd idea: scheduled sex. Why bother? However, with how her new life in Canada had evolved, she had to be content with penciling “Nick” in her mental calendar, living on the hope, the possibility of something nice later to come. She was used to that feeling, up in that barren room, drowning out Serena’s cruel words with the thought of him, his body, and where she would be that night. It made her feel powerful, more in control. Even now, today, it was a coincidence, and done in secret with whatever available time they had. The longer this continued, the more difficult it had become. They escaped Gilead to end up living like this? Still with the “forbidden love” and the sneaking around? Come on, now. They had to do better.

Nick didn’t say anything, but the subtle look on his face confirmed he was tired of this game, too.

“I’m going to talk to Luke today,” she finally said, feeling tense all over again. She looked at him, seeing his face change. “That’s actually half the reason I want you to be with Hannah today. It’s not going to be pretty.”

Nick put Holly down, letting her roam about. “If he tries to do anything—”

“No, he’s not like that,” June shut him down, flattered by his concern.

He raised an eyebrow. “Still, you just let me know.”

She nodded. “I promised you I would.”

“You don’t have to do it for me,” he shook his head.

June gave a small smile, admiring his trademark selflessness. Slowly, her hand reached out for his, and she pulled him into an embrace, the morning rays shining faintly on them through the window. Her muscles relaxed once she was in his arms again, and she had the wildest feeling that everything would be alright. Several minutes passed in silence as they listened to each other breathe steadily. Holly, on the other hand, was getting into Summer’s painting paraphernalia on the other side of the room.

“We should probably get going…” June muttered into Nick’s shoulder, hoping their daughter wasn’t making too much of a mess.

Nick tried hard not to frown at that. “Okay.”

With this tether back to reality, they finally let go of one another. June packed up Holly’s things while Nick cleaned up the kitchenette a little more, distracting himself from the goodbye. It never got any easier.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” June said into his ear as they hugged once more by the door.

He nodded. “I’ll take Hannah home. She’ll be safe.”

“Find out what you can,” she rested her forehead against his. “Be careful.”

He snickered. “Who knows, maybe they’ll end up saving us instead.”

“Okay, let’s not give them too much credit yet.” She gave him one last tender kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said against her lips. “Good luck.”

And boy, she was going to need it.

Chapter Text

The kitchen wall clock ticked on and on. Any minute now. June sat at the head of the dining table, waiting. Holly was upstairs, napping, nothing too alarming coming from the baby monitor. By now, Nick would be with Hannah and her friends, trying to find out whatever he could. She had to smile at this. Imagining Nick around a group of teenagers seemed rather comical: the sheer contrast from his patient and quietly controlled self and the bold, impulsive adolescents. He was probably miserable on the inside, stuck on babysitting duty. But what Hannah was getting herself into was critical business, and June just wanted her to be safe.

June had done all she could to distract herself from the inevitable. She didn’t enjoy checking the news these days, so she opted for books and journaling. Not to mention the house chores that only seemed to pile on. Restlessness and boredom mostly filled her days. Besides doctor and therapist appointments, she didn’t go out much. She risked running into Canada’s version of Wives, Marthas, and Commanders. No Handmaids yet, she is relieved to report. But how long will that last? On occasion, she secretly attended resistance meetings at an old church outside the city, either with the Martha Network or Canada’s version of Mayday, to check on progress. But recently, there has been silence on both channels. This could indicate anything, so June didn’t put too much hope into it. Besides that, she visited Moira, Janine, and Rita whenever she could, but work always got in the way. The idea of getting a job had certainly crossed June’s mind several times, but at four months pregnant, how would that go? Furthermore, at her age, the doctor told her it’s best to take it easy. Geriatric pregnancy, they never forget to inform her, and she never forgets to roll her eyes. You know I’ll take care of you, she remembered Luke telling her from Before. He didn’t understand.

Sometimes, she would call Summer and Ruth in case they rarely missed each other during breakfast with Nick. But no one answered the phone today. Was it strange to be friends with your lover’s former wife and her girlfriend? On the surface, yes. But Nick and Summer both understood their marriage had become invalid and unrecognized. It was issued and arranged by Gilead, which struggled to present itself as legitimate to the world every day. But there was still love between them, and Ruth, too—a familial, friendly, deep love. A love June was grateful Nick had for all those lonely months in Colorado. Without love, Nick would undoubtedly spiral into darkness, becoming a hard, heartless machine. June knew this because she once drowned in that darkness herself. Love was ultimately the light.

She also periodically volunteered at the refugee center. She had to be careful, however, understanding that her mind had to be in the right place. It was exhausting, draining work, though rewarding. Listening to people’s disturbing stories and providing comfort and friendship in exchange was not easy, especially if they were a child. On days when she had no capacity for emotional labor, she would help put together the care kits or lunches. Volunteering helped her better understand Hannah’s objective with her club; doing the right thing had not become a choice, but rather a way of being. She only hoped Hannah knew—

“I’m home!” Luke announced as he entered the front door.

Startled, June sat up straight in the chair, preparing for the fallout, heart pounding. She placed a hand on her abdomen, remembering Nick and his love for her, for them. This would all be for him, her chance to fight for him at last. There had been enough loss in this story.

“I got stuff for burgers,” Luke said, entering the kitchen/dining area and placing the brown paper grocery bag on the counter. He came over and kissed June’s cheek. “How have you been?”

She had been rehearsing these words for weeks now, handling them carefully like a loaded weapon. Ready, aim, fire. “I went and saw Nick today,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could, unable to look at him. Here it goes. “I’ve been seeing him almost every day, actually.”

Luke’s brow furrowed. “You know where he is? Isn’t he in trouble?”

June sighed. “That’s not the point. I’m trying to tell you something.”

He moved to the kitchen and started putting the groceries away. “What’s the ransom up to now?” He chuckled. “Maybe we could make a few bucks.”

June was nearly speechless at his behavior. “What?”

His grin faded once he saw her face. “Alright, it was just a joke. So you’re seeing Nick. What for?”

“Holly is his daughter,” June said adamantly. “It’s his right to see her.”

“Holly?”

She nodded. “I told you this. That’s her real name. It’s what Nick and I agreed on. As her parents.”

Luke was only halfway listening as he greased a pan for the meat. “Custody?”

June heard her phone ring from the other room. It will have to wait.

“No, Luke.” She was becoming increasingly frustrated the longer this continued. He was clueless—or, at least, acting like he was. And she was merely dancing around the issue instead of addressing it. She took a deep breath. “I want to be with him. That’s why I go to see him. Alright?”

Luke was shaking his head. “Are you sure about that? June, he is a Commander. A war criminal. Are you aware of all the things he has done?”

June finally got up from the table and stood at the island where he was preparing dinner. “Are you seriously asking me that? You weren’t afraid of using him when he could give information about Hannah.”

“Yeah, well, neither were you.” He placed the patties on the pan, the butter sizzling and popping, deliberately ignoring her fiery glare.

The worst part was that Luke was right. June used Nick all she could for her own benefit, recklessly putting him in danger. In fact, she’s doing it right now—throwing him into a pack of vicious wolves, as he said earlier. And yet he still agreed to it. For her. She could have directly asked Hannah what she was doing rather than sticking Nick in the middle. But she was a coward. Maybe she always had been.

But this was a distraction.

Never mind all the ways June had used Nick before, what ways has she used Luke? What was he good for? What could he have done for those seven years to help Hannah and her? Had she relied on him instead, would she have had a different fate? Nick risked his life countless times for her; would Luke have done the same?

In the background, June’s phone started ringing again, but this was more important.

“He got Hannah out,” June told him firmly. “That’s what Nick has done. Not only that, but he gained her trust, became her friend, took care of her, and kept her safe. He loves her.”

“You think I’m not aware of that?” Luke countered, eyes a little watery. He put the diced onions into a small bowl. “It’s already hard enough that I lost you. And now her, too.” He dried his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I live with that failure every day.”

“Don’t you see what this is, Luke?” June shook her head. “I don’t want to be with you out of guilt. We deserve better than that.”

He put some frozen fries on a baking sheet and set them in the oven. Then, he looked at her sincerely. “You still love him, don’t you?”

June bit her lip and hung her head. The truth is never easy. “I tried to move on, but I can’t.” Her eyes met his. “I do love him. And I always will.”

“And the baby?” He raised an eyebrow, expecting an adequate answer.

June’s hand instinctively went to her stomach. She’s made sure to wear clothing that concealed her growing figure, stashed the prenatal vitamins, claimed she quit alcohol, had “food poisoning” far too many times, and lied about the doctor appointments. She felt like a foolish teenager, keeping something from her parents. No use. They always found out, especially when it was something unavoidable like this. Oh, why did pregnancy have to be so public? It wasn’t fair.

So he knew. Of course, he did. They lived in the same house, slept in the same bed. He recognized all the signs; he was there the first time. Remember? Which was worse for him: knowing it wasn’t his or never being told about it in the first place?

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I should have told you.”

“So…this is it. This is really it. Wow…” Luke took a deep sigh and leaned on the counter. “All those years I spent waiting for you, every day, hoping…” He couldn’t look her in the eyes, defeated. “It’s going to take a lifetime to get over you.”

She wished this were a better story. One without heartbreak, shame, or infidelity. But she was human. She couldn’t protect everybody or make them all happy. A perfect ending could never be possible. Could one find beauty in the tragedy? Could a flawed woman like her still deserve love? The thought of being alone scared her. Not because she believed tying herself to any man could alone save her, but because she knew she would never be genuinely happy. Is that such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I really am.”

“What happened?” His eyes were so lost. This was a heart breaking in half, learning to be whole on its own. After years of it belonging to someone else, could it ever be the same? Not possible. There will be parts that he could never take back, left to be abandoned, perhaps for the better.

She shrugged. “You can’t expect us to be the same people after Gilead, you know that. Stop pretending.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I just feel like we don’t make each other happy anymore.”

Luke rubbed his hand over his exhausted face, taking in her words. He flipped over the burgers once more, keeping himself busy.

“And that isn’t either of our faults. I don’t hold that against you.” She walked closer to him, but not close enough to reach out. “I still care about you,” she affirmed earnestly and gently. “You’re still important to me. But I can’t love you the same as I used to. And I know you can’t either.”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, well, what about Hannah?”

“She still needs you, Luke,” she assured him. “You’re her father. There’s no telling where she’ll go next; she's so, so smart and brave. But we’ll see it together, I’m sure.”

Luke took her hand and lightly squeezed it. “Okay. I just need—”

“Hey guys?” Moira’s concerned voice stormed into the house. She burst into the kitchen, her movements frantic and eyes wide. “I’ve been texting and calling you like crazy! Have you not seen the news?”

June was taken aback. “Um, Moira, now’s not the time—”

Moira looked directly into June’s eyes, as serious as ever. “When did you last speak with your friends, Summer and Ruth?”

Immediately, June’s stomach dropped, heart racing. “A couple of days ago, why?”

Moira was already on her way to the living room, an urgency in her step. “They’re in deep trouble. Like, I’m talking massive.”

June was right behind her, desperate for more information. “What do you mean? Have they been captured? Are they dead?”

“I don’t know.” Moira fiddled with the remote, hands trembling.

June turned her so she could look at her properly. “Moira, what do you mean you don’t know?”

“Look,” she said quietly, and pointed to the television.

The video was shaky and chaotic, but the subject was clear enough. The lens zoomed in on what appeared to be hospital rooms, with all the equipment, beds, curtains, and, most notably, patients. They were all women, though if not for the machines hooked up to them, they would be mistaken for dead. Some had swollen stomachs, as if they were pregnant. As if that was their purpose.

“New footage has currently been released from today’s fatal attack at what has now been revealed as a Gilead-owned and operated medical facility right here in Canada,” the cable news host announced. “What we have gathered from our sources is that they have been keeping fertile women and impregnating them while remaining in a coma. So far, five births have been confirmed. It is unknown who these women are or where these babies have been transferred to, but there is speculation that the rising cases of missing women along the border within the past year might be tied to it.

“In case you are just joining us, good evening, I’m Liza Michaels. Tonight, we will be reporting a shocking revelation within our borders. As of 9:17 this morning, a local hospital was surrounded by the terrorist organization, Mayday. Or, what we thought was a local hospital. Can we have the picture up? Yes? Thank you. This may look familiar to you if you have been following our Gilead coverage over the past few months. This is, in fact, the same facility that Commander Nicholas Blaine was held in and later escaped from. His current whereabouts are still unknown. It is important to note that his ‘Martha,’ Ruth Lau, was also held in this facility and escaped with him. We have a picture of her, yes?”

“Oh my God,” June gasped, moving closer to the television. It was a grainy screenshot of Ruth in the medical facility from one of the videos. Dressed all in black with a face mask, she was in one of the rooms with the unconscious pregnant women. She didn’t appear scared, however. Her posture was upright, and her movements were calculated. This was where she wanted to be.

“What’s up?” Luke finally came into the room.

“There was an attack today,” Moira answered, “by Mayday. June’s friends were a part of it.”

Luke came up to June, looking at the TV. “Hey, come on, I told you watching this stuff isn’t good for you. It only makes everything worse.”

“Stop it,” she tried to shrug him off and listen to the news reporter. “Moira, have they said anything about Summer and Ruth at all today?”

Moira turned up the volume. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy all day at the refugee center. I just heard about this from Oona.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Luke interjected almost pleadingly. “Moira, are you hungry? I made burgers.”

“How can you eat at a time like this?” she questioned and sucked her teeth, shaking her head. “Men.”

“She should also seem familiar to you,” Liza Michaels continued. “We aired an interview with Ms. Lau about a month ago, describing her experiences with Mr. Blaine. We mention her because, as you can see, she was involved with the Mayday group that orchestrated this deadly attack. Based on video evidence, we have reason to believe she was the leader.”

Ruth was now on the screen again, this time in video, walking down a hallway, people with weapons following her. “This is it,” Ruth had said quietly. “Right around this corner is where they are keeping the women.”

June shook her head. “I don’t understand. Summer and Ruth haven’t mentioned any of this.”

“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention,” Moira said softly. “Or maybe they didn’t want you involved.”

A flash of teal appeared on the video, as well as a bob of curly blonde hair. Oh, no.

“And this,” Liza went on, the video paused, “is Summer Blaine, Mr. Blaine’s Wife. Yes, here is a better view of her. Given her unique connection to her husband and the facility, we can deduce that she also helped arrange this attack. As of right now, the two have fled from the scene, their location unknown. Considering Mr. Blaine’s recent activity, it is not too far to suggest that he could have been closely involved as well. We shall see. As a reminder, if you see these women or Mr. Blaine, please contact local authorities. They will likely be found together.”

The front door suddenly opened, and Hannah walked in. She saw the three of them in the living room, glued to the television.

“I’m home,” she announced. “Is everything okay?”

June did a double-take. “Where’s Nick?”

Hannah offered her a fake smile. “The presentation went well. Thanks for asking.” She sighed heavily and pointed behind her. “He’s on the porch. He said he wants to talk to you.”

“According to police,” Liza’s voice rang out through the house, “half of the medical staff have been killed by Mayday. The other half were kept alive for questioning.”

“What’s going on?” Hannah asked, her voice strained with worry. She steadily entered the living room, looking at the TV, a real-life horror movie before her eyes.

“Hannah, come on,” Luke beckoned to the kitchen. “I made dinner for you.”

Hannah slowly followed him, keeping an eye on the screen, eyes too full of shock to say anything.

June rushed to the door and found Nick standing there, the porch light casting unflattering shadows across his face. She instantly pulled him into a tight embrace, catching him a little off guard.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Nick began, “but they’re actually—”

“You’re okay,” June cried, pulling them apart just enough to place her hands on either side of his face. “You’re here.”

He snickered. “What? Were you afraid that group of kids was gonna kill me?” He shook his head. “They’re harmless. However, what they’re—”

“We need to leave. Now.”

Nick’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you have any idea where Summer and Ruth are? Did they leave any clues? Anything at all?” She watched his face for some type of indication.

He shook his head. “What are you talking about?” After a few seconds, his face fell. “What happened?”

June took his hand and led him inside and into the living room. “Moira, this is Nick.”

Moira looked at Nick with wide eyes, lost for words. “Wow, Nick. H-hi? I’m Moira.” She offered a small wave. “You do realize that you’re Canada and Gilead’s most wanted, right?”

“Especially after today,” June added under her breath.

Nick slowly stepped up to the television, not saying a word. Across the screen were the videos and images of the attack. There were even some distressed audio recordings. It was an absolute ambush. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere, the crimson blood splattered and running down the pure white walls and pooling on the polished floor. A handful of distraught doctors and nurses were handcuffed and sitting on the ground, their crisp uniforms stained from the massacre. Shouting and crying were heard throughout the videos. People with weapons lingered about, unclear if they were Mayday or police. If one looked closely, Ruth and Summer could be identified in the background, talking with masked people in tactical gear.

“No…” Nick gasped quietly, eyebrows knitted together with concern.

According to the news, the plan was for Summer to meet with the director so they could figure out how to find Nick. Mayday and Ruth would follow behind at a distance. Once inside, Summer would keep the director occupied for a time. Her driver, clearly a spy of some sort (as all drivers are), would then have the credentials to let Mayday in through the parking garage—the same way Ruth and Nick escaped. The entire “hospital” would be infiltrated with Mayday agents, killing whoever they could and capturing whoever seemed important enough for interrogation later. This included the director, who called the police, who then drove in the media, thus exposing their “little secret” in the basement. Unfortunately, this also made everyone in June’s life even more vulnerable.

“The Peacekeeper mentioned this when he arrived at the House,” Nick said out loud, more to himself, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“The Peacekeeper?” June questioned. Oh, they had so much left to say to each other.

“Yeah, they have a whole system. He’s the one who brings the people,” Nick answered. “He brought a boy tonight. I told him to warn any woman he saw along the border.”

“Wait, there’s a boy there?” June questioned. “Right now?”

Nick looked at June and Moira seriously. “Have they found Summer or Ruth yet?”

Moira shook her head. “No, but they are looking for them. It’s not looking good, man.”

“If we have confirmation that these women are indeed the missing women from the border,” Liza continued her reporting, “this begs the question: will the war with Gilead continue? There have been recent peace talks, but undoubtedly, this would be a dealbreaker. Over the past year, we have seen Gilead undergo massive reform with their introduction of ‘Peacekeepers,’ who are ordered to kill any nonloyalists. Kidnapping these women would certainly be a desperate attempt to not only replace those they have killed, but to give Canada no choice but to compromise and possibly join Gilead. We will certainly be keeping an eye on this.”

“You said you gave all of my intel to Rita and the Marthas?” Nick asked June, slowly piecing together the massive puzzle before them.

“Yeah,” June replied. “Everything you had and wrote down turned out to be true. It was all right there.”

“Phases One and Two…” Nick mumbled. “It’s happening exactly as they planned. This is what Gilead wants.”

“We should tell Tuello, somebody, whoever, about this then,” Moira said. “We have their proof; we just need to give it to them.”

June shook her head. “No, they’ll ask about Nick. He’ll be compromised. Not to mention Summer and Ruth.”

“We’ll make a deal,” Nick said calmly. “It’s not just that facility; they’re all along the border. As Moira said, we have the proof. How could they resist? This could end Gilead.”

“Or, at least, break them,” June mused.

“It’s the best thing we have,” Moira said confidently. She looked at Nick, worried. “Are you ready for this?”

“Not until I know Summer and Ruth are safe,” he answered firmly.

“Let’s go find them,” June said, heading for the coat closet for her jacket. “We’ll check the apartment first.”

Nick shook his head, following her. “No, I think they’re smarter than that.”

“Rita might know.” As June shoved on her shoes, she tried calling Rita on her cellphone. “Straight to voicemail.”

June blamed it on the adrenaline, but it felt like something finally woke up in her body. Had she been dreaming? No. It felt more like a living nightmare. Not only was she dealing with ending her marriage with Luke, sniffing out Hannah’s lies, keeping Nick safe, and healing from her trauma, but she was also walking around knowing Gilead’s dark shadow was creeping gradually into Canada. She had turned her eyes from it, not knowing what to do, wishing it would all just go away on its own. If only she had some light to extinguish the darkness, to make it return from whence it came.

Could Nick be that light? Was it him all along? She remembered being so angry with him, wanting to go back to Gilead, somehow bringing it down from the inside all by himself. She knew it was a suicide mission, and Nick had to know this, too. But this—what they have right now—could work. This could change everything. After what he had been through, after what They had done to him, it would certainly be justified, not to mention, satisfying. It would be nice to say it wasn’t all for nothing.

“Heroic” would not be something Nick would describe himself as. And June wouldn’t hold him to it. He didn’t need to be the hero and magically rectify everything with his superhuman abilities. He didn’t need the billowing cape or ridiculous colorful tights to be good, kind, and brave. That’s simply who he was if he allowed himself to be. It’s how she chose to see him, even after all these years, after all the choices he was forced to make. It was something deep inside him, as natural as his curls and deep brown eyes.

This does not indicate, however, that she had become weak in return. No. If the heart were a muscle, then love was the workout. And, oh, has she sweated herself through it at times. It was tough, trying to remember the meaning of it all. What was all this for? Was any of it worth it? Could she work through the pain? But with Nick’s help, she had become stronger, braver, and powerful. After years of her autonomy being stripped and her rights taken away, being with him helped her reclaim herself as a human being worthy of respect and love. Such rebellious acts should not be taken for granted. With this as her inspiration, she can finally see the big picture, for her, everyone around her, and those she has not even met yet. These weren’t rose-colored glasses she was wearing, no; everything was so clear and tangible. It was finally within reach, right at her fingertips.

“We could stop by her place and see,” Nick suggested, watching June get ready.

“Wait, you guys are leaving right now?” Moira asked.

June snatched the keys from the entryway console table, jingling them in her hands. “Yes, what else are we supposed to do? You saw the news. They’re in danger.”

She slowly nodded, looking from Nick to June. “I guess, in a way, we’re all in danger.”

Nick’s eyes softened at Moira. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen to you, too.”

“No,” Moira shook her head. “I’m tired of the abuse, the torture, the killings, the threat to my very existence. I haven’t had this much hope in a long time.” Her voice was trembling, but every word spoke truth to power. “What Summer and Ruth did, we need more of. I’d gladly risk everything to be on their side. I feel like we might actually have a chance this time.”

“Good,” June nodded, taking in a deep breath. “We need your help.”

Moira’s eyes lit up. “Anything.”

“Go to the church where the Martha Network has their meetings. You know the one?”

“Of course, I’ve attended a few times with Rita.”

“There’s a chance they might be there. That, or the Mayday camp, which I’m not sure where that is. They move around a lot.”

“And you and Nick?” Moira raised her eyebrows.

“We’ll go to Rita’s, see if she knows anything. Maybe Summer’s apartment, if we’re desperate.”

Moira reached into her pocket for her keys, heading for the door. “I’ll call you, okay?” She hugged June tightly. “I love you.”

June nodded, too jittery to cry. “I love you, too.”

Moira let go, giving Nick one last glance. “Be safe. I’ll see you soon.”

A wave hit June as she watched Moira leave the house. She remembered being held prisoner in the Waterford house, the images and words of her best friend flashing in her mind. Moira was always the resilient and smarter one. She had that “spark,” or moxie, or spunkiness that June had lacked. What would Moira do? was usually the question of the day for June. Her memory alone had helped her survive. Her and Nick. What would she have done without them? And through it all, Moira was still here, at her side, the same as she always was.

“Are you ready?” June asked Nick.

Nick lingered in the entryway. His hand moved to the breast pocket of his jacket, and he took out a folded file. He studied it a few moments before saying, “I have to tell Hannah something first.”

June looked at the file and back at Nick, unsure of what this meant. “Is everything okay?”

He took a moment to respond, his eyes sad and jaw clenched. “They’re operating a Mayday safehouse without even knowing it, June,” he told her. “I think we’re officially beyond the reach of ‘okay.’”

So it was true, then. Achingly true.