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When reaching the living room, Garth noticed the knowing glance Daisy shot at Agnes, who had interestingly jumped away from comforting Becka, except for their pinkie fingers still being entwined. In any other case, a Commander would look at that with glaring suspicion. Friendships like that weren’t tolerated, ones of a special bond that could potentially accrue secrets. They argued it could lead to dissent amongst the women.
Instead, Garth had a sudden realisation.
“She won’t return any affections, if that’s what you were hoping for.”
That was why Daisy had been so adamant that Becka wouldn’t come to grow affection for him as a husband… because the way she stared after Agnes when she chose to move seats, to leave space for him to sit beside her instead, was nothing short of unadulterated longing.
Honestly, Garth had thought Daisy had been attempting to say that he was repellent, undesirable, that Becka couldn’t possibly find happiness with him… The idea of that had stung, for some reason, even though he knew that it was likely Daisy’s… spitfire personality talking.
Ever insulting; she was at least consistent in that way. And so very bold.
Unafraid.
Garth had to admire it in a place that did its very best to snuff out all manner of that sort of attitude. It was refreshing to see. He supposed, outside of Gilead, it could even be categorised as normal… Garth found that hard to believe though.
Daisy just wasn’t normal, by any meaning of the word.
She really did like to take him aback, he’s found. Usually he’s irritated by her, and it’s bizarre because he’s considerably practised at being calm and sensible and unnoticeable, ever since he joined Mayday, and then she’d be busy hiding a bubbling laugh, and the irritation would mount and mount until she succumbed to it, and it would be wiped in favour of clear-cut curiosity, because even though that laugh had to be derisive, it was still really… nice to see genuine joy like that, even if it was at his expense half the time.
But no, she hadn’t been poking fun, insulting him. She’d been telling him her own version of the truth, layered in hidden meaning that he’d been unable to parse.
Until now.
Gender traitor.
Of course, Garth had heard of them before. Had heard all manner of talk… That they deserved to be whipped into submission, shown their rightful role in society and be forced to like it. And he knew exactly what ideas men were impressing when they said that.
All parts of the reason that Garth hated Gilead, how the feeling bubbled up every single day when he saw the normalised cruelty with his own eyes, with his own ears.
Always thought of his late mother, and how she was just one victim of a systemic terror.
However, despite the few opportunities he attempted to create to leave the two of them alone so that he and Daisy could talk about her new plan of action, Agnes refused to give in. The visit ended eventually, and he could most definitely say that it was left on a bitter note.
Still, it was a good thing for Becka to continue to see Agnes. They’d seemingly made up—from whatever had set them apart in the first place, which Garth could only guess at.
He remembered Daisy telling him to be careful. That Agnes was in love with him. Therefore, his only guess at the fracture in their friendship was Agnes’ obvious jealousy, now that Daisy had set his mind open to seeing it. She looked particularly penitent after her sharp comment when he asked if they’d like to talk alone for longer.
“That isn’t necessary. And surely you would like to sit with your wife?” she’d asked him, all bitten out like she was tasting something foul on her tongue.
Only Becka’s hasty whisper, something innately tormented bellying the words, had snapped Agnes out of it enough to apologise.
Even still, the visits continued.
Finally, Daisy had managed to tag along again. It had been a few torturous weeks where Garth had smiled and bore through conversation that fell flat and one-sided as soon as he entered the living room.
But Becka seemed a lot brighter, especially if her and Agnes managed to earn even a few minutes of private conversation.
He wasn’t sure why, but Agnes seemed rather hesitant to prolong them. Since the first visit, she also kept her distance, choosing to sit on the furthest settee away from her friend.
Still, those visits incentivised him sometimes, with the eager hope that Daisy would be there and he’d be able to do more than collect information like a sponge in the many Commanders’ meetings, continuing to act as someone who blended eagerly into the background, only opinionated when necessary to subside any narrow concerns that had the potential to sprout if he didn’t at least pretend to share in their ideals; their dedication to winning.
One glaring tacit of information, was that the Japanese wished to visit Gilead soon. Which explained the chocolates Daisy found in Agnes’ father’s (Commander MacKenzie’s) office. The confirmation was, at least, making it worth schmoozing with the enemy.
The paperwork of a Commander, eh, not so much.
“It’s been a while,” Garth noted, unimpressed.
“Yeah, well, Agnes is being difficult lately. All squirrely whenever I mention visiting Becka. God, sometimes I wonder who it is with the—” Daisy eyed him suddenly, her mouth tightening.
“The crush?” he asked, hushed.
Daisy blinked. “Yeah?”
“Are you wondering how I feel about gender traitors?”
“Don’t call them that,” Daisy snapped, getting in his face. “If you even think—"
“Daisy, I’m on your side. And I don’t… I’ve never heard them be called anything else,” he said uncomfortably. “Sometimes I think you forget I grew up here.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Daisy said slowly, narrowing her gaze. “I’m surprised.”
“How so?” He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it’s easy to say you want to bring down Gilead. Gilead’s fucking… insane.”
She was so crass, so unlike anyone he’d ever met. His eyebrows rose further in disbelief the more she continued to talk.
“But even on the outside, not everyone’s totally accepting of gay people. Suppose I thought you’d be one of them.”
“Gay people?” he repeated, more to himself as though to learn the iteration of it.
“Yup,” she popped the ‘p’, and Garth couldn’t help tracking the way the word moved on her mouth. Her way of speaking was sometimes so interesting that he found it difficult to look away. “A less offensive label to call them. You’re welcome.”
“Your sarcasm astounds me,” he said, smiling tightly.
“I astound you?” Daisy asked, batting her eyelashes.
He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face even as he felt irritation curl in his stomach.
“We haven’t got all day. What are you planning, Daisy?” the words came out as a gruff, resigned sigh.
She pulled his hand down to lean in closer, her voice coming out in a faint whisper. The way her fingers had curled around his wrist made a hot flush sweep through him. “I’m recruiting them. The girls. Agnes, Shu, and Becka eventually, the more I see of her.”
He needed more processing time than this.
“Are you joking?” he hissed, feeling his temples throb.
“I knew you’d say that,” she said disappointedly. She had the audacity to be disappointed, in him? “You really don’t give these girls enough credit. What makes you think they’re not capable? Oh wait, the way you grew up again, is it? Is that why you wanted me gone; didn’t think I could handle myself?”
The whiplash in her emotions was going to drive him to madness.
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
Daisy only stared. That was a sure-fire no, then.
He sighed, “I only think you’re underestimating how much they believe in the vision of Gilead themselves, the way they’ve been brought up in it. They’re not recruitable, I’m telling you that for a fact.”
“Like the way you’ve been brought up in it? And that despite that, you joined the resistance anyway?” Daisy asked pointedly.
He did, as a matter of fact, forget how she could take him aback sometimes.
“Hypocrit,” she accused flatly.
“Alright,” he breathed, trying to remain calm. “Say you can recruit them. You think they’d make good spies?”
“Excellent ones,” she said with conviction.
He had to admire her. He really did.
“Fine. I’m on board with it. Just… promise to be careful.”
“Subtlety is a speciality of mine,” Daisy remarked, seemingly satisfied if a little taken aback herself.
A taste of her own medicine, he thought smugly.
He did, however, note that she made no attempt to promise.
He smirked, pretending he didn’t feel unsettled about that. It was ridiculous to think anyone could make promises of that nature here, but still, he wished she could try, if only for his benefit (not to mention, sanity). “Somehow, I sincerely doubt that.”
For the first time ever, Daisy punched him in the arm in camaraderie. He could tell when her glowers were real, and the creeping smile on her face was giving her away. So, in essence, yes, agreeing to go along with her plans could certainly end up backfiring, he knew that, but somehow, right at that moment, he couldn’t help but feel no regret for it at all.
“I think we’ve been gone long enough,” he said gruffly, a roughness to his voice as they continued to stand almost in a daze, staring at each other.
“Yeah,” she agreed, a wrinkle in her eyebrows forming as though she’d been struck with an unpleasant thought, and to the living room for more scones and cakes and tea they went.
He wondered again, as they entered in silence, what she was thinking. It was like as soon as he got a slight purview, she retreated, and there was then something else he continued to miss.