i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
-E.E. Cummings
The wind bites at June despite the warmth of Nick's jacket and the pink knit blanket wrapped around her torso in a bid to protect Holly from the bitter cold. They'd gotten lucky. The patrols weren't as frequent in weather like this. Even the stony soldiers of Gilead had limits.
Nick walks in front of her, his gun clutched in his hand. The anxiety and the trepidation was palpable. They were the animals hunted by the predators. They had to get away as quickly as possible. There was no turning back, only the path ahead.
June lags a few steps behind Nick, Holly clutched to her chest as she uses a branch from a pine tree to erase their tracks. She usually loves the snow, the way it sparkles on the ground and floats in the air like dandelion fluff, but not in this moment. The snow could betray them, leading the monsters to the safehouse Nick was guiding them towards.
It was dangerous. For now they'd be considered missing and possibly dead. It wouldn't take long until it was realized that none of them had remains in the crumbled ruins of the Waterford house, and that they'd fled instead, taking the baby with them. The cruel irony would be that they would be labelled the kidnappers and terrorists and that they'd be the ones hunted down like dogs, and not the Waterfords who were the true criminals.
After Rita had set the house on fire and rushed them outside, with whispered goodbyes to Holly and a gift of a knit pink blanket and a bag full of food, they'd climbed into the car and driven it as far as they could manage. Nick had muttered something about how the fire had limited their ability to flee in the car, and so they'd driven as far as they could go before they'd ditched it and disappeared into the surrounding woods.
Nick had offered her his lighter to set the car on fire after she'd stripped out of her handmaid uniform and tossed it inside. It was freeing to again be able to pull on Nick's clothes. Surrounded by his scent and cloaked in his safety, but also in muted colours. Better to hide in. The colour of trees and dirt, not blood against the snow. She never wants to wear red again.
She feels grateful, overjoyed, to burn the vehicle that Fred Waterford had considered to be so precious. One less item of status for those fucks. No car and a damaged house. No baby. That was the best part. Their reputation would be in tatters. Maybe they'd be dead, strung up on the wall if the fire hadn't killed them already. She wishes she could see it, to jeer and spit at their feet.
At the moment though, she doesn't care what happens to them if they've survived. If they get pity because their household rebelled against them and tried to kill them, or if they're executed for harbouring resistance members. What matters in this moment is the three of them. Mother, father, and daughter. They were out of the house and headed towards freedom.
Hannah would come after. They knew where she spent her summers now. That was a start. Nick had promised to sniff the networks, to find out the name of the driver or the Martha and to make a deal with them to get Hannah out.
June trusts him and knows he'll keep his word, like he always does. She tries not to think of what the promise entails; what it could mean for them. How she might not see him after and how Holly might not get to have her father in her life. She banishes those thoughts, focusing on the present. Nick was here and the three of them were together. That was what mattered.
She and Nick had gotten their daughter out of there, just like she'd promised her all those months ago. Like Nick had promised them in the kitchen the morning she'd told him she was pregnant.
It wasn't out of Gilead, but for now being out of that house was enough.
The small wooden cabin appears almost suddenly, tucked against a hill and bordered on three sides by a thicket of trees. It was a couple hundred metres off the path, perfect for hiding. Perfect for being almost-free.
The cabin was more of a shack than an actual cabin. Two rooms. Windowless. A bed was shoved in the corner against the far wall which had a door that lead to the tiniest washroom June had ever seen. A loveseat was set opposite the bed, accompanied by a lamp. A kitchenette, complete with a microwave, was behind the main door. Several childish paintings lined the walls, reminding June of the one she'd found done by Hannah.
It was easily half the size of her room in that house of horrors, but it felt like a place that someone had lived once, where they'd been happy. Where they'd been alive.
"How'd you find this place?" she asks Nick once they were tucked safely inside.
He pauses, blinking rapidly. They hadn't been this near each other in ages. Their proximity and the need to touch was overwhelming. Nick was staring at the lump under the shirt, blanket, and jacket she was wearing. Holly, kept close to her skin to protect her from the cold.
She could feel the rapid breaths of their daughter, feel the brush of her lashes against her chest as she blinked and squirmed. June carefully slid her out and cradled her in her arms, loosely wrapping her in the pink blanket. She could feel Nick's eyes on them, hungrily taking them in, as if this were a dream and he was desperate to cling to the image before him that would surely disappear.
His hand trembles as he raises it and strokes Holly's cheek, his features softening completely as he takes her in.
"Mayday. I have a friend at Jezebels. She connected me with the butcher. This used to be his place, back when he was allowed to go hunting. I was looking into it before..." and he shakes his head, half-heartedly raising his now ring-less left hand, "Before that happened. Then I couldn't anymore."
The words go unsaid. Before the Waterfords had married him off to a teenager, thinking it would stop him from getting them all out and to hurt them both. Before she'd gone out to the garden to die and before Nick had found her and saved her, saved them. Love never fails Nick had said that night. He was right- it hadn't. They were here now.
Holly squirms against her, making low unhappy sounds.
"What's wrong?" Nick rushes out anxiously. June can't help but smile a little. His concern was endearing.
"She's just hungry, see?" June says. She holds her pinky against Holly's lips and she begins to suckle on it. Her face contorts when no milk comes out, her little fists raised unhappily in protest. "She's got your grumpy look," she says with a laugh as she undresses Holly and settles onto the bed, lifting her up to nurse.
Nick sits beside her, his hand resting lightly on her arm and brushing against Holly's back. He raises the other to stroke Holly's little hand and she latches on to his finger, her eyes flickering up at him as she eats. He makes that sound, that sort of breathless gasp, the one he makes whenever they touch or she says something that surprises him. She knows that he was as overwhelmed over all of this as she was.
"She's really hungry," he says, his eyes meeting hers. They were rimmed with tears. Joy and sorrow all bottled up in one.
June smiles and nods, drinking in this moment. The very moment that she'd fantasized about when she'd needed good images to live off of. The very kind of moment that she'd lost hope in happening. The moment they were now living in. It still doesn't feel real. She still worries that she'll wake up and that she'll be back in her lifeless room, a world where everything was shit and where she wasn't allowed to hold her own child for more than just breastfeeding. Where she couldn't partake in the joy of this with Nick, who deserves this good moment every bit as much as she does.
When she finishes feeding Holly, she looks distastefully down at the white gown and knit hat that she had been wearing. Clothes picked out by her kidnapper. By the woman who had hated June enough to hold her down while her husband raped her into labour. Who had planned the whole damn thing. She didn't want Holly in anything from Gilead.
Nick stares, fidgeting a little, his hand sliding off her arm. "I, uh, I've got something for you. For her," he says nervously, kneeling on the ground and digging around in the duffle bag he'd brought with him.
After a moment, she sees him pull out something purple and she stares. A tiny onesie, just for their daughter.
"Will this fit?" he asks anxiously, "There are more in there if it doesn't."
June's eyes well up as she looks at the outfit. Purple with a grey elephant on the front. She turns it over in her hands. Purple wasn't a colour she'd seen much of in years. It had been Hannah's favourite, before.
'Babies-R-Us. 0-3 months. Machine wash cold, tumble dry low' the tag said. The words make her sway. Words, it had been so long since she'd read words on a clothing tag. She'd nearly forgotten that those had existed.
"It'll fit," she says, her voice thick, "It's perfect."
Nick beams, smiling the smile he always saved just for her. For her and now for their daughter too.
"What do the others look like?" she finds herself asking, and Nick hands another four to her. He drums his fingers on the bed nervously, waiting for her reaction.
"I bought them when I was in Canada," he says as she holds them and stares at him. "I'd hoped that she might get a chance to wear them. Now she will."
He'd bought them in Canada. He'd taken a risk and bought her these hopeful things in Canada, sneaking them into Gilead and hiding them in his apartment. All for her and their baby.
June looks down at the little bunch of onesies. No red and no blue. All carefully selected, she could tell. She wonders how long Nick spent in the store, pouring through the racks of tiny clothes. She pictures the longing in his face as he looked at cribs and strollers and bathtubs. Things that he couldn't buy but would have wanted to.
Green with a yellow monkey, grey with an orange fox, black with a white bear, and white with a brown beaver which was holding a little rainbow coloured maple leaf in its paw. All different sizes. All chosen with hope in mind.
The emotions overwhelm her, the love overwhelms her. Nick had gotten these things for them, so their daughter wouldn't have to spend another minute longer than necessary in Gilead clothes.
She can't see through the tears. You know I think about us. The three of us. The blinding intensity of his words spoken months ago hits her again. He truly did think about them. She never doubted it, not for a moment, but to feel it so acutely overwhelms her. June's never received a better gift from someone. Something given with so much gentle care and thoughtfulness. Nick's faith in their ability to get their child out of that house buoys her, renews her further. They'd gotten her out of that house and they'd get her out of this damned country too. She knows it.
She changes Holly's diaper, relishing even this small moment, with Nick standing nervously at her shoulder.
"I've never changed a diaper before," he admits as he scratches his neck awkwardly, his eyes downcast and ashamed. June touches his wrist gently. That look makes her chest ache. He shouldn't feel shame. If this had been a normal world, she would have taught Nick using their cat or a teddy bear before she gave birth. But the chance to learn, to fully embrace fatherhood, had been stolen from him by Gilead.
"I'll show you next time. Do you want to get her dressed? You bought her this, so you should get to put it on her."
He nods hesitantly, clinging to the onesie as if it might fly out of his hands. "I don't want to hurt her."
She rubs his arm and he sighs, leaning into her touch. "I know you won't. I trust you. She's tough too."
Nick stares at Holly for a few moments, before sitting on the couch, the onesie still clutched in his hands. June scoops up Holly and joins him, her head resting against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "I don't..." he shakes his head, trailing off.
"Nick, I'm here, ok?" June says."You don't have anything to be sorry for."
He looks up at her, a little surprised. "Can- can I hold her?"
Her heart breaks. "Nick, she's your daughter too. You don't have to ask."
He makes that sound again, that shaky breathless gasp. The sound that makes her want to bury her nose in his neck and inhale deeply and never let go.
June grabs a pillow from the bed and places it on Nick's lap. She remembers teaching Moira how to hold Hannah this way. The familiarity makes her smile a little. Moira would be Holly's godmother too, once they got her out to Canada. She wonders if there's anyone from Nick's life to be godfather to their daughter, if he has anyone left. The thought that he might not makes her stomach clench and she turns her attention back to Holly. Nick had them and he always would.
"Support her head," she says softly, as she gently places Holly into Nick's arms, "And have your arm cradle her body."
Holly squirms a little and June can see the panic in Nick's eyes. "It's fine," she soothes, rubbing his arm gently, "She's just trying to get comfy."
He sighs a little, his brow furrowed. She can sense the unease in him, the guilt he feels over not knowing what to do or how to act. Even at the best of times, June knows Nick feels insecure. Insecure about himself, insecure as a parent, insecure about his place in their lives. She wishes she could do something to make it go away, to keep him steady like all the times he had done so for her. She doesn't know how, but for the moment rubbing his arm seems to help.
After a few minutes, she can see the tension begin to edge away in him, replaced with a mystified wonder. She could understand- they'd made a beautiful baby together, someone built from the power of their love. Gilead had tried to destroy it but they hadn't succeeded. Holly was the living embodiment of it, proof that despite everything, love could thrive in Gilead.
June finds her gaze flickering from Nick to Holly and back again. The love he feels for their daughter is evident. It seems to pour out of him. She wants to memorize this exact moment; the softness of his mouth and the warmth in his eyes and the relaxation of his muscles. The way Holly looks up him owlishly while making soft noises of contentment. How Nick holds her tenderly in his arms, as if she were the crown jewels. The way Holly grips his finger tightly and how Nick frequently dips his head, gently brushing his nose against hers and pressing kisses to her forehead. She burns the moment into her brain, holding onto it in case things turn to shit again like they so easily could.
"She smells good, doesn't she?" June whispers and Nick nods, clearly lost in the moment. He hasn't stopped looking at Holly since he'd first laid eyes on her. It was as if he looked away, this would all disappear. She knows that exact feeling and the heavy pit that it leaves. She never stopped looking at their daughter if she could help it.
"I..." and he blinks rapidly, shaking his head. "I can't believe she's really here."
June smiles. She couldn't believe it either. That their daughter was born and that the three of them were here together. A family, just like they'd both dreamed of.
She leans her head again his arm and breathes in deeply. Nick always smells so good. Like safety. They weren't out of Gilead yet, but for all she cared in this moment they could be on the moon. This was the best she'd felt in years.
"Do you want to try skin to skin?" she asks softly. Nick was still hunched over, Holly resting half in his arms and half on the pillow in his lap. "It's good for her and for you. It helps with bonding."
Nick nods, his lips quirking up to smile as he looks at her nervously. Impulsively, sensing that he needs reassurance again, she leans over and kisses his cheek. You're doing great she tries to tell him wordlessly. She can feel the muscles in his jaw jump. She'd surprised him and she gets a little thrill out it.
June unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders, her hands lingering on his bare skin. She unbundles Holly from the pink knit blanket and raises her so she's resting on Nick's chest. He sighs contentedly, his hand automatically coming up to support her. Nick dips his chin and presses a kiss to Holly's head, his mouth lingering. He whispers something so low that June doesn't catch it, but somehow she knows that he was telling Holly that he loves her. Her body warms at the thought. She can't get enough of watching Nick be like this; of seeing him be a dad.
Pulling her legs up, June rests her body against Nick's side and he wordlessly moves the arm that isn't supporting Holly to wrap around her, holding her snuggly. She unfurls the pink knit blanket from Rita and covers the three of them with it. She feels the safest she's felt in years.
Nick twists to press a kiss against her forehead, his mouth lingering. With a sigh, he withdraws and settles into the couch, his gaze returning to Holly as she quietly lays on his chest.
"I could look at her all day," he says softly, voice full of wonder.
June moves her hand to rest on top of Nick's, which is on Holly's back, and squeezes it. "You're a dad," she says, and she hears Nick suck in a breath at her words.
"I'm a dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. June tilts her head to look up at him and realizes that he's crying. How many times had Nick too nearly lost this- this chance to be a dad and to love their family? It still doesn't feel real that they'd made it, that they were here and that Nick could finally acknowledge that he had become a father to their daughter.
June reaches up and gently brushes his tears away. Nick turns to look at her, still a little stunned, a little dazed by the words. Neither of them had said the word dad out loud until now.
"You're a mom again, a mom to our daughter," he says shakily, "And Hannah's a big sister." He smiles, looking almost deliriously content.
The moment was a dream come true for him, and for her as well. She felt happy in this moment. Happy in Gilead. Who would have ever thought it?
That's all it takes for June to cry herself. It was just so much. They were here and they were a happy little family. She hadn't allowed herself to think much about what this moment would be like. How Nick would react or how she would feel. After everything that had happened, she never thought that they'd have gotten this chance to just be. To be together with their baby.
"We should get her dressed and settled down," June says after an indeterminate amount of time passes.
Nick sighs and nods, gently handing Holly to her and smoothing out the purple onesie. "Ok."
June places Holly on the bed. "You won't hurt her, I promise," she tells him.
Nick's hands shake a little as he pulls the onesie over her head and gently guides her arms though the sleeves and buttons the snaps. Holly waves her arms and kicks her legs, making happy noises. He smiles broadly and gently brushes his fingers over the shadow of dark hair on her head. "Hey, honey, you like that, don't you?" he says softly and June thinks that her heart might burst.
She leans over. "Who's a happy girl!" she coos, brushing her fingers against soft chubby cheeks. "That feels so much more comfortable than your old clothes, doesn't it?" Holly gurgles affirmatively and June shares a smile with Nick.
Holly yawns suddenly, long and wide and deep. "Someone's sleepy," June says, and Nick smiles again. June hopes that Holly will get Nick's smile. He smiles with his whole face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up adorably. It would be a blessing if Holly smiled like that.
She and Nick lay down on the bed together, Holly placed in between them. She was already sound asleep, her hands curled into little fists above her head.
Nick's eyes meet hers, and she knows what to say in this exact moment. The words that had been appearing in her mind with increasing frequency as time passed. The ones that she'd tried to push away because it was smarter then. But now, it's smarter to let them out, to fill in the blank edges of the page.
"Nick?"
"Hmm?" he says, blinking tiredly.
"I love you."
His eyes widen in disbelief and looks at her wordlessly, breathing heavily. June knows he hasn't been expecting her to say those things, no matter how much he's wanted to. He was so good, so kind and she loves him for it.
After a moment, he smiles brightly at her and his thumb comes up to gently stroke her cheek. "I love you, too."
Notes:
Did I really write over 3700 words of pure fluffy goodness? Yes, yes I did. :)
So the onesie part of the story has been bouncing around my brain for months and I finally found the best way to include it. I couldn't resist having Nick do such a thoughtful thing and I ended up loving how it worked out, and I hope you do too.
Thanks for reading and please review if you can. :)