AN: The oneshots are going to be within the timeline of the story from now on. No more prequels.
"…This new facility will help to produce the best Handmaids to serve God and Gilead. We are truly blessed to have such willing and grateful souls to ensure the survival of God's people. Here in Gilead we…"
He stopped listening. It was all lies anyway. Waterford was good with those. The truth was the new building was just another place for Gilead to break people. And the Handmaids weren't willing. Any gratitude was fake…or forced. He may not be high ranking, but he still knew what happened when Handmaid's stepped out of line.
He looked around the room. Handmaids stood at the back along the glass wall. The red of their uniforms was like a sea of blood. It made him sick even if he couldn't show it. And the other Commanders… They were so proud of themselves. They were adding new faces to their rotation. They would have new playthings to torture.
He thought of his Handmaid. He didn't like to think of her that way. She was more than a red dress to him- especially recently. Recently she had become the person he could be completely himself with. Recently she was the person he felt safe with. Safety in Gilead was an illusion, but with her it almost felt real- attainable. She was smart and witty. She told awful jokes that he couldn't help but laugh at.
He couldn't imagine her standing with the other Handmaids. He couldn't picture her being so exposed to the eyes of the other Commanders. It made his chest tight, and his palms sweat. She wasn't a toy. None of them were. But he wasn't allowed to say so. It wouldn't change anything if he did. Gilead would silence him. It was how all threats were handled. He didn't expect-
Bang
His eyes shot to the front of the room at the sound of Waterford's hand meeting the podium. "Our world was dying! And God gave us the vision to save it. He called us to preserve his world and his people…" A shaky breath brought his heart rate back to normal. Of course Waterford would get excited about his own shit. There was nothing that man cared about more than his image.
Again the words coming from the front faded into the background. He didn't need to hear this. He didn't want to be there. He just had to make it through. Then he could go home. His mind went to the night before. She had met him in the kitchen again. He was still surprised each time she showed up- each time she stayed. He had wanted to touch her. Nothing serious, he just wanted to hold her hand.
He hadn't, of course. He had stayed on his side of the table. He had kept his hands to himself. Even when she had run her hand up his arm. Even when she had hovered over him, lips two inches from his. He hadn't moved. And he wouldn't. She could tease as much as she wanted, but he wouldn't make the first move. It had to be on her terms.
It didn't stop him from wanting to kiss her, though. It hadn't stopped him from teasing her right back. And he wanted to go home and do it all again. He wanted to play their game. He wanted to see her fighting her desires just like he was fighting his. But mostly he wanted to ask her about her day and listen to all the sarcastic commentary he knew she had.
His mind suddenly pulled him from thoughts of blue eyes and blonde hair. He felt someone watching him. The skin on the back of his neck tingled. Turning around he subtly took in the room. His eyes landed on one of the Handmaids. She was out of formation. He could see the other Handmaids watching her with confusion. But he wasn't confused. He saw the look in her eye. He knew what it meant.
He was on his feet without thinking about it. His hand went out to get her attention, to stop her. But he knew it was too late. Even as he told her to stop. Even as he asked her to put down the detonator. It was always going to be too late. He watched her thumb press the button.
The ground shook. The windows shattered. Glass rained down, cut into his flesh.
A wall of heat…
Weightlessness…
Pain…
Darkness…
Nothing.
