I wonder if we'll ever meet
My song of love is incomplete
I'm just the words, looking for the tune
Reaching for the moon and you.
-Ella Fitzgerald
The air was different in Michigan. Clean and alive, fresh with the promise of an approaching winter. Chicago had crackled with the scent of burnt electricity and gunpowder and smoke. And above all else, decay. Misery as odour. The city had suffered under siege for months. Here in the rural reaches of his home state, across the river from Canada, life was quiet. Fighting was heavy in Detroit, but not here. Here they practiced war games to unsettle the Canadians. It was a relief. Nothing he did here could hurt anyone. Not like Chicago.
Home again. But not really. Not without his family.
The memories burned as fresh and clear as the last day he'd been here when he was just twenty years old. It was too much being here. He couldn't possibly bear it. But bear it he must because it made a difference. He had a critical connection here: Kyle Mackenzie, Hannah's kidnapper.
Being close to Commander Mackenzie got him closer to her. He'd seen Hannah twice, just as they were being relocated from Chicago. She'd watched him with wide, curious eyes. He wondered if she remembered him. Maybe she did. That would help. If she trusted him it would make it easier for him to help smuggle her and her driver across the river.
He'd already helped others cross here and at Lake Michigan. It was why he was out on watch during the long nights- a trustworthy pair of eyes in the last segment of a critical journey; a small link in a chain to freedom.
However, tonight was quiet. Clear nights always were. It was more dangerous without the cloak of total darkness. Besides Nick there were only two soldiers who were involved in ferrying people to Canada. Everyone else would shoot on sight. All the houses along the river were occupied by Gilead loyalists and soldiers. It was a precarious journey. He did what he could. It was never enough. It would never right the wrongs he'd committed. Never.
Yet Nick found himself savouring these quiet nights. He would stand at the river's edge and gaze across to Canada. To the place where his daughter, the light of his life, lived just two hundred miles from where he stood. Nothing in the scheme of time, but everything in life. She was free.
He felt closer to Holly in these moments and that made all the difference in surviving the hell he had to live through. He missed her beyond comprehension. He thought of her and June every waking moment of his life. They made it all bearable.
Nick slipped a hand into his pocket and gently stroked the tiny baby hat he'd secreted from the laundry when Holly was just two weeks old. The soft cotton gave him strength and was a reminder of what he had to fight for. A reminder of who he had to live for.
The sun's rays were just creeping over the horizon, making the river sparkle, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Commander Mackenzie- the man walked like a herd of stampeding bison. (He was grateful though. It made it easier for the people fleeing. Mackenzie was no stranger to the cold press of a trigger.)
"Morning, son," he greeted. Nick held back a shudder. He hated being called son. Gilead had tainted it.
"Commander Mackenzie, sir," he said plainly, "Blessed day."
"Blessed day," he replied. "What do you think of the handmaid situation?"
Nick's blood ran cold. He just knew: June. His contacts had hinted at a children's escape. He hadn't thought she was crazy enough to go through with it when other, safer options were available. But he had to know; had to know if she was still alive.
"The handmaid situation, sir?" His voice was steady even as his heart hammered nervously in his chest.
"A treasonist kidnapping of Gilead's children, organised by Ofjosesph, formerly Offred. You're familiar with that handmaid, yes?"
Nick nodded. So she had done it. It was an insane, unimaginably dangerous thing to do. And he loved her all the more for it. She was immensely braver than he would ever hope to be.
"Yes, sir. She was a member of the Waterford household with me for over two years."
"The one who organized the kidnapping of Nichole Waterford," the Commander continued, his voice thick with disgust.
Holly. Her name is Holly Osborne Blaine he protested internally. "A most unfortunate situation," he said with forced malice, watching as the man nodded in approval.
"She is being hunted down as we speak," Mackenzie said with barely contained rage.
Nick stayed silent, calculating. He had to help her without arousing suspicions. But how?
He watched as the Commander shook his head mournfully and bowed in prayer, the anger still simmering.
"But transgressors will be altogether destroyed; The posterity of the wicked will be cut off. And with that, the righteousness of God's land shall be restored."
Fuck. These people were itching to kill June. Shot dead as soon as she was sighted. He knew her better than he'd known anyone else and he was beyond certain she'd put up a fight. She would die on her feet. His stomach rolled with terror. He had to keep her safe. He had to find a way to join the search party so he could be the one to bring her in. Only he was capable of bringing her in alive. She would listen to him. They could figure out everything together and fix this.
"Commander Mackenzie," he began slowly, "how long have they evaded capture?"
"Coming on a third night, Blaine," Mackenzie sighed. "The grace of this nation suffers daily under their sin."
Nick spotted an opening and nearly fainted in relief. He bowed his head and clasped his hands, ever the loyal, submissive servant. "Sir, is there anything I can do to help?"
Mackenzie sighed, pondering for a moment. "A most gracious offer. And one for a mission most important. More important than pressuring those traitors in Toronto."
The tensions in his muscles lessened, but a sick feeling remained. Nick wondered if it always would in this place.
The Commander's hand clapped heavily on his back. "A train leaves for Boston this afternoon. You'll be on it. I'll inform the council that you are to return to participate in the hunt."
"Yes, sir," he responded flatly. "By His hand."
"By His hand, Commander Blaine. May God grant you great success in this eradication of sin."
Nick spared one last long glance across the river. Daddy loves you, he thought, hoping that somehow, some way, Holly felt it and knew.
It took Nick just 36 hours to locate June and the others: they were working as Marthas at a farm in rural Pennsylvania.
The ease of finding them hadn't surprised him. All the helicopters and dogs and tracking technology in the world could not replace the strength of human connections. Nick's past as a driver had afforded him a number of good contacts- a few Marthas, the butcher at Loaves and Fishes, and a couple of guardians. It had taken just two people, the butcher and a Martha who'd survived the liquidation at Jezebels, for him to connect with June. A little bribing here and there, goods and secrets traded, was all it took for him to find their exact location and a way to get himself there undetected.
A simple farm, tucked away from everything. It would be hard to find a better place to temporarily hide. Among the rebels it was known for trafficking illicit firearms to Boston and Pittsburgh and acting as a rest stop for refugees on their way to Canada. In the time it had been an active hotbed, it had so far evaded notice by the greater authorities. It pained him to know that would be coming to an end soon.
Nick had delayed heading there for as long as he could, hoping against hope that June and the others had picked up on the danger and had secreted themselves elsewhere, moving to cross the border to safety. A large group of escaped handmaids would make the news, and Nick would be sent back to Michigan marked with failure, but still alive and able to work on getting Hannah out. The best possible outcome. Rogue rebel handmaids in Canada were a failure of epic proportions, but those same women running free in Gilead, destroying the carefully structured control- failing to find them was a death sentence. Nick needed to stay alive. It was the only way to ensure June and Holly were safe and the only way to get Hannah out.
He wished he could warn them, send a message of some sort. But it was too dangerous- an interception would be the doom of them all, himself included. Surely they'd realised the danger of staying in one place in Gilead for too long and work their way north. That hope was all Nick had.
But hope was a foolish thing in Gilead. After twelve days spent directing searches south of June and the others, Nick was dismayed to learn that they were still at the farm. It was only a matter of time before they were found now. He had to get there first or they would die fighting. He couldn't bear the thought of losing June.
And so that was where he was headed, hidden in the alleyway behind Jezebels, waiting for a ride. He had to see her before all this came crashing down. He needed her to know, to give her and the others one last chance of getting north.
An old truck hobbled his way, the lights dark. His contact with June had arrived.
David, a young guardian at the Keyes' farm where June was at, had been pointed out to him by Catherine, the lone Martha who had survived the purges at Jezebels. She was a friend of Beth's and trusted him enough to bring David here to drive Nick to the farm under the guise of a delivery of pork. He was grateful. Trust was hard to come by in this place.
Nick climbed into the truck next to the young man who nodded silently. Rummaging through his coat pockets, he handed David a bottle of whiskey and his week's rations tickets, both of which were promptly stashed in a small hidden compartment between their seats.
"Get in the back and stay low," he ordered and Nick complied, curling himself into a ball in the small space behind the seats.
Nick could just see out the tinted window and watch as the countryside rolled by, made dull and grey by the first frost of late autumn. All this land left plenty of space to hide, but only if you found the right people, and finding the right people was never an easy task. Loyalists were everywhere, even out here. June and the others had gotten fortunate. David was a good man, long devoted to the cause according to Catherine. He knew the danger he was getting into, harbouring Gilead's Most Wanted. He would die for them, need be. Nick just hoped it wouldn't come to that. But they both knew otherwise, the words going unspoken between them.
The Keyes' farm grew in front of them, shadowed and imposing in the fading evening light, a full moon just beginning to rise. David drove up towards the largest barn, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. He flashed the lights of the truck as Nick climbed out and waited.
It didn't take long.
The barn door edged open and June appeared before him, an intimidatingly large knife clutched in her hand, her chin raised in defiance. Comprehension dawned on her and she stared at him open-mouthed, knife clattering to the ground from her slackened grip. Nick walked slowly toward her, stopping a few feet away.
"Hey."
Before he could even draw breath, June lunged forward and threw her arms around him.
"Hi," she breathed against his neck. He shivered. It felt amazing to be so close. He'd fantasised at least a thousand times what it would be like to have her in his arms again. Reality was so much better than he'd ever imagined.
Nick could feel her tears falling on his skin and he tightened his hold. "You ok?"
Her voice was thick, choked with tears. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I'm ok," he told her softly. And with her, he was. With June he was just Nick. Not Commander or Guardian or sir or son, just the best possible version of himself. Her Nick.
He pulled back slightly, gazing into her wet eyes. He gently brushed her tears away. "I know where Hannah is. Colorado Springs. Stone Manor Heights."
He watched as she took this information in, reeling. She turned away for a moment, hand pressed against her face.
"Have- have you seen her? Is my baby ok?"
Nick reached out and clutched her hands. "Twice. She's ok. Taller."
June gave him a watery smile. "I hope she's tall like Luke."
He smiled a little. "No luck for Holly. Not with my genes."
She shook her head, laughing softly. "If she's anything like you, she'll be amazing."
Nick ducked his head, blinking back a rush of tears. For her to think that… It meant everything to him. He did not feel worthy of such words. Not when he'd failed them so many times.
"June," he said, looking intensely into her eyes. "I'm working with the driver. Hannah's driver. I know him. I'm working on getting her out."
He felt June's knees buckle and he caught her and sagged to the ground, his back pressed against the barn wall. He felt her start to shake in his arms and he held her tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple.
After a few moments the trembling stopped and June looked up at him, her face wet. "I love you," she told him intensely. "So much."
His heart pounded, overcome. "I love you."
Her fingers curled in his hair and she kissed him with a level of passion and love that Nick had not known could exist. He responded with equal fervour, pressing his hands against her back and fitting her perfectly flush against him as she straddled his lap, desperate to be closer. Every nerve felt alive as June's hands slipped under his shirt, fire trailing her touch. It had been too long, so long without love. They needed each other desperately.
His hands were at the back of her dress, unfastening the snaps and brushing against soft skin and-
"Oh!" Janine exclaimed, her eye widening in surprise. Nick felt his face flame and June sighed heavily in frustration, her head falling against his shoulder.
Janine looked away as they stood, straightening their clothes. "Sorry. Am I interrupting?" her voice was light, teasing, and June shook her head affectionately.
"It's ok. What do you want?"
"I was thinking we should have a party tonight! A full moon is meant for dancing." Janine bounced on the tips of her toes excitedly, loose strands of red hair falling across her forehead. "I haven't been dancing in forever."
Nick watched as June smiled softly. "I did promise you once that we'd go."
Janine beamed, then glanced at the farmhouse just a hundred feet away, her expression shifting from elated to nervous. "Could you-"
"I've got it," June reassured. "I'll be right back."
Nick gazed longingly as she walked off, slipping into the house. A few moments passed, the silence falling awkwardly between him and Janine, the barest hints of nervous tension radiating off her. He stepped away to give her more space and she relaxed immediately, smiling again, clearly excited for the evening to come.
He varied between monitoring the house for June and observing as Janine pulled her bonnet off, shaking her curly hair and finger combing it.
He watched quizzically as she patted her apron pockets. "Oops," she giggled, "I still forget I don't have my phone."
He couldn't help but smile faintly. "I don't miss it."
She shook her head, incredulous. "You're weird. How do you not miss a phone?"
He shrugged. "Never had anyone to talk to."
Her face fell. "Oh, that's so sad."
Another moment passed as Janine looked around for something and then-
"Does this look ok?" she gestured at her hair, taking a couple steps closer.
He nodded. "Looks nice. Better than mine." He reached up and absently touched his too-short cut, longing for the days when it was longer.
She grinned, amusement crossing her features. "And June? What about her?"
Nick could feel heat creeping up his neck and ears. "She's beautiful," he answered honestly, not quite able to hide the reverence from his voice.
Janine giggled. "You really like her," she teased.
He smiled wistfully. "She's very special."
"You're special to her too. I can tell."
Nick felt warmth flood him. It felt nice that someone else, someone safe and good, could see it too, even with all the danger that entailed.
He is saved from further questioning as light suddenly pours across the field and June strides toward them, loaded down with a record player and records.
Her hair was down, flowing around her shoulders, and Nick couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she stopped in front of him. She glowed with ethereal beauty in the moonlight.
"Gotta get this stuff back by midnight or we turn into pumpkins," she said, rolling her eyes.
Nick lifted the record player out of June's arms. "I can set it up," he offered, and Janine smiled, nearly vibrating with excited energy.
"Thanks," she said approvingly. "Your boyfriend is handy," she added with a wink to June, slipping back into the barn with a giggle.
June shook her head in amusement as Nick yet again felt heat creeping up his neck.
She tilted her chin toward the door, "Go on," she encouraged, "we don't bite. Most of us anyway," she amended with a smirk.
Nick could feel several pairs of eyes on him as he walked in and set the player on a rickety table. He kept his eyes low as he made a few adjustments, then selected an upbeat record and stepped back towards the far wall.
He watched as Janine rushed to the middle of the makeshift dance floor and began dancing energetically, pulling June in to join her. Soon the others joined in and Nick lost himself in the music, feeling at peace and happy to take his place as DJ, the steady thrum of music filling his veins.
He kept an eye on June, watching the way her hair bounced and her hips swung, moving in perfect time to the beat. He'd never seen her dance before and the sight intoxicated him. As terrible of a dancer he was, he wanted to be there with her. But he didn't want to spoil the others' night and as a commander, he would. He hunched his shoulders at the thought, feeling out of place.
Janine caught sight of him and reached out and grabbed his arm, beaming. "Come on," she said, her hair wild around her shoulders, "no wallflowers allowed!"
Before Nick could protest he was dragged mercilessly onto the dance floor and spun around. Janine laughed, her arms in the air. Nick followed suit, feeling awkward and more than a little self-conscious. He was no good at this.
The song changed and Janine moved on, only to be replaced by June who gripped his hips and moved against him, sparks flying between them. "Having fun?"
Swallowing thickly, he nodded.
June leaned towards him, her mouth against his ear, her breath hot and intoxicating. "Then show me," she challenged.
He started moving, body jerking to the beat of the music. He couldn't call it dancing, it wasn't even close, but as June smiled and laughed at him, he felt the tension drain away and he loosened up. He loved making her happy.
Soon after, Nick found himself dancing with some of the others. At first mainly Janine, whose easy demeanour couldn't help but make him feel relaxed. But then two other women, Alma and Brianna, moved to dance with him, laughing as he struggled to do anything more complicated than bob to the music, even with Alma's heavy handed instructions. Come on, dummy, she had deadpanned, even the pigs can dance better. And after that Nick stopped keeping track, stopped overthinking. He lived in the moment, forgetting everything else. He couldn't remember a time where he'd felt so normal.
All throughout the night he and June kept finding their way back to each other, like they always did. Drawn together in a manner that he could not describe. Her fingers in his hair, his hands on her hips, their bodies pressed impossibly tight together. It was like living in a dream, the lights low and hazy, his body warm and heavy. A moment he never thought about, but now wanted to hold onto forever.
The room was filled with excited chatter and laughter, a foreign occurrence in a place of otherwise quiet misery. It felt good to be here with all of them. He didn't want to think of it ending.
Nick's eyes fell on a group of young guardians, dancing with the others. A head of curly dark hair caught his eyes and he stumbled. Josh. But then the man turned and Nick knew it wasn't him. It was impossible anyway, Josh was gone.
The good mood deflated in an instant, an old wound reopening with an intensity that nearly brought him to his knees. Josh would've loved this. He would have been happy. He loved dancing and music.
Nick quietly snuck out the door, slipping around to an out-of-sight corner. Sighing, he leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, taking comfort in the familiar burning. He felt a thousand years old. Everything was such a fucking mess, himself included.
He could hear June's footsteps before he saw her, her face flushed pink from exertion. She had come to find him just minutes after he'd left. These little moments of love still struck him hard, still felt unexpected, still left him feeling overwhelmed and gasping for breath.
She took one look at him, her expression falling. "What's wrong?"
He looked away for a moment. It would be easy, so easy, to open up. To talk about all the hurt he felt. But if he did, he'd start crying and if he started crying, he's not sure he'd ever be able to stop. And crying in Gilead never made things better.
June was looking at him with so much love and compassion and tenderness that he wanted to tell her, wanted to bring up the past in a way he never had before. Pryce hadn't cared about him, the Waterfords and Mackenzie never cared about him, and the Swiss certainly hadn't, but this very woman standing before him cared a whole lot. She cared about him more than anyone else in the world ever had. And it was decided for him then.
He took a steadying breath as tears pricked at his eyes. "I miss my brother." He didn't need to say any more, the crack in his voice evident enough. It hurt to say aloud, making the loss all the more real.
"Oh, Nick," June said softly, gripping his wrist and raising a hand to gently cup his cheek. "I'm so sorry."
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. He couldn't say anything right now, all he could do was nod. It just hurt too much. June wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. He sagged a little in her embrace, feeling safe and comforted and loved.
"I love you," he breathed.
She pulled back, looking tenderly into his eyes. "I love you," she whispered.
Nick became alarmed as June's face suddenly changed from soft to concerned. "A light," she said pointing behind him, and he turned, confused. Far off in the distance a helicopter could be seen flying in a search pattern, headed north and toward the farm.
"They're going to find you," he said plainly.
June reeled for a moment as she absorbed the information. She nodded unsteadily. "I know."
"It's going to be me." Nick looked away as he said it, bracing himself for a look of disgust. He wouldn't blame her for hating him. How could she not? He already did. He couldn't bring himself to look at her and see her looking at him the way he saw himself. The idea of it was devastating.
Her fingers squeezed his, comforting. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick. "It's ok."
Nick looked up, surprised and filled with tentative hope. He didn't see hatred or disgust or even anger, just sorrow and hurt. Sorrow and hurt meant for him. Here she was comforting him, knowing what was going to happen. He didn't deserve her.
"June," he started, his voice low and uncertain, "I'm sorry."
"Shh," she soothed, laying a finger on his lips. "I know," she nodded, "I trust you. It's ok. You have nothing to be sorry for. I know you have no choice."
And somehow, he knew then that it was for everything; a past so painful and shameful he couldn't bring himself to speak of it and future suffering he had no way of preventing. It was everything to him to know that there was no judgement, only love. Beyond everything. For her to still love him after all of that… it was like the most tremendous weight had been lifted off of him. She was the most amazing woman in the world. He loved her in a way he'd never loved before.
"Soon?" she murmured anxiously, and he nodded. He couldn't delay things much longer or he'd be in trouble and no longer able to help at all, more useless to her than ever.
He could feel his face begin to crumple. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen. He couldn't bear it, knowing she'd be hurt, knowing she'll be in danger and sent far away from him. June held his face gently, wiping away tears. She leaned her forehead against his, steadying him and building up his reserves.
"I love you," he told her, trying to put as much of his feelings into those words as possible.
"I love you," June repeated, "so much."
Her hands cupped the back of his head, and then her mouth was on his, firm and warm. He surrendered himself to her touch, living in this last moment of freedom together.
Notes:
So for those of you who use Archive of Our Own, this story may be familiar to you as I shared it there over a year ago. I finally managed to login to my account here after (shamefully) forgetting my password. Anyway, I'm glad to be able to post it here as well now. Enjoy!
For my metric using readers, 200 miles is about 315Km.
The bible verse Mackenzie recites partially comes from Psalm 37:38.
Catherine at Jezebels is a reference to famous chef, Cat Cora.
I wrote this because Nick deserved to be at that barn party to have a night of fun and freedom with June and the others. He's a good man under a lot of pressure and is trapped in an impossible situation, and so he just needs a moment where he can be himself. And I've been itching for a scene of Janine and Nick interacting, so I just had to include that here.
Thank you for reading and please review if you can! :)