A/N: i started writing this au months ago, but i could never finish it. it's a readaptation of the novel/series The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, and therefore has some M-rated triggers such as mentions of rape, violence and adult language. I don't think you need to have seen/read the actual stuff to read this, but just so you know, it's a dystopian reality. this fic doesn't contain spoilers for the series/book.


The Blue Wife

When the first Handmaid arrives, she's in her room.

She's always in her room.

Leo calls, from downstairs, and she goes, because what's the alternative anyway? There isn't one. She has started to look at her gardening shears with interest, in the last hours. This is a nightmare. An absolute and complete nightmare, and it all happened in a month.

Life before the Republic was… quite good. Tolerable. And then, the catastrophe.

They've cut all the women's credit cards, fired them from their jobs, hung doctors and professors, chased down the rebels.

"Regina!" his voice comes, angry, like a thunder. She sighs, and gets up.

And goes to meet the new prisoner of this house.

Welcome to the club, baby.

.::.

He's been assigned this new post by the Underground, but he doesn't like it one bit.

The Resistance needed someone inside this house – Commander Blanchard is a king on the chessboard, after all, and Robin has to be… quiet. Stealthy. He doesn't have to draw attention on himself.

It won't be easy.

He has arrived together with the new Handmaid – it's barbaric, if they ask him, having those girls used as a baby factory. Raped. Taken against their own will. The leaders and the wives, they are… horrible people, all of them, perpetrators of a violence he can't even start to describe. He knows what they do at the Red Center.

For the millionth time, he thanks all heavens he has not a family. He has not a wife who could be taken as a Handmaid or sent to the Colonies, he has not a child – hard to get one, these days – who could be abducted forever.

The girl seems quite submissive, but they all are. They were trained to be. It's this, or death. She had a name, once. He plans to discover it, one day, because he needs to know. Just her name.

But now, since she belongs to Mr Blanchard, she's to be called… Ofleo. He supposes. He'll know soon enough.

He's to be the new chauffeur, here, and gardener, and handyman, and whatever they'll think it's fit for him to do. He doesn't care. He only plans to stay out of trouble, and learn as much as he can, and then he'll fly away from this hell. He just has to wait. Just a bit longer, and the day will come, and he'll have his arranged safe passage towards the not-so-cold north.

It's just a four-hour trip to the border, after all.

When they enter the house, surprisingly, there's Commander Blanchard himself there to welcome them. He doesn't miss the way the Commander's eyes skim on the Handmaid's body, as if he's trying to see if she's worth the trouble.

Then, Leo turns to him, and greets him as a superior does to an inferior. "My wife should be here shortly," he says, an hint of annoyance in his words. "I told her to hurry up."

The Martha is already there, it seems – the woman who has to provide meals and a clean house, the servant. They are all there, except for this mysterious wife. We could just have a Ceremony already, Robin thinks. If she hurried up.

Then, Leo's head turns towards the stairs. "Ah, Regina," he says through gritted teeth. "How kind of you to come downstairs."

"Excuse me, sir," she answers. "I lost track of the time."

And heavens, Robin is staring.

He should get a grip, he thinks, but she's – astounding, even in the petrol blue dress of the wives, even with her hair combed neatly in an elegant bun. Good lord, who knows how many profanities she has agreed to, to be here. She's wretched, like the whole lot of them, a rotten apple in a pretty confection, a barren and useless woman kept alive by her status.

For a moment, he wonders, what it would be like, if he could run his fingers in her hair.

It lasts a moment, because she's reached the last step, and she's… curtsying to her husband.

What the hell.

Then, she turns, meets his eyes for a moment, and extends her hand. "Blessed day," she says, and he nods, the right words coming out without thinking. She greets the Handmaid, too – there's something weird in her eyes. It lasts for a glimpse.

"Blessed be the fruit," Regina tells her.

Is it pity? Shame? Fear?

"May the Lord open," the girl answers.

"And hopefully he will," Leo interjects. "So, you have met my lovely wife – I'll leave her with our Handmaid, here, Mr Locksley, while I show you the annex."

A last whiff of blue and perfume, and they're gone.

.::.

Regina grabs the Handmaid by the sleeve right away. She doesn't want the Martha to overhear this conversation, because it won't be a pleasant one. "Let's go upstairs," she hisses, and the girl nods in agreement, following her. Regina wonders if she can hear the thump, thump, thump of her heart, if she can feel her sweating palms or even smell her fear.

They reach the Handmaid's room – it's almost bare, that room, a bed and a lamp and a desk – and she closes the door, the curtains, and turns to face the girl.

"Lily?" she pants. "What – how are you here?"

"I thought you knew how it works by now," Lily answers. "Nice poker face, by the way."

"But – your mother, is she – "

"Gone," Lily answers. "She left with my daughter and crossed the border, but they stopped me at the airport."

"Thank god," Regina collapses on the bed, closing her eyes for a second. "Goddammit. At least they're safe."

"At least," Lily nods. "So… he got you, didn't he?"

Regina sighs, her hands going to rest in her lap, and looks at her. "Believe me, you get the lucky part of the bargain. He has you for three days per month and me for twenty-seven…"

Lily's brow furrows. "But… I thought they weren't supposed to…"

"Leo's anything but religious," Regina cuts out. It pains her, to talk about this. But Lily deserves to know, because they're in this together, even if one of them wears red and the other wears blue. Prisoners, the both of them. "I'm sorry, Lily."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Me too. I wish you could have escaped."

"I was going to," Regina tells her, bitterly. "I had everything ready, money, passport, clothes, everything. And… there were so many guns, that night, and they just… hit me, and… I was here. Wife again, how amazing," she says. "They annulled divorces, so I'm still his."

"Shit."

"Yes."

.::.

Days are… boring.

So boring.

Robin doesn't see the Commander much. He comes home at night, but not every night, and he thinks he knows what he's up to. He listens, carefully, tries to grasp as much information he can, he sends everything away with a secure phone.

And he works.

It's not bad, this life, if you forget for a moment that the women are deprived of their rights, that they can't read, or drive, or just feel the wind between their hair.

He just does everything he's expected to, he pours every ounce of acting skills to avoid grimaces when he sees the Wife – Regina, he called her – bowing to her husband, when he sees the Handmaid sit still and wait.

They wait for the first Ceremony, which will coincide with her fertile days.

He dreads the thought of that evening. He'll be forced to watch and witness as the husband takes the Handmaid, with the wife there, in a grotesque ritual they invented to pretend the children will be legitimate. And to pretend the wives created them.

Oh, to be a Wife. They are worse than the husbands, for what he's been told. They encouraged their men, and supported them, helped them create this system that traps them too.

He doesn't know much about Regina. They filled him with information about Blanchard – who he is, what he does, how he behaves. He only knows Regina was his ex-wife, and now she just went back to him. An opportunity to sit next to the power, he supposes. He doesn't like her much – she's haughty, and sharp, treats the Handmaid like an inferior human being, even if Ofleo has a power she hasn't – to reproduce.

He can't wait to get his job done and go away.

.::.

She doesn't like the new Driver.

He's one of those people who always look kind and soft and gentle and then they stab you in the back. She knows. She has seen it happen. So she never smiles back to him, Regina, never answers to the polite greetings and tentative at conversation, and holds her chin up.

Maybe, like this, he won't know who she is. Who she truly is.

Fuck him, honestly. He's not even important, he's not been given a woman, and she knows what he's after. Fuck him, because he probably is an Eye, put here to spy on her and Lily, to control them, a snake her husband has hired.

Like the new one.

Sidney, he's called, the new one. And Regina doesn't know if she hates him or Robin the most. If she hates more Sidney's slimy attempts to speak with her, to casually find her alone in a room, or Robin's kind face – that, she's sure, hides secrets. She could be destroyed by the two of them, she could be killed on the spot (in the best of options) or sent to the Colonies (better dead, than in a Colony).

She knows what they do to women under this new regime.

So she has to be careful, don't let them see and don't let them know that she hates her life with a passion. That she's holding on for Lily and her family at the other side of the border.

Under his Eye, and may he rot in hell.

.::.

One night, he's in the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Rationing isn't stuff for a commander, not really, so at least he gets to eat and drink as much as he likes. One of the only advantages this job gives.

He hears noises.

From upstairs, probably, where the rooms are situated, noises and muffled screams. It's not his place, to be here, to intrude in this family's private business.

Family. This is not a family, for what he has seen, it's a game of powers.

Still, he should ignore what he can hear and go straight to bed, but something keeps him frozen in front of the sink.

No, please, he hears someone sobbing. Is it Ofleo? Weird, it can't be. Blanchard has already taken her, yesterday, Robin was there, and… all sexual acts must be accomplished for the only purpose of reproducing. So… it can't be Ofleo, not outside of the Ceremony.

"You worthless slut!"

It is Leo's voice, unmistakable, from up the stairs, he hears a door open and hissed words. "Go away," he says, another sob, and the door closes with a bang.

Robin should really ignore all of this.

But… he can't, so he exits the kitchen, and looks up, and… it's Regina. The powerful, beautiful Regina, Regina the almighty, stripped down to a ripped white dress, undergarments with red stains. She meets his eyes, but she has the look of a frightened animal. He can see her eyes, wide open, worried, as if she is scared of… him. Not of Leo. Of him.

"Regina?" he murmurs, attempts a step up the stairs, but she retreats. She quickly gets up, and it's a vision, all in white, standing up there.

"Go to bed," she tells him. It's hasty, but quiet, so unlike her, she turns and slips into her bedroom.

The following morning, she has a black eye.

"Regina, dear, I don't think you should go to the Diana's Day of Birth, right? That nasty eye, we ought to do something about it."

"Yes, sir," Regina answers, poking at her food without eating it. She looks… resigned.

This is how Robin knows how unhappy she is with all of this. He has misjudged her, he thinks. She is an unwilling participant in this charade, a prisoner, no less than Ofleo. No less than him.

.::.

She gets into the car with Robin, the Driver, and her eye is pulsing like hell.

"I'm taking you to the doctor," he says. He starts the engine, the soft roar of the car coming to life, and she sighs. She misses driving – she loved it, loved the feeling of a steering wheel under her hands, but it's too late now.

"Okay," she shrugs.

He is silent for a bit, but she sees him glance into the rear mirror a few times, until he finally speaks.

"What…" he coughs a little, then restarts. "What does he do to you?"

"Can't you imagine?" she says, sounding like she's bored, while she's actually holding back tears. Damn this man, as if he didn't know. "He takes what is his to take."

Thank god, he doesn't say anything among the lines of He shouldn't, your body is entirely yours. Thank god he's not that naïve.

"Why… why are you here, Regina?" his eyes meet hers for a glance. "With him?"

She just knows, that he simply needs to know. If she's here because she wants to be, or because she has to.

Here you go, potential Eye, spy in my house, man I don't know if I can trust.

"He kidnapped me," she says. At this point, who cares. If he is a spy, they'll have a black van following them in a matter of seconds.

But, maybe, he isn't.

.::.

At the next Ceremony, he observes Regina. She has her legs open, sits on the bed fully clothed, as Ofleo is laying on her back between her thighs and receiving Leo's rhythmical thrusts. He stares at her, Leo can't see him anyway, the Martha will never speak. And Regina holds his gaze, she doesn't look at her husband as he grunts above the Handmaid.

May the Lord open.

He thought Regina was someone he could have used to gather more information about Leo. He was wrong. Leo doesn't share anything with her, he keeps her secluded like Ofleo, he keeps her in the house. Sometimes, she goes to visit other Wives, but it's on spare occasions. The bruises are frequent on her skin, he has spied some cuts, he has seen them. The wounds.

He beats her, he knows. Where the rich blue of her dresses covers her skin, her skin is purple and yellow.

And he wants nothing more than to free her.

.::.

Leo goes away for a week. Of course, there still is Sidney hovering over them, but it's… better. Better this way, just her, the Martha, Lily and Robin. Her bruises start to heal, because there's no hand giving her fresh ones every night.

One evening, it's past midnight, she wears her hair down.

She shouldn't – her hair has gotten long, lately, and it's just so freeing to stay there, outside hidden behind a primrose bush, sitting down on the warm tiles – down so no prying eyes can see her. It's so beautiful, to feel the wind playing with her hair.

She slides a tile away, opening a secret hideout, and fishes out a small, pocket-sized book.

What she's doing now is dangerous, so very dangerous, but she misses reading so much. So much.

It's forbidden, now. For the women.

Her finger skims on the printed words. (Reading is a pleasure to be savored.) Her mouth whispers the sentences slowly.

It is as hard to explain how this sunlit land was different from the old Narnia as it would be to tell you how the fruits of that country taste. Perhaps you will get some idea of it if you think like this. You may have been in a room in which there was a window that looked out on a lovely bay of the sea or a green valley that wound away among mountains. And in the wall of that room opposite to the window there may have been a looking glass. And as you turned away from the window you suddenly caught sight of that sea or that valley, all over again, in the looking glass. And the sea in the mirror…

"Regina?"

She gasps, her heart instantly accelerates, and she shuts the book close as she turns towards him. "What the hell?"

Robin lifts his hands and glares at her, amused. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Her palm presses on her chest, feels the sound of her heartbeat. "Goddammit, Locksley. Don't ever do that again."

He crouches next to her, and she slides the book on the ground, slowly, but – of course, he notices. "Ah," he says, knowingly. "Don't worry, your secret is safe."

She stares into his eyes – blue and honest, she knows, but still, there's that fear running deep in her veins. "I could lose a hand for this," she says quietly.

"I know," he murmurs. "I'm sorry."

She hums, traces the letters of the cover with a finger. "It was my dad's," she tells him. "The only book I could hide before they took me."

He doesn't answer, but his hand searches hers and squeezes kindly. He goes to sit next to her – it's nice, to have someone, to be like this, them, and a book, and the moon, it feels like it's… normal. Almost.

"Your hair is beautiful," he whispers then. It's quiet, earnest, she looks at him. He's still holding her hand, but his other one lifts and his fingers card through her locks.

"I missed it like this," she admits. Inexplicably, the prickle of tears stings at the corners of her eyes. "I miss everything about… before. Driving, reading… swimming, and… even stupid things, like… I don't know, make-up? And… you know, just… using a credit card. I miss it so much…"

"I know," he says. And she understands that he does. He does know. Maybe he wishes this was before. Maybe he misses freedom too.

His lips are on hers when they meet halfway the mere inches still separating them, and it's just a simple kiss, at first. They part slowly, breaths into thin air, uncertainty in their eyes, until they pull back together like missing fragments of a star, and they collide and it's – magic, it's him and his hand in her hair and the book on the ground. He kisses her like he's always been meant to do so, since day one, he kisses her like they're lovers loving each other a long time ago, when men and women were free to love under the moon, when the world was a better place.

.::.

When Leo comes back, she's… different.

There's a sparkle, in her eyes. A new flame. And it's not necessarily a good thing.

Because at breakfast, one day, she talks back to him, and the slap of his hand on her cheek is sudden and painful just judging from its sound. He isn't there with them, but he hears from the kitchen, exchanges a worried look with Lily – Regina told him her name, finally – and clenches his teeth as Leo's menacing whispers slither towards him.

"You'll better behave, tonight, woman," he says, angry, but in a low tone that is even more threatening than screams. "Wouldn't want to have you sent to the Colonies, right?"

"I'll… I'll behave, sir," she spits out, her wrist trapped by his hand. She exits the dining room to the kitchen, doesn't look at anyone and goes to the sink, fresh water running on her red wrist, some water to her cheek.

Robin throws a glance at the dining room, where nothing is moving, so he quickly nears her and murmurs, Don't get yourself in trouble, please. She turns her head, her hard gaze softening when she sees the worry in his eyes. Her fingers go to squeeze his hand for a second, a wordless nodding, a Don't worry she tries to tell him.

He fears he has awakened that fire in Regina, he fears that fire is going to burn her down.

.::.

Robin has a private meeting with Leo, tonight, before the dinner.

She's worried, she's on edge, and flinches when Lily asks her something about food, and dozes off frequently. Tonight, she'll stand close to Leo's office and try to eavesdrop, but she already knows that there's no use. When Robin exits, finally, his gaze is completely unreadable, and Regina catches a quick nod of his head before he leaves for the evening. He won't attend to the dinner, he never does, his status isn't high enough. She'll have to wait, to know what they've talked about.

Dinner is always boring, but tonight there's a little something that could change the usual rituals. Tonight they're hosting a Canadian ambassador and her husband, so she'll have to display her best poker face and answer as she's expected to.

"So, Mrs. Blanchard," the ambassador starts at some point. (She has to hold back a shudder as she's being called with that name.) "Tell me, what does an esteemed writer like yourself think about the prohibitions?"

She gulps down the sip of water she was having, feeling Leo's eyes on her skin. "I…" she stutters, "I think… this new situation is quite enjoyable, to be honest."

"Really?" the husband intervenes. "I read one of your books, you know – I seem to recall you were defining women's education as the only improvement that could truly save us."

"That was… a long time ago," Regina murmurs. Leo is still tense, so she adds something to placate him. "My views have changed, I'd say. This new world is simpler, easier, and much more safe if we actually keep the power where it should reside."

The ambassador arches her eyebrows, and lifts her napkin, cleans her lips. "It's… quite the interesting vision, yes," she says. Regina finally sees Leopold sink back into his chair, and feels a drop of sweat rolling down her neck. If only she could say everything she wants to say. If only she could jump into their car and drive up to Canada and be safe.

If only.

The incident comes later. They're having ice cuts with mint leaves – because of course ice cream is too much of a reminder of the old world – and Regina just happens to make her sleeve slide up, revealing one of her nasty bruises just above the wrist. It's where Leo pins her down, the shadow of his hand on her skin, and the ambassador sees it before she can stop her.

"Oh dear, that's some ugly cut," she says, "what happened?"

She looks at her, startled, and back at her wrist, her heart thumping. "Oh, this thing? It's nothing, really, it's just… uhm… I think it was just my clumsiness, you know? I must have…"

She doesn't know what to say, really, she feels Leo's eyes piercing her head, her palms sweating as the husband says, "Don't worry, my wife always tells me I am clumsy too, don't you, dear?"

His hand goes to find his wife's and Regina nods, eyes dropping, wondering how would it be to have someone to love like that… wondering if she has just signed her sentence to death.

Later, Leo doesn't say a word. They say goodbye to their guests and he's silent, his hand on her back, as they watch the car leaving. She notices that in Robin's house, the lights are still on.

Leo doesn't say a world until then, when he drags her in her room and locks her in, hissing I'll deal with you tomorrow through the wood of the door.

She doesn't cry.

At least, she did something.

She feels better, no matter what she'll have to endure.

.::.

He sees her through the window, a polite smile as she waves goodbye to the ambassador, and his heart clenches. Leo has called him into his office, today, told him about Regina, that he's worried, and he can consider Robin as a friend, can't he? He's worried because she's cheeky, and insolent, and he has to rein her back before she ruins everything.

And Robin had to say yes, of course, it is Leo's duty to control his wife.

He wanted to vomit at every single word.

Because a free Regina is a wonderful Regina, and she doesn't deserve this. She deserves wind and air and space, immense valleys, mountains of snow and placid lakes, she deserves everything and above all, she deserves to be free.

So that's how he decides.

He'll bring her up beyond the border.

He'll bring Regina with him, and Lily, if she wants, and he doesn't care if it will be more difficult, but he can't leave her here with him. Ever.

.::.

Robin tells her about Canada.

They're alone in the car, she's going to Amelia's Day of Birth, and he tells her with a whisper. That he can take her and Lily when Leo is away, and no one will know. It will be quite simple because she's a Wife, and if they're quick, it is acceptable for a wife to travel with her Driver and her Handmaid.

She squeezes his hand, because she doesn't dare to speak and because she has to take a grip on something, to convince herself it is not a dream.

They have some worrying days, when Lily tells her that her period is late. She hopes, oh, she hopes Lily is not pregnant with a child from that monster, so she can't hold back her joy when Lily tells her she's bleeding, because a pregnancy would probably trap them here forever.

She starts planning. Robin's departure date is nearer every day, so she packs a small bag with some items she wants to take with her, and a folded coat on the bottom. She has nothing of hers here, no photos or memories, it's all lost, but right now, saving herself and Robin and Lily is more important.

She doesn't know how to feel about Robin.

There hasn't been a way to… explore a relationship, after that secret kiss. She doesn't know, yet. If he's just a… travel partner, and once they're safe in Canada she'll come to despise him or fight with him, or if he's a person with whom she could get along with, she could have a deeper connection.

It would be naïve, to think she has found her soulmate in this hopeless place, so she doesn't think like that. She can't allow herself to.

.::.

His worry increases day by day.

He has a date, ready for the departure, and the Mayday has declared he's given them enough information, and now he can run. But that date, that agreement, it didn't include Regina, and it didn't include the fact that Leo needs to be away from home when they run away. He knows that bringing Regina and Lily along increases tenfold the dangerousness of the operation, but he could never leave them. Because no one deserves what they're stoically enduring. There's a voice in his head, that says Why them?, but he shuts it. Them, because he can see himself falling in love with Regina. Easily. So, them.

The information is brought by a smart ally of his, and the Mayday agrees upon a day, next month. But it's on him to get Leo out, to get him away, and possibly, Sidney should go too. The fewer eyes to spy on them, the better.

Regina is distressed, he can tell. She keeps packing and unpacking, there are days when she doesn't even meet his eyes and days when she pushes him around a corner and kisses the hell out of him.

We can't, he murmurs, his heart aching.

I know, she says, I know. She cups his cheek, smiles at him sadly and turns around to go.

.::.

Leo has planned this trip for weeks now. And yet, every time he mentions it she feels jumpy and nervous, and she senses that he's going to feel something is wrong with her. He's going to ask, to question her, or worse, to bring her along.

Thank the heavens, he would never bring her to his overpriced brothels. (As if she didn't know about it. She knows – the smell of other women on his body, and she can only hope he treats them a little more respectfully than he does with her.)

The last night with Leo is torture.

He gets to have her, as always, and she stares at the ceiling, her hands limp as he does what he wants. She doesn't resist, she looks up and repeats to herself This is the last time, the last time, never again.

He doesn't comment on her lack of resistance – he grunts and pounds but doesn't hurt her, not tonight, and… it could have been worse.

When he delays his departure to the afternoon, she gets stressed. Robin is, too, and Lily is just a ball of nerves. If they find them, Lily is the one in the biggest danger. When they finally – finally – watch Commander Sawyer's car turn the corner, they let out a collective breath of relief.

"Mrs. Blanchard?"

The relief in her heart goes up in panic when she hears Sidney's voice.

She turns, foolishly thinking that her hair would swish if it were free to do so, and faces him. "Yes?"

He tilts his head, a glint of something in his eyes. "Nothing," he says carefully. "Just wondering if you planned anything special for today."

She exchanges a quick glance with Robin, before scolding herself. Idiot. He's already suspicious, it isn't smart to let him see the sort of connection she has with Robin. "No, I – actually, I think we will go and – maybe visit the boarding school. I haven't decided yet."

"As you want," he says. She doesn't waste any more time and walks away, praying that Robin and Lily will have some common sense and go towards different directions.

Robin reaches her afterwards, her whispered What will we do? immediately hushed. "Don't worry," he tells her. "We just have to leave, and then – it will be alright, Regina."

"We have to go to the boarding school. You know he'll call and he'll tell them we are coming."

"Fine," he says, one hand passing through his hair. "But then, we'll leave."

.::.

He keeps watch while Regina goes to the garden and retrieves her book. She crouches down, glances nervously towards the house – searching for Sidney, he knows. Regina, hurry, he whispers. She looks back at him, and smiles; before turning to the book and sliding the tile back in place. The little objects is graciously slid in her pocket as she raises.

Lily's already in the car. Nervous, she keeps tapping her foot, and – they'll need a more convincing actress if they want to survive.

As he drives away, he can feel Sidney's eyes on the car, but for now, they're safe. As long as they go to the boarding school and meet the kids, and as long as they call Sidney to tell him they actually went there, they're okay. He hopes.

The problems start as soon as they leave the school. Regina looks back, pensive, Lily has closed her eyes – maybe praying a forgotten and forbidden god, he doesn't know.

"Now, we need to be quick," he tells them. "We have half an hour of calm before they start coming after us. So, it means we have to pass a checkpoint and at least twenty minutes of road where they will follow this car…"

"I – I'm afraid," Regina murmurs. It's so low he thinks he has missed it.

His head turns slightly, keeping an eye on the road. "I am too," he confesses. And he is. For them, both of them, really – because he'd be killed but they'd be tortured, or condemned to a life of nuclear waste.

"It's okay," Lily says from behind them. "It will be okay," she nods, when he meets her eyes in the rear-view mirror.

.::.

Her palms are sweating, at the checkpoint. She gulps down non-existent saliva and rolls down the window.

"Identification cards," the officer asks. Robin gives her the documents, wordlessly. She tries to will her fingers to stop shaking. Her heart thunders in her chest as the man scans the ID codes, as he compares their faces with the pictures. As he wonders, in his head, if he's about to offend a powerful Wife by blocking them; or he's about to let fugitives escape.

"You're without the Commander, Madam," he tells her, and Regina smiles, nods politely.

"He's away with a colleague," she says candidly. "But he urged me to take some time for myself. You have a wife, sir?"

"No, Madam," the officer answers, a shadow in his eyes for a moment. Shit. This could very well jog bad memories, and they definitely don't need an upset officer.

"Well then," she slides her hand through the window and places it above his. He looks surprised. "I wish you the best of luck, may you end up in a marriage as wonderful as mine, one day."

He softens. She sees it. She sees the exact moment where he thinks that maybe, if he's kind with her, she'll put a good word with her husband and maybe he'll get a promotion, a Wife, even his own Handmaid. He nods, smiles back, and nods to the other guardians. Regina watches the bar rise, inwardly terrified, but smiles widely at the man, who bows his head as the car slowly accelerates.

In the backseat, Lily practically deflates.

"You alright?" Robin asks, his hand going to find hers. She squeezes, whispers, Yes, but the adrenaline in her blood is swimming fast, the road running under their wheels. "You were amazing," he says. Well, he is a spy after all, so his compliments must have some value.

"Thanks," she answers, shutting her eyes.

After ten minutes, the sirens start.

.::.

He pushes on the gas pedal, Robin, has left Regina's hand. Lily is perched up in her seat, looking outside, counting the feet which separate them from the cars. "Hurry," she tells him, as if he wasn't already. He focuses, his hands fused with the steering wheel, his mind one with the road, and goes. They have police cars, not black vans – they have old relics of old days when justice was unfair and randomly put, but they're fast. Blanchard's car is, indeed, faster. But there's still minutes to go, and another checkpoint to pass, a password to tell and an helicopter to mount on.

He doesn't look at Regina, but he knows her hand is in the pocket where her book is, and that she's breathing slowly. He knows because he can meet her eyes, in the mirror, her eyes telling him he can do it, he can save them as she did at the first stop.

Her eyes that are bright, hard, and splendid.

The air smells like ozone, sloshing in the car through the open window. He accelerates, more and more, the map he's learned by heart splayed in his mind like a picture.

"We will be safe," Regina says. The confidence in her voice fills his heart, she sounds so sure; almost looks like she's already dreamed it. "We will cross the border and meet my family and we'll be safe. I know it."

"If this comes true, I'm marrying you," he decides. Right here and right now, he says it, and she laughs – deep, and vibrant, and ever so true.

"If it comes true, I'll owe you a drink," she tells him, warmth in her voice.

The helicopter is on sight, now, he can easily spot it. He pushes on, finding out he can let himself leave the wheel, to take her hand.

Freedom is a breath away, and he can't wait to start the rest of his life.