It's after midnight when she slips through my door. She smiles at me and takes off her boots. She pads over, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood of my floor. "Blessed Evening Guardian Blaine," she mummers into my ear as she slips her arms around my neck. My arms encapsulate her and pull her flush with my body. "Blessed Evening," I mummer back, taking a nip at her earlobe. She sighs happily, letting her head fall to the side as to grant me full access. I don't squander the opportunity and begin lavishing her ear and neck with kisses and tiny nips. Her hands slide from my neck to my waist, one going for my belt buckle. I back away from her, pinning her with a knowing look.
"Oh no you don't," I laugh. "You owe me some kind of explanation about last night," I state.
She steps into the space I've just created. "How about after?" she offers, her hand sliding down to cup me through my pants. I groan but back up. "June," I state, trying to sound serious. "Humph" she grumbles and takes a seat at the kitchen table.
I take the other chair and sit down. I just look at her, waiting for her to start.
"Okay, okay," she finally agrees. "I…I was trying to meet someone to pick something up," she says vaguely.
I lean back in the chair, "What?"
She shrugs, "Don't know, I never got out of the room," she admits.
"Who in their right mind would ask you to go back there?" I ask.
She shifts in her chair. "I don't think I should say," she tells me.
"June, I can't help you if you keep things from me," I state plainly.
"Yeah, but you're also an Eye," she counters.
"Not a very good one," I laugh. "At least when It comes to you."
She chuckles. "It was…Mayday," she stammers.
Mayday. Gilead considers them terrorists, but really, they are just freedom fighters. Most of my trades in the black market come through them via the Martha Network. They run fast and often get burned in the process. Not the safest group to be in cahoots with. I groan. "June, they're reckless and can get you killed!"
"Nick, I have to do something. If I don't I feel like…like any hope, I still have will die."
I reach out and take her hands in mine. "Mayday is dangerous June; they play it fast and loose. Losing an informant is considered acceptable collateral damage to them."
"Maybe, but at least they are doing something," she says pulling her hands from mine.
"But at what cost? Your life?" I demand.
She stands up and starts pacing. "Nick, we have to fight back, do something! What's my life worth if I'm just to be rapped over and over again and give up children I might have," she yells.
I stand and go to her, grasping her by the arms. "But you'll be alive. You can't fight if your dead," I clarify.
"If not Mayday, then who?" she demands, her eyes bright and blazing.
She's got me there. If not them, who will take the stand? Who will fight back? I close my eyes, "I don't know," I admit.
She puts her hands on her hips, "I'm not willing to just give up Nick," she sighs.
"That isn't what I want either. But can you at least tell me before you plan to do something like this again? " I plead.
She doesn't seem pleased with my conclusion, but she does nod.
I gather her in my arms, "Thank you," I whisper in her ear.
She seems to let her guard down and sinks into me. She shivers a bit in my arms. I run my hands along her back.
"Think we could take a shower? You know to warm up?" June asks, looking up at me with a sultry look in her eyes.
"Whatever you want," I whisper. I take her by the hand and lead her into the small bathroom and close the door.
With a lingering kiss and whispered wishes for safety, she slips out my door around 3 am and heads across the yard and back to the main house. She usually stays until just before dawn, but she has an early start in the morning and has asked Rita to wake her.
My sleep is fitful, filled with faceless Mayday operatives and the image of a handmaid on the wall. I can never seem to get close enough to see if it's June, but my gut tells me it is.
I wake feeling drugged and out of it, but I pull myself together and go to the house to start the list of chores laid out for me today.
I find Rita in the kitchen, all the baskets from under the table pulled out, and her cleaning the area.
"Blessed Morning," I offer, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it.
Rita looks up with a scowl. "It'd be more blessed if I still had my Dyson," she grumbles.
I bite back a smile. I know what she means. The loss of imports and the "return to traditional roles," really just means we have to do more with less.
"Can I help?" I offer.
She scoots out from under the table and brings a bucket with her. "If you could put these baskets back, you would save my lower back," she states.
I put the mug down and heft the large baskets of different root vegetables back under the table. "Wow, how did you get these out?" I say, having noted their weight.
"Shoved them from behind with my legs," Rita says, dumping the dirty water from the bucket into the sink. "My version of platies," she snorts.
I laugh and finish off my coffee. "Well, if there is nothing else you need, I'm out to trim the trees," I state.
She shakes her head. "Go in grace," she smirks.
I hate doing arbor work. Between getting poked by bare-branched and wobbly ladders with no one to spot me, I just wish the Waterfords would hire this out as all the other households on the block do. I mean this place has so many fucking trees, it takes days to complete the task.
I've just finished with a maple and look down at my watch. It's lunchtime, thank goodness. I climb down from my ladder, secure it in the garage, and head inside. I find June sitting at the table, food spread out in front of her and a large gash on her head. My heart drops. What now!
"What happened?" I ask, removing my garden gloves.
Her blue eyes find mine. "She found out. About the Commander."
Jezebel's. Of course, she did, it's not like Fred was trying to hide it. I nod and my hands clench.
I step toward her, "You okay?" I ask, worried. This is her 3rdr head injury since she got here. Why do these bastards always go for the head?
She looks up at me, and I can see she's trying to figure out how to say something. Her mouth opens, closes, then opens again. "I'm pregnant." She finally manages to say.
The word goes in my ears and bounces around my skull for a second before fully entering my brain. She's pregnant. I feel my breath rush out of my mouth. "What?" I ask, hardly able to believe what I'm hearing.
"She had a test. It must have been from the black market or something," she explains.
My heart pounds so hard my chest aches. Pregnant. She's telling me…I'm…I'm having a child with her. I go to her side and kneel next to her on the tile floor, my hand finding the place where our baby lies.
"Don't," she says, her voice wavering. "Please. It's terrible," She cries.
Terrible? I look up at her, "No, it's not," She finally looks down at me, her eyes sad but soft. Her hand comes up hesitantly, but joins mine on her stomach, our thumbs intertwine. I bury my face in her arm and breath her in, the mother of my child. I never figured I would be a father. While we've been having unprotected sex, I honestly thought I was sterile. I've had affairs with women in the past and frequently unprotected, as condoms are forbidden here, and no babies. I truly thought I was like every other man in Gilead, shooting blanks.
I suppose I should feel bad, regretful, but the emotion is nowhere in sight. All I can think about is the fact that in about nine months there will be a person in this world who is part this beautiful creature and me. I don't want to wish that away.
There are feet in the kitchen, heels. It's Mrs. Waterford, but I don't break my contact with June immediately. She caused this; she can give us a moment to process it.
I look back up at June, her smile is watery, but it's there. Finally, I stand, letting my hand linger on June's shoulder for a brief second before moving into the kitchen.
Serna doesn't acknowledge the scene she just witnessed. "Offred, get your coat please," she orders.
I look up at her, I will not be ashamed. "You need a car?' I ask.
When she looks at me, I'm surprised to see something like compassion on her face. "No. thank you, Nick.
Thanks for what? My offer to drive you or for knocking up the handmaid so you can take our child?
"I've made other arrangements," she states and heads for the back door.
I watch as she waits for June to get her cloak, and then exit the kitchen. My hands go into fists. My mind races. Why didn't she ask me to take them? Where are they going? What kind of twisted game is Serena playing?
A hand on my shoulder causes me to jump.
"Where are they going?" Rita asks.
I shake my head.
"She didn't even let her eat," she mutters in disdain. "She needs to eat."
I glance at the woman. "Serena told you?" I ask.
She nods. "New food requirements," she explains. "Not that it mattered," she mutters, going over to gather the plates of untouched food from the table.
I join her, helping her carry the food to the counter. "It's not the Commanders," I say quietly, my eyes on my task.
Rita takes my hand and squeezes it. "I figured," she says, sadness in her voice.
"I'm going to get them out," I whisper, completely taken by surprise by my own words. But I mean them, every single word.
She looks up at me, her eyes flames. "It could get you killed."
I smile and shake my head, "My life for theirs, it's a fair trade," I declare.
I don't see June again today and she doesn't come over at night. I'm guessing Serena is being extra vigilant since finding out about the baby. My lack of concern at Serena seeing me with June this morning might also have something to do with it. I'm going to have to be extra careful with my emotions from now on. The Waterford's need to think I'm resigned to my fate. That the child will be claimed by them as their own and that I won't fight that. I need to be an extra good Gileadean soldier for them. They can't suspect that I have my own agenda for my child and its mother.
Sleep completely alludes me tonight. I give up trying and turn to pacing the length of my apartment. My thoughts run wild, but slowly a plan begins to formulate. I laugh as the main component falls into place. Mayday. The very people I told June to be wary of. They are our only chance.
The morning comes, but I'm already up and ready for the day. I have a meeting with Pryce today, it's sure to be interesting.
I take toast and coffee to go, and head for our designated meeting spot. It's an empty warehouse this month. I'm the first to arrive. I get out and go inside to open the garage door. I've just pulled my car in when another enters behind me.
Pryce gets out and stretches. This is odd, he never shows any sort of weakness.
"Blessed Day Commander," I state, coming to attention behind my car.
Pryce waves at me, "At ease."
I nod. "Long night sir?" I ask.
He leans heavily against his car. "And morning."
He clears his throat. "The handmaid on the bridge has taken up more of my last 24 hours than I'd have liked," he sighs.
I stand, silent, waiting for him to continue. "OfWarren was to be salvaged this morning, but the handmaids failed to cooperate."
I hid the panic I feel in my chest. "How so sir?" I ask.
"They refused to stone her," he said tiredly.
FUCK.
My hands clenched so hard behind my back that I feel blood oozing out between my fingers. "Next Steps," I ask evenly.
"Oh they will be rounded up this afternoon, the Aunt assures me an appropriate punishment will be enforced upon them.
I swallow thickly. "Uh, sir, I don't know if it's been reported yet, but the Waterford's handmaid has been filled with His divine light," I state.
This earns me a raised eyebrow. "And how do we know this?"
"Mrs. Waterford had her take an illegal pregnancy test yesterday. It was positive," I explain.
Pryce looks exhausted and his chin falls to his chest. "I'll make sure the Aunt knows that none of them are harmed in a way that would disrupt a pregnancy," he states, standing up straight.
I nod. I want to be relieved that no serious harm will come to June or the other women, but I can't keep worry from settling in my chest.
"Anything else I should know?" he asks.
"He's taken her to Jezebel's, twice," I state. "Perhaps considering the handmaid's situation a closer eye is required on Mr. Waterford," I offer.
Pryce lets out a long sigh, "I will have a one-on-one with Fred this week," he states. "Any more trips to Jezebel's, contact me at my office immediately."
"Yes sir," I state.
Commander Pryce pushes off his car and moves to get into the back. "Under his Eye," he salutes.
I nod, "Under His Eye," I return.
The drive back to the Waterfords feels like it takes an eternity. I blow stop signs and lights where intersections are clear. I must see June before the Eyes arrive.
When I finally pull into the driveway, the Eye's literally following my car in. I get out and greet the man in charge. It's someone I know, someone who owes me a favor. Praise Be.
"Guardian Grant, Blessed Day," I state.
The older man nods, "We're here for the handmaid," he says evenly.
I nod, "Yes I've just come from a meeting with Pryce." I tell him. "It might be best if I go up first, try to calm her. She's a bit of a spitfire and nobody needs that kind of nonsense today, do they?" I ask rhetorically.
He looks at me closely but nods his head. "You have one minute."
"Thanks," I say, and dart up the stair and through the house. I'm sure she's heard the sirens by now and is panicking. I rush up the last flight and into her room. I stop in front of her, my hand going automatically to the place our baby is. I step close to her and whispers in her ear. "Just go with them. Trust me," I plead. There are boots on the stairs and I step away, coming to attention.
Grant comes in with two of his men. June only hesitates for a second, then goes with them willingly. Rita is in the hallway, tears freely flowing. June stops and gives her a quick hug then disappears down the stairs with the Eyes.
I see Rita disappear into the bathroom as I go to the window on the landing. I watch as the Guardians load June into the back of the van. Vomit creeps up the back of my throat and I rush to the bathroom. My breakfast finds its way into the toilet.
Rita jumps in surprise at my unexpected entry, but soon I feel a hand on my back. "You okay?" she asks gently.
I lean over the commode waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. "Yeah," I mutter. Straightening up, I go to the sink to rinse out my mouth.
Rita flushes away the evidence of my dread, and I look over at her and find her with a package pressed to her chest.
Her eyes dart from mine to the package and back again.
"June, she asked me to get this from behind the tub, to hide it," she says. "Please, don't turn me in," Rita begs, suddenly afraid of me.
"What? Rita, I'd never do that," I stammer. I'm a little upset that she would think I would turn her in, but then again trust in Gilead can be fleeting. Perhaps she is right to worry." "Rita, that will never happen. You are my friend and I will protect you if I'm in the position to do so." I say evenly.
"I'm sorry," she says, her breath shaky.
I shake my head, "I understand," I tell her. She looks relieved. "Let me see that," I request, taking the bundle from her hands. It's a large stack of letters bound together with twine. I read a few lines from the top document, it's a testimony from a handmaid in Oregon. How the hell did June get these? I wonder, but then remember the trip to Jezebel's. Maybe this is the package she was supposed to get. I've not been able to really talk with her since the baby bomb, so maybe someone got them to her.
I pass the pile back to Rita. You have a place you can keep these hidden?"
"Yeah. I know every nook and cranny of this house," she says shoving the letters in the hem of her apron. "Nick, is she going to be okay?" she asks, concern clear in her voice.
"They're just supposed to scare the handmaids. No one is supposed to get hurt, or that's what I've been told," I tell her. "I don't imagine it will be pleasant, but June's tough," I say, just as much for myself as Rita.
She lets out a breath and nods. "Will they let her come home...after?" she asks.
"I'm working on that. If I can manage it she won't have to," I say, my heart dropping at the aspect of not seeing her again.
"If she doesn't end up coming back here, what do I do with these?" she asks, pointing at her hem.
I shake my head. "Let's cross one bridge at a time," I suggest. "So, I'm heading out for the rest of the day, I have some meetings that I can't miss. If asked, I've been called in about the failed salvaging, okay?"
"Yes, okay," she nods.
I turn to leave, but she stops me. "Be careful, you can't help her if you're dead," she says softly.
I smile, "I'm gonna do my best, I say. And with that, I'm out of the house and driving across town to Jezebel's.
Time for me to stir up some trouble.