for all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you
it's all about the first night and last, some people say
i love you so much more tonight, more than yesterday
It's about two weeks after he got his first chance to speak to June when he gets the news. He's out putting the winter tires on the car when Rita comes out to him, a cup of hot tea in her hands.
"Here," she says, pressing the cup into his hands with a sense of purpose, "you looked cold." He looks at her strangely until he feels the rough edges of a piece of paper tucked between her fingers and the cup. He presses the paper against the cup as he takes it from her hands, careful not to drop it.
"It's a new blend I picked up when I was shopping today," she says in a very practiced tone. "The tea," she continues. "I'd never seen it before. But someone there knew you, said you might like it. Seems like it'll be good."
He swallows hard as he looks at her. He knows what she's trying to tell him. Someone passed her this note specifically to give to him. His heart pounds as he thinks about what it could say.
"Thank you," he says, as he brings the cup to his lips to take a sip. He sets the cup down on the hood of the car, tucking his hands into his pockets, along with the note, "I appreciate it."
Rita nods and looks at him like she knows he's up to something. He knows she's curious, but he's not pulling anyone else into this. Finally after a long moment she sighs, "don't forget to bring that cup in when you're done. And don't do anything stupid."
"I won't," he promises, and she turns to head back into the house. Once she's disappeared back inside he can feel the piece of paper like it's on fire in his pocket, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to immediately take it out and read it right there. He hurries through the rest of his task and then takes the stairs two at a time up to his apartment. As soon as he's inside with the door locked, he pulls the scrap of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. Scrawled on the inside is the date from two days ago, and then beneath it Hannah's initials with the letters CAN next to them.
He sits down on a nearby chair, and it feels like every cell in his body is vibrating.
The next day he wakes up early and drives himself to the administration building where he reports for any meetings or training he might be required to attend. They get intelligence reports weekly on the names, ages, and locations of refugees that have fled from Gilead, and for the first time, he's itching to look at it. He knows it's so they can try and tighten up border control, so they can figure out where people are getting out and stop it, and he tries not to think about what that means for when he leaves with June. He tries to focus instead on how the report is going to help him right now, by verifying that Hannah is in fact in Canada. He holds his breath as he flips through the pages, stopping when he gets to the page that should have Hannah's name on it. He runs his finger down the paper until he stops on the now familiar letters of her name. He closes his eyes and lets out the breath he'd been holding.
He tells June the day after that. With Rita's help, he manages to sneak in the house while she's eating her breakfast and Serena Joy is still getting ready for the day.
"Hannah's in Canada," he says, his voice low and urgent, not wasting any time with pleasantries as he kneels next to her chair. He only has a few moments and he doesn't want to waste them. June drops her fork and covers her mouth with one hand, and immediately he sees the tears spring to her eyes.
"Soon," he promises, as he stands. He kisses the side of her head and she looks up at him, still in shock. "Soon."
As it happens, soon ends up being about three weeks later. The opportunity presents itself when he finds out the Commander is going on a business trip to DC. He's not particularly concerned about Fred stopping him, but one less body around makes things less complicated. He's also heard rumblings about a snowstorm, the first one of the season, sweeping through on the second night of the Commander's trip. He knows that'll make travel more difficult for them, but it also makes it less likely that they'll run into any trouble. Even the units that patrol the border like to stay in when the weather's bad. He's done all the preparation he can, and this is it. The perfect opportunity has fallen into his lap and he's taking it.
The day before he plans to leave, he slips into the house in the predawn hours when he knows Serena Joy and Fred aren't awake. June isn't with the baby this time, but he sneaks into her room while she's sleeping, popping the lock on her door. She needs to know what's happening, and they won't be here much longer anyway.
"June," he whispers, placing his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flutter open immediately.
"Nick?" Her voice is raspy and confused, and instantly he feels a pang of regret for waking her up so early and so suddenly.
"I'm sorry I woke you up," he apologizes, and June sits up, blinking back exhaustion.
"What's wrong?" She asks, with an edge of fear to her voice. Nick shakes his head.
"We're going tomorrow," he says. "Tomorrow night."
June takes a deep breath and nods. She reaches out and takes Nick's hands. They're in this together. "We'll be ready," she promises.
The snow is falling heavier than he expected as he looks out at it from the window of a small safehouse just north of the Canadian border. They'd done it. They're safe. All three of them.
A few hours after dark, after he saw the lights go off in Serena Joy's bedroom, he'd crept into the house and true to her word, June was ready and waiting. He'd popped the lock again, and she stood inside, fully dressed, not wanting to spend a second longer in that house. Together they made their way to the nursery to get the baby, and as Nick kept an eye out down the hallway, June retrieved her from her crib as she slept. She wrapped her in several thick blankets, covering her small body completely to shield her from the cold, and then they made their way to the car. Flurries were starting to fall as they all piled into the car, Nick in the driver's seat and June in the back with the baby, one of Nick's black jackets draped over her shoulders to keep them as camouflaged as possible.
The drive had been about four hours long and relatively uneventful. He had been right about the weather, it made it more difficult for him to see, especially as he drove with the headlights dimmed, but he also saw none of the usual signs of the units that patrolled the land near the border. When they'd ditched the car and made the last bit of the trek on foot, he spent the entire time looking over his shoulder, sure that any second it'd all come to an end and they'd be caught. But after a short walk, they'd located the safehouse where they're currently taking shelter for the night. He'd read about it in some of his research, he knew many groups stopped here after they had crossed the border, a small farmhouse owned by an elderly couple who had converted two of their guest rooms to house refugees fleeing from Gilead. In the morning, they'll make their way to the main refugee center in Montreal, but for tonight, they've stopped here to rest. Their room is small, with two full sized beds crammed close together, a small crib in the corner, and a couch that folds down into another small bed. He imagines they can fit two or three groups in here with the configuration they have, but tonight it's just the three of them in this room.
It had been easy. Too easy, he thinks, as he continues to look out the window. Maybe this is all a set up, he finds the irrational part of his brain thinking. Maybe the reason it was easy is because they're not actually in Canada yet. It was dark, how does he know they've actually crossed the border? His eyes dart back and forth as he waits for the black vans to speed up to the house, and instinctively he feels for the gun he's tucked away in the back waistband of his pants. If this is a trap, he won't go down without a fight.
"Nick?" June calls out for him and he turns away from the window to face her. The woman here had given them both some donated clothes to change into, along with some supplies for the baby, and June had wasted no time changing into what she had been provided with. As he takes her in, her hair loose around her shoulders and wearing leggings and an oversized grey sweatshirt he's almost taken aback at the normalcy of the situation. She's sitting on the edge of the bed with the baby cradled against her. She's just finished nursing but hasn't fallen back asleep yet. It all feels foreign but familiar somehow, like a fever dream.
"What's wrong?" She asks him, reading the concern written on his face and he shakes his head, but still starts fidgeting with his hands as he looks down at them. He knows he's being irrational, he's not going to worry her with his problems. Rationally, he knows they're in Canada, but still. The fear is there.
"Nick," she says his name again, softer this time, and he looks up at her. She smiles at him and he feels a little of his anxiety melt away. If she feels safe, he should too. "Do you want to hold your daughter?"
Daughter. His daughter. The word practically knocks all the air out of his lungs. Up until this point he hadn't allowed himself to think of her in that context, he couldn't. But she's his daughter, their daughter. He's a dad. He never thought he'd be a father, and part of him still can't truly believe it.
And then suddenly, another thought pops into his head. He's never actually held a baby. Panic runs through him. How do you hold a baby? Can she hold her own head yet? He doesn't know. His arms feel like they're made of lead as they hang limp at his sides.
"I… I've never held a baby before. I don't know how," he stammers, and he can feel his cheeks starting to burn at his admission. How is he going to be a father? He doesn't know how. Suddenly his fear isn't about the outside, but that he has no idea how to do any of this, that he'll mess it all up somehow.
June smiles again as she looks at him, so unsure of himself. "Well, you'll have to learn. Come here."
He hesitates only long enough to pull the gun out of the waistband of his pants and place it inside the one small backpack he'd brought with him. The safety's on, and he knows there's no danger to June or the baby, but still he doesn't want it close to them. His heart races as he crosses the room and sits next to June on the edge of the bed. He takes a deep breath and one leg starts bouncing anxiously until June stops it with her free hand.
"Hey," she says, and he looks at her, his eyes swimming with apprehension. "You won't hurt her, I promise. She's tough." He fights back his urge to smile. Of course she is. He nods in agreement as June stands so she can pass the baby off to him easier.
"Just support her head," June instructs him as she leans into him, motioning for him position his arms so she can place the baby down in them. He follows her lead and then, before he knows it, his daughter is resting in his arms and June is sitting back down next to him. He can feel June's eyes on him, but he's completely wrapped up in the baby. Now that he has her in his arms, he never wants to let her go. Without a doubt, she's the best thing he's ever held, the best thing he's ever done, the best thing he will ever do. He studies her little face, memorizing every detail, and he feels like she's doing the same as she looks up at him, her eyes open and alert. He's already so hopelessly and fiercely in love with her that it makes his chest feel tight, like it's too much to be contained in him. He's so focused on how tiny her hands are that it almost takes him by surprise when her little mouth drops open, her eyes squeeze shut, and a yawn that feels too big for her little body escapes her.
"Did you see that?" He asks as he turns to look at June, an uncharacteristically wide smile spreading across his face. She finds herself smiling back and having to resist the urge to laugh as she considers how quickly their daughter has already softened some of his rougher edges. It hasn't even been five minutes and already, he's a goner.
"I did," she replies simply, nodding her head as he turns back to look at the baby. June sighs contently as she leans her cheek against Nick's shoulder, reaching over to trail one finger down the baby's arm. "Someone's sleepy." They both watch as her eyelids fight a losing battle with sleep, until finally her breathing evens out and she's sleeping in Nick's arms.
"She needs a name," June whispers once she's sure the baby is finally out and Nick looks away from her and down at June. He knows the Waterfords had been calling her something, but he'd tried his hardest not to think about it, and they're so far out of his memory now he can't even remember what it was. But at the same time, he hadn't even considered that she'd need a name later, let alone one that he'd have a say in choosing.
"You pick." He's so completely lost on the matter that he doesn't even know where to start, and June pulls back from him and looks at him like he's gone crazy.
"You don't have any ideas?" She asks incredulously and he shakes his head. Anything she chooses will be fine with him. She makes a face and then leans back into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder again as she looks at the baby. This time, though, instead of watching the baby he watches June, and the same tightness in his chest from before returns.
"What about Allison?" June asks after a long silence, her eyes shifting upwards to look at Nick. He rolls the name around in his head before looking down at the baby. Allison. It's simple and classic and he loves it.
"Allison," he says, testing the name out, seeing how the syllables feel as they roll off his tongue. He repeats it once more and then nods. It fits. "I love it."
June nods and looks away from him and back down at the baby. "I figure they'll want to know her name tomorrow, we should be prepared."
Tomorrow. He swallows hard. He'd been so wrapped up in now that he hadn't stopped to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow they'll register at the refugee center and soon after they'll meet up with Hannah, with June's family. He tries hard not to think about what that means for him. He only wants what's best for June, he wants her happy, but already he feels like he can't breathe imagining having to be away from her and the baby now that he doesn't have to be. He pushes those thoughts away, focusing instead on the welcome weight of his daughter in his arms. It's not tomorrow yet. They're still here now, together. He clears his throat.
"Yeah, good idea," he nods in agreement and June sighs and pulls away from him.
"We should probably try and get some sleep," she says, looking at the baby who still dozes in Nick's arms. "I'll put her down unless you want to try." She motions to the crib, and Nick shakes his head, fearing he might wake her up if he does it. June stands and leans into Nick again, sliding her arms under his to take the baby and put her to bed. He can't believe how empty his arms feel once she's out of them, and how comforting the weight of her small body against him had been.
While June puts the baby down for the night, Nick gets up and moves back over to the window again. The snow has started slowing down and he can see out better now. He takes note of the two sedans in the driveway, both with their blue and white Quebec plates on them and his mind eases even more. He pulls the curtains closed, turning back into the room. June is still fussing with the baby, situating her in the crib, so he slips out of his boots and heads for the bed closest to the wall, the one he and June hadn't been sitting on. He pulls back the duvet and climbs under the covers, lying flat on his back.
He's just closed his eyes when the lights switch off. He knows he won't get much sleep anyway, he's still too guarded to even imagine getting a full night's sleep, always imagining the worst, but he's completely taken by surprise when he feels the bed next to him dip down as the covers raise up and June slides into bed next to him. His eyes spring open as she scoots closer to him, and instinctively he lifts one arm so she can sidle all the way up against him, her head resting on his shoulder as he brings his arm down to rest on her side, holding her against him. It's been months since they last shared a bed like this, he thinks, remembering that morning before Fred had taken her to Jezebels, when he had woken up and she had been there, how it felt like the outside world didn't exist. He had loved it then and he loves it even more now, how comfortable it feels, like they fit together just right.
He closes his eyes and starts absentmindedly rubbing his thumb up and down on her side and as he feels her sigh and relax against him, he can feel the tension start to drain out of his body as well. As exhaustion from months of sleepless nights finally start to catch up with him, the last thing he thinks before he falls asleep is that it had all been worth it if only for this night here, his family safe and secure together.