Morning comes and there's nothing good about it. Having not gone to bed until late and then all the tossing and turning, I'm tired, even sore. I consider joining Rita for breakfast, but I don't have the energy, plus I know we are out of coffee, at least for the help. I settle for a cigarette at the top of my stairs. The Nicotine helps clear my head and dull down the throbbing from the lack of caffeine. My eyes drift up to the third-story windows, as they like to do these days, but I can't make anything out. The window is open, I can see the curtains blowing on the breeze, but that is it. My thoughts go again to last night and her visit with Fred. Images of abuse flood over me and I want to gag. Isn't it bad enough that they rape her 3 or 4 times a month already? Fucking perv.

I stand and march off to the bathroom to brush and shave. The Commander needs to be dropped off at an all-day meeting today, and I've got a meeting with Commander Pryce to attend.

As I make my way down the stairs, I see Mr. Waterford already standing in the driveway. "Sorry to keep you waiting sir," I offer apologetically.

He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath. Unlike me, he seems very well-rested. Shit.

"Not at all! I was just taking in this glorious morning."

"Yes, we've been sent great weather this week," I return, opening the garage door. Waterford surprises me and follows me in, instead of waiting for me to pull the car out. With him deposited in the back seat, I pull out and we are off on our oh-so-very long three-block trek to the Council building.

At a stop sign, I caution a look in the rearview mirror. I wish I hadn't. He's smiling. Not just his usual run-of-the-mill creepy smile, it's the one he usually has after a night at Jezebel's. My heart sinks a bit. Sorry Offred, I really am.

While I think this drive is stupid, I'm happy today it's this short. I can't stand to be near this bastard at the moment. Thankfully I'm soon dropping him off and making my way across town to meet with Pryce. He's not technically better than any other Commander here in Gilead, but he's more up-front about who he is, and he somehow he has retained a scant amount of humanity over the years. It's not saying much, but at least he's truly pious and not just faking it. At least that is what I tell myself so I can sleep at night. I'm an Eye after all. Not really a job that someone with a strong moral compass would take. My compass broke years ago, I'm just doing my best to maintain the status quo now.

I pull the Waterford's Benz next to its exact double on the dock and get out. Commander Pryce leans against the hood of his car, smoking a cigar.

"Blessed day," I greet.

He turns towards me and simply dips his head in a nod. I join him, leaning against the hood and pulling out my own smoke.

"So, how do you find the Waterfords these days?" he asks.

He knows the answer I'm going to give; it was in my report. These in-person clandestine meetings are only meant to support the Eyes in the field. And by support, I mean looking us in the face for signs of cover-ups and lies. Good thing I've been a trained liar since 14.

"About the same. He's still visiting Jezebel's a few times a month and using the booze I'm smuggling for him as bribes," I say, smoke coming out my nose as I speak.

"Anything of note about the bribes?" he asks, looking me up and down.

I shake my head and look out over the bay. "No. Just making sure that Mitchell, Kent, and O'Brien continue to vote for his proposals,"

Pryce snorts at this. "Not a single independent thought amongst the three of them, they deserve to be played," he chuckles. "Fred's proposals are small and ineffective, right now. Keep me informed if he starts steering off course. We can't have a repeat of last winter's debacle."

Ah, yes, the whole St Andrew's nightmare. I didn't think Fred was sentimental, and I certainly didn't take him as a church-going man, like... ever... in his whole life. I figure him for a do-as-I-say kind of Commander, but when the Council decided to tear down St. Andrew's, the last catholic church in town, Fred got a wild hair up his butt and managed to block the whole project for three months with environmental impact statements and such Apparently, his granddad took him there at Christmas time when he was a kid, and he didn't want to let it go. Funny that he thought he was important enough to block the ruling once it was set in place by the high command in DC. He's a narcissistic fool.

"I don't see him stirring anything up any time soon…he has plenty to occupy him these days," I say, having to hide the sigh I feel building in my chest.

"I have an Ofglen update. She was detained yesterday evening. She's been having an affair with a Martha from her last posting,"

Damn. I knew it was coming. I think of what that will mean for Offred, one of her very few connections. This is why I don't form real attachments; they are too fragile in Gilead. "So, she's going to the wall?" I ask.

I'm surprised when he shakes his head no. "She's fertile so she will receive punishment and will be placed back in service when the time is right."

"I didn't know there was punishment for gender traitors other than the wall," I counter.

"Not for men, no. But a woman who can have children, well we can't look a gift horse in the mouth can we?"

I know I shouldn't, but can't seem to stop my mouth from forming the words. "What's the punishment?"

I get a side eye, while he takes a deep pull from his cigar. He blows it out and clears his throat. He's uncomfortable, interesting, but that doesn't bode well for Ofglen. "The doctors assure me they can help her with her urges. Take away the…unnatural drive."

It takes a second for me to calculate what he's saying. Oh No! I want to vomit but instead, I take another draw off my cigarette.

The Commander looks at me out of the corner of his eye to see how I've reacted to the explanation, but my face is well-practiced in hiding my thoughts. He continues, changing the subject slightly, "The new handmaid?" he asks.

I swallow thickly and make sure I'm still holding a neutral face. "Yes, sir. He had her in for a "Meeting" last night," I tell him.

He chews on his cigar for a minute. "Any idea what he wanted?" he asks.

I can't hold back the sarcastic laugh that escapes me and I shake my head.

Pryce looks over at me, "You think? Again?"

I toss my cigarette on the ground and grind it under the toe of my shoe. "I can't be certain what it was about. Outside of a breach of protocol at least." I hate every word as its leaves my mouth. I can't be sure he's touched her outside of the ceremony, but nothing good happens to handmaids who visit him alone, that I do know.

"We need more to move forward," the Commander says.

This is bullshit. I know it, he knows I know it, but it is the way of things. Fred fills a specific need on the council right now and so there is little he can do that would constitute anything more than a slap on the hand.

I nod, not looking at him.

"I know I can trust you to keep an eye on him for me," he says, sounding as deflated as I feel. I know he hates protecting douchebags like Fred, but that isn't really going to bring much comfort to the girl with the bright blue eyes, is it?

Commander Pryce straightens up and puts out his cigar. "I have other meetings, I better be off," he states.

"Yes, I'm expected back at the house for tree trimming. Don't want to keep Mrs. Waterford waiting," I mutter.

I turn to walk away, but Pryce's hand stops me. "You won't be stuck there forever. As soon as a suitable spot opens up, you will be promoted," he states, apparently thinking my tone was a complaint about my job not in fact a commentary on my wasted life.

I shrug off the feeling of inadequacy and shake the man's hand. "I know you have my best interest at heart sir. I'm not at all concerned," I lie smoothly. This seems to work, and he smiles, pumping my hand, and claps me on the shoulder. "You're a good man Nick."

"Thank you, sir," Too bad I don't agree.

Pryce moves around to his car, "Until next month," he says with a wave, before ducking into the back of his car.

I watch the car pull away before getting behind my own wheel and heading back to the place I've been made to call home.

I finish a hastily constructed sandwich at the table in my apartment. I'm avoiding the kitchen so as to not run into Mrs. Waterford. I haven't been focused since last night and her whining about when I'm starting the bushes isn't anything I need right now. I toss my dishes in the sink for later washing, grab my work gloves and head out the door. From my spot at the top of the stairs, I see Offred has just exited the back door and is coming my way. She has her shopping bag and to my utter surprise a small smile on her lips. We meet at the bottom of the stairs, and she glances at me, her eyes are light and playful. Two things come to my mind simultaneously. One, why the cocky smile, what happened with Fred? And second, the handmaid just beyond the gate isn't Ofglen, and Offred is not in the know. I suspect that whatever her smile today is about isn't going to last once that handmaid waiting turns around. I can't watch this, so I disappear into the garage in avoidance.

A couple of hours later of heavy labor later, I'm just done with the trimming and have started bagging up the refuge I've created when Rita comes out with a glass of water.

"Here, before you pass out," she says, shoving the glass in my hand.

I smile and take a long drink. "Thanks."

She nods and shifts on her feet, looking uncomfortable.

"What?" I ask.

"It's Offred…she didn't look right when she got back from her shopping trip. She was fine this morning, almost cheerful."

Oh, I see. Offred must have returned when I was on the far side of the hedges. I'm sure she was quite disturbed from finding a stranger waiting on her today with no explanation as to why or what happened to the original Ofglen.

I finish off my water trying to figure out what to say, what is safe to tell. "Maybe she walked down by the wall, and saw someone she knew?" I suggest.

Rita takes the empty glass from me, leveling her eyes at me. She knows I know more than I'm letting on. I think she's suspected my affiliation with the Eyes for a while now. But she knows better than to mention it. "Maybe. You should come to dinner tonight if you can. Your presence seems to put her at ease for some reason," she says evenly.

I was going to hide in my apartment until everyone went to bed before getting some food, not wanting to see the worry on Offred's face, since I can't do anything to reassure her. Hell, even if I could, the truth wouldn't bring any peace. I want to hide, but Rita is right, just being there for Offred, is all we have to give. I nod in agreement. Satisfied, Rita heads back to the house and I return to my task.

I'm just finishing up in the yard when I hear the back door open. "Dinner's ready," Rita calls. Well, I guess I'm really not getting out of this. I sigh, resigned to my fate. I need to be done out here tonight anyway, with the fall quickly approaching the sun is already dipping past the tree line. I tie up my last bag of clippings and head inside.

Offred is already sitting at the island when I enter, and Rita is dolloping mashed potatoes onto the last of 3 plates. I move to the sink and wash my hands.

"Fried chicken, what a treat," Offred says as Rita beings putting plates down at each of our spots.

I turn around and see that indeed we are having fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green salad. Rita hates making fried anything, hates the cleanup, plus it would only be for the staff since the Waterfords refuse to eat fried foods. Guess Offed is worth the extra work, I muse.

I sit down at my spot and take in the crisp chicken and can't help but smile. This is indeed a treat. I look up at Offred and she's smiling too. I guess maybe Rita did it for both of us. "This looks amazing Rita, thanks!"

She waves off the compliment and sits down as well. After a quick prayer, we dig in.

"Mhmm," Offred, moans. As she chews her first bite, her eyes slide closed.

Wow, well that's…yeah she really likes that chicken, I think, shifting in my seat a bit.

Rita laughs out loud.

Offred's eyes pop open and she looks at us innocently. "What?" she asks, stabbing another bit of chicken. "It's good, Iike really good," she says shoving another bite in. She rolls her eyes in enjoyment.

"You don't say," Rita snorts.

Offred shrugs. "Girls got to have something she can really enjoy in life," she shirks, in cloaked innuendo.

I hide a smile behind my fork and look down at my plate. If that's the sounds she makes over chicken, then I can't help but wonder…

"Blessed Evening! I heard the laughter down the hall, what is so funny?" Fred Waterford asks as he parades through the doorway.

The entire table goes silent, all lightness evaporating like fog in sunlight.

"Just complimenting Rita on her cooking, sir," I state to the group.

"Ah, yes, Rita is a master in the kitchen," he agrees. "Speaking of which, could I get some tea Rita?" he asks, his lips pulled into a faux smile. He gets some sort of satisfaction from having Rita eat cold meals, he interrupts her all the time. I stand before Rita can. "I'll put the water on," I offer, grabbing the kettle. "What kind of tea would you like Commander?" I ask evenly.

Waterford looks at me then at Rita. I can tell he's trying to decide if he's going to object. He must decide he wants to be generous tonight because answers that he wants chamomile and leaves the room.

Rita stands and moves to come around the table, "You shouldn't have done that," she hisses under her breath.

I shrug, "I can boil water and fill a tray. Sit," I direct, pointing to her seat.

Rita's eyes bulge a bit.

"Come on, don't make me pull out my man card," I say, eyebrow raised.

"As you wish Guardian Blaine," she says evenly but with a smile. She sighs happily when she settles down at her plate and picks up her fork.

I shove bites of food in my mouth as I wait for the water and the two woman resume a light conversation about the coming fall. Oh how I miss talking about movies, music, the neighbors, hell anything but the fucking weather.

I take the tray I've made into the Commander, and Praise Be he says nothing, and I escape back to my dinner.

"You want me to heat it?" Rita asks.

I shake my head, "Nope."

"You know, you talk too much Nick," Offred says with a smile.

Rita chuckles. "Yep, a real chatterbox, this one," she adds.

My eyes skirt between the two women, clearly pleased with themselves at my expense. I'll take it over seeing dread on their faces.

"Wow, I feel welcomed," I mutter, shoving a spoon full of room temp mash in my mouth.

Offred chuckles, low in her chest. It's a lovely sound, one I wish I could hear more often.

Finished eating, the ladies make quick work of cleaning up while I finish my plate. Rita knows I'll handle my own dishes, I always do, and so she wishes us a Blessed Evening, turns out the main lights, and disappears to do whatever she does in her very limited free time.

The room is darker and a little moody with only the over-the-sink and stove lights on. I finish up and go to the sink. Offred comes to stand next to me as I wash up. "That was nice of you, what you did for Rita," she says quietly.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, she is looking at my profile. "She doesn't deserve to eat all of her meals cold," I state with a shrug.

There is a pregnant pause, then she says, "Yeah, well there's a lot we don't…" but she doesn't finish the sentence.

I look up at her as I grab the dishtowel from the rack next to her. I won't ply her for the end of the sentence. There are no good outcomes if she continues speaking. Even what I've said is questionable if overheard by the right people.

She looks uncomfortable, and her eyes dart around. I've finished drying my plate and I move to put it in the cabinet. Are air is thick with unsaid words. I hang up the towel and turn my eyes back to hers. "Acts of kindness aren't a sin, just be careful who you do them for," I offer.

She looks up at me, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. I have no idea what has brought them on. I'm awkward with emotions, I know this, but I want her to know she's not completely alone. Ofglen wasn't the only person who understands her plight. I clear my throat, "Do you want a cup of tea?" I ask.

She smiles a true smile, with teeth and everything, but shakes her head no. "Unless you are going to pull your "man" card on me," she says putting air quotes around the word man, "thanks but no thanks. Tea will just keep me up, decaf or not," she states.

I can't keep the corner of my mouth from pulling up on one side. I'll not live that comment down for while I imagine.

Down the hall, the sound of the office door opening brings an end to our conversation. It will not do if the Commander finds me chatting up the handmaid alone in a darkened kitchen. I make my way for the door, but pause just before I pull it open, Offred is still at the sink. "Goodnight Offred," I say softly, as to not have my voice carry down the hall. She lifts her lips into a gentle smile, and mouths Goodnight to me as well, before escaping the kitchen and any possible runs in with Fred.

The next morning is a flurry of activity. I'm up and driving Fred to an early meeting with Commander Lawrence, which takes me completely across town. As soon as I arrived back home, Mrs. Waterford has me lined up to take her and Offred to the Putnam's for a new baby viewing or some nonsense. To add weirdness to the mix, Mrs. Waterford is in a strangle good mood. She is just short of fawning over Offred, checking on her comfort, and worried about the temperature of the car the whole way to the Putnam's house.

When I finally drop down at the kitchen island with a very cold cup of coffee, it's 10:45 am. Rita shuffles in with a laundry basket on her hip. She silently sets it on the floor and moves to the stove, pulling out a pan. A couple of minutes later she frying eggs I didn't ask for. My words for last night come flashing back at me, Acts of kindness aren't a sin.

Ten minutes later, a plate of two eggs and a thick slice of toast dosed in her homemade cherry jam is set down in front of me. I'm lifting the first fork full to my mouth when the front doorbell rings. Rita and I look at each other, her eyes are wide. No one good ever shows up without our prior knowledge.

"I'll …get that," she stammers worriedly. I stand and follow her out of the room and she sighs in relief.

It's an Eye, and not a very pleasant one. "Guardian Piler," I state, stepping out to greet him on the stoop.

"Blaine," he says, shaking my extended hand.

I glance over a Rita. "I'll handle this. Go back to your laundry," I direct in a tone never use with Rita unless we're in front of people who outrank us. She nods and disappears down the hall.

"So, what business do the Eyes have here today?" I ask respectfully. This guy is a douche, but he outranks me within the organization.

"Well, I'm here to have a chat with your handmaid. As soon as her Aunt arrives of course," he says nonchalantly.

Crap. I smile a smile of disbelief but wave him into the house all the same. "That mouse of a thing? Girl is pretty much a mute. My reports have said as much. I have to say that I'm a bit confused, when I met with Pryce yesterday he seemed to feel all was in order regarding the new handmaid," I state, hoping my name drop will discourage his agenda.

"Ah, well that must have been before he was briefed regarding her walking partner Ofglen," I want to laugh in his face.

"I don't think so, we talked about the Ofglen situation, and there didn't seem to be any concerns surrounding Offred. As I said, she's not a very chatty girl so I doubt they passed more than a few words between them," I deflect.

Eye Piler lifts his chin, he's not all that happy with the fact I'm questioning him. "Yes, well my orders are to talk with her," he says dismissively.

I'm about to mount another argument when there's a knock on the door. I go to the hall to answer it and spot Rita, I wave her back to the kitchen. I pull the door open and there stands Aunt Lydia. Of course, Offred's Aunt is the biggest cunt in the Red Center. Fuck me.

"I believe I'm to meet Guardia Piler," she says with an air of authority. My shoulders sag, but I nod and lead her into the parlor where I've deposited the Eye. "Offred isn't here at the moment, she's out with Mrs. Waterford on a social call at the Putnam's," I tell them, fruitlessly praying this will send them on their way, and maybe they'll forget this whole thing. I'm stupid for even asking God this favor.

"I see, when do you expect her back?" she asks pulling her prod from its holder and tapping it in her hand impatiently. They aren't going to be put off, they will wait for as long as it takes. I glance at my watch, it's 11:30. "I'm to pick them up at noon," I state, keeping the sigh I feel in my chest.

Lydia smiles, looking very self-important as she takes a seat in one of the winged chairs by the fireplace. "Wonderful, just enough time for a spot of tea while we wait," she says, sounding disturbingly cheerful. She acts like this is a social call, not an interrogation. What has to have happened to a person for them to look forward to torturing another?

I'm defeated. I don't have enough power to stop this, or really anything. "I'll have Rita bring you a tray," I state and march out of the room.

I pull up outside the Putnam's and see one of their Marth's faces as it disappears behind a curtain. She'll alert the woman to my arrival. I climb out of the car and open the door closest to the sidewalk.

Only Offred appears and descends the steps. She spots me and smiles a little. Guilt grips my guts. "Mrs. Waterford will stay a while longer. The Putnam's driver will bring her when she ready," she informs me and climbs in the car.

I shut her door and get behind the wheel. I want to scream, tell her to run and hide, but I find myself mute, completely useless. So, I do what I know, I drive.

We travel in silence for a couple of blocks before she decides to try to start a conversation. "Have you seen the Putnam's baby?" she asks.

I would like nothing more than baby banter with you Offred, but two lunatics are waiting to beat information out of you so I'm a little preoccupied with that at the moment. My back teeth grind together. Say something! My mind screams, but my lips stay sealed.

She continues, "She's really cute."

I glance at her in the rearview mirror, she's looking out the window.

"I love fat babies," she says before turning back and catching my eyes in the mirror. "Do you know Ofglen's gone?"

Yes, actually I do, but it's best you don't know I know that.

She doesn't give up, "Hmm? You said she was dangerous, what'd you mean?"

I have nothing to give her. I knew that one nice dinner wouldn't make Ofglen's disappearance a non-issue for her. We are getting closer and closer to an interrogation. I have to say something. Anything to help her get through what is about to happen. I look at her in the mirror, "You need to remember a few things. You can't change anything about this. It's gonna end the same no matter what you do, so there's no point trying to be tough or brave. Brave isn't any part of this. Everybody breaks. Everybody." Yeah, I know cheerful. I'm a dick. And we're home.

She sees the van in the driveway, "Nick?" She's afraid. The sound of my own name feels like a punch to the gut.

"What is this?" "

A witch hunt, sorry Offred. I give her the only advice I can. "Tell them everything."

"Nick!"

"Whatever they want to know, just tell them," I say evenly.

Her breath catches loudly in her throat and I'm undone. I confess, saying things she shouldn't know. "I couldn't stop them. I'm sorry." I hope she knows I mean it. Ha, like my sincerity matter right now.

I follow the three into the house, but I'm left to stand in the hallway. I'm not invited to this interrogation. I lean against the wall outside the door and let my eyes close. I should have done more…should have…

The door to the parlor is closed but I still hear the sound of the cattle prod zaps and Offred's grunt of pain. I bang my head against the wall.

Rita sneaks into the hall with me, her hand finds my forearm. I open my eyes and find her worried ones. "She just needs to tell them the truth," I say, not believing a single word leaving my mouth.

The door muffles the conversation, so I can't make out what's being said. I hear the pod again, and Offred's cry of pain.

Rita holds a hand to her mouth. "That can't be good if she's carrying," she says mostly to herself.

My eyes snap to hers, "She's pregnant?" I ask shocked.

I don't get an answer because this is when Mrs. Waterford bursts through the front door. A teal tornado. From the parlor, we hear the crack of a hit and a prolonged zap, and Mrs. Waterford is throwing open the doors and running to Offred prone form on the floor.

Piler admonishes her, "Mrs. Waterford, this is state business," he says hotly.

"No! She's pregnant!" Serna Joy screams.

I follow my mistress into the room and quickly size up the Aunt and Eye for who I need to take out first, but the issue has resolved instantly with the proclamation of a baby. Aunt Lydia looks like I feel; like she wants to throw up. I take in Offred on the floor, balled up against possible blows, weeping in pain. A level of self-control I didn't realize I possessed, is the only thing keeping me from across the room, grabbing the prod, and shoving down both of these assholes' throats.

Eye Piler, has the foresight to look contrite, "Well, this is such wonderful news. Congratulation on your blessed miracle," he says nervously. He looks over at Lydia and states, "We have all the information we need."

Yeah, you think so Piler? Or are you just worried that you're going to end up dead for being a part of beating and zapping a woman in a motherly way? I hope you hang. I'll even make a special trip to the wall so I can spit on your body.

Serna Joy isn't having any of their excuses. "Get out of my house!" she demands.

Piler heads for the door, and I'm sure to stare him down as he passes by. The Aunt says nothing and silently slips out as well.

Mrs. Waterford is on the floor with Offred. She pushes hair from her face gently, "It's okay," she soothes.

Rita scurries into the room and kneels next to Offred as well. "Are you okay?" she asks gently, sincere concern laced in every word.

Offred nods and slowly sits up with the two women's assistance.

"Rita get her a glass of water," Serna directs.

The Martha is up and off to the kitchen in a flash.

"Can you stand up?" Mrs. Waterford asks.

"Yes," Offred says and struggles to her feet. Mrs. Waterford gestures for a chair. I'm across the room and moving the chair behind in a matter of seconds. Rita re-enters with a glass of ice water. The two women fuss over her a little before the mistress turns to me. "I need you to go retrieve the Commander immediately," she instructs.

I'd rather stay here, and make sure no one comes back, but then again baby bomb probably did that job for me.

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

The drive across town is 30 minutes. 30 minutes to rethink every single thing I said and did that led to the mistreatment of an innocent woman.

The sun has set when I return home with the head of the house. Soon as the car is in park, he rushes into the house, and he and Mrs. Waterford, disappear into a closed parlor to discuss what happened.

I drop down into a chair at the table in the breakfast room, my forehead propped hands trying to stop the endless loop of self-deprecation that started in the car.

Rita pulls out a chair next to me and takes a seat.

I look at her through my fingers, she looks exhausted. "Is she really pregnant?" I ask.

She shrugs, "Just a couple of days late, so maybe, maybe not."

I lean back in the chair and let my hands fall onto the table. "How is she?"

"Beat up, but okay I think."

She lifts a hand, and I see she has a towel wrapped around ice. "Why don't you take this up to her," she suggests, holding it out to me.

I look at it, then over my shoulder at the doorway. I'm listening for the Waterfords.

"They'll be in there for a while. Mrs. Waterford was making a list of all the people they would be calling while you were gone, it's extensive," she says knowingly. She holds the icepack out, waving it a bit.

I squint her and give her a little smile, as I reach out and take the excuse for me to climb up the third floor. "Thanks," I mutter.

She smiles, stands, and heads into the kitchen to start dinner.

I climb the back stair as silently as possible, no need to advertise my insubordinance to those who might care. Her door is closed, but light seeps out from under it so I know she's awake. I pause for a second, looking at faded paint, before reaching up and rapping my knuckles against it. "Can I come in?" I request.

"Sure"

I push open the door and step in. I glance quickly over my shoulder, to ensure I haven't been followed, and close it behind me. "I just wanted to check if you're…you're okay," I tell her. Her cheek is red and risen from being hit and it makes me cringe.

Her eyes don't meet mine. I guess wouldn't want to look at the person to deliver me to a beating either.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Thank you, really? It would make more sense if she were cursing me out.

"Except for the weird guy who just snuck into my room." She says, looking up at me and finishing it off with a single chuckle. "Other than that…" she trails off.

I'm shocked. She doesn't blame me? Who are you? I can't help but smile and chuckle too.

She looks down at the hand with the icepack in it. "You're dripping."

I'm taken aback and look down at my hand. Oh yeah, that's why I'm here. "I brought you some ice."

She seems pleased with the gesture, "Thank you," she says sincerely.

I close the gap between us slowly, my eyes instinctively seeking hers as I draw nearer, but then I remember what I was a part of, why she needs ice. "I wish...I should've…" I start and consider my next words. I can't keep this up, this pretense that she's just the handmaid who I occasionally eat a meal with. I need her to know I care about what happens to her; that I don't want her to only find an out at the end of a rope. It's dangerous to admit this, but I let the words I've been thinking since the moment I pulled up and the Eye in the driveway fall from my lips. "I should've just driven away with you," I confess.

She says nothing, just looks at me. I mean really looks at me. It draws me in, like a moth to a flame. I step closer and suddenly feel nervous. It's me who looks down this time, but I can feel her steady eyes on my face, they draw mine back up from the floor. I put the ice between us. With one hand I cup hers, while the other places the bundle in her palms. I've never touched her before. People don't really touch other people in general here, unless, of course, they are killing or taking something from the other. There is hate here though. This is humanity. My thumb trails down the side of the pack until it meets her skin. I let it travel over the spot in a gentle arch. The connection shoots electricity through my digit, into my hand, and up my arm. The sensation is overwhelming, but I don't let go, I want live in this moment a little longer. My feet move me further into her personal space. We are inches apart now, and she's looking up at me. Her face is open and her eyes are eyes dark. My eyes fall to her lips. Six inches, no four, it's all it would take to capture her mouth with mine. I don't think she'd stop me either...I need to leave, and now!

I step back and head for the door, but my feet feel like lead. The absence of her hits me instantly, like a cold breeze cutting through your coat in the winter. My instincts want to drive me back toward her, but my brain pushes me forward. I open the door, but I can't stop looking back at her. She stands there with the dripping cloth in her hands, her eyes calling out for me to return if only to see what might happen. Fuck. What did I just do? What shut-up part of myself did I just accidentally open up? I let out a strangled breath, and exit the room, closing the door securely behind me. I only make it halfway down the hall, when I stop and clasp against the wall. I look back at her door, my breath catching in my chest at what's just taken place. Don't, I warn myself. For her, just don't. I push off the wall and force myself down the stairs and back to my apartment.

I don't stop moving until I'm standing under the spray of my shower. My forehead finds the cool tile of the surround and I rest it there, trying to clear my brain of the flush of hormones it's just been delivered. Damn, I haven't felt this intensely drawn to anyone since I was 16 and completely head over heels in love with Kylie Manor. I couldn't think around her, she made my nerves light up like a Christmas tree when she touched me. I was completely infatuated and incapable of showing her how I felt. Well, I'm not 16 anymore, but no matter how incrementally suaver I've become, nothing can happen. It won't happen. Offred's safety is more important than a single moment we shared. Not to mention that even thinking about getting with a handmaid can get me put on the wall.

It's over and it didn't even get a chance to being.