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Chapter Text

Before he died, June’s father had been fond of trying to teach his only daughter about the intricacies of Catholicism. June remembers finding the concept of Purgatory especially puzzling.

“What do you mean, it’s in between Heaven and Hell? Isn’t that Earth?” As a nine-year-old, June’s sense of theology had been very literal: Heaven was up, and Hell was down. Purgatory had to be . . . floating in the middle somewhere.

“No, it’s not Earth,” June’s father had explained patiently. “It’s . . . invisible. If you’re not good enough to go to Heaven, or bad enough to go to Hell, you stay in Purgatory and work on yourself.”

“Do you ever get out?” June found the idea of this endless place of neither-here-nor-there only slightly less terrifying than Hell itself.

June remembers her father smiling at her then. “If you’re lucky, and if you learn to be a better person—yes, you get out.”

Had he lived to experience it, June’s father would have grasped the essence of New Bethlehem immediately. Even after living there for two months, June herself still finds its in-betweenness unsettling. She tries to explain that to Serena during one of their Zoom calls. “It’s just . . . weird. Women read and write here, and there aren’t Handmaids, but there still are Marthas. It’s pretty, but it’s still Gilead, even if there aren’t Guardians following everyone everywhere. It’s Gilead, even if people have cell phones and Zoom meetings and houses with ocean views. It’s just . . . hard to know where the line is, anymore.”

Serena looks at June in that intent way that she’s adopted on Zoom lately, as if she wants to memorize everything that June is saying so she can mull it over after the conversation has ended. “I can’t quite picture Gilead with women reading and writing, to be frank. It’s so . . . different. But at least you don’t hate it, right?”

June is a little frustrated that Serena doesn’t quite seem to be grasping her point. “It’s the not hating it part that’s weird. I don’t hate it, but I don’t exactly like it, either. Boston Gilead might have been Hell, but I knew how I felt there: I loathed everything about it, and that was that. It was . . . it was easy. Here . . . sometimes it’s good enough, you know? Not good, but good enough. I can imagine people just sort of accepting this as . . . as life, not something that they need to fight their way out of. And that’s . . .”

Serena nods slowly, biting her lip a little. “Yeah. That’s . . . worse.” She hesitates, as if she wants to add something, as if she’s recalling something difficult. In the end, however, she lets whatever she is struggling with remain unsaid.

“Yeah,” June shrugs. “I’m not sure why, but it is.”

The silence between the two of them is a shade more awkward than comfortable, as too many of these Zoom calls seem to be lately. Serena clears her throat. “How is . . . everything else?”

June hesitates. The one thing that both Lawrence and Tuello have been crystal clear about is that she absolutely cannot talk about anything related to the samizdat work to anyone on either a cell phone or Zoom. Serena knows this, of course, but it still makes conversation between the two of them challenging. “OK. Can’t complain, not really. The . . . the project is taking up a lot of my time.”

Serena smiles at that, her expression suddenly shifting into the Serena whom June had fallen in love with in Hawaii.  “I’ll bet.”

June returns the look for a moment without saying anything, suddenly feeling her heart quicken just a little. Sometimes she misses so Serena so much, longs so much to touch her and hold her again, that it’s very nearly a physical pain. And other times, it all just . . . fades. Never for long, never for more than an instant or two, but those instants are troubling. Thoughts of Luke and Nick flit briefly through her mind. Am I the sort of person who just forgets the people I love when I don’t see them? The idea of that unnerves her.

June shakes the thought off, trying to hold onto the blissfully uncomplicated throb of affection that she had just felt. “How are you doing with the kids?”

Serena pauses for a little too long before she answers. “They’re wonderful, but it’s . . . “ she trails off a little.

June bites her lip. “It’s hard when you’re alone. I know that.”

June watches as Serena rearranges her expression. “It’s fine. It really is. Nichole is actually learning to read a little on her own, if you can believe it. It’s incredible how smart she is.”

Although June reflexively smiles at the thought of her daughter, she refuses to be distracted this time. Serena has gotten pretty good at distracting any real conversation with anecdotes about the children. Talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on. She says none of that, however, because she knows how important it is to Serena to present herself as completely on top of everything that she’s doing. “Well, both of us have been good influences on her. She sees you writing every day, so she’s growing up thinking that words are important.”

June sees something a little hard to decipher on Serena’s face at the mention of “writing every day,” and it’s a beat before she responds. “Yes, she certainly is.”

They’re both quiet for another moment, and then Serena turns away from the camera. “Here’s Nichole. Do you want to talk to Mommy, sweetie?”

Nichole does, and June spends the rest of the call chatting with her daughter, thankful that communicating with a three-year-old is a lot less complicated than talking to Serena. Ever since we started living together, even before we were together, we could always talk about anything. What’s happening to that?

§§§

June’s thoughts don’t linger too long on the Zoom call, however; she’s got to finish formatting the samizdat’s latest book before the end of the day. As she frowns over her laptop, rearranging commas and making sure the fonts are consistent, it occurs to her to marvel at just how normal all of this feels. Sometimes, it’s as though Gilead had been a bad dream and that she had never stopped being an editor: competent, relishing the work, interested in what she’s doing. I’ve missed it, she thinks to herself. There’s something grounding and right about editing books, getting them formatted, and then sending them off to be read by actual, living people. Sometimes, it’s true, she feels a pang or two of guilt about how easy she has it. Is it right to be obsessing over punctuation while Mayday operatives are the ones risking everything to get the books printed and distributed?

Once, late at night, she says as much to Lawrence. “I could be editing and formatting our books from Hawaii, you know. Do I really even need to be here? The new trade routes between New Bethlehem and Gilead are making it pretty convenient for smuggling. Pretty soon the samizdat is going to be on autopilot.”

Lawrence glances at her sharply. “That’s not all you’re doing. You’ve set up our distribution pods all over Gilead, and you know you need to go to those in person regularly to make sure everything is going smoothly. We also need to get the files to the printer, and that’s a physical handoff—we certainly can’t send those over the Internet safely. You know all that.”

June sighs. “I do know that, but that’s really not the major part of what I’m doing, is it? I’m an editor most of the time who once in a while has to do something just a little bit risky. It seems . . . cowardly.”

Lawrence’s initial look of impatience softens just a little. “June . . . what you’re doing, only you could be doing it. For some reason, you seem to think that throwing yourself on the front lines of battle is the only kind of resistance work that counts, but that’s not the way any efficient organism can ever work. Everything—everyone—has its place in a smoothly operating system.”

Sometimes June knows exactly what it must have felt like to have been one of Lawrence’s students in those economics classes from Before. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. I just . . .” She stops, not knowing exactly what she wants to say, or even precisely what she’s thinking. For some reason, that last unsatisfying Zoom call with Serena flashes through her mind.

Lawrence appears to be studying her closely now. “This won’t be forever. If everything goes the way we’re hoping, if the distribution pods are functioning on their own, if we have a secure way to get files to the printer electronically, there’s no reason why you can’t work remotely from wherever you want. But we’re not there yet.”

Sometimes June thinks that those months of happiness with Serena in Hawaii were just a dream, that she’s always been in Gilead, that she always will be in Gilead. But at least I like the work I’m doing right now. It beats the hell out of being a Handmaid. “It’s fine. I know that I need to be here. And I’d better get back to it now if we’re going to deliver the next one on time.”

§§§

June is fully absorbed in her final suggestions for the author of The Last Days of Democracy when she hears a tentative knock at her door. She looks up and smiles. Nick is the only one who knocks in precisely that way. “Hey. Are you meeting with Lawrence?”

Nick nods. “Just need to finalize some details about our trade agreements.”

June looks at him. Nick is such an adult now, in his suits and his major New Bethlehem responsibilities. They’re both a long, long way from those clandestine visits to his tiny apartment above the Waterford’s garage. There’s no denying, however, that Nick looks a little wrung out right now. “Everything going ok?”

Nick sighs. “Well enough. New Bethlehem has opened Gilead up to the rest of the world. There’s a lot that goes along with that.”

June eyes him. “You look tired.”

Nick shrugs. “I’m fine. Josh is just pretty active lately, and I haven’t been sleeping much.” Nick’s son is about a year and a half now, and June knows well how much works kids can be at that age.

“It’ll settle down soon.” June waits a beat before asking her next question. “How are things with Rose?” Rose is one of the growing list of subjects that Nick and June rarely discuss, and she broaches the subject now only tentatively.

June sees Nick stiffen a little. “All right,” he answers automatically. “She’s good. We’re . . . fine.” His expression is carefully blank.

June nods. Of course she couldn’t reasonably expect Nick to open up to her about anything in his life. Not now, not when she’s made it very clear that she’s in love with Serena, and not when she knows (and of course she knows) that Nick still loves her. This is such a fucking soap opera. She suddenly feel irritated.

Nick shifts uncomfortably, as if he can sense June’s thoughts. “Are you going to keep staying here? You could get your own place, you know. You’re safe as a returned refugee in New Bethlehem.”

June snorts. “With all due respect, I’m never going to feel ‘safe’ in Gilead, even in the New Bethlehem brand of Gilead. No, Joseph and I both agree that I should live here in his New Bethlehem house and act as a Martha. I’m not an ordinary refugee. The fewer people who figure out who I am, the better. And it’s not as though I need to do anything as a Martha, anyway, and in New Bethlehem, I don’t even have to dress the part. No big deal.” Except, of course, it is a little bit of a big deal, and she knows that Nick realizes that. Pretending to be a piece of Gilead property, even if she isn’t wearing red, will always cause June pain.

Nick doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he finally does, his words are unexpected. “Are you glad you came back?”

June wonders how to answer that. Sometimes at night, alone in her bed, she aches for Serena. Sometimes she misses Nichole and Noah, and their idyllic beach house in Hawaii, so much that it seems unbearable. Sometimes walking on eggshells around Nick — Nick, who has always been her salvation in this hellhole — to avoid talking about anything painful or difficult makes her miserable. Sometimes her frustration with being outside of the Mayday action feels overwhelming. And sometimes the fact that, on occasion, she senses Serena drifting away from her is little short of terrifying. But Hannah is here, and getting to know her older daughter has been transformative. June also knows that her work is important, that she’s chipping away at Gilead’s stranglehold, even if none of that is happening as quickly as she might prefer. Am I glad I came back? She shrugs and dodges the question just a little bit. “I need to be here right now. I’m sure of that, anyway.”

Nick starts to say something and then stops. “I’d better go find Lawrence. See you later, June.” As he turns away, June watches the square set of his shoulders and sighs inwardly.

§§§

The best part of New Bethlehem, of course, is Hannah, who (true to Lawrence’s word) has been assigned to train to be the Aunt who teaches New Bethlehem children to cook to protect her from potential harm in Gilead. For the last couple of months, June and her thirteen-year-old daughter have met for dinner twice a week at Rendezvous, a diner so shockingly normal that June finds it difficult to grasp that it’s technically located in Gilead. They might not serve Twinkies, but it’s not all bran muffins and granola, either.

Hannah is already seated in their usual booth when June enters this evening. Even now, even when the novelty of having dinner with her older daughter should have begun settling into a pleasant routine, June can’t stop the squirming thud of her heart. “Hey, Banana.”

Hannah smiles up at her as June slides into her seat. She’s Agatha to the rest of the world, but she and June have agreed that she’s Hannah when the two of them are alone together. “Hi.” Hannah, June has noticed, has been making a concerted effort to tone down the “Praise Be’s” and “Blessed Days” during these meals together.

It’s all June can do to take her eyes off of her daughter, but she glances at her menu anyway in an effort to preserve a modicum of casualness. “What looks good to you tonight?”

Hannah’s lips quirk. “What do you think?”

June arches an eyebrow back at her. “Somehow I’m predicting . . . pancakes!” The all-day breakfasts at Rendezvous are something that both June and Hannah love. Breakfast for dinner of one sort or another is almost always their meal of choice here.

Hannah nods. “Yup. They have those really good banana nut pancakes tonight. I’m definitely ordering those!”

Banana nut pancakes. Serena’s favorite. June is momentarily transported away from the diner, away from her daughter, back to Christmas and the last time June ate those particular pancakes. The day after I had sex with Serena for the first time. A week before I left Hawaii. The sudden ache that comes with the memory hits her squarely.

June blinks, realizing that Hannah has just said something to her. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

Hannah squints, as if trying to discern June’s feelings right now. “Are you . . . ok?”

One thing that June has learned about Hannah in the last couple of months is that her daughter has an uncanny ability to really see people. June’s empathy gene has clearly not fallen far from this particular tree. “It’s just been a long day at work.”

Hannah nods, not looking entirely convinced. “You’re finishing up that book you were telling me about?” Hannah knows that June edits books, but neither she nor Lawrence have told her the details of the samizdat operation. The fewer people who know what she’s actually doing in New Bethlehem, the better.

June nods. “Yeah. I’m just about done.” The food arrives at that moment, and  June digs into her mushroom and cheese omelette. No banana nut pancakes for me. Not until I see Serena again.

Hannah takes a bit out of her own meal. “They’re really good.”

June smiles at her. “I’ll bet. How are things going for you this week? How are your kids doing with their cooking lessons?”

Hannah swallows her mouthful of pancakes before answering. “They’re fantastic. You should see how adorable they are. We’re working on pies right now, and I’m trying to show them how to make a really light and flaky pie crust. Some of them are naturals.”

June tries and fails to picture her daughter as an Aunt. It’s a much better prospect than having her become a Gilead Wife, subject to the whims of a much-older husband. It’s not, however, what she had imagined for Hannah when she was born. None of this is right, even if it’s better than the worst case scenario might be. June tries not to let any of those thoughts seep into her face or her tone of voice. “That’s great.”

Hannah hesitates, and June sees that something is clearly on her mind. “Mom . . . can I ask you something?”

Mom. June’s heart never fails to quicken after not hearing the word for so many years. “You can ask me anything.”

Hannah is fiddling with her fork, not looking directly at June. “Do you think . . . I mean, would it be ok if I asked Skylar to come to dinner with us next time? I really want you to get to know her better.”

Skylar. Hannah’s best friend, whom June suspects may mean more to Hannah than friendship, even more than the intense middle-school variety of friendship. “Absolutely. I’d like to get to know her better, too.”

Hannah looks relieved. “That’s good. She really wants to get to know you, too. You’d both really like each other.”

“She’s still assigned as the mechanical Aunt-in-training?” Getting Lawrence to move Skylar into New Bethlehem had been part of the deal when June agreed to work on the samizdat. Lawrence might be many things, but he’s never gone back on his word so far.

Hannah laughs a little, almost to herself. “Yeah. It was pretty great that New Bethlehem wants girls to learn mechanical skills as well as cooking and gardening, because Skylar is really great with tools. She teaches girls and boys, and everyone loves her.”

June smiles fondly at her daughter, thinking how lucky she is, all things considered, to be sitting in a diner with her right now, having what would certainly pass as a normal conversation. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. Yes, Nick . . . all things considered, I’m glad I came back.

Chapter Text

When Serena first faced the inescapable fact that June needed to go to New Bethlehem, she had felt giddy with exuberance at her own selflessness. This was the right thing to do, for June and for the world. This was sacrifice, the sort of sacrifice that Moses and Abraham—even Jesus himself—had made. This, she knew, had been God’s plan for her all along. This is the thing that would finally give her peace, the thing that would allow her to atone for the role that she’d played in the foundation of Gilead. Sacrificing June—June, the person she loved more than anything in life except Noah—had been Serena’s chance to set right what had gone wrong, to make it possible—actually possible—for her to forgive herself.  That rush of certainty had been a heady one. This, she knew, was the only choice that could have been made. Even in the face of losing the one person who understands her fully, the one person who has ever made her want to be better, being noble had given her a modicum of peace.

Yet what Serena hadn’t realized then (and what she sees all too clearly right now) is that ethical adrenaline can only go so far. It’s one thing to decide to sacrifice your own happiness, but actually living with that sacrifice every day is a very different matter altogether. What happened to Rick after Ilsa flew away from Casablanca with Victor on that plane? What was it like for him to get up the next day with nothing to do except take care of that gin joint of his, to order olives and bourbon, wash dishes, make payroll, and close up every night? What then?

Serena’s own “what then” shows itself almost immediately, forcing her to admit to herself (if not as readily to June) that the bliss of motherhood, the thing that she had sought for years, the thing that (truth be told) she’d overthrown a government to achieve, is not quite as blissful when you’re alone in a house as the sole caretaker of a three-and-a-half-year-old and a baby. Cheering up Nichole, who misses June, and entertaining Noah, who has become more demanding of late, seem to occupy most of the hours in her day. Between making sure that both children are eating well and that the house isn’t a toy-cluttered disaster, Serena finds that she has little time (and even less energy) for much of anything else.

Finally, during one of their Zoom calls, June appears to notice how exhausted Serena is looking. “Are you ok?” June’s tone is tentative, as if she’s not sure what she’s allowed to be asking right now.

Serena starts to say automatically that she’s fine, but she finds herself choking a little at the concern in June’s voice. Their conversations so far have been mostly about New Bethlehem, with questions about Nichole and Noah peppered throughout. How long has it been, Serena wonders, since we really talked about us at all? God, I miss her. I miss her caring about me. “I’m . . . I don’t know. Sometimes it’s a lot.” Serena curses herself for saying that much. The last thing in the world that she wants is for June to think she’s not strong enough to handle the life that she’s freely chosen.

Even through the filter of a computer monitor, even though they’re thousands of mile  away from one another, Serena feels June’s blue eyes looking straight into her soul. “I’m sorry. I . . . this has an end date, I promise. Just a little bit longer, and everything will be humming along so well I won’t need to be here at all.” June’s voice is almost pleading, and Serena is furious with herself. Why didn’t she just say she was fine? Is “fine” such a difficult word to say?

“June, stop. I’m absolutely ok—I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. I just need to get a little better organized. It’s been a challenge to find time to write, frankly, and I’m just a little anxious about that. But I’ll be all right. Honestly, I am all right.” Serena isn’t certain why she just brought up her lack of writing progress, but it’s the thing that actually worries her most of all. Nichole and Noah are a lot of work, but Serena is usually confident enough that she’s mostly managing to impersonate the role of being an adequate parent to both of them. But she hasn’t been any sort of adequate journalist lately, and she knows that it’s only a matter of time before Tuello or Lawrence, or both of them, notice her lack of productivity. I’ve got to find time to write, or what use am I to anyone at all?

Serena suddenly realizes that June is saying something. “Sorry. What was that?”

June looks even more concerned at Serena’s uncharacteristic inattention. “I said, what about daycare? There’s that great place really close to us. We talked about it once, remember?”

Serena does. “Yes, but . . . I’m home all day. I want to take care of the children myself. I mean . . . daycare? It’s not like I have to go into an office every day.”

“You don’t go into an office, but you can’t concentrate on your work and take care of two kids all day long. There’s no shame in daycare, and we can afford it. If you want, you could try it for just a few days a week and see how you like it.” June sounds really certain about this plan, and Serena has to admit that she’s heard worse ideas. Just the thought of hours with nothing to worry about except writing sounds unexpectedly wonderful.

“Do you really think so? I’ve just never thought of myself as the kind of parent who would . . .” Serena trails off, suddenly acutely aware of what she’s saying, and to whom she’s saying it. June, she remembers, had always sent Hannah to day care, Before.

June, thankfully, seems more amused than angry. “Gee, thanks. Definitely no offense taken.” She softens the sting with an arched eyebrow.

Serena acknowledges it with a slight smile. “I’m sorry. And I think you’re right. I think . . . let’s give it a try.”

June lets out a breath. “Good. Talk to Mark, in case he needs to pull some strings to get the kids slots. Sometimes daycare can be harder to get into than Harvard used to be.”

§§§

In the end it took calls from both Mark and Peter Turley, their US government handler living just a few houses down the beach, to enroll Noah and Nichole in Luau Tots on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s a short drive from their bungalow to the daycare center, and two teachers come out to greet Serena and the children as she pulls into a parking spot. Noah is asleep and makes little fuss at the handoff. Nichole, however, cries as Serena drives away, and it cracks Serena’s heart a little to hear her. I’m sorry, Nichole. I’m sorry, June. I wish I weren’t doing this.

The six hours of daycare seem to stretch on forever, with Serena spending altogether too much of that time watching the clock and wondering about the children instead of using it to start a Guardian article that should have been submitted two weeks ago. This is only the first day. They’ll be with me tomorrow, and Wednesday I’ll be used to it. I’ll get my work done then. The thought gives her a little comfort.

When Serena drives up to Luau Tots promptly at 4:00 PM, she’s unprepared for the number of cars milling around for afternoon pickup. She falls in behind a dark-haired, harried looking young woman in a green Jeep, busily arranging her car seat and ignoring the honks from the cars behind them.

The woman looks up at Serena and smiles ruefully. “Sorry! You’re new here, aren’t you? I’ll be out of your way in a jiff.” Her eye roll at one of the honking parents reminds Serena a little of June.

And perhaps that eye roll is the reason why Serena finds herself smiling back. “Thanks. I’m not sure where to go. I have two children to pick up. Do they just . . . bring them out? Or am I supposed to park somewhere and go inside?” She looks around a little helplessly, trying to discern a semblance of order in all of the chaos.

“They keep an eye on our cars and bring the kids out to us when we come up to the drop door. It’s actually more efficient than it looks. There’s my son now.” The woman is gesturing with her chin, her hands still busy with the car seat. Serena looks up and sees one of the day care teachers holding the hand of an excited little boy who looks about Nichole’s age.

“Mommy!” The boy rips his hand away from the teacher and runs straight toward the dark-haired woman, who hugs him back.

“Easy, Buddy.” The woman looks over to Serena and grins. “This is Michael. I’m Casey, by the way.”

Serena looks over to see Nichole being led to her car by one teacher, and another one toting a sleeping Noah in a carrier. “Neenie! We painted!” Serena is relieved to see that Nichole looks much more excited than devastated at being abandoned. Maybe this will work out after all.

Serena suddenly recalls that the dark-haired woman had just introduced herself. “This is Nichole, and the little guy is Noah. I’m Serena.”

The woman—Casey—is already driving away. “Nice to meet you, Serena. We’ll probably be bumping into each other here now and again.”

§§§

They did, in fact, bump into each other, even more than the predicted “now and again.” Serena often sees Casey’s bright green Jeep when she drops off the kids in the morning and picks them up in the late afternoon. Although she and Casey sometimes wave and nod in acknowledgment as they wrangle their respective children into cars, Serena doesn’t give her much thought until she slowly realizes that much of Nichole’s after-daycare excited chatter is about Michael.

“Michael is the best drawer in the class,” Nichole reports. “He’s better than me.” She states it as a simple fact, without any of the tinge of jealousy that Serena might have displayed at her age.

“Really?” Serena smiles down at her. “And what does he draw?”

“Horses, mostly. And cats. And sometimes . . . me!” Nichole adds this last bit a little proudly.

“He must like you a lot.” Serena feels a pang as she says. Nichole is growing up so fast. I wish June were here to see it, too.

Nichole is already on the move, looking for the LEGO set that occupies so much of her time these days. “He does. He’s my best friend.”

Serena recalls their conversation when, a couple of days later, she notices Casey flagging her down after morning drop-off. “Serena? Do you have a minute?”

Serena glances at the line of cars behind them, driven by irritated parents who appear anything but sympathetic to even an extra minute of waiting time. “Um . . .”

Casey, however, seems completely unperturbed. “So, our kids seem to have buddied up. Do you want to set up a play date for them? You could bring Nichole to my house, if that works for you. I think they’d both enjoy it.”

Play date. Serena never had a play date in her entire childhood; her mother considered most other children bad influences, and her father had always been too busy with his work to get involved in any parental decisions regarding his daughter. She feels a moment of panic. Should she have thought about play dates before now? Is Nichole already doomed to a friendless life because she’s currently saddled with a single parent who probably doesn’t know what she’s doing?

Casey is looking at her curiously. “Serena? What do you think?”

Serena gives herself a mental shake. “I think that sounds lovely. Nichole has been talking about Michael a lot.”

“Ditto,” says Casey, pulling out her phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text you my address. Does Saturday work for you?”

It did. Serena gives her phone number to Casey, relieved that she’s doing something to help Nichole develop into a healthy, confident, socially-adept person. Even if it means I have to chitchat with a stranger while the kids play, it’ll be worth it.

§§§

When Saturday comes, however, Serena finds herself actually enjoying that chitchat. It’s been a long time, she realizes, that she’s had an actual adult conversation since June’s departure. “Thank you again for inviting us.”

Casey takes a sip of her coffee before she answers. “You’re doing me a favor. Michael is having a good time, and I get to discuss something other than dinosaurs. Do you know how many dinosaurs there were? Unfortunately, I do . . . now.”

Serena laughs. “Nichole is all about building things these days. I’ve become a LEGO expert.”

“Nobody ever prepares us for how much weird stuff we have to learn to be parents. At least, nobody prepared me.” Casey’s smile is a little rueful.

That’s the truth, thinks Serena. Sometimes the weight of what she doesn’t know about children overwhelms her. It was so much easier when she could share it all with June. “It’s definitely been trial by fire.”

“Nichole is adorable,” says Casey, reaching for one of the Oreos that she’d put onto a plate before pouring their coffee. Serena stares at the cookies, thinking that whatever Casey is, she doesn’t seem to be a baker. June loves Oreos. She likes the homemade cookies that Serena has gotten fond of making, but she’s an Oreo person at heart. The throb of loneliness, never far away, is back in force right now.

Serena shakes off that feeling and concentrates on what Casey has just said. “Thank you. Michael seems like quite a gentleman as well.”

Casey snorts. “Well, ‘gentleman’ is probably overstating it, but I’m not going to send him back just yet.”

Serena finds herself really grinning at that. She’s funny. It’s nice to laugh again. In between their respective bouts of angst and trauma, she and June always found a lot to laugh at together. She looks around the brightly-colored, somewhat messy kitchen, wondering a little more about Casey. “What do you and your husband do for a living?”

Casey rolls her eyes. “No husband—Michael is the product of sperm from one of my best friends. I had a wife for awhile, but she’s been out of the picture for the last couple of years. It’s just Michael and me. I’m a graphic designer, freelance.”

Serena is oddly startled by this information. Why, though? Do I think that June and I are the only same-sex couple in the world? She decides to focus on the “graphic designer” part of what Casey has just told her. “Graphic design? That sounds interesting. Do you have a lot of clients?”

Casey nods. “Enough to keep me busy and pay for food and daycare. What about you? What do you do when you’re not wrangling kids?”

Serena hesitates, almost dreading the question. “I’m . . . I’m a political journalist.” Serena tastes the title as she says it; it feels unfamiliar and alien, even though it’s not untrue. “Political journalist,” after all, sounds a whole lot better than “war criminal.”

Casey is suddenly staring at her. “I didn’t put it together until now. You’re . . . you’re Serena Joy Waterford? The Serena Joy Waterford? Gilead Serena Joy Waterford?”

Suddenly feeling a little ill, Serena nods slowly. Here it comes. Writing those Guardian articles has certainly helped repair her reputation, and the book that she and June co-authored even more so. But she well knows that there are many, many people who will never forgive the role that she’d played in the foundation of Gilead. Is Casey one of them?

“Wow,” Casey still looks shocked. “I’m not super political, but . . . wow. I read your book.”

“Which one?” Despite herself, Serena feels a flash of pride. She’s never going to prevent the thrill that she gets when she talks to one of her readers. Just the idea that she’s written things that make people think, even if they hate what she writes, will always matter to her.

“The one about Gilead that you wrote with your former Handmaid. It was really moving. You two live together, don’t you?” Casey is looking at her curiously now, but at least she isn’t demanding that Serena leave her house.

“Yes. June. She’s . . . traveling right now, so it’s just me and the kids.” Serena hopes that her response is specific enough to satisfy Casey but vague enough to protect June.

Casey takes another Oreo from the plate. “Well, we’ll have to do this again sometime, won’t we? Single parents need to stick together, even you’re just a temporary single parent.”

Serena feels herself relaxing, relieved at how her identity reveal has gone. “I can get on board with that.”

§§§

Later that night, June calls her cell phone just after Serena has settled both Noah and Nichole down for the night. “So how was the play date?”

Serena settles back on the couch, relishing the sound of June’s voice in her ear. “Good. Nichole really seems to love Michael. I think the two of them would be happy playing together for hours. I wish you could see her now, June. Every week she seems about three months older.”

“I wish I could, too.” June’s voice is wistful. “Is she asleep? Can I talk to her now?”

Serena shakes her head before she remembers that June can’t actually see her. “Conked out about a half hour ago. She actually fell asleep in the middle of my dramatic reading of Sparky. I tried not to take it personally.”

“The book about the sloth? I hate to tell you . . . it’s hard to make that one dramatic.” June’s tone is light and teasing.

Serena laughs. This particular conversation with June is a lot less strained than some of them have been lately. “I’ve got skills that you can only dream of.”

Even through the phone, Serena can feel June’s characteristic smirk. “Oh, I believe you.”

They talk for another half hour before Serena hears June stifling a yawn. She immediately feels guilty. Stupid time zones. “Sorry. I always forget how late it is for you.”

June sighs. “It’s fine. I’d rather talk to you than sleep. I love you. You know that, right?”

Serena does, of course, but the feeling that washes over her right now is more intense than she might have expected. She’ll never, ever be able to take that for granted. “Yeah. Me, too.”

They’re both quiet for a couple of beats. June is the one to break the silence. “Serena . . . I’m not staying here forever.”

Serena blinks back the tears that insist on welling. “I know. We both know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” It’s not forever. It’s just for now. Serena, as she often does, hears those words flashing through her mind like a mantra.

June sighs again. “I’ll make sure to set up a Zoom in a couple of days, so I can see Nichole.”

“She’d love that. I’m sure she’ll fill you in about her adventures with Michael.” Serena hears herself answering in a normal voice, with no sign of tears or anything else that would worry June. I can do this. It’s what I signed up for, and I’m damn well going to manage it.

Chapter Text

Sometimes to his bewilderment—he’s a long, long way from washing Waterford’s car and even farther from the menial jobs of Before—Nick finds himself spending hours every day hammering out complicated details of the new trade routes and other issues critical to the infrastructure of New Bethlehem. More and more, those “other issues” have concerned the logistics of June and Lawrence’s samizdat, and right now is one of those times. “We’ve got an entire press run of a couple of new books to smuggle along one of the trade routes next week. Any problem with that?”

Nick shakes his head. “No. Disguising the book cartons as vegetable crates has been working really well. Let’s keep that going.” Truth be told, the entire samizdat enterprise has always made Nick a little nervous—there’s a lot that could go wrong, and he isn’t close to being as convinced as either June or Lawrence that just reading someone else’s ideas matters in any practical sense. Do enough people in Gilead even have enough time to read to make it worth all this effort? Is it calculated risk, or is it foolishness? His job is to keep everyone in New Bethlehem safe, starting with his family and radiating out to everyone in the town itself. Will the samizdat make his job harder? But Nick generally keeps those thoughts to himself and tries to anticipate any difficulties before they balloon into outright dangers. Taking care of everyone, including himself, is what he reliably does best.

Lawrence is apparently too focused on the project at hand to notice Nick’s silent misgivings.  “Excellent. We have a couple of European authors who are interested in working with us, so we might be able to increase our title list a little sooner than we thought. I still need to talk that over with June. If it works out, we could double the output in the next six months.”

Six months? Double the output? Just how long does Lawrence expect June to be in New Bethlehem? Is she really all right here? What about Nichole? Nick hesitates for an instant before he responds, and when he does, he chooses his words carefully. “Are you sure about the samizdat? Anyone caught smuggling your books into Gilead will be instantly executed. Do you know if anyone is actually reading them? And if they are, how do you know that the books are making any difference?” It’s the most he’s ever allowed himself to say, and he wonders how Lawrence will choose to respond.

Lawrence regards Nick thoughtfully. “We have data. We have reports that people are borrowing the books and sharing them with friends. They’re helping people understand their political options. Books always make a difference in an authoritarian regime. I’m not a democracy fanboy; people, not to put too fine a point on it, tend to be morons. But liberalizing Gilead? Opening it up to trade with the world? That’s what I’m fighting for, and the books we’re putting out are going to help us get there. Don’t you think that reading June and Serena’s book about women in Gilead can change people?”

Nick ponders the question. June’s book had hit him like a gut punch; seeing her trauma written down like that had made him physically sick, made him feel as though her were living it all over again with her, made him loathe himself for how powerless he ultimately was, and how little he’d managed to help her in the end. But would it have inspired him to action if he’d never met (if he didn’t love) June? He’s not certain. “You’ve already been at this for two months. Do you notice anything happening yet?”

“It’s a process. It won’t change anything in two months. It might not change anything in two years. But eventually, the hearts and minds of Gilead will turn. And when they do, we’ll be able to expand New Bethlehem into all of Gilead. We’re playing the long game here.” Nick wishes for just a small fraction of Lawrence’s confidence. That long game of his is nothing that Nick has ever had the luxury of playing. If I can get through the day-to-day short game, I’m doing better than anyone else in my family ever has, and better than I ever thought I would.

Nick shrugs, deciding not to say anything more. At least nobody is planning a wild rebellion right now. The samizdat risks are certainly real, but at least they’re moderate and predictable. He knows that he can handle this. It will be fine, if only because it has to be.

§§§

Yes, Nick can handle the trade routes and the samizdat. Seeing June every day, however, is a different matter entirely. He thinks he’s done a reasonably good job of appearing supportive and understanding of her relationship with Serena, but the reality is a lot more complicated. Sometimes Nick lies awake at night, listening for the sounds of his son starting to stir, with nothing to do in the darkness except think about how June has always, always chosen people other than him. Luke is her husband. Luke is understandable. But Serena? After everything, that’s how it ends? With Serena? Seeing June every day, and not being able to have her, magnifies the intensity of his every emotion. He refuses to let her know how he’s feeling, but sometimes the effort of performing in the role of “good friend” is physically overwhelming.

Right now, for example: as he starts to leave Lawrence’s house, he sees June frowning over her laptop in the study off the kitchen and is assaulted by that all-too-familiar ache of longing. She glances up, catches his eye, and smiles. “Hey.”

Fuck. She’s beautiful, even—maybe especially—in worn jeans and that old hoodie of hers. Nick swallows, keeping his voice steady. “Hey.”

Unfortunately, June seems to sense some of that hidden intensity, because she doesn’t quite meet his eyes for an instant. “All done with Lawrence?”

Nick nods, making a Herculean effort to sound like a casual colleague discussing work. Whatever happens, she can’t know how I still feel about her. “Just trade route details—we’re shipping more and more imports through New Bethlehem into Gilead. And then there are . . . some side projects.” He grins, and he’s relieved to see June’s eyebrow quirk in response.

“That’s what I hear, but I’m just a Martha. What do I know?” June chuckles, and Nick tries to ignore how much the sound of that laugh always sends embarrassing quivers throughout his body.

They talk a little more, but as soon as he can do it without making it awkward, Nick starts to edge his way out of the conversation. “I’ve got to get back to Rose. She’ll need a break from Josh by now—she’s been with him all day.”

Something complicated and raw flashes across June’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Nick thinks he might have imagined it. “You’re being a great dad to Josh. You know that, don’t you?”

Nick doesn’t answer right away. He’s the best thing in my life right now. He’s the only uncomplicated thing. “He’s growing really fast. I want to make sure I get to be part of it all.”

June looks at him, and Nick knows that, in this instant, both of them are thinking about Nichole, and how much of her Nick will never get to experience. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Because Nick is certain that she actually does, he can only nod in response and try not to think about the daughter that he barely knows, thousands of miles away from him.

§§§

Rose is sitting on the sofa when Nick enters their house, arranging some cut flowers in a vase on the coffee table. Looking up, she seems to notice Nick’s glance around the room. “He’s asleep. With some luck, he’ll be out for the next couple of hours.”

Nick nods, trying not to think about the fact that Rose seems happier when Josh is asleep than she is when she has to interact with him. Since the two of them rarely talk about anything substantial, Nick has never managed to bring up his uneasy feeling that Rose might, in fact, have preferred not having children at all. “I hope this extra nap won’t keep him up all night.”

Rose looks at him sharply, clearly interpreting that remark as a criticism. “You take what you can get. He’s usually up all night anyway.” She turns back to her flowers, seemingly uninterested in whatever Nick’s response would be.

Nick decides changing the subject from his son is the wisest course of action right now. Instead, he nods toward the flowers in the vase in front of them. “Those are pretty.”

Rose tilts her head, seeming to relax a little at the compliment. “Thank you. I just picked them from the greenhouse, and I thought they’d cheer up the room. It’s gloomy around here lately.”

Nick isn’t sure if she’s referring to the cold New England March weather or the fact that the two of them have found less and less in common lately, especially now that he’s in regular contact with June. Both are true, and either is possible. “They definitely do. You’re good with flowers.” She was, and she spends a lot of time in the greenhouse. Nick suddenly thinks to wonder whether Rose actually likes gardening, or whether she’s just filling her days, the way so many Gilead Wives are forced to do. She only seems really happy when she reads. It’s why she had wanted to come here in the first place. Nick ponders for a moment the quirk of fate that has linked him with two women who love books when he himself barely finds the time to glance at a newspaper.

Nick watches as Rose attempts to rearrange her face into a matter-of-fact expression, and he instinctively knows what she’s about to ask him. “So . . . did you see June today?”

Nick sighs to himself, careful not to let the sound escape audibly. June, apparently, will always be an issue between the two of them. Even though June has been in Gilead for a couple of months now, the two women have barely interacted. “She lives with Commander Lawrence. If I see him, I see her, and I see him every day.”

Rose nods, and Nick knows that she’s trying hard (and failing) not to sound as though her husband’s relationship with June Osborne is of any concern to her at all. “I hope she’s doing well. How is that book project of hers coming along?”

Nick regards her sharply. He had only told her about the samizdat after a lot of soul-searching. On the one hand, he had wanted to make it absolutely clear that June was in no way coming to New Bethlehem for him. On the other hand, Rose’s father is a High Commander, and Nick knows that it’s unfair of him to put Rose in the position of having to conceal anti-Gilead information. But then again, he had told Rose about Fred’s salvaging, and Rose had kept the truth of Fred’s death entirely to herself. In the end, Nick had decided to trust her. He knows that books are important enough to Rose that she’d support what June and Lawrence are trying to do together.

But even so, Nick always chooses to be as vague as he can get away with when Rose asks any questions about the samizdat. It’s better for everyone, he tells himself, that Rose not realize how involved he actually is in smuggling the books, or how large and apparently successful the operation is becoming. “Going well, I think. I haven’t really talked to her much about it.” That’s a half-truth, of course, but it’s the one that he’s going with right now.

At that moment, Josh mercifully starts to wail from the other room. Nick scrambles up to attend to him, happy to extricate himself from what could potentially develop into a difficult conversation in any one of a number of ways. “I’ll check on him. You can stay here.”

Looking relieved, Rose nods, sighs, and turns back to her flowers.

§§§

The next morning, Nick is walking toward Lawrence’s house for their daily briefing when he notices June’s daughter Hannah and Hannah’s friend Skylar moving toward him in the opposite direction. The girls are so deep in conversation that they don’t notice Nick until they very nearly collide with him. Hannah is the first to glance up. “Commander Blaine!”

Nick smiles at her. He’s gotten to know Hannah a bit since she arrived in New Bethlehem, and he sees so much of June in her that he feels as though he’s known her for years, even though teenage girls in general are an utter mystery to him. “Hi, Hannah.”

Hannah flushes. “This is . . . this is my friend Skylar. She’s training to be an Aunt, too.”

Nick, of course, knows this, even though he and Skylar have not been formally introduced. He had read Skylar’s dossier carefully before she came to New Bethlehem—he knows exactly when she had been transferred here, and what had precipitated that transfer. Skylar, who had moved to New York with her parents after meeting Hannah in their Colorado Wife school, had become part of a group of young adult dissident gender traitors. The Eyes had raided the group, discovered them with copies of June and Serena’s book, and immediately executed everyone in attendance. It was only the great good fortune of a bad cold that had kept Skylar from that meeting and certain death. Although she had never met Skylar, June had known full well how much she means to her daughter.  An expert in the transactional world of Gilead, June had agreed to come to New Bethlehem only if Lawrence arranged for Skylar to become, like Hannah, a New Bethlehem Aunt-in-Training.  Nick, however, keeps his knowledge of Skylar's backstory from his carefully noncommittal expression. “Nice to meet you, Skylar.”

Unlike Hannah, Skylar does not seem the least bit embarrassed to be talking to one of the chief Commanders of New Bethlehem. Nick eyes her speculatively She’s only a year older than Hannah, but she already has an easy confidence about who she is and what she believes. “Likewise.” June has always been like that too, Nick thinks—way too confident for her own safety.

Apparently noticing that Nick is heading toward Lawrence’s house, Hannah asks, “Are you going to see my mother?

Nick doesn’t answer for a moment. June, he knows, had chosen to tell Hannah that Nick was her sister Nichole’s birth father. Hannah, according to June, had immediately asked if Nick had been her boyfriend. Nick had laughed, not asking what he had really wanted to know. (What did you tell her? Was I your boyfriend then? Was I anything at all?) Now, however, he’s suddenly acutely aware that he had hesitated just a beat too long. Both girls are looking at him, and—maddeningly—he can feel himself flushing more than Hannah had done just a moment ago. “No, I’m . . . I’m sure I’ll see her, but I’m not going to there to see her. I have . . . work stuff.” God, could he sound any lamer?

Hannah looks a little puzzled, and Skylar appears very much on the brink of bursting into laughter. Belatedly, Nick tries to salvage a little of his dignity. “She’s pretty busy these days, you know. Not much time for anything else.” Better, but only marginally.

Looking proud, Hannah nods, and Nick can see exactly how much the girl admires and loves her mother.  “She doesn’t tell me much about those books she’s working on, but I know they’re important.”

Skylar is still looking thoughtfully at Nick, trying to swallow an obvious half-smile. Nick glances at his watch, glad to be able to leave this situation now. “Well, Blessed Day to both of you. I’m almost late for my meeting.” He knows that Lawrence doesn’t care about meetings starting punctually, but there’s no reason to confess that idiosyncrasy to either girl at this particular moment in time.

§§§

When Nick arrives at Lawrence’s house, he immediately notices two things. First, June isn’t at her usual place in the study. And second, Lawrence is in the kitchen with a young, dark-haired woman with bright green eyeglasses. Both are puzzles to Nick: he wonders where June is (is anything wrong?), and he also realizes that the woman is a total stranger in a town in which it’s Nick’s job to know everything about everyone.

Noticing Nick’s confusion, Lawrence responds in the proper order of importance. “She’s just taking a walk on the beach, or I think that’s where she is—I wasn’t paying much attention. Something about clearing her head and the ocean.” Nick gets it immediately. He knows how attached June had been to jogging on the beach in Hawaii, and he wonders why exactly she’s taking it up again now. Something must be bothering her. But what? Is it the samizdat? Is it Serena? Or Luke? Or something else?

Before his mind can go too far down its customary June rabbit hole, Nick realizes that Lawrence has moved on to the other mystery in the room. “This is Allie Zagres. She’s one of the brightest Econ Ph.D. students that I ever taught. Someone tipped me off that she was about to be sent to the Colonies, and I called in some favors to have her transferred here. I want her to work with you on tweaking the trade routes to be as efficient as possible and potentially opening some new ones. Allie, this is Commander Nick Blaine.”

Nick is genuinely surprised that Lawrence has enough social capital left among the Gilead Commanders to call in any sort of favor at all, much less one involving the transfer of a woman bound for the Colonies into New Bethlehem for serious and responsible work. “Hi.”

Allie, who has flushed a little at Lawrence’s compliment, smiles at him. Nick notices that she has flecks of green in her brown eyes, possibly reflecting off of her glasses. For no real reason at all, he’s suddenly picturing June’s blue, blue eyes piercing into his soul. “Hi. I understand that you’ve done a fantastic job so far. Can we get together later to talk about what you think needs to be done?

Nick nods, relaxing a little. He’d barely finished high school, and educated women have always made him a little nervous. Something about Allie, however, seems down to earth and practical. That must be June’s influence, he thinks to himself. He never felt that June ever talked down to him or made him feel uneducated, and perhaps this woman won’t, either. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Lawrence’s eyes flicker between the two of them, and Nick is suddenly (and uncomfortably) reminded of Skylar’s half-mocking smile. “Excellent. I’m glad we’re all getting along so well. Nick, let’s talk a little now, and then you and Allie can get to know each other better.”

Nick follows Lawrence into his office, happy that, at the very least, new challenges and responsibilities regarding the expansion of the trade routes will distract him from thinking about June. These days, that level of distraction is more than enough for him.

Chapter Text

After their morning classes are over, Hannah and Skylar always have lunch together in an empty classroom in New Bedlam’s new elementary school. Today Hannah, contentedly munching her grilled cheese sandwich, watches Skylar eat her egg salad, idly admiring her friend’s careful efficiency in maneuvering around the bread crusts. Skylar catches her eye and laughs.

Hannah gives her a look. “What’s funny about grilled cheese?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about Commander Blaine. He totally likes your mom. Did you notice that?” Skylar selects a grape and pops it into her mouth, looking at Hannah expectantly.

Hannah hadn’t noticed any such thing, but then again, she had been more focused on making sure that she didn’t trip or say something inappropriate in front of one of New Bethlehem’s most important Commanders. “Um . . . maybe?” Hannah tries to recall the exact conversation. Had they even talked about June? But if Skylar saw something, more than likely there had been something there to see. Skylar notices little tidbits before Hannah has any idea that there might be anything there at all.

Skylar nods. “Definitely. What’s the deal with the two of them? What do you know about it?”

“He’s my little half-sister’s father. That’s it.” Hannah wishes that she had asked June a few more questions when Nick had been introduced to her, but she had been concentrating hard on trying to make a good impression on both of them.

Skylar looks fascinated. “That’s huge, though. So they were a thing?”

Hannah thinks about that phrase: a thing, letting it roll around in her head. A thing. Nobody that she knows in Gilead talks the way Skylar does, using language from Before in casual defiance of all the expected litany of Praise Be’s and Under His Eye’s. Skylar had been eight when she’d come to Gilead, and she remembers a lot more than Hannah does about her life then. Nobody here is like Skylar at all.  Skylar is a year older than she is—Hannah has just turned fourteen—but Hannah often thinks that she seems even older than that. Not for the first time, Hannah feels lucky that Skylar ever wanted to be her friend at all.

Skylar is still looking at her inquiringly, and Hannah realizes that she hasn’t said anything in response. “Um . . . I think so. My mother . . . June . . . didn’t really tell me any of that.” But she’d definitely seen a flash of something complicated in the way Nick and June had looked at each other, Hannah realizes now. It wasn’t a long look, and it had disappeared in a blink, but it had been memorable enough for her to notice. Skylar might be on to something. She usually is, Hannah thinks to herself.

Skylar swallows the last bite of sandwich and sighs. “Time to jet. If we take any longer, Aunt Esmeralda will be looking for us.” Aunt Esmeralda was in charge of all of the Aunts-in-Training, and it was never a good idea to be on her radar.

Hannah sighs. She loves her work helping teach the younger girls to cook, but she lives for these daily lunches with Skylar, when it’s just the two of them and nobody else. She wishes they had more time to spend together, but Aunt training keeps both of them busy nearly all day long. “I know. This afternoon we’re going to introduce the girls to pastries. We’re starting out with cream puffs, since they’re easy.”

Skylar snorts. “I can’t even make a Pop-Tart, not that we have any Pop-Tarts around here, anyway.”

Through the shadowy haze of her Before memories, Hannah recalls Pop-Tarts, a special treat that her parents gave her once in awhile. Blueberry frosting. Sometimes strawberry. “Well, if we can find some, I’ll teach you how to use a toaster. I promise you can master it.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Skylar says, rolling her eyes. “The domestic arts and I have never exactly been friends. My kids have to learn to make birdhouses today. That’s more my speed!”

Building birdhouses is definitely cooler than baking. Those girls are really lucky to have landed in New Bethlehem with Skylar to teach them how to do it. Almost simultaneously with that thought comes the sound of the bell signifying ten minutes until the start of afternoon classes. As the two of them hastily pack up the remnants of their lunch and prepare to leave, Skylar’s hand brushes against Hannah’s own for just an instant. Hannah tries to ignore the odd, not altogether unpleasant, feeling that she gets from that sudden and unexpected contact.

§§§

Hannah arrives to class a little breathless. When she sees that Colleen, her class’s other Aunt-in-Training, is already there, she sighs to herself. Once again, she wishes that Skylar had been good enough at cooking to have been assigned to be her training partner instead of Colleen. No matter what she does, Colleen seems to go out of her way to find something wrong with it. Today, Colleen is looking at her watch. “You’re late.”

“No, I’m not,” Hannah answers, wondering if she’s imagining the slight note of smugness in Colleen’s tone. The bell rings at that precise moment, proving her point. She might have been almost late, but almost definitely counts as on time.

Colleen’s eyes narrow a little. “Were you having lunch with your friend?”

Hannah nods, wondering why Colleen always seems so interested in her friendship with Skylar. “Same as always.”

“You know, Hannah, people are starting to talk about you and Skylar. You spend all of your time with each other.” Colleen is watching Hannah carefully as though waiting for her reaction.

Hannah flushes. “What do you mean? We’re friends. We have lunch together. That’s all. What is there for people to talk about?”

Colleen shrugs, feigning indifference. “I wouldn’t know, of course. Not exactly. Gossiping is a sin against God.”

“Why?” Hannah is momentarily distracted from the topic at hand. “Where in the Bible does it say anything about gossip?”

Colleen looks shocked, as she often does when she and Hannah discuss anything to do with God or Gilead. “It doesn’t have to say it; it’s obvious. Only people with too much pride gossip about others.”

Not immediately seeing the connection between pride (and what, actually is so bad about pride, anyway? Skylar certainly scoffs at the idea that pride should be considered a sin) and gossip, Hannah suddenly remembers what they’d been talking about in the first place: herself and Skylar. “But you must have heard something, or you wouldn’t be mentioning it at all.”

“I’m just telling you as a friend that maybe you should have lunch with other people. I mean . . . “ Colleen hesitates here, and if it hadn’t been Colleen Hannah might almost imagine that she suddenly sounded a little shy and hesitant. “. . . we could have lunch sometime. That is, if you want to.”

Hannah, in fact, did not want to in the slightest. Let them talk. There’s nothing at all to gossip about if I want to have lunch with Skylar, and I’m not giving that up. But she’s been trained by her Gilead parents always to be polite, even to someone like Colleen. “Um . . . sometime, maybe. Skylar and I are working on a project, though, so it might not be for awhile.” Hannah hopes that Colleen will not think to inquire about the “project,” which of course is entirely fictitious.

Hannah sees a brief expression that might have been disappointment on Colleen’s face, but Colleen shrugs so quickly that Hannah can’t really be certain. At that moment Aunt Janice, the cooking Aunt of the class, enters with bags of flour and sugar. Hannah stops thinking about Colleen and concentrates on the prospect of teaching the fifteen children in her class how to make the best cream puffs they’ve ever eaten before.

§§§

It’s late in the afternoon before Hannah and Skylar have a chance to talk again, in one of their few unscheduled hours between the end of classes and the dinner hour. It’s one of Hannah’s favorite times of the day, when she knows that the children are working on their homework and the Aunts are preparing lesson plans for tomorrow. It’s the golden hour for the Aunts-in-Training, who are free to do whatever they like. For Hannah and Skylar, “whatever they like,” of course, is spending time with one another.

Right now Skylar is laughing at Hannah’s imitation of Colleen’s attempts to control the children in the cooking class. “She’s such a goody-goody,” Skylar says, touching Hannah’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re stuck with her as a partner. Did she pray over the cream puffs to make them big and fluffy?”

That light touch feels peculiarly like an electric shock, but Hannah is too busy trying to find something interesting to say in response to wonder about that. “Can you believe that she actually asked to have lunch with me? She says that people are talking about how you and I always sneak off by ourselves. That’s crazy, right? I mean, why would anyone else care where we eat?”

Skylar looks at her sharply. “What are they saying about us?”

Hannah shrugs, suddenly wishing she had never brought this up. “I don’t know. It’s stupid, though. We’re just eating lunch.”

Skylar looks oddly embarrassed. “Right. Totally. We’re just eating lunch.” Before Hannah can ponder Skylar’s odd tone, the subject is apparently being changed entirely. “Hey, how’s your mom doing? Your other mom, not your Gilead one.”

If Skylar had wanted to distract Hannah from the conversation at hand, it was a strategy that worked masterfully. Next to Skylar, June is Hannah’s favorite subject. “Great. I just had dinner with her the other day. She’s pretty busy with that book editing thing of hers.”

Skylar cocks her head in a way that Hannah finds completely adorable. She looks like a one of those terriers about to pounce on a ball. Not for the first time, Hannah wishes she could have a dog. “You should ask her more about that. I’ll bet it has something to do with fighting Gilead. Don’t forget that your mom is the one who got those kids out of here and back to their real parents. She wrote that book about being a Handmaid that some people in Gilead have managed to read. She’s awesome.”

Hannah shrugs. “I get the feeling that she doesn’t want to tell me much.”

Skylar sighs. “She’s probably trying to protect you or something, but she shouldn’t do that. We both need to help if we can. There are too many assholes in control around here.”

Assholes. Hannah looks around nervously, in case one of the Aunts might be listening. Assholes. She loves how brave Skylar is—she never seems to be afraid of anything or anybody. “Well, maybe you can ask her yourself. She said I could bring you with me the next time we go out to dinner. That’s the day after tomorrow. Can you come?”

“Of course I can come. What’s better to do around here than having dinner with June Osborne?” Skylar’s enthusiasm is apparently genuine. Even though she’s a little anxious about the prospect of the two most important people in her life spending time together, Hannah is happy to have done something so obviously pleasing to Skylar. I can’t wait to hear what the two of them have to say to one another.

§§§

Two nights later, Hannah, Skylar, and June are crowded into a booth at the Rendezvous diner, talking as though they’ve all known each other for years. Hannah finds she can’t stop smiling as she watches Skylar and June getting along so well.

Right now, Skylar is peppering June with questions. “How hard was it to plan Angel’s Flight? I still can’t believe you got those kids out of Gilead. That was so great for them.” Skylar’s tone is a little wistful, and Hannah is aware that June notices that as well.

June takes a sip of her drink before she answers. “I had a lot of help, and frankly, we were lucky that it didn’t go wrong. Keeping that many kids quiet on a long walk was the most difficult part of it all, but they were amazing. Kids can be a lot braver than adults give them credit for being.”

Skylar is nodding. “That’s what my parents—my real parents, from Before—always said. They took me and my brother to a lot of protests, and they wanted us to learn to stand up for ourselves, always.”

June hesitates a moment, as if trying to decide how to respond to that. “How much do you remember about your family?”

“I remember a lot, really. They were both professors—Dad taught political science, and Mom taught literature. They knew that bad things were happening in the country for a long time before Gilead. Dad wanted to move to Canada a long time ago, but Mom said we had to stay here with my grandparents.” Skylar is biting her lip, and Hannah knows how much talking about her parents always upsets her.

“What happened to them?” June’s voice is soft.

Skylar shrugs, blinking back tears. “They got sent to the Colonies right away. My brother Steve—I don’t know about him. I haven’t seen him since I was eight.”

“I’m sorry, Skylar,” June says, touching Skylar’s hand for an instant.

Skylar nods, swallowing hard. “I miss them. I mean, my Gilead family isn’t mean or anything, but . . . they’re not my real family.”

June nods. “I know. But I’m glad that they didn’t mistreat you. And I’m very glad that you’re here in New Bethlehem right now.”

Skylar nods, and Hannah is relieved to see that her voice is steady again. “I am, too. I know that you had something to do with that, so . . . thank you. I really mean it.”

June smiles. “I understand you’re a great teacher, so it worked out well all around.”

“Thanks. I actually like teaching these kids how to use tools. I mean, it’s a good thing for girls to know. It’s not fair that only boys learned that in Gilead.” Skylar’s voice is starting to rise a little, the way Hannah knows that it does when she’s getting passionate about something.

“I totally agree with you,” June says, looking very serious. “I’m glad that it’s one of things that High Commander Lawrence insisted on when he designed the educational system here.”

Skylar hesitates, and Hannah knows that she’s about to ask June something about her work. “Those books that you’re working on—are they supposed to help the Resistance?”

Hannah sees June glance around, but the diner is empty except for one older couple on the other side of the room. “What do you mean?”

Skylar takes a deep breath and holds it in for a second before answering. “You know that I was part of that group in Gilead who were executed for reading your book, right? That happened right before I came to New Bethlehem.” Hannah is a little startled to hear Skylar bringing this up; she rarely talks about how guilty she feels about not having been at the meeting when the group’s members were raided and immediately shot by Guardians.

June’s expression is difficult to read. “I do know that. I’m very sorry you lost friends that day.”

Skylar takes a deep breath. “They were all older than I am—college age, I think—but they were always nice to me and let me talk. Some of them were gender traitors, and I just . . . I liked to hear what they had to say, and they found great books for us to read. When we read your book, we talked about it for hours. It was . . . it was amazing.”

June just looks at Skylar, shakes her head, and sighs. “It wasn’t worth their lives.”

Skylar’s stubborn expression is suddenly back. “I think some of them would have thought that it was, especially if it does something to help people in Gilead. That’s what I want to do, more than anything. I want to help. I want to make things better here. So that’s why I want to know . . . is that what you’re doing right now?”

June hesitates, looks around again, and then nods. “Yeah, I am. Or at least, I’m trying to do that. We’re trying to get censored books to places around Gilead where people can read them.  We think that ideas are powerful weapons and that the more people read about freedom and democracy, the stronger the Resistance becomes.”

Hannah is startled. I knew that there was more going on than just editing some books. She had always been a little puzzled about why June came to New Bethlehem instead of staying in Hawaii, but everything is becoming clearer to her now.

Skylar is gazing right at June now. “I want to help, if I can. I mean, I’m not a writer or an editor, but if there’s anything I can do, I’d like to do that. It’s what my parents would have wanted. They were fighting against Gilead until they couldn’t fight anymore, and now it’s my turn. That’s a big reason why I wanted to come to New Bethlehem. I thought I could do more here when I get older than I could anywhere else in Gilead.”

June sighs. “Skylar, it’s amazing that you want to do that—really, it is. Your parents would be very, very proud of you. But you’re fourteen years old, and . . .”

Skylar interrupts her. “I’m fifteen. I just had a birthday last month. And who cares how old I am? If there’s anything that I can do, I want to. You would have wanted that too, if you were me.”

“I guess I would have,” June says, looking at Skylar thoughtfully. “All right. If something comes up that’s safe enough and that you could be useful doing, we can discuss it. But for now, I hope it goes without saying that you shouldn’t talk about our book distribution to anyone—not to an Aunt, not to another student, not to anyone except Hannah or me. Can you promise me that?”

Skylar nods. “I promise. And thank you.”

June smiles at Skylar so fondly that Hannah almost feels like an intruder in a private conversation. “You give me hope for the future.”

Skylar flushes a little, and June appears to notice her embarrassment. “Hey, Hannah—do you have any other awesome friends you’d like me to meet next week?”

Hannah laughs. “Nope, just the one.”

June grins back at her. “I guess she’ll have to do. Now, what about dessert?”

As the conversation moves toward the merits of different kinds of pie and whether or not ice cream should be included, Hannah finds that she can’t seem to stop smiling. I’m so lucky to have both my mom and Skylar in my life right now. Everything is just about perfect.

Chapter Text

More and more lately, June has taken to walking along New Bethlehem’s beach to get her increasingly troublesome thoughts into some semblance of harmony. She’d rather be jogging, the way she’d done in Hawaii, but even in New Bethlehem, the sight of a woman wearing jogging shoes and sweats would raise more than one eyebrow. So it’s walking or nothing at all—yet another New Bethlehem “almost” and “good enough” for which she is forced to settle. I miss those blue-and-green sneakers that Serena bought me last Christmas. I miss flying along the edge of the Pacific, feeling free. I miss coming home after running to Serena and having her hand me a cold drink. I miss all of it. June shakes her head, trying to banish those thoughts from her mind and concentrate on the work she’s doing in New Bethlehem. And, she reminds herself, she won’t be here forever. This is temporary. But what isn’t temporary, really? She had once told Serena that there wasn’t any home—there was just where you happened to be. What if Hawaii and Serena were just temporary resting places and not home at all?

June sighs and sits on a bench along the shore, staring into the ocean. It’s so much grayer than the almost impossibly blue ocean in Hawaii. Her thoughts drift toward yesterday morning’s Zoom call with Serena. It had been shorter than she would have liked, and it had felt, as it so often does lately, that they were steadily running out of things to talk about. June is necessarily limited in what she can say about her samizdat work, and Serena always appears to be measuring her words carefully, trying too hard to convince June that everything at home is pleasantly unremarkable. All of that, June thinks, makes real conversation difficult. It’s especially jarring, because the one thing that she and Serena have always been able to do is to talk to one another.

The one time that Serena had seemed the least bit natural and animated, June recalls, is when she mentioned Nichole’s play dates with her friend Michael from day care. Those seem to have become a regular thing, and June has the impression that Serena enjoys spending time with Michael’s mother Casey. It’s good, June tells herself. Serena really has never had friends the way June has—aside from June, her only real friend is Blue, the woman who had rescued her when she’d fled from the Wheelers. Since Blue is a world away in Toronto, they can’t interact beyond texts and phone calls. There’s Naomi, of course, but Serena’s relationship with Naomi has always tipped toward the frenemy side of the scale. I’m glad that Serena has someone that she can talk to. June is largely successful in her attempt to to quash the little wriggle of something other than “glad” when she thinks about Serena talking with a person who isn’t her. After all, June has Moira for regular phone chats. She has Nick right here in New Bethlehem, even though being friends with Nick has proven to be a challenge. June knows that It’s completely unfair of her to expect Serena to sit in Hawaii pining for her and taking care of the children, frozen in time and place, awaiting her return like some kind of World War II wife whose husband is off to fight the Nazis. Serena deserves a life, even if part of that life is something that necessarily exists completely apart from June. It’s fine, and it’s completely normal, June thinks; she's largely successful in managing to believe what she admonishes to herself.

§§§

When June returns to the Lawrence home after her walk, she sees that Nick is just leaving. He stops when he sees her, smiling as if he can’t quite stop himself from doing it. “Hey. Beach walking again?”

June nods. “Yeah. Gotta stay in fighting weight, in case I get called up to the show.”

Nick laughs. “I think you’re doing fine.”

June realizes that it’s actually been quite a long time since she’s heard Nick laugh. He’s always been serious and reserved, of course, but lately he’s seemed . . . sad. I’m not being a good friend to him. I should be doing better. “How’s everything going? Is Josh doing all right?” Talking about Nick’s son has always been a safe subject for the two of them.

“He’s sleeping better, which is a relief. It’s really been hard on Rose, but I think everything is improving now.” Nick looks as though he wants to say more, but he just gives June a half-smile instead.

Rose. June still has barely interacted with Nick’s wife, even though they’ve all lived together in New Bethlehem for the past couple of months. She has always tried not to think too much about Nick’s life with another woman, just as she tries not to picture Nick taking care of a child who is not Nichole. “I’d love to see Josh. Maybe you can bring him with you one of these days.” June has only met Josh once, and she had the impression that showing his son to her had been difficult for Nick.

Nick hesitates. “Maybe. Or maybe . . . you could come to our place for dinner?” He looks as though he half regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

June stares at him for a moment. She’s always had the distinct impression that Nick wants to keep her far, far away from Rose, and she’s actually been grateful for that. “Do you think that’s a good idea, given . . . well, given everything?” Given the fact that we have a child together, that we were in love, and that our current relationship is the very definition of “complicated”?

“I think if Rose saw us the way we are now . . . it would be good.” Nick doesn’t meet her eyes, but June can feel the emotion beneath his words. Obviously, having her so close in New Bethlehem hasn’t been easy for him, and it’s clearly been causing some problems with his wife.

June sighs. “You should check with Rose, you know. This might not be something that she wants at all.”

“I will. But if it’s all right with her . . . would you?” Nick is looking directly at her now, and June can see how much this means to him.

“Sure. If it’s ok with Rose, just let me know when you’d like me to come.” Privately, June hopes it won’t be all right with Rose—the idea of a social engagement with Nick and his wife makes her feel just slightly short of queasy. But he’s seen me with Serena more than once, so fair is fair. That thought, however, does not make the prospect of the upcoming dinner any more palatable.

§§§

As June had feared, Rose is apparently far too polite to refuse to have June over for dinner once Nick had rashly extended the invitation. Accordingly, three days later, June finds herself sitting down to a feast of roast chicken and mashed potatoes. She wonders if Rose prepared it herself or whether Nick has a Martha. Marthas, she knows, are still widely used in New Bethlehem, even though handmaids are forbidden. It’s her excuse, after all, for living in Lawrence’s New Bethlehem home. She and Nick, she realizes now, have never discussed the subject of his attitude toward Marthas, along with the many, many other details of Nick’s home life that have remained a mystery to her. He never volunteers anything of substance, and June rarely inquires.

“It’s so nice to have you here, June. We haven’t had any chance to get to know each other since you’ve come to New Bethlehem.” Rose is smiling at her, but her eyes are wary. The words are the right ones, but something in her expression is distinctly sharp and noticing.

“Thank you for inviting me. I’m surprised you have any time at all for entertaining, with a toddler in the house.” June, who vividly remembers the day, several weeks before her first Christmas with Serena, that Tuello had tentatively told her that Nick’s son had been born, finds it peculiarly easy to keep track of his age: sixteen months. Six months younger than Noah. Two and a half years younger than Nichole. June suddenly feels a stab of longing for her children, for Serena, for her life apart from New Bethlehem.

As he often seems to do, Nick smiles at the mention of his son. “He’s walking all over the place now. It’s tough to keep up with him.”

Rose sighs. “It certainly is. Some days I just wish he’d sleep a little longer and walk a little less.” She glances at June, clearly acutely conscious that she might just have confessed something that would horrify her guest. “I don’t mean that, of course. It’s a blessing that he’s so active and healthy.”

Yet far from horrifying June, it instead has the effect of making Rose seem more like a human being and less like some nebulous, faintly suspect Gilead Wife. “Having a child is hard work. And it’s nothing that anyone is trained to do before being thrown into the middle of it.” She wishes that she knew Rose well enough to assure her that she wasn’t a bad mother just because she sometimes longed for a break from her son.

“Nick is really a natural with Josh. I’m . . . I’m getting better with him, and of course I love him.” Rose’s eyes seem to have lost their wariness. June wonders how long it’s been since this woman has had anyone to talk to besides Nick, who (to be fair) is hardly any sort of satisfactory conversationalist.

“It takes time, and you have to realize that all of us are going to make a million mistakes. Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about all the things I might have done differently with my children.” June is careful not to mention Nichole specifically. She assumes that Rose knows that Nick is her father, but she doesn’t really know. There’s so much that Nick and I have never talked about. Most of their relationship had consisted of physical touches and words unsaid, rather than genuine conversations about what they think and feel and believe.

Nick is flushing just a little. “Josh is amazing. I think I could watch him all day.” June feels her heart melting just a little at those words, remembering when she wanted nothing more than to run away with Nick to Hawaii with their daughter and live together as a family. And then Hawaii became a reality, but with Serena instead of Nick. Life is very, very strange. She has a sudden desire to touch Nick then, to feel the warmth of those fingers that she knows so well. I always knew that he’d be a wonderful father. It’s terrible that he’s seen so little of Nichole.

As if sensing something in the air that needs to be deflected, Rose changes the subject to June’s samizdat work. “Are you enjoying your editing? I’m so happy to be in New Bethlehem instead of DC. I missed reading terribly.”

June knows, of course, that Rose has been informed about the samizdat, but she still hesitates a beat before responding. “It’s going well. I think what we’re doing is important.” She hadn’t known that Rose missed reading; that apparently is yet another detail that Nick has failed to mention. June studies the woman in front of her, wondering about who she actually is, apart from “Nick’s wife” and “Josh’s mother.” She knows that Rose’s father is a very powerful High Commander, and that Nick has always insisted that Rose is happy in Gilead. These facts, June realizes, have always made her almost smugly uninterested in Rose—what sort of woman, after all, could be happy in Gilead? But at this moment, it’s becoming apparent that June might have misjudged her.

“I’ve had a lot of arguments with my father about women reading. He’s certain that Gilead has done the right thing in forbidding it, and I don’t agree at all. Our compromise was allowing me to live in New Bethlehem with Nick. He doesn’t like it, but I insisted.” Rose takes a sip from her water glass, watching June as if gauging her reaction.

June is certain that her surprise must show on her face. For some reason, she had always assumed that Rose must be weak and submissive—certainly not anyone who would argue openly with her father. Nick told me once that I’d like her. Maybe he was right after all. “What do you like to read?”

Rose brightens visibly. “Science fiction, mostly. Some fantasy. That’s one thing that I’m really looking forward to with Josh—introducing him to some of my favorite books when he’s old enough. I’m going to start with the Narnia books, I think.”

June is even more startled; Rose as a fan of science fiction and fantasy would not have been something that she could have imagined. “Reading to kids is one of the best things about having kids. It’s wonderful to watch them experience stories for the first time.” A vision of Serena reading to Nichole suddenly swims across her mind. Serena loves that so much.

Rose takes a breath and then says something unexpected. “June . . . if you ever need any help with your publishing work, I’d like to be involved.”

Nick looks startled, and June realizes that his wife must never have said anything like that before this moment. She chooses her words carefully in response. “There’s not a lot to do, really. Just some editing and proofreading. Our books are mostly political science and history, not fiction. I’m not sure if you’d be interested.”

Rose’s eyes narrow, and, too late, June realizes that she might have sounded patronizing. “I was a history major at Georgetown, before Gilead. I’ve actually read a lot of different things.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry.” Who is this woman, really? A history major at Georgetown? And now she’s a Gilead Wife?

“I never got a chance to work anywhere before the Revolution, and I always wanted to do . . . well, to do something. Something important. I worked on my college newspaper, and I once thought about becoming a journalist.” Rose looks wistful, and June sees that Nick is watching her closely.

“I always need help proofreading the new galley pages before we send them to be printed into books. If you really want to do that . . . it would be great to have you.” June is surprised to find that she actually means that. She herself finds proofreading tedious; she’s always been much more interested in actively writing and editing than in making sure that no typographical or spelling errors remain in page proofs. She knows that she’s too impatient, too impulsive, to make a good proofreader. Serena was always better at that than I ever was. It’s the one aspect of her samizdat work that June dislikes, and if Rose wants to help, June can’t think of a reason not to allow her to do so.

Rose smiles. “I’d really like that.”

Watching Nick’s impassive expression out of the corner of her eye, June has the distinct feeling that he’s less than enthusiastic about the prospect. She shrugs inwardly. It’s their marriage, not hers, and it’s up to them to work this one out.

§§§

At the evening’s end, Nick volunteers to walk her back to the Lawrence house. It’s an unusually warm night for the middle of March. Spring, June realizes, is almost here. They walk together in a silence that, for the first time in awhile, seems more companionable than uncomfortable.

Nick is the first to speak. “Rose really seemed to like you. She doesn’t . . . she doesn’t have many people to talk to. I’m just not interested in a lot of the stuff that she likes, but you are. I know that she reads a lot, but we never talked about how she felt about not being able to do that in Gilead.”

June fights a desire to roll her eyes. Is there anyone that Nick will ever talk to about anything that’s important to him? At least his taciturn persona is apparently not restricted to just her. “I liked her, too.” June realizes that what she’s just said is, in fact, the truth. She had liked Rose a good deal more than she had always assumed she would.

Nick gives her a half smile. “She surprised you, didn’t she?”

“She certainly did. You never told me that she was interested in the samizdat. I wasn’t even sure how much you’d talked to her about it.” June turns to Nick, wondering what he’d say about that.

Nick shrugs. “I’d just told her the bare bones—she knows you and Lawrence are printing resistance books and sending them into Gilead.”

“That’s pretty much everything, really,” June answers. “Did she ever mention wanting to help us before tonight?”

Nick shakes his head. “No, not before tonight. We don’t . . . we don’t talk about much besides Josh, and even then . . .” Nick lets his words trail off, as if this particular subject is a difficult one for him.

June touches his hand, and he responds with a slight squeeze. It’s the first physical contact that she and Nick have had, June realizes, in a long, long time. She hasn’t touched him since . . . when? Before Hawaii, certainly. But even after all that time, after Serena, after everything, the feeling of that touch is shockingly, electrifyingly familiar.

They’ve reached the same bench that June likes to sit on after her beach runs, where she has a clear view of the ocean and relative privacy. She motions toward it now, and Nick follows her. They both sit and stare at the water, not saying anything for a few moments. Then Nick speaks in a voice that’s almost a whisper. “I don’t think . . . I don’t think she really wanted a child. You can’t be a woman in Gilead and say that, or even think that, but . . . I think she was happier before Josh was born.” He sounds miserable, and June realizes how much this has been weighing on him.

This time she takes his hand and doesn’t let it go. “I’m sure she loves Josh. It’s harder for some women than others, but everyone gets there.” But is that even true, June wonders. Not everyone is naturally maternal. Moira, she knows, is happy being an honorary aunt but never wanted children of her own. Her own mother loved her, but June always knew her mother’s work, and not her daughter, came first. She barely knows Rose, and she certainly has no genuine idea how she feels about being a mother.

Nick sighs, letting his thumb caress her hand just a little. “I know she loves Josh, but . . . sometimes she doesn’t seem to like him, if that makes any sense. I wish I could talk to her about it, but I can’t.”

Acutely aware of the feeling of that caress, June doesn’t answer for a moment. “However it turns out, at least Josh has you. He’s going to grow up with a parent’s love, no matter what else happens.”

Nick turns to her, and the moonlight is reflected in his eyes. “You’re a great mother, June. You’ve never stopped fighting for Hannah, and Nichole is lucky to have you. I never had to worry about how she was going to grow up, because you’ve always been in her life.”

June feels a pang at his words. I’m not the paragon of motherhood you’re making me out to be, Nick. I left her with Luke and Moira. And now I’ve left her again with Serena. I’m not much different from my own mother, when it comes down to it. She doesn’t say any of that, however. “You and Rose need to have a real conversation about this. It’s important.”

Nick just shakes his head, and June finds herself touching his cheek. “Nick? It’s going to be ok.”

He looks directly at her then, their eyes locking the way they used to in Gilead, when they could only communicate with one another through subtle looks and covert touches. It feels so familiar that June can almost picture Nick smoking a cigarette on his little porch above the Waterford’s garage, watching her from afar.

And suddenly NIck’s lips are on hers, and they’re kissing as passionately as they’ve ever kissed before. How long the moment lasts June couldn’t say—it feels like an eternity, and it might well have only been seconds. But in that time in between, June feels everything and everyone in her life dissolving. She had once wished for the world to go away, just for a little bit. She knows what that feels like now, to have nothing at all—no Serena, no Nichole, no Gilead resistance—nothing except Nick and herself and this feeling.  This is everything.

That “everything,” however, only lasts a moment, and then the world abruptly comes crashing back. June knows that the shock on Nick’s face is mirrored on her own. Serena. The name is echoing in June’s head, insistently and loudly. Serena. How could I have done this? I love Serena. She gave up our life so I could come to New Bethlehem and make the world better. How could I have done this to her? And how could I have done this to Rose, right after getting to know her and eating her food? Even in Gilead, I am the worst person in the world.

June stands up abruptly and walks away. She hears Nick calling her name as she leaves, but she doesn’t allow herself to glance back at him. Tears are already streaming down her face, and she wipes them away without really being aware that she’s crying. Right now, all June wants is to put as much distance between herself and Nick as it is physically possible to do.

§§§

June lies awake all night in her bed, listening to the sound of the water, trying to shut out her racing thoughts. Did I kiss Nick first, or did he kiss me? Does that matter? Why were we kissing at all? What the hell is wrong with me? At some point, her mind turns from Nick to her New Bethlehem work. Am I making enough of a difference to blow up my life like this? All we’re doing is getting a few books out into Gilead. It sounded noble when Lawrence pitched it, but is anything really happening? Ideas are great, but Mayday is planning to do real damage. Maybe that’s what we should be doing, too.

June sighs. Lawrence, she knows, has no interest in some quick-fix method of destroying Gilead. He wants to improve it, to change the hearts and minds of its citizens, to make free trade with other nations possible. His plan could take years, and he seems fine with a slow and steady pace. Tuello, she also realizes, is only cooperating with Lawrence to bide his time and wait for a chance to launch a military attack against Gilead. The Mayday operatives that she knows are planning guerrilla assaults that could wound Gilead severely enough to make the country bleed, and right now that sounds most appealing to June. If I’m risking my relationship with Serena the way I did tonight, I want it to count for something. The samizdat might not be enough for that. I need a real fight. If I were doing more, I wouldn’t have time for Nick or anyone else.

June closes her eyes, willing herself into the bliss of unconsciousness, trying not to picture Nick, trying not to relive how that kiss had made her feel for that single instant when every rational thought that she had ever had vanished into nothingness. I want to go home. I need to make what I’m doing in New Bethlehem count, and then I want to get the hell out of here. This thing with Nick can never happen again. One thing she’s certain of is that she’s never, never going to mention any of this to Serena. It was a lapse, an anomaly, and it meant nothing at all. Serena often has a laser sense when it comes to what June is thinking or feeling. When she Zooms with Serena tomorrow, she’s going to act absolutely normal or die in the attempt.

When sleep finally comes, it’s nearly dawn. In June’s dreams, New Bethlehem’s waves morph into the Hawaiian beach. For a few hours, she is back running along the Pacific in her blue green jogging shoes, thinking about nothing except having breakfast with Serena on their bungalow porch and watching Nichole and Noah play together in the sand. For a few hours, she is free.

Chapter Text

Glancing at the clock for the tenth time in the past hour, Serena sees that her Zoom call with June will (finally!) be starting up in exactly seven minutes. With that realization comes the all-too-familiar lurch of anxiety: so many of their conversations lately have petered into the sort of awkwardness that forces Serena to lie awake at night, wondering what she might have said or done differently. This time, she’s resolved to be as bright and cheerful as possible. She rehearses the funny stories about the kids that she knows will make June laugh. She’ll tell her what she’s been cooking and how much Nichole and Noah are both liking daycare. It’s going to be a good talk—this time it has to be.

Serena sighs a little. I sound like a boring housewife, even to myself. June is off saving the world. I’m supposed to be helping by writing articles, but I’m not even doing that these days. No wonder we have stilted conversations. There’s nothing remotely interesting about me right now, and June knows that.

When June’s face expands to fill the screen of Serena’s laptop, Serena notices immediately how tired she’s looking. Those dark circles have always been a dead giveaway. Should I mention anything? “How’s everything going?” Bland, but it’s a start.

June shrugs. “Same as always. You know. How are things with you?”

Serena sighs. Awesome. June is apparently even more taciturn than usual today. If she starts out the conversation with three-word sentences, things rarely improve. She knows, of course, that June can’t really talk about samizdat details safely over Zoom, but on the good days she manages to convey some genuine enthusiasm for the work that she’s doing. Now she just sounds flat and . . . off. Better to ignore it and concentrate on her conversation plan. “Everything is great. The kids are loving daycare, especially Nichole. Michael is still her best friend, and her playdates with him are all she talks about.”

Serena watches as June shakes herself, as if exorcising whatever thoughts she’s actually having from her mind. “I’m really glad she has a friend. Are you ok with all those play dates? Do they interrupt your writing too much?”

Serena pauses, wondering how to answer the question. Her “writing” these days is just barely short of non-existent. Talking to Michael’s mother Casey has actually become one of the few bright spots in her routine. Casey is funny and well read, and she seems genuinely interested in everything that Serena has to say to her. I like them. I like her. But Serena doesn’t know how much of any of that June might want to hear, so she responds on the surface level. “Not too much—I’m managing. Casey—that’s Michael’s mom—and I are both happy that our kids enjoy each other.”

June nods, stifling a yawn, and Serena decides that now she has to say something about it. “You really look tired.”

June sighs. “I’ve just had a couple of bad nights. It’ll be fine. You know how it is.”

Serena does not, in point of fact, know how it is for June right now; “how it is” could mean anything from some minor anxiety over editing work to excruciating nightmares and panic attacks. How are you, June? How are you really? What is being back in Gilead doing to you? She misses June so keenly right now that it almost feels like a physical pain. When June was here, they knew each other’s minds and hearts instinctively and completely. Serena thinks about all of the times that they’ve held each other when night traumas hit either one of them, times when she’d never felt closer to another human being. Now all of that, all that comfort, all that love, just seems to be a shadowy thing, gray and formless. “June . . .” Serena trails off, not sure of exactly what she wants to say right now.

“I’m OK. Really, don’t worry. It’s just standard-issue insomnia. I promise.” June is making a conscious effort to brighten her voice, and Serena sighs to herself silently. She knows that false cheer chess move all too well, because it’s one that she so often employs herself.

“Do you have enough help with the . . . the project? Maybe you’re just working too hard.” Serena feels a stab of guilt as she asks this. Maybe I should have gone with her. Maybe this whole thing has been a colossal mistake.

June shakes her head. “No, that’s all fine. As a matter of fact, Hannah’s friend Skylar and . . . and Nick’s wife Rose have mentioned wanting to help out if I need them to.”

June’s voice seems to hesitate a little when she mentions Rose, but Serena only gives that a passing thought. “Really? That’s interesting. Are you going to take them up on it?”

June shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Skylar is only fifteen, and Rose . . . well, I just don’t really know her. She’s kind of a mystery to me.”

“Well, if they can be useful, you should think about it. You can’t do everything yourself, you know.” Serena thinks to herself that June always seems to want to do everything on her own. It’s part of what makes June exasperating, and it’s also one of the things she loves best about her.

“I just don’t want them to get involved in anything that might be, you know, dangerous.” June’s voice drops a little, the way it always does when she’s treading a little too close into samizdat secrets.

Serena frowns. “I understand that, of course, but there has to be something that would help you out and that wouldn’t be a risk to anyone.”

“You’re right. I do need help. And the more I get done, the faster I can come home. I just wish . . .” June’s voice gets a little soft.

“You wish what?”

“I just wish things would happen faster, you know? I wish there were more I could do to . . . to make things happen. It’s just . . . everything here is slower than I’d thought it would be.” June seems to be struggling to express herself, but Serena grasps what she means nonetheless. June has always been impatient, always favored big, bold, dramatic strokes. Crafting the hearts and minds of Gilead with forbidden books is critical work for the resistance, but it’s not likely to foment an immediate rebellion.

“You know, my book, Lawrence’s book . . . they were written years before the Revolution. They had a big impact, but it didn’t happen right away. You need to be patient.” Serena winces a little as she says this—even now, she can barely bring up the role that she had in the founding of Gilead.

June laughs just a little at that. “It’s not my strongest suit. It’s not yours either, you know.”

“Very true,” Serena smiles back at her. “Hey . . . that reminds me. Your daughter is also impatient—impatient for her birthday, which is coming up in a couple of weeks. She’s very impressed with herself for turning four.”

June’s smile looks real for the first time. “That is an accomplishment, isn't it? I wish . .  I wish I could be with her for it.” Her voice falters a little on this last sentence.

Serena wishes she could touch June right now, to siphon off some of that regret. “So I was thinking . . . maybe we could have a Zoom party for her. You know, with you and me, and Luke and Moira. And Nick, of course.”

“Nick?” June’s voice is a little odd, and Serena wonders at her expression, which has definitely shifted and settled into . . . something.

“Why? He’d want to be there, wouldn’t he? Is anything . . . is there any reason why he wouldn’t want to come?” Serena is genuinely puzzled. Most of the time, June works hard to incorporate Nick into Nichole’s life—much harder than Luke had ever wanted her to.

June shakes her head, perhaps a little vigorously. “No, of course not. I mean, he’s really busy with New Bethlehem work and organizing his trade routes. I’ve barely seen him lately; it’s usually just a quick hello and goodbye when he’s coming to meet with Joseph. But I’m sure he’ll want to come.” June expels these sentences in a rush that only serves to increase Serena’s confusion. She decides to let it go, however, as she does so many oddities with June lately.

“Great. I’ll tell Nichole. She’s really been missing you.” Nichole has been missing June, and Serena has been doing her best to keep her from becoming too sad about it.

Even through Zoom, Serena easily notices June’s welling eyes. “I miss her, too. I miss . . . I miss everything. Noah must be getting so big by now.”

“He is. I’ll make sure he’s awake the next time we Zoom, so you can talk to him yourself..” They’re both quiet for a moment, and then Serena speaks again. “Do you think you might want to introduce Nichole to Nick’s son? She might like to know that she has a baby brother in New Bethlehem.”

June nods. “That’s a good idea. She’s so crazy about Noah that I’m sure she’d like to meet Josh.”

They talk a bit more about the Zoom party (Will they each have a cake? Should June send Nichole presents in advance, so she can open them on camera?), and Serena gradually forgets about how strained and spent June had appeared at the start of the conversation. If anything were genuinely wrong, June would find a way to talk with her about it. Serena has to believe that. We’ve always been able to talk. Even before we were really friends, we could talk. A couple of months apart can’t change something that basic.

§§§

That evening, after she’s picked up Nichole and Noah from daycare and fixed them their dinner, she notices that Nichole is unusually quiet. It’s one of her favorites—mac and cheese—but she isn’t eating much of it. “Are you ok, sweetie? Does anything hurt?”

Nichole shakes her head. “Is Mommy coming home soon? What did she say when you talked to her today?”

Serena smiles down at her. “She said that she loves you and she misses you, and that she’s very excited about your birthday!”

Nichole beams; her birthday has become her favorite subject lately. “Is she coming home for it?”

Serena winces at the question. “You and I talked about that, remember? Mommy won’t be here, but we’ll have a party over the computer, and you can talk to her all you want. She’s going to send you some surprises to open, too. It’s going to be a lot of fun!” Serena tries to keep her voice bright, even as her heart aches at her own words.

A shadow crosses Nichole’s face as she considers what Serena has just said. “She’s busy with my sister over there. That’s why she can’t come home right now.”

How do I handle this? Serena takes a breath and plunges in. “She’s busy doing very, very important work. It’s work that only she can do. We both should be proud of her.”

Nichole looks unconvinced. “Can’t she do her work here? You do.”

Well, I used to. Serena sighs. “It’s work that has to be done in Gilead. She’s trying to make the whole world safe for girls like you. When she’s done with that, we’ll have her back. I promise.”

Nichole nods, seeming to accept that. “Will my sister be on the computer for my birthday too?”

“I hope so. And maybe your First Daddy, who loves you too. You’d like to talk to him, wouldn’t you?” Nick and Nichole have spoken to each other on Zoom before a couple of times, but it’s always seemed a little stiff on both sides. This time, Serena hopes that they’ll be able to talk a little more naturally to one another.

Nichole tilts her head, thinking over the question. “Will he send me a present, too?”

Serena sternly reminds herself not to smile this time. “Maybe, but shopping in Gilead is hard. Your birthday isn’t just about presents, you know. It’s about seeing people who love you.”

Nichole sighs. “OK. First Daddy can come.”

Now Serena lets the smile escape. “Excellent decision. We’ll also see if Daddy Luke and Aunt Moira can be there, too. It’ll be a real party!”

Nichole beams at the idea, suddenly hungry for her dinner after all.

§§§

Serena has just finished the dinner dishes when her cell phone buzzes. When she sees the caller, she contemplates letting it roll over to voice mail. Ultimately, however, she sighs, clicks “accept,” and braces herself for what is bound to be a less than pleasant conversation.

She puts the phone on speaker so she can finish unloading the dishwasher to have a fighting chance of getting to bed at a reasonable hour tonight. Mark Tuello’s tinny voice reverberates through the kitchen. “Good evening, Serena.”

“Hello, Mark.” Serena takes a steadying breath. She’s fairly certain she knows what has prompted this particular call.

“How are things going with you?” It sounds generic enough, the same sort of question that June had just asked on their Zoom call. But unlike June, Serena knows that Tuello will not be distracted by anecdotes about Nichole and Noah, regardless of how funny or how charming.

Serena decides that she might as well plunge right in. “I know, I know. I’m late with those two Guardian articles that we talked about. Things have just been . . . hectic.”

“Serena, I’m not here to push you. I’m on your side. I just need to . . . manage the expectations of others. How far along are you in the work?” Tuello is choosing his words carefully.

Serena bites her lip, feeling a little sick. How far along? Does “not started yet” count as “along”? “I’m . . . sort of in the research phase for both of them. I promise that I’ll do a lot of writing this week.” Serena hopes that promise is one that she has a chance of keeping. Lately writing has felt more like a punishment than the soaring relief it had been since she first left Gilead behind.

Tuello is quiet for a moment before responding. “I know it must be difficult for you with June gone.”

Serena flushes. She’s never wanted to be one of those women who lets her emotional life interfere with her professional competence. And yet, here we are. “I’m doing fine, thank you. I just need to be a little more organized. What’s the drop dead date to hand in the articles?”

“They need both of them by next week if we’re going to make the press date we talked about. Is that feasible? Can you do that?” Tuello’s tone is businesslike, which Serena appreciates. The last thing she wants is for him to have to treat her like one of her Gilead orchids, incapable of handling a task as simple as knocking off a couple of articles while June is thousands of miles away doing actual work that requires real risk.

I’ve got to get it together. “Definitely. No problem at all.” Serena doesn’t know how she’s going to do it, but she knows it has to happen. I’ll just go to bed a couple of hours later every night. No big deal. Serena sighs, well aware of how good she has always been at telling herself stories to will truths into existence.

§§§

The next day is Saturday, and Serena is hosting Casey and Michael for a play date. They’ve become a regular thing in Serena’s life, and she admits to herself (if not entirely to June) just how much they’ve come to mean to her. Serena has always found making friends difficult, and there seems to be no doubt that she and Casey have, somewhat improbably, become friends.

Serena has barely poured each of them a cup of coffee and set out a plate of chocolate chip cookies (of which, she knows, Casey is particularly fond) when she hears Casey sigh dramatically. Serena gives her a wry look. “That bad?”

“The cookies look great. My clients, on the other hand . . .” Casey’s eye-roll is even more dramatic, and Serena’s laugh in response is genuine.

“I thought you were finally finished with that project, the one with the guy who doesn’t think women can use computers. Bob, right?” Serena reflects on the fact that lately it seems that the only times she laughs at all is listening to Casey’s stories. Luckily for her, Casey has a lot of them.

Casey’s answering smile is rueful. “Yeah, Bob is gone, after mansplaining the software that I helped design to me. Now I’ve got another one, who wants a job finished last week when she can’t even make up her mind what the final product is actually supposed to look like.”

After awhile, the idle chat drifts into something new. “Did you hear from June this week?” Casey has always seemed carefully deferential when she mentions June, which Serena appreciates. She hopes she’s made it crystal-clear that she has a partner, and that partner is the most important person in her life.

“I did. Just yesterday, in fact.” Serena’s mind flickers back to that decidedly less-than-satisfying conversation. June had seemed even father away from her than usual, as if there were things—important things—being left unsaid. But she tries to shake that feeling on and concentrate on Casey instead.

“How was she?” Casey’s question is an innocuous one that could easily be brushed aside with a standard “fine,” but for the first time, Serena considers confiding in her a bit. I really need someone to talk to right now. Her friend Blue has been buried in her Ph.D. defense, and Serena hates to call her just to whine about her problems. I have to stop being so selfish. Selfish comes too easily to me.

“Serena?” Serena doesn’t realize that she’s paused a few more beats than is socially acceptable until she hears Casey’s prompt.

Serena takes a breath. “She was . . . I don’t know. I’m getting the feeling that there are things going on that she’s not telling me.”

Casey gives her a peculiar look, one that shows a shade keener interest than Serena might have expected. “What do you mean? What kinds of things?”

Serena shakes her head, frustrated. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the project, but I think . . . I think it might be more than that.” Serena has not, of course, told Casey anything close to the details of June’s “project.” As far as Casey knows, June is off doing research for a new book that she and Serena are thinking of writing together. 

Apparently mulling over Serena’s less-than-definitive response, Casey waits a moment before commenting. “You know, you could just . . . ask her. They say communication is key in modern relationships. I’m sure I’ve read that somewhere. I should have passed on that chunk of wisdom to Erica, but you can have it for free now.” Erica was Casey’s ex-wife and the source of many of her most amusing stories.

Serena allows herself to imagine having an honest conversation with June right now, spilling all of her anxieties and insecurities and fears to the one person in the world who has always been able to see her. It’s a lovely thought in the moment, but she quickly realizes that it’s just not a conversation that June would welcome. Not now. Maybe whatever’s bothering her is going to settle down, and then we can really talk to one another again. But not yet. Out loud, however, she only smiles at Casey’s joke, ducking a genuine answer to it. “I’ve read that too.” After that, the conversation drifts from the thorny subject of June to the much less complicated one of their children.

During a rare conversational lull, Serena watches Michael and Nichole happily crashing trucks and chattering to one another. June and I used to be like that—not with trucks, of course, but with words. With ideas. We were excited by each other. The feeling of melancholy that sweeps over then is sharp, but it also is not entirely unexpected. It’s what happens, she knows, when a person around whom your life has centered is suddenly not where she ought to be. June is still there, but she’s become a planet and not the sun. I need her to be the sun again. That’s how the universe—my universe—is supposed to work. Shaking her head at the absurdity of the analogy, Serena nonetheless knows it to be absolute truth.

Chapter Text

It’s been two days since June kissed him (or did he kiss her?), and Nick has been in his own quiet version of hell. He has tried—tried so desperately—to remain polite and detached in all of his encounters with June in New Bethlehem. She chose Luke, and then she chose Serena; she did not, ever, at any time, choose him. He knows this. He also knows that he’ll always be in love with June; it’s his one constant, his north star, and it will never change. But that doesn’t mean he has to act on it. He doesn’t have many gifts, but caution and self-control are usually two of them.

But apparently, not with June, not now.

Still, he can fix it, and he has to. If he can’t avoid seeing or talking to June, he’ll just double down on polite detachment. He’s certain that she’s going to feel that way, too; friendship clearly isn’t working for either one of them. That look on her face as she fled after their kiss was nothing short of horror. She has a good thing going with Serena, weird as it might seem. I’m not going to be the one to ruin that for her, especially when I have a wife and a son. No matter what, this can’t happen again. I won’t let it. He’ll always love June, and he’ll always nurse a foolish daydream that somehow, against all odds, the two of them might have run away with Nichole and been a real family together somewhere—maybe Hawaii, maybe Paris. But Nick knows very well that dreams are only dreams; they’re never his reality. Nick’s life with Josh and Rose is a decent one, even if it’s not the exact life that he might have chosen for himself if he had ever had a real choice at all.

§§§

Ironically, Nick is finding it even harder than usual to banish June Osborne from his thoughts: his wife has (it seems to him) been talking about little else since that damn dinner party. Before, Rose had always been wary of bringing June up in conversation, never really wanting to confront Nick’s feelings head on. Yet now, for some unfathomable reason, Rose seems to have become a full-fledged member of the June Osborne fan club.  Just awesome. All things considered, Nick definitely prefers the cautious, borderline suspicious version Rose to this starry-eyed stranger.

“I talked to June more today, and I’m going to start working on her books later this week. I’m really excited about it.” Rose says this to Nick casually over breakfast, and his chest tightens just a little. He had hoped that Rose would forget about working with June—the whole idea of it makes him nervous for a multitude of reasons.

“What about Josh?” It’s the first thing that pops into Nick’s head as a response, and he sees instantly that it had been the wrong thing to say.

“What do you mean, ‘What about Josh?’” Rose’s posture has stiffened, and her tone is crisp.

Nick tries to back pedal. “I mean . . . he’s been kind of active lately, and leaving him with Reba might not really work out. How much work are you going to be doing?”

If anything, Rose looks even more irritated. “I’ve already talked to Reba, and she’s happy to take care of Josh a couple of afternoons a week. She loves him, and that’s what Marthas are for. Nick, do you realize how little I do beyond child care? Coming to New Bethlehem was supposed to be a new start for us. It’s a place where I can read and write. Don’t you see how important that is to me?”

Nick sighs. He’s often thought, late at night where nobody can hear him, that he himself wouldn’t really mind giving up reading and writing. When morning comes, of course, he’s ashamed that he allowed a thought like that to flicker through his mind. He might not be much of a reader, but nobody has ever tried to take away his right to do so if he chose to pick up a book. He understands what Rose is telling him, more than he actually wishes that he did. But still, the idea of June and Rose working together fills him with little short of dread. “I just . . . don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get too mixed up with June and June’s plans. She can be kind of . . . unpredictable.” That, at least, is certainly true. June is a tornado, pulling everyone in her orbit along whatever yellow brick road to Oz she happens to be following. His mind flickers back to the Martha network who tipped him off that June might be in Chicago. Fuck June Osborne. Everyone that helps her ends up on the fucking wall. An exaggeration, Nick had known at the time, but not actually that much of one, given everything.

Rose gives her husband a searching look, suddenly seeming to soften. “I’m going to be proofreading books for a few hours a week. How scary and dangerous do you think that’s likely to be? Josh and I will both be fine, and you’ll just have to get used to the idea. If you didn’t want me to get along with June, you shouldn’t have brought her home to dinner. I like what she’s doing, and I want to help.”

I certainly shouldn’t have. Nick sighs to himself, not certain if he’s trying to protect Rose or simply trying to avoid trouble for himself. He doesn’t love Rose with the desperate intensity with which he loves June, but he’s actually glad about that. That kind of love has caused him nothing but pain. It’s different with Rose, but Nick knows that he wants to protect her, to keep her safe, and he has a sinking feeling that the combination of Rose and June together will not end well for any one of them.

§§§

Nick had been so certain that June would want to avoid him as much as he wants to avoid her that he’s completely blindsided when she approaches him after his morning briefing with Lawrence. “Can we talk?”

Nick nods wordlessly, following her outside. Without thinking about it, they move as one toward the bench by the beach where they had landed when Nick had walked June home after the dinner party. Where Nick had seen the moonlight reflected in the ocean and in June’s eyes. Where they had kissed. Where his life became infinitely more complicated than it had been mere moments before.

June sits, head in her hands for a moment, apparently collecting herself. Nick remains standing stiffly, wondering how this was going to go. June sighs, looks up at him, and finally speaks. “That can’t happen again.”

Her words echo his earlier thoughts exactly, and Nick feels a flash of relief laced with a wriggle of irrational disappointment. He knows that she’s right, even if that knowledge is necessarily tinged with sadness. However June might feel, Nick is certain that if he kisses her again, knowing how futile it is, he might not be able to stand it. It was so much easier when was she safe in Hawaii, thousands of miles away. Seeing her almost every day is bad enough. Kissing her is intolerable. All he does overtly, however, is nod. “It won’t.”

Through a haze, Nick gradually becomes aware that June is still talking, and that her voice is choked. “Nick . . . you’re really important to me. You know that, don’t you? It’s just . . .”

Nick feels a flash of bitterness as he ponders what “really important” might mean to June, given everything. He’s important when June needs help, he knows that. He’s important when she needs a safe haven from Gilead. But he knows that he was never as important as Luke, not even as important as Serena. Stop. June feels what she feels—I can’t force her to love me. Nick gives himself a mental shake, trying to banish any of that from his voice, if not entirely from his thoughts. “I know.”

June swabs at her eyes, and suddenly any bitterness is gone, and Nick just wants to hold her, to make her feel less miserable. When am I going to stop this? I can’t keep being her emotional support person. I can’t be that guy, not anymore.

June’s voice is low. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. It’s never been fair to you. But I can’t do that to Serena. I don’t want to do that to Serena. She’s . . . she’s my person now.” Tears are running down her face, but Nick tries as hard as he can not to react to them.

Your person now. Luke was your person, wasn’t he? I was your person when Luke wasn’t an option. You seem to have a lot of persons. This time, Nick doesn’t manage to keep the flatness out of his response. “Whatever, June. It’s fine.”

She looks suddenly irritated, and Nick finds that a relief—at least, anger might get rid of the tears, and he’s just never been able to stand seeing June cry. “You know, we were both there, that night. I didn’t attack you out of nowhere. And you have a person too.”

Nick feels every scrap of emotion draining from his body at that—all the longing, all the bitterness, all the love. He’s just . . . empty. “I know I do.”

They’re both silent for a moment, and then June touches his hand. Nick feels himself jerking away, and she hastily pulls back. “You’re always going to be in my life. You’re Nichole’s father.”

Just at the moment, June’s “always going to be in my life” is more threat than comfort.  Still, he is Nichole’s father, and he wants to be as good a father as he can be, separated as they are by thousands of miles and vastly different political regimes. “I’ll always love Nichole. I wish I could see her more.”

“That reminds me—Serena is planning a kind of Zoom birthday party for her next week. She’s turning four. We’ll have a cake—well, two cakes, one for us here and the other for them. I’d really like it if you could come. Nichole asks a lot of questions about you.” June’s voice is almost normal now.

Nick is startled at the idea. “Who’s going to be there?”

June shrugs. “Well, obviously Serena. I’d like Hannah to be there if she can—I want her to get to know her sister. Luke and Moira, if we can arrange it. And . . . do you think you could bring Josh? I know he’s too young to absorb it, but I’d love to have Nichole meet her little brother.”

Little brother. Odd, but Nick had never exactly thought of Nichole and Josh that way, but it’s true: they’re half-siblings to one another, through him. They’re just as much siblings as Nichole and Hannah are. “Um . . . sure. As long as Rose is all right with it, I think it should be fine.”

June lets out a breath. “Good. Nick, it’s going to be fine. Nichole will love seeing you.”

Nick nods, vaguely reflecting to himself that the word “fine” has slowly lost all semblance of meaning.

§§§

Nick sits on the bench for several minutes after June departs, trying to collect himself. He sighs, rubs his eyes, and is about to leave when he feels someone sliding into the seat beside him. His heart lurches for a moment. Is she back? But it isn’t June. Joseph Lawrence is looking at him ruefully. “How are you doing, sport?”

Nick looks at him sharply. “Just dandy.”

Lawrence smiles a little at that. “Dandy, huh? You seemed to be having a rather intense conversation with our mutual friend. Is everything all right?” Lawrence’s tone is mild enough that Nick thinks it’s just barely possible that his question is sincere rather than part of a prototypically elaborate mental game.

Nick shrugs. “She was just inviting me to a Zoom birthday party for Nichole.” That was true enough, Nick thinks, even if it isn’t close to the whole truth.

Lawrence’s lip twitches; he clearly isn’t buying that. “Listen, Commander—June is here to do a job, not to engage in . . . extracurriculars.”

Nick glowers at him, weighing his possible responses. “We weren’t ‘engaging’ in anything. It was just a conversation. A pretty short one.”

Lawrence sighs. “Nick, at the risk of getting punched in the face again, I’d like to impart a tiny bit of wisdom from on high. Do you want to hear it?”

Nick shrugs. “Not really, but go ahead.”

Lawrence looks as though he’s weighing his words carefully. “June is a lovely person in many ways—she’s loyal to her friends, dogged in pursuing abstract, unattainable concepts like fairness and justice, and has a real knack for getting people to like her. But—and I say this with all due affection and respect—she’s the devil.”

Nick suddenly flashes back to that last kiss, that feeling of being outside of himself and yet exactly where he wanted to be. Some devil. “Really?”

Lawrence nods, and this time he isn’t smiling at all. “She’ll judge you, and she’ll expect you to live up to those impossible ideals of hers, and when you inevitably fail, she’ll radiate disappointment. You’ll never be able to escape it. You’ll never feel as though you’re good enough, because—let’s face it—you never will be.”

Nick has the uncomfortably distinct feeling that Lawrence is talking about more than June at this point. “Sounds like you have some personal experience with something like that.”

Lawrence does smile a little then, but it’s an absent smile tinged with sadness. “Whether I do or I don’t, I’m telling you this as a friend—stay away from her. It won’t be good for June or for our work. And even more, it won’t be good for you. You have Rose, and you have a son. You’re living better than you’ve ever lived before. Concentrate on all that, and don’t wish for things that you can’t have.”

Nick nods. “Ok. I’ll stop.” He realizes that it’s an echo of something that he said to June years ago, right after Nichole had been born, when he managed to confess to June his dreams of running away with her and becoming a real family. The sadness washing over him at the thought of that time and place is almost unbearable.

Lawrence looks at him, and Nick sees some of that wave of melancholy reflected in the older man’s eyes. “Just move on . . . if you can.” The two of them sit silently, understanding each other better than they ever have before.

§§§

That afternoon, Nick notices a meeting on his calendar with Allie, to talk about the opening of a new trade route. He’s almost surprised at the flash of something close to relief that floods through him at the sight of it, a respite from the complexities of his life right now. He’s only had a few meetings with Allie, but, improbably, the two of them seem to have hit it off in a way that’s taken Nick by surprised. He genuinely enjoys their interactions—Allie is sharp and funny, and he’s found himself saying more to her than he ever does to other people. He tells himself that it’s probably because she’s clearly going to be a great colleague with whom to work—her ideas about improving the trade routes have all been practical and well observed. But Nick has to admit that there’s something about Allie that has made him feel instantly comfortable. Maybe it’s because she’s from Pittsburgh. That’s practically Detroit, after all. I feel like I’ve always known her.

Nick thinks about that odd familiarity between himself and Allie, unavoidably reflecting on the fact that he’s never really felt anything like that with June—not when he was first getting to know her, and not now. He’d been attracted to her as soon as he first saw her, and he loved her faster than he would have thought possible. But she’d always felt a little out of his league—more educated, smarter, professional job, more privileged. Allie might be as smart as June, Nick thinks, but for some reason, it’s different with her.

At 3:00 Allie appears promptly, smiling at him. “Ready to tackle this one? Did you read my memo?”

Nick had—it was not one word longer than it needed to be, well organized, and clear. “I did. I really didn’t have anything to add. I’m on board with everything. Let’s talk about an implementation timeline.”

They talk through the details, and Nick is impressed with how Allie’s mind works: she seems to have a gift for suggesting pragmatic solutions to problems that he hadn’t even begun to anticipate. She’s certainly making his job easier, and these days, that’s saying a lot.

They soon come to a natural breaking point: both of them have a few tasks to complete before they need to talk again, and those tasks are clear. But for some reason, Allie doesn’t seem to be in a hurry right now to rush off. “How are things going with you, Commander? You seem a little tired today.” Her voice is kind, and Nick feels a peculiar longing to say something more than his usual “fine.”

For now, however, Nick just shrugs. “I think we can dispense with the Commander title by now. I’m just Nick. I like that better, really.”

Allie smiles at him. “Ok, Nick. It’s a nice, solid name. St. Nick. I can see why you like it. But really—how are you? From everything I can tell, New Bethlehem is thriving. You really seem to be doing a great job here.”

“I hope so. Sometimes I feel like—I don’t know—like I’m in a little over my head. Like I’m just pretending to be someone who knows what he’s doing, and that sooner or later, everyone will find out.” Nick is surprised to hear these words coming out of his mouth. He’s never said them out loud before, not to Rose, not to June. But he thinks about it after nearly every meeting that he has with Lawrence.

Allie laughs. “Imposter Syndrome. I hate to tell you, Pal—we all have a touch of that. I certainly do. You should have seen me right before I defended my dissertation. I was a basket case.”

Nick can’t quite imagine Allie as a basket case, or as anything but confident and competent. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I actually think there’s a proportionate relationship between feeling like an impostor and general ass-kickery. If you really sucked at your job, you wouldn’t know it.”

Nick can’t help cracking a small smile at ass-kickery. “Well, I hope you’re right about that.”

Allie cocks an eyebrow at him, apparently deciding on whether to say what’s clearly on her mind. “So . . . how are you doing with June Osborne?”

Nick looks at her sharply. What does she know about June? Allie, after all, has only  been in New Bethlehem for a short time, and she never lived in Boston. Her knowledge of June lore should be pretty close to zero. “What do you mean?”

Allie rolls her eyes. “Commander—Nick—people talk. New Bethlehem is a hotbed of gossip. Don’t you know that? I can’t tell me how many people told me how you punched Commander Lawrence in the face at his very own wedding, and how it was all because of some unrequited love for Gilead’s public enemy number one. People I barely know ask me about it. You’re a subject of some fascination.”

Nick feels a mild sense of panic at that. “But they . . . people don’t know that June is here. She’s been pretty good at disguising herself as a Martha. She hardly goes out, doesn’t interact with people who don’t already know her. How . . .”

Allie touches his hand. “Calm down, Nick. If people realized that June is living yards away from you, the gossip in New Bethlehem would go super nova. They don’t know about June; they’re just very, very curious about you. And I am too, really, but my interest is a little more benevolent. And so . . . how are you? It’s not an easy situation, is it? I’ve been there.”

Nick considers this. “You’ve been there? You mean, you’ve lived around the corner from someone you’re in love with whose in love with someone else? And you’ve had to work with that person?” His tone is a little sharper than he might have preferred.

Allie laughs at that. “Believe it or not—pretty close. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

Nick thinks about how odd it is to be talking to anyone else about June, about his feelings for June. “I kind of . . . still love her.” The moment the words are out of his mouth, he’s horrified at himself. What’s wrong with him? Why does Allie seem to have some witchery over the sounds formed by his tongue?

Allie smiles at him with just a touch of something that Nick can’t quite place. “That,” she says, “is very obvious.”

Nick stares at her. “What do you mean, obvious?”

“I mean that I’ve only seen the two of you together a couple of times, but you can barely manage to keep your eyes off of her. Anyone looking at all knows exactly how much you care about her.” Allie’s expression is kind, and Nick feels the sense—odd, since it has almost never happened to him before—of being seen. For someone like him, who spends much of his life hiding in the shadows, it’s a surprisingly comforting feeling.

Nick can’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes. “It’s stupid.”

Allie shakes her head. “It isn’t stupid. It’s just . . . difficult. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m around.”

Nick thinks about the conversation long after Allie leaves, wondering. The idea of talking about June is preposterous, but he’s already said much more to Allie than he’s confessed to anyone before. Maybe I’ll do it again. I certainly can’t talk to June about June, and maybe talking will help get her out of my system. Nick sighs. He has tried and failed many times to move past June Osborne, but he’s never tried in precisely this way. Maybe a little conversation will help put everything into perspective for him.

Chapter Text

Since Skylar has to attend a training class spilling over into their usual lunch hour, Colleen manages to talk her way into eating with Hannah just this once. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, and unable to come up with a plausible excuse, Hannah agrees reluctantly. One lunch with Colleen won’t kill me. Worse things have happened to people, especially people in Gilead, than eating one lunch with someone that they don’t really like.

Colleen appears little short of triumphant as they find a place to settle for the hour.  Unwrapping her tuna salad sandwich, she peers over at Hannah’s bag. “What did you bring?”

Hannah shrugs. “Peanut butter and honey.” It’s one of her favorites, and she doesn’t get to have it that often. Even though there are wider food choices in New Bethlehem than there are in Gilead itself, peanut butter remains a rare treat.

Coleen looks impressed. “Wow. How did you manage that?”

“Skylar and I volunteered to tutor a couple of girls who have been having trouble with their schoolwork. Aunt Esmeralda gave each of us a jar of peanut butter as a reward.” Hannah reflects on how delighted she had been with that gesture—she had been perfectly happy just helping the girls and spending some more time with Skylar in the process. The jar of peanut butter had been an unexpected—and much appreciated—bonus.

Hannah rolls her eyes inwardly when she notice’s Colleen’s expression darkening at the mention of Skylar’s name. I don’t know what she has against Skylar, but it’s really getting old. “What’s the matter?”

Colleen hesitates. “I’m only telling you this because I’m your friend, but . . . you know what people say about Skylar, don’t you?”

Hannah stiffens, her appetite for peanut butter suddenly vanishing. “I don’t care what they say.”

“You need to care. You’re with her all the time, and you need to care.” Colleen looks suddenly stern, and Hannah wishes that she were anywhere but here right now.

“People say a lot of things. They don’t know her the way I do,” Hannah says, certain of that, if nothing else. She knows Skylar better than she knows anyone.

Colleen’s voice drops to a loud, dramatic whisper. “Everyone knows that she’s a gender traitor—that’s why she was sent away from her Wife school in Colorado before she went to New York. She knew those people who were executed for reading a forbidden book. She wants to kiss girls, not boys.”

Hannah finds herself shaking a little. Yes, she’d heard people saying that, but she and Skylar have never discussed the subject themselves. If Hannah were being honest with herself, she’s sometimes gotten the feeling that Skylar would like to talk about something, but she’s holding back. Maybe she knows that I don’t really want to know. Why don’t I? “It’s not true, and even if it is, so what? I mean, why does it matter?” Hannah is surprised to hear those words coming out of her mouth, particularly at the vehemence with which she says them.

Colleen is staring at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “So what? It’s an abomination before God. Men and women are supposed to be with each other, not with other men or other women. That’s why they’re traitors. If Skylar is a gender traitor she’s committing the worst sin of all, and she’s working against God’s plan. God would never forgive a gender traitor.”

Hannah thinks about Skylar—funny, brave, wonderful Skylar—and feels suddenly sick. Is she really capable of doing something, being something, that God would never forgive? Could that be possible? “There aren’t any gender traitors in Gilead. They got rid of them during the Revolution.”

Colleen shakes her head, sighing to herself. “That’s what they tried to do, but they didn’t get all of them. If they find any now, they put them on the Wall. They’ll even do that in New Bethlehem, because being a gender traitor is the worst sin of all.”

Hannah stands up abruptly. “I have to go. I need to check something before class.”

Colleen narrows her eyes. “You barely touched your sandwich, and we have fifteen minutes before class starts.”

Hannah fights to keep her voice steady. “I know, but . . . I need to work on something. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok. I’ll . . . see you later,” Colleen says, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I . . .”

Hannah interrupts her. “It’s fine, but . . . I have to go.” She walks away quickly, waiting until she’s well out of Colleen’s sight before letting the tears that she’s been holding fall. What if it’s true? What if Skylar is . . . what if they put her on the Wall for it? What if there’s something wrong with her? Questions for which Hannah has no ready answer churn endlessly in her mind.

§§§

Hannah is supposed to meet Skylar in the New Bethlehem park after classes are over for the day. When she arrives at their usual meeting place (a bench in front of the town duck pond), she’s surprised to find her mother June sitting next to Skylar and talking to her. Hannah slows down a little, hoping to overhear their conversation before either of them notice her.

“I don’t know, Skylar,” June says as Hannah approaches stealthily. “Sometimes these things are a lot more dangerous than they might seem. Even simple missions have a way of going sideways.”

“How dangerous can it be? Don’t you need people to help get the books to reading groups in Gilead once you’ve smuggled them there? I can totally do that. Who would suspect an Aunt-in-Training? And I have some Mayday contacts in Boston, even though most of the people I knew were in New York. I could be useful.” Even though Hannah knows how much Skylar wants to fight Gilead, she’s startled at the intensity in her voice right now.

June is nodding, apparently a little reluctantly. “You have a point—getting the books into the hands of readers has been our biggest challenge. I’ll talk to Commander Lawrence about it. It’s possible that we might be able to use you, but no promises.”

Skylar beams, and the two of them glance over and see Hannah approaching at the same time. “Hey, Banana!” June, as always, looks delighted to see her older daughter. “I didn’t mean to monopolize Skylar.”

Hannah shakes her head, smiling back. “I didn’t know you were going to be around today. Skylar and I were just supposed to meet and go for a walk.”

“I saw your mom walking by, and I kind of threw myself on her,” Skylar says, laughing at herself. “She never had a chance.”

“I’m always glad to talk to you, Skylar; I hope you know that. Right now I’ve got to run; Commander Lawrence wants to brief me on a few new developments, and he gets grumpy if I’m late.” June starts walking away but turns back to address her daughter. “Hannah, don’t forget—dinner tomorrow night at the diner. Skylar, can you join us?”

Skylar shake her head, looking regretful. “No, I can’t. Darn it! I promised to help some kids who are having trouble with woodworking. We’re meeting tomorrow evening after classes are over.”

“Next time,” June says. “We’ll miss you.”

Hannah nods. She will miss Skylar, of course, but there are some questions that she’d like to ask June, and she’d like to be alone with her mother when she asks them. The earlier conversation with Colleen is still very much on her mind.

§§§

That night, Hannah finds herself unable to sleep as her mind swirls in a buzzing, blooming confusion of thoughts and feelings. Is Colleen right? Could Skylar be a gender traitor? She could just ask Skylar, of course—the two of them talk about everything. That would be the obvious and sensible thing to do. Skylar would tell her the truth.

But I don’t want to ask her. I don’t know why, but . . . I don’t. Hannah stops thinking in words as images and feelings bubble inside her mind’s eye. She sees Skylar laughing, looking more sparkling, more alive, than anyone has ever looked to Hannah before. She feels the shock of Skylar’s touch on her shoulder, on her hand, sending a wriggle of something confusing and electric down her spine. Hannah has always managed to ignore these feelings, or at least, not dwell on them. But for some reason, she’s dwelling now.

What could they mean? Hannah wills herself not to follow that particular train of thought as it insists on roaring out of the station.

For some reason, she suddenly remembers a conversation that she had with Skylar long ago in Colorado, before either of them came to New Bethlehem:

Hannah looks at Skylar and finds herself saying out loud what she’s thought often to herself. “I don’t want to marry a Commander. Not ever.”

Skylar snorts. “Join the club, bub.”

Hannah looks at her friend curiously. She hadn’t known that about Skylar before now. “How long have you known you didn’t want to?”

Skylar shrugs. “Since always. It’s just . . . boring. All this marriage talk is boring. That’s the trouble with this stupid place. Everything revolves around women getting a husband.”

This is definitely true, Hannah thinks. It’s the one thing that’s made her feel uncomfortable as long as she’s been in Gilead, which after all is most of her life. So many of her friends wanted to spend hours talking about Gilead men—the Guardians, the Commanders, even the boys their own age. She always pretended to be as fascinated as they were, but it was never the truth. Until she met Skylar, Hannah believed that she might be the only girl in the world who felt that way.

Skylar is watching Hannah closely now. “You know, I’d always rather talk to you than talk to some idiot boy. You’re way cooler!”

Hannah grins back at her, suddenly feeling her world sliding into place. “Same.”

“So let’s make a pact: we’re best friends, and no boy—even if it’s a Commander—is ever going to mess that up. Promise?” Skylar looks serious, as if this pact is actually important to her.

“Promise.” Hannah thinks about how lucky she is, all things considered. Yes, she’s at a Wife school in Gilead, but at least she has Skylar. And she hasn’t been married off so far. That means that there’s always a chance that she never will be.

Thinking about that conversation now, Hannah suddenly remembers how Skylar had looked to her that day. Skylar had been so absolutely unafraid, so matter-of-fact. So beautiful. Hannah suddenly starts to feel a little queasy. If Skylar is really a gender traitor, and if Hannah thinks she’s beautiful, does that make her a . . . but no. Definitely not. There aren’t gender traitors in Gilead, whatever Colleen thinks. And even if there were, she herself can’t be one of them. She’s never kissed anyone, let alone a girl. It’s just a preposterous idea.

Still, it’s a long, long time before Hannah manages to fall asleep that night.

§§§

Hannah is quiet enough at dinner the next night with June that her mother comments on it. “Are you ok, Sweetie?”

Hannah hesitates, wondering how much she can ask her mother about any of this. “Do you . . . do you know anything about gender traitors?” Hannah wishes she didn’t blurt that out quite so suddenly, because her mother looks suddenly startled.

“Why do you ask?” June takes a sip of her water, seeming to compose herself for what might become a difficult conversation.

Hannah shrugs, wondering how she’s going to explain some of her feelings without sounding stupid. “There’s a girl at school who . . . was talking about them. I know it’s a sin to . . . to be like that, and I thought there weren’t any left in Gilead. But she seemed to think that . . . there still are some, and that maybe they’re hiding.”

June’s face darkens, and her expression is one that’s difficult for Hannah to read. “It’s not a sin, first of all. I know that Gilead thinks that it is, but there are a lot of things that Gilead believes that I think are wrong. That’s a big one.”

Hannah feels some stirrings of relief at her words. Not a sin? Nobody has ever said anything like that to her before about gender traitors. “But the Bible says that men and women are supposed to be together. Not men with men, or . . .”

June looks as though she’s choosing her words with great care. “First of all, the Bible isn’t anywhere close to being clear on that particular subject. But to me, it’s a lot simpler than some people try to make it. God is about love, and love is love. If you’re a woman who loves another woman instead of loving a man, that’s still love. There’s never going to be anything sinful about that.”

Hannah realizes that she’s flushing suddenly, and she hopes that June doesn’t notice. “Really? Do you really think that?”

June nods. “I really do.”

Hannah takes a breath. “Do you . . . do you know any gender traitors yourself? I mean, have you met some?”

June doesn’t answer for a long moment, “First of all, we don’t call them gender traitors—they’re not traitors to anyone. And second, yes, I have a lot of good friends who are gay.”

“Gay?” The word sounds strange on Hannah’s tongue. “That’s what they’re called?”

June nods. “Among other things, yes. It’s a lot nicer than ‘gender traitor,’ isn’t it?”

It is, Hannah thinks. Much nicer. She rolls the word over on her tongue, thinking about it. Gay.

“Do you remember your Aunt Moira? She’s gay. She loves women, and she’s certainly not a traitor to her gender in any way.” June watches Hannah carefully, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

“I . . . I think I remember her,” Hannah says. So much of her life from Before is fuzzy, and she’s never certain if the flashes that she experiences are memories or stories that have been told to her.

June takes another sip of her water. “That reminds me—we’re having a Zoom birthday party for your sister Nichole next week, and Moira will be there. You can meet her then. I’d really love for you to come and meet your little sister, even if it’s through a computer screen.

“I’d love that,” Hannah says, meaning it. She can’t wait to see Nichole. “Will . . . will my father be there, too?”

June nods. “If he can, he’s going to try.”

Hannah doesn’t answer for a moment. Her father. June has told her about him, of course, but they haven’t spoken to one another yet. “I’ll be glad to meet him, too,” she finally says.

“I wish you two could spend time with each other in real life,” June says, twisting her napkin into little shreds. “He’s a great guy. You have no idea how much he loves you and misses you.”

Hannah is quiet, thinking about that. She notices that she hasn’t touched her pancakes, which are cold and unappetizing now. “I wish we could, too.”

June clears her throat. “But getting back to the original subject—you can ask me anything about that, anything at all. You know that, right?”

Hannah nods, wondering a little about her mother’s serious tone. “Thanks.”

June looks as though she wants to say something else, but then she sighs. “I love you. That’s never going to change, no matter what.”

Hannah feels a little embarrassed without exactly knowing why. “Me, too.”

June smiles. “Ok, then. Let’s see about dessert, since neither one of us managed to eat our actual dinner. Ice cream?”

Hannah nods, feeling better than she’d felt since she had lunch with Coleen. Ice cream sounds exactly like what she wants right now.

§§§

Hannah doesn’t mention the conversation about gender traitors—no, gay people—to Skylar, but she tells her friend all about Nichole’s upcoming party. “It’s really going to be great. I’m going to meet my little sister, and my mother’s best friend Moira, and maybe even my actual father.” Hannah remembers that someone else—not her mother’s best friend, but some other woman—is taking care of Nichole in Hawaii. Maybe she’ll be at the party, too. Hannah wonders vaguely who that woman might be, and why her mother trusts her with the care of her little sister.

“I’m really glad you’re going to get to know Nichole. Having a sibling is pretty great.” Skylar’s expression is suddenly wistful, and Hannah knows that she must be thinking about her brother Steve. Skylar rarely talks about Steve, but Hannah has the impression that the two of them had been very close Before.

It’s late for the two of them to be out; lights out is in fifteen minutes. But when Skylar had suggested sneaking out to the yard to talk, Hannah had accepted immediately. Right now, roiling with complicated and confusing thoughts, she needs Skylar more than she needs to follow the rules.

There’s a full moon illuminating the yard, and it’s mild enough out that the two girls only need light sweaters. Hannah walks just a step behind Skylar, admiring the patterns of light dancing on Skylar’s ash-blonde hair. She’s really beautiful. I don’t think she even knows that, but she is.

Skylar stops in front of one of the benches in the yard, motioning Hannah to sit beside her. Hannah does, shivering a little as her shoulder brushes against Skylar’s. The two of them sit quietly for a few beats, just looking at the moon. It’s Skylar who breaks the silence. “I’m never going to see Steve again, am I? I keep hoping that he’s still alive somehow, but . . . it’s been a long time. I think he’s gone. I really miss him sometimes. He always knew what to do. He’d know how to handle these Gilead fuckers.”

Hannah is startled at fuckers—it’s stronger language than she’s ever heard Skylar use before, but she hears the quiet fury in Skylar’s voice, and she knows that she means it to be just exactly as strong as it sounds. Skylar doesn’t just want to help the Resistance because she thinks her parents would have expected that. She hates everything about Gilead—everything they did to her family, everything they’ve done to everyone else. I wish I were more like her. She’s so much like my mother—I want to be like that, too, not just some good student who just wants to please everyone.

Hannah shakes away those thoughts when she realizes that Skylar is talking to her again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you, but I just . . . I can’t believe I’m never going to see him again, or see my parents. Sometimes I can’t believe that Gilead actually happened.” Skylar’s finals words end in a choked sob, and Hannah thinks her own heart might literally break into pieces at the sound of it. Tentatively, she puts her arms around Skylar, who closes her eyes and leans into Hannah’s touch.

Then Skylar lifts up her head and looks right into Hannah’s eyes, and Hannah can still sees the glint of her tears. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do here without you.”

And then, out of nowhere, Hannah feels a jolt of electricity like nothing that she’s ever experienced before. Skylar’s lips are on her own, soft and urgent. Hannah has never kissed anyone except her Gilead mother before—and those kisses certainly were nothing like these. She’s always feared having to kiss a Commander on her wedding night, knowing that she’ll have that unpleasant prospect to face someday as a Gilead wife. But this—this, with Skylar—is nothing like the unpleasant ritual that she’s imagined for so many years. This is . . . perfect. This is right. And somehow, Hannah’s lips know what to do of their own accord. She’s kissing Skylar back just as urgently, just as softly. Everything in her world that had been drab and plain is suddenly filled with excitement and color. Whatever this means, and however right or wrong it may be, Hannah knows at this moment that nothing will be the same for her ever again.

Chapter Text

June is in Boston for a routine samizdat trip when Amelia, a Martha and one of the top Mayday operatives in the city, approaches her. “Do you have a minute to talk about something?”

June nods, wondering what Amelia could want. She’s definitely not someone who engages in idle conversation. “Sure.”

“Not here. Meet me in the park on the bench across from the fountain in half an hour. Can you do that?” Amelia is watching her carefully.

June nods, managing with great effort to suppress an eye-roll. Of course it’s a park bench. It’s always a park bench, isn’t it? But she knows that Mayday is not a joking matter—one wrong move, one overlooked plan, and people die. Whatever happens, she’s determined that she’s not going to be one of the dead ones. She promised Serena that she’ll get out of this alive, and she means to keep that promise.

§§§

Exactly a half hour later, June is sitting on the designated bench, feeling herself growing tense. She doesn’t have long to wait. Amelia slides into the seat beside her, not looking at her directly. “Thanks for coming.”

June nods. “No problem.”

Tossing a piece of bread at one of the park’s pigeons, Amelia still isn’t making eye contact. Idly, June studies the pigeon, who is industriously working on the unexpected treat. Were there this many pigeons in the park before Gilead? June frowns, unsettled that she can’t quite remember.

Finally, Amelia breaks the silence. “We’re planning something that we thought might interest you.”

June’s heart quickens just a little. “What’s that?”

Silence for a beat, and then Amelia speaks again. “What do you know about High Commander Bell?”

June looks at her. “I know that he’s an asshole.”

Amelia nods. “That’s putting it mildly. He’s one of the worst, most extreme, cruelest Commanders in Gilead. We think we have a chance to take him down.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do?” June feels simultaneously fascinated and wary.

Amelia pauses as if for dramatic effect. “Blow him up. Literally. With explosives.”

June is quiet for a moment. “How are you going to do that? And what do I have to do with it?”

“It seems that Bell and his wife are friends with the father of someone whom I think you know, someone who’s helping you with your books. Someone who could easily gain access to the Bell’s home as part of a friendly social call.” Amelia cocks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the idea of throwing June off balance.

Rose. June’s head is whirling. “How did you know that she’s working with me? She’s just doing proofreading—it’s not like she’s plotting to destroy Gilead.”

Amelia smiles. “We know. We know quite a lot, actually.”

June takes a breath. “What would she have to do?”

“Something very simple, really. She might have heard her father talk fondly of the Bells, which could have inspired her to bring them a gift of flowers from her garden in a lovely vase. The fact that the lovely vase will contain a timer bomb set to detonate hours later in the middle of their dinner will just be . . . unfortunate for them.” Now Amelia is finally looking right at June, and she’s doing it expectantly.

June tries to focus on the details of the plan, imagining the scene, weighing the dangers and chances of success. “Wait a minute. First of all, Rose uses a cane to walk. She can’t carry a heavy vase in by herself.”

Amelia waves that away as a trifle. “Rose can just bring along a Martha or somebody to carry the vase inside. You wouldn’t even have to tell that person about the explosives.”

June frowns. “So now it’s two people that have to get involved, not just one.”

Amelia leans in, speaking intensely. “Yes, but very little danger. We have a Mayday connection in New Bethlehem itself who will put the explosives in place once the vase and flowers are ready, and he’ll set the timer for around 7:00 PM that evening. Our people will be long gone by the time they detonate, and we’ll have killed one of the worst High Commanders in Gilead. This death could be really valuable for the cause.”

“I’d have to tell Rose everything, let her make a real choice. I’m not going to trick her into murder. If we do that, there’s a decent chance that she’ll tell her father everything. What then?” June understands that getting rid of Bell would be a huge Mayday victory, but she’s not at all confident that Rose will see any of it that way.

Amelia nods. “That’s always a risk. That’s why we’re coming to you, and not directly to Rose herself. We trust your instincts. If you think that she’s going to be willing to go along with this, talk to her about it. If you don’t, we’ll respect that and we’ll find another way.”

June hesitates. “What if I ask her and she says she won’t do it?”

Amelia just looks at her. “In that case, the mission is compromised, and it’s therefore off the table. Even if Rose reports it, there won’t be anything to report. But my gut tells me that she might agree, and if she does, she’s perfect for the job.”

Knowing that Amelia right, June sighs. “I’ll think about it. I need to talk to some people first.”

Amelia nods. “Do what you need to do, but please be discreet about it.”

§§§

Three hours later, June has just finished outlining the Mayday plan to Nick and Lawrence. Both of them are shaking their heads before she’s finished explaining it. Lawrence is the first to say something. “It’s a half-cocked plan at best. All that risk to kill a single Commander?”

June leans forward. “He’s one of the worst of all, and that’s saying a lot. He’s also been a consistent critic of New Bethlehem. I would think you’d be happy to get rid of him.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me—the idea of Bell’s blowing up in his own living room is a very pleasant concept. But I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the samizdat. I think we should let Mayday be Mayday, without our help or interference. It’s much better for everyone if we have separate spheres of influence.” Lawrence pauses there, as if he’s just made a particularly salient point to a class of eager-eyed college students.

June clenches her fists a little, takes a breath, and forces herself to sound calm and rational. “Joseph—aren’t you tired of just, I don’t know, treading water around here? Don’t you want to do something bigger than our books? Don’t you want to hurt Gilead, not just nudge people into seeing what should already be obvious for anyone to see?” Try as she might, June can’t seem to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Lawrence is squinting at her now. “You’re operating under the mistaken assumption that I’m some sort of revolutionary. I’m not. I want to liberalize Gilead; I don’t want to destroy it. For all its faults, it’s improved on quite a few of the former United States’ late-stage capitalism problems. It might be a hellscape, but we were in a different sort of hellscape before.”

June snorts. “Well, I fucking want to destroy it. That’s why I’m here. And it’s also why I want to help Mayday.”

“I can’t stop you, of course, but I’m also not going to help you. If you go forward with this, you’re on your own.” Lawrence sounds deadly serious here, all usual dry wit vanishing.

June turns toward Nick, suddenly realizing that he has yet to comment on any of it. From his darkening expression, however, she can guess where he stands. “Nick?”

Nick shakes his head. “June, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Are you really planning to ask Rose to murder someone, someone her family knows? Do you really think she’s capable of that?”

“I think you need to ask her what she’s capable of before you just dismiss it.” June’s eyes are narrowing, and she feels herself getting unaccountably furious at him.

Lawrence rises. “I’ve told you my position on this. It sounds as though you two need to talk, and I don’t really need to be here when you do. Just don’t kill each other.” He closes the door softly behind him, leaving June and Nick alone in Lawrence’s office.

After she’s sure that Lawrence is out of earshot, June turns toward Nick. “You can’t make decisions for everyone in your life. You can’t keep everyone safe, as if we’re all little porcelain dolls on a shelf.”

Nick shakes his head, and June has never seen him looking quite this angry before. “You’re just doing this because of what happened between the two of us the other night. You’re just . . . deflecting.”

June snorts. Since when had Nick become a pop psychologist? She ignores the little wriggle inside of her that demands her to consider whether or not Nick might actually be correct. “And you’re just being a misogynistic asshole. Rose can decide what she wants to do apart from you—everything doesn’t revolve around your needs and thoughts and feelings.” June has no idea where this sudden fury is coming from, but it’s white and hot and everywhere right now.

Nick seems startled by June’s vehemence, but he isn’t backing down this time. “I’m not going to let you drag Rose into your bullshit.”

“I’m not dragging her anywhere. I’m going to talk to her about Mayday and see what she thinks. If she doesn’t want to do it, it just won’t be done. She’s in control here, not you. Not me.” June takes a couple of breaths, trying to will herself into some semblance of rationality.

Nick is still glaring at her. “She’s never going to do it. Not in a thousand years.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” June says, watching as Nick turns and exits abruptly.

§§§

Because Rose is coming to help June with some proofreading tasks the next day, June knows she won’t have long to wait to have a chance to initiate a conversation. They’re both companionably chatting about a new title (Politics and Contemporary Christianity) when June steers the conversation toward the Resistance movement. “I heard from a Mayday friend that our books are really gaining some traction—more and more people are reading them.”

Rose smiles. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad to be helping with that, even in this small way.”

June is silent for a moment. Glad to be helping. That’s a little more definitively pro-Resistance than if Rose had just expressed her enjoyment of the New Bethlehem freedom to read and write. She clears her throat. “What do you know about Mayday?”

Rose hesitates. “I know that they’re aggressively against Gilead and willing to do whatever it takes to bring it down. My father has talked about them a lot. He knows that parts of Gilead need to be reformed, but he thinks there’s no place for vigilante justice in a civilized society.”

June snorts inwardly, thinking about how ridiculous it is for anyone to think of Gilead as “civilized.” “And what do you think?”

Rose bites her lip, seeming to come to a decision. “I . . . I actually admire them. More and more, I’ve come to believe that Gilead’s problems are more basic than something like a New Bethlehem can address. Don’t forget that without my father, my disability would have sent me straight to the Colonies as an Unwoman. I mean, it’s still Gilead here, right? It’s Gilead, even if woman have more autonomy. As long as men who hate women are in charge, things are never going to get better around here. Not all of the men here are like that, but too many of the ones who are have power. It’s one reason why I love Nick so much—he’s not like that at all.”

June is aware of the fact that Rose sounds a little possessive when she mentions Nick, but she files that away to ponder later. At the forefront of her mind right now is what Rose has actually just said about Gilead itself. She’s much more friendly to the Resistance than I would have imagined. She’s probably more anti-Gilead than Nick even realizes. Abruptly, June comes to a decision. She’ll be asking Rose about participating in Mayday’s mission, whatever Nick might think of it. She owes her that much, as a fellow woman.

When June doesn’t respond, a flicker of something complicated crosses Rose’s face. “Not what you expected?”

June shakes her head. “No, not really. I agree with everything you just said. I guess I am a little surprised to hear you say it, but I don’t know why I should be. We don’t know each other well, or even at all.”

“That’s right; we don’t. I’m glad we’re getting that chance now,” Rose pauses for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you, June Osborne. Nick can’t help talking about you, and when he does . . . well, it’s always been obvious that he’s in love with you and always will be. It’s hard to build a marriage and compete with a fantasy woman who’s perpetually loving and beautiful and brave. You’re that woman for Nick, I think.”

June blinks. How is it that we’re suddenly talking about Nick? But really, she gets it. Nick is the thing in between herself and Rose, and there’s really only so much conversation the two of them could have without Nick’s bobbing to the surface. “That was . . . that’s all in the past. I’m with someone I love right now, and Nick . . . Nick is lucky to have someone like you. I’m sure he knows that, even if he’s not great about saying it.”

Rose nods, her expression wistful. “I hope you’re right.”

After a moment of silence, June takes a breath. “I want to talk to you about . . . about something to do with Mayday.”

If anything were going to shift the ambience in the room away from Nick Blaine, that would do it. Rose’s expression morphs from sadness to sharp interest in a blink. “Ok.”

June realizes now that she hasn’t planned at all for how exactly she’s going to broach this particular subject with Rose. She decides to start at the end and work her way back into the details. “So . . . do you know Commander Bell? I think he’s a friend of your father. Is that right?”

Rose snorts. “I know him. He’s . . . well, when I talked about the bad Commanders in power? He’s the worst of them. My father is polite to him because Bell’s father is a major player in Gilead politics, but he doesn’t respect him. I’ve seen Bell be cruel to his Handmaids and Marthas, and even to his wife. He was one of the biggest forces behind sending academics and people with disabilities to the Colonies. He’s . . . despicable.”

For her purposes, June couldn’t have requested a better response from Rose than that. “That’s what I hear.”

“But what does that have to do with Mayday?” Rose’s expression is still intense, calculating.

June takes a couple of deep breaths before plunging in. Damn the torpedoes. “Mayday has started targeting the most extreme Commanders in Gilead, taking them out one by one. They want to target Bell.”

Rose nods, seemingly much less unnerved at the idea than June might have assumed. “I wouldn’t be the one weeping at his funeral.”

Could you be the one putting him there, though? “Mayday came to me because they thought I might help with this . . . this mission. Actually, they thought that . . . they thought that both you and I could help.” There. It’s out. There’s no taking it back now, and all June can do is wait and see how her words have landed.

For the first time, Rose appears genuinely shocked. “Me? What could I possibly do?”

June watches Rose’s face becoming several shades paler as June sketches an outline of the plan: bomb, flower vase, delivery to Bell’s Boston house, timed detonation several hours later. Simple, really. June waits for Rose to speak, so she can have some inkling of what the other woman is thinking right now.

When Rose does respond, it’s not even close to what June might have predicted. “How are we supposed to get the bomb into the vase?”

We? June wonders if Rose is already thinking of herself as part of Team Assassination. “Apparently there’s some embedded explosives expert in New Bethlehem who will be taking care of that. As far as I understand, you and a partner will bring the vase of flowers to Bell, stay and chat a little with his wife, and then depart. Later on, when Bell is home for dinner . . .”

Rose finishes the thought. “Boom.”

June nods. “Yes. Boom. And Bell is . . . an ex-Bell.”

When Rose doesn’t respond, June speaks again. “Rose . . . don’t feel pressured to do this. Killing someone . . .  it sticks with you. Even if it’s someone like Bell, someone who really deserves it. If you say no to this, Mayday isn’t going forward with the mission. That means you won’t have to report this conversation to save Bell’s life, if that’s what you choose to do. It’s up to you how this goes.”

Rose looks up quickly. “Report it? I’d never do that. First of all, I’d have to tell people that you’re in New Bethlehem, and I’d have to tell them what you’re doing here. If they find you, they’ll kill you. If anything happens to you . . . Nick would never forgive me. He’d never forgive himself.”

The idea of Rose’s protection simply because her husband is in love with another woman makes June a little queasy. But whatever. This is good, really. Mayday is safe, at least for the moment. “Rose . . . “

Rose interrupts whatever June had been stumbling toward saying. “I’m in.”

June stares at her. “Do you mean . . .”

Rose nods. “I’ll carry the bomb. I’ll do it. Bell deserves this, and I want to be the one doing it to him. For once in my life, I want to step up and do something just because it’s the right thing to be doing.” Her voice wavers a little, and June feels unaccountably guilty. This is a risk. She has a son. Should I have asked this of her, especially when I barely know anything about her?

“Are you absolutely sure? I think it’s pretty safe, but plans often have a way of going sideways. It’s hard to predict what might happen, even with the most careful planning.” June studies Rose’s face, searching for any sign of hesitation or fear. She finds none.

“I’m sure. I want this.” Rose lobs an oddly twisted sort of smile at June. “You can’t be the only hero around here.”

June thinks about her implication, wonders if it might be a little less friendly than the words themselves. The feeling of Nick’s lips on her the other night is suddenly present and intense. If Rose is doing this because she thinks it might impress Nick, it’s for the wrong reason. She should only do this if she genuinely wants to crush Gilead. But then again, blowing Bell to the skies is a fucking appealing prospect. June decides not to think about why Rose wants to carry the bomb and just be relieved that she does.

Rose’s expression has become a little soft and unfocused, as if she’s picturing herself as a dashing warrior for freedom. “Thanks for asking me to do this, June. I . . . I appreciate it.

June nods, trying to ignore the sudden gnawing inside her, a gnawing insistently warning that this might not turn out to be such a great idea after all. “No problem.”

§§§

Later that night, June is sitting in Lawrence’s kitchen going over notes on her laptop when she hears a small tap at the kitchen door. Looking up, she’s startled to see Skylar standing there. Skylar gives June a small wave when their eyes catch, and June hurries to unlock the door. “Skylar! Is something wrong with Hannah?”

Skylar shakes her head. “Hannah’s fine. She’s . . . great, actually. I just . . . I just wanted to talk to you privately. I remembered that you work late sometimes, and I hoped I could get you when everyone else is asleep.”

June smiles at her. “Well, your evil plan worked—you got me. Everyone else has been asleep for at least an hour. What’s up?”

June watches as Skylar seems to steady herself before answering. “You know I still have friends in Mayday, right?”

June nods carefully, wondering where this is going. “You mentioned that.”

Skylar takes a deep breath. “I know about the mission with Commander Bell.”

June feels herself tensing. “What exactly do you know about it?”

“I know that they asked you to ask Mrs. Blaine to . . . take a vase of flowers with a hidden bomb to Bell’s house. I know the bomb will have a timer, so it won’t go off for hours. And I know that you need someone to carry the vase, since Mrs. Blaine can’t do that herself.” Skylar, all traces of nervousness vanished, is gazing steadily at June now. She seems so much older than fifteen.

June sighs. “And you think you should be that person.”

Skylar nods. “I think I’m perfect for it. Nobody would question an Aunt-in-Training helping out, and you wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not to explain the plan to a new person, since I already know the plan.” She tilts her head, looking at June confidently.

June sighs, shaking her head. “There’s always some danger with any Mayday mission. I’m not really comfortable with this.”

Skylar leans forward, and June can see how hard she’s fighting to make her points clear. “We can’t wait for ‘comfortable.’ That’s never going to happen. This guy, Bell—he’s an asshole. Say that he isn’t.”

June nods. “No, I can’t say that he isn’t. You’re correct.”

Skylar is biting her lip now. “He’s terrified so many women—Handmaids, Jezebels, Marthas. I want to help get rid of him, and I want to do it myself. My parents and my brother would think that I ought to do this, if I have the chance. You have to let me.”

Suddenly, unaccountably, June has tears in her eyes, and she’s not certain if they’re tears of pride at how brave Skylar is being or tears of regret that she’s somehow encouraged a teenager to risk her life for something that might end up worse than useless. But whatever the case, she knows that Skylar is right. She might only be fifteen, but she’s old enough to understand what it means to fight for freedom and justice. If she wants to do this, June is not going to be the one who denies her that right.

June takes Skylar’s hand now. “I don’t like this, but you’re right: we need someone, and you’re probably our very best option. It shouldn’t be dangerous; all you and Rose have to do is put a plant on a table in the Bell’s house and maybe drink some tea. It will be fine.” Watching Skylar literally light up with excitement, June has the same sinking feeling that she had after Rose agreed to transport the bomb to Bell. I hope I’m doing the right thing for both of them. I hope it really will be fine.

Chapter Text

Serena paces around the kitchen, glancing at her watch and wondering why June’s call is so late today. Their cell calls tend to be less structured and more spontaneous than the Zoom meetings, it’s true, but June had promised to call her this afternoon. It’s well into the evening now, and the phone has yet to trill into life. She’s probably really busy and lost track of time. There’s no reason to make this into a bigger thing than it actually is.

When the phone rings at last and Serena sees that the caller is, in fact, June, she tries to ignore the surge of relief that threatens to swallow her whole as she clicks “Accept.” I guess I made it into a big thing after all.

But now it’s June’s voice in her ear, tinny but reassuring. “Hey there.”

“Hey,” Serena says, trying as hard as she can to sound casual. “I was thinking that you might have forgotten about me.”

June is silent for so long that Serena starts to panic. What had she just said? “June?”

“I’m still here.” June’s voice is quiet. “I can’t always call you at exactly the stroke of the hour, Serena. You get that, don’t you? Things happen around here. I’m not on the same kind of schedule that you are. I have more to do than worry about daycare and fruit at the farmer’s market.”

Serena blinks—where is all that coming from? June hasn’t sounded so hostile toward her in . . . well, in ages, not since well before they found themselves on the same train to Hawaii. “I’m sorry.”

Serena hears June taking a breath at the other end of the line. “No, I just . . . I have a lot on my plate right now. It’s fine.”

Serena feels a flash of irritation—June, after all, is the one who should be apologizing, not her. But she knows that the best course of action right now is to let it go by changing the subject. “Is anything new going on?”

“No, nothing really. Just a whole lot of books that need editing. Joseph is constantly trying to expand our list, since distribution is working so well.” June’s tone is odd, however, and Serena wonders (not for the first time) how much June isn’t saying about her work and her life.

Serena hesitates before responding. “Didn’t you say that you were getting Rose and Skylar to help you? Did anything come of that?”

“What do you mean?” June’s voice is unaccountably sharp again.

Serena just shakes her head, suddenly glad that she and June can’t see each other. What do you think I mean? “I mean, are they helping you? If you’re overworked, you should try to offload some of that work.”

“Yes, they’re helping, but I’m only having them do what they’d like to do, what they’re willing to do. I’m not pushing them into the Resistance, if that’s what you’re asking. That wouldn’t be fair to them.” June sounds as though she’s trying to convince herself of what she’s saying, which confuses Serena further.

Serena takes a deep breath. “Ok, fine. But they are willing to do some of your work, aren’t they? That’s why we’re having this conversation in the first place.”

“I’m just only responsible for myself here, not for other people. Whatever others want to do to help the work, it’s on them. It’s not on me.” June’s tone is rising, and Serena suddenly realizes that this is an actual fight, for reasons that she’s can’t begin to understand.

They’re both silent for a moment, and then Serena decides that dodging is probably a better idea right now than trying to get June to tell her what the hell is going on—Serena knows from years of studying June how closed off she is at the moment. “Did you talk to Nick about Nichole’s party? She’s really excited about it.”

June’s answer is short. “Of course I did. Why would you think that I wouldn’t?”

Serena tries mightily to ignore this, because snapping back will make everything infinitely worse. “So we’re all set? It’s in two days. We’ll have a cake here, with candles. Can you manage that on your end, too?”

“I’ve ordered one from the bakery. It’s pink.” June’s voice is sounding a little closer to normal right now, and Serena feels herself relaxing in response.

“Well, if it’s pink, she’ll love it. She’s very much into pink these days.” Serena tries to make herself sound cheerful, but she’s well aware that she’s failing miserably. But at least we’re not fighting right now. At least things are defusing.

June sighs. “I’d better go, I guess. Serena, look . . .”

Serena interrupts her here. “It’s ok, June. We can talk more after Nichole’s party.”

“Yeah. I hope it’ll be fun for everyone. I’ll . . . talk to you then.” June hangs up, and Serena has a sinking feeling that, in fact, the party will be anything but fun for everyone.

§§§

Much, much later, when Serena and June are ready to joke about it, they refer to Nichole’s fourth birthday party as the most awkward Zoom meeting in the history of the world. Right now, however, all Serena knows is that interacting with June is so difficult that she wishes she could be anywhere but here. Why did I have this idea in the first place? Nichole is four. She’d still be happy with a sock puppet and a cupcake. Why are we doing this to ourselves? Serena can only hope that the sheer number of people present for the party—herself, Nichole, and Noah here in Hawaii; June, Nick, his son Josh, and Hannah in Gilead; and Moira and Luke in Toronto—will serve as a general awkwardness buffer. We all love Nichole. I need to concentrate on that right now and not worry about anything else. It’s her day.

Nichole is beaming into the camera right now, and so Serena tries to assume the role of excited parent instead of increasingly insecure girlfriend. Busying herself by lighting the five candles on the cake (four for Nichole’s age and one to grow on), Serena has one eye on Nichole, who is clapping her hands in excitement, and the other on June’s head on the Zoom screen, which appears to be focusing on Nichole so intently that it’s managing not to see any other guest at all. Serena notices that June—not glancing his way, not making any effort to entice him into conversation with Nichole—appears to be avoiding Nick as much as she’s avoiding Serena. Nick, for his part, is acting (if possible) even more taciturn than he usually is. It’s not just me. She’s just angry in general. June, what’s going on with you? What’s happening over there in Gilead?

Thankfully, the cheering that follows Nicole’s successful blowing of the candles makes the party feel a little more normal, and for a few blissful moments Serena can pretend that this actually is a happy gathering of a ragtag found family. That sense of peace unfortunately ends as soon as Josh starts to cry. Trying to quiet him, Nick looks embarrassed and apologetic. “I think he wants to blow out birthday candles, too.” He bends down to whisper something into his son’s ear, but Josh just wails harder.

Nichole is glaring now. “No! It’s my birthday, not his. He’s just a baby. He’s not even as old as Noah.” Nichole looks as righteously furious as a four-year-old can appear. “What is he doing here? I don’t even know him.”

The adults are all silent for a moment, as if wondering which one of them should be responding to this. His arm draped protectively across his son’s shoulder, Nick just looks angry. June appears pained, as if torn between a desire to scold Nichole and comfort her. Moira and Luke are silent, and (frankly) Serena can hardly blame them for that. She’s mentally composing what sounds even to her like a lame platitude on the importance of sharing and generosity when an unexpected voice pipes up.

“He’s your little brother.” It’s Hannah, and Serena realizes with a start that it’s the first time she’s actually heard Hannah’s voice. June hasn’t introduced us, has she? Does Hannah even know about the two of them?

Nichole is eyeing Hannah now. “I never met him.”

June is clearing her throat, and Serena realizes with some relief that she’s about to speak. “I told you all about Josh when we planned your party last week. Do you remember? He’s your First Daddy’s little boy, so that makes him your baby brother.”

Serena watches Luke’s jaw tighten at “First Daddy,” and she feels a flash of sympathy. Luke has done his best to accept that Nick will always have a place in Nichole’s life, but it certainly hasn’t been easy for him. I’m not linked to Nichole through biology, either—I just love her. None of this is simple.

Nichole appears to be considering what her mother has just said to her. “He can stay here and eat cake, but he can’t blow out my candles. They’re done, anyway.”

June is smiling now. “I promise, he won’t do that. And if you get invited to his birthday, you’ll let him blow out his own candles. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

Nichole sighs but nods. Nick has a ghost of a smile on his face now, and Serena sees June glance up at him quickly before looking away. Serena notices that Nichole is looking at Hannah’s Zoom image carefully. “You’re my sister, so he’s your brother too, right?”

Hannah hesitates. “We’re sisters because we have the same mother but different fathers, You and Josh have the same father but different mothers. So we’re all part of a family, even though Josh and I aren’t really brother and sister by blood.”

Serena is impressed by how well Hannah expressed all that, and Nichole appears to accept it. “I’m glad that I get a brother and a sister. Noah is my brother too, so I have a lot!” Hannah’s look of puzzlement tells Serena all she needs to know about whether or not June has explained Serena and Noah’s place in June’s life. She must have a reason for keeping quiet about it. Hannah’s grown up believing in the sin of gender traitors. It would be too much for her to realize that her own mother is one of them.  Still, Serena has a hollow feeling at the idea that June has apparently made so little effort to tell Hannah about their life together in Hawaii. Maybe it’s just not as important to her as it is to me. Maybe she thinks there’s not much to tell at all. Serena is horrified to find her eyes welling up a little at the thought, and she tries mightily to compose herself. At that moment, she hears Moira saying something.

“Hey, Nichole—how about those presents? Do you think it’s time to start opening them?”

Serena doesn’t know if Moira is intentionally trying to ease Serena’s emotional turmoil, or even if she had noticed it at all. The two of them, after all, have never been on good terms, and probably never will be. Whatever the reason, Moira’s gambit succeeds in diverting Nichole sufficiently from complicated family issues, and Serena has never liked Moira quite as much as she does in this moment. Another hour and the party will be over. She sees June looking at her directly for the first time, as if she wants to communicate something important. Serena sighs. Whatever it is, they’ll have to try to sort it out the next time they’re talking privately. Now is clearly not the time for anything other than allowing Nichole to enjoy her day.

§§§

When Serena’s cell phone buzzes unexpectedly the next day, Serena glances over to see a Gilead number flashing across the screen. Could this be June, calling from some burner phone? Are they finally going to be able to have an actual conversation, instead of this tiresome game of deflect-and-pretend in which they both seem to be trapped? She notices that her finger is trembling a little as it touches the pulsating “Accept” option. “Hello?”

“Blessed Day, Serena!” It’s not June at all; it’s Naomi, from whom Serena has not heard since June departed for New Bethlehem.

Serena tries not to let that exasperating flash of disappointment be overly apparent to her actual caller. “Blessed Day, Naomi! It’s wonderful to hear from you.”

“Joseph was talking about June at breakfast the other morning, and I realized that you and I haven’t spoken in awhile. It’s too easy to take a miracle like a cell phone for granted, isn’t it? I don’t want that to start happening.” Serena is a little startled to hear Naomi mentioning June so casually; it's only relatively recently that Lawrence had told his wife about June and the samizdat, and that was primarily because the fact that June would be living with the Lawrences in New Bethlehem forced his hand. Serena is not entirely sure how much Lawrence had told Naomi about Serena and June's relationship, but that will have to remain a conversation for another day. She might be more open-minded than I've always assumed. We've never talked about anything important, have we? How well do Naomi and I know each other, really? 

Serena suddenly focuses on exactly what Naomi has just said about Commander Lawrence and June. Could that be significant? Cursing herself for grasping at any June-related straw that she manages to unearth, Serena says, “No, I don’t want that to happen either. It’s so good that you’ve called. Is . . . is everything all right between Joseph and June? Was there any reason that he mentioned her to you?” Even though her question is a little awkward and ungainly, Serena is relieved that she has managed to ask it. She is starting to get the distinct feeling that Naomi has something to say to her beyond the usual Blessed Day greetings.

Naomi hesitates a moment before answering. “Joseph doesn’t speak to me about his work at all, but he seemed particularly upset about something that June is doing, or is going to do. Whatever it is, he doesn’t approve, and I think he’s worried that it’s going to jeopardize their book project.”

Serena finds her head whirling a little at this information. Whatever is going on, it’s June acting as a free agent rather than working with Lawrence on an agreed-upon process. That rarely works out for anyone. “Did you ask him more about what he might have meant?”

Naomi snorts. “No, I didn’t. Joseph and I . . . we don’t have that sort of relationship. One where we talk to one another, I mean. I’m busy with Angela, and he’s busy with . . . whatever High Commanders are busy with these days. There isn’t much overlap between our lives.”

Serena feels a pang at Naomi’s words, and she realizes that her sadness is both for her friend and for herself. There’s nothing like having a real partner in life, like the one she had in June for those blissful final months in Hawaii. There’s also nothing quite as melancholy as almost having a partner like that—but not quite. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I wish things were better between the two of you.”

Naomi sighs before responding. “It is what it is. Joseph will never get over Eleanor enough to share his life with anyone else. Angela and I are lucky that we have as much of him as we do—if that weren’t the case, who knows what might have happened to us. He really seems genuinely attached to Angela, which is a comfort.”

“It might get better. He might become more of a husband, over time.” Serena doesn’t believe this, of course, but she says it nonetheless.

Naomi, who clearly doesn’t believe it either, responds by shifting the subject back to June. “You might want to have a conversation with June. I have a feeling . . . I have a feeling that something is about to happen, and it might not be a good thing. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s really all I know.”

“Thank you for telling me this. Really, I mean that. I . . . knew something wasn’t right, and I know that June and I need to talk about it. I appreciate this.” Serena means it: this might be the first time that Naomi has shown genuine empathy regarding her relationship with June, and she finds it unexpectedly endearing. I need all the friends I can get these days, and it seems as though Naomi might actually be one of them.

§§§

As soon as she gets off the phone with Naomi, Serena takes a deep breath and sends a text to June.

Can we talk tonight? Cell phone is fine.

Holding her breath, Serena watches as the three little dots indicate that June is responding to her message.

OK. 10 PM your time.

That’s about eight hours from now, Serena calculates. This time, she’s going to plan what she wants to say in advance. This time, she’s not going to try to placate June or cheer her up. This time, she wants a real conversation and honest answers. Whether any of that will actually happen, of course, is anyone’s guess.

Promptly at 10:00, Serena’s phone trills into life. “June?”

“Hi.” Serena is relieved to hear that June’s voice is tentative rather than flat. All things considered, I’ll take that as a win.

“I was glad to get your text. I know we need to talk. Nichole’s party . . . wasn’t great.” June’s voice is soft now, and Serena finds herself softening as well.

Serena takes a breath, not wanting to be derailed from what she has planned to say. It’s all too easy for her to fall into her habit of avoiding anything difficult with June, just to be granted some semblance of surface pleasantness. That’s not enough, not right now. “June . . . what’s going on with you? Last time we talked, you seemed to want to pick a fight for no reason at all. You barely said a word to me at Nichole’s party. It’s just . . . it’s just not the way we are to one another. Is something wrong over there?” There. It’s done. She’s said what she wants to say to June, and now she’ll have to see how June responds to it.

June is silent for so long that Serena wonders if the connection has been severed. When she finally answers, what she says is a surprise. “It’s not enough . . . being here, doing this. It’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . I blew up our lives—we blew up our lives—just so I could come back here and make a difference. I like the work, I do, but . . . I’m just starting to doubt that it’s going to mean much at all, at least for awhile. I sometimes feel like I need to, I don’t know, hurry things along. To make my time here really count. Do you know what I mean?” June’s voice is pleading now.

Serena thinks about that for a moment. She does know what June means, of course. Sometimes (not lately, but sometimes) she feels as though she understands June even better than June understands herself. But at the same time, she also knows just how potentially dangerous thoughts like that can be. “I know what you mean, but . . . you are making a difference. You should know more than anyone how important books and ideas can be. Losing them . . . means losing everything. You’re doing God’s work.” Serena’s response is a careful one, but she believes every word that she’s saying.

June sighs. “You know I can’t really talk about any of this, right? I wish I could . . .”

“I know.” Of course she knows. It’s been one of the most frustrating things about their separation, the fact that she and June are simply unable to have the hard-hitting, freewheeling conversations that are so important to both of them.

June pauses before answering. “What would you do if you had the chance to do something that would make an impact now, but that might put some people at risk? Would you do it?”

Serena thinks about that. “Well, that depends. Do the people at risk know they’re at risk? Or are you tricking them into helping you?”

“They know it. They want to do it.” June’s response is prompt this time, her voice stronger.

“Then I don’t think they’re an issue. You have to let people . . . do what they want. You have kind of a habit of thinking that you need to protect everyone around you. You don’t.” Serena has always seen this about June, and lately she’s realized just how much that attitude has cost, and how much more difficult it has made everything. June can be self-centered, of course she can. But there’s also so much empathy and caring in her that she worries about other people much more than she should.

June sighs once again. “I just wish I knew that I’m doing the right thing.”

Serena tries valiantly to put all of this together into some semblance of a coherent narrative. June is about to do something risky, maybe reckless. It involves other people. It will have a bigger immediate impact than editing books about justice and democracy and women’s rights. “June . . . I trust your instincts. I do. I always will. If you think what you’re doing is right, I’m sure that it is.” Serena, actually, is not sure at all about any of that, but she knows what she’s supposed to be saying to June in this moment. I hope I’m right. I hope I’m not supposed to be talking her out of whatever-this-is, rather than encouraging her to proceed full steam ahead.

“Thanks. I . . . really needed to hear that. I wish  . . I’ll find a way to talk to you more about this, I promise. After it’s all done, I promise I’ll tell you all about it.” June’s words sound a little choked now, and Serena realizes that she might be crying.

“This thing of yours . . . how dangerous is it?” Serena is starting to feel more and more anxious about what June has just revealed. Talking honestly is good, of course, but I still don’t have  a clue about what we’re actually discussing.

June hesitates. “It’s not dangerous if everything goes the way it’s supposed to go. But sometimes . . .”

“Things don’t go the way they’re supposed to go,” Serena finishes, the knot in her stomach growing more pronounced.

“Yeah. But sometimes they do. Hopefully this will be one of those times.”

Serena blinks back a tear before she answers. What if this isn’t one of those times? “June . . . just be careful. Don’t do anything that would put you into danger. We need you here. I need you here.”

“Serena . . . you knew that just coming here is some sort of risk. You knew that when you told me to go. I can’t just . . . live in a bubble here. I can’t. I want to see Gilead fall. That’s worth a risk to me. I’m just one person. There’s so much more than me.” June’s voice is pleading now, willing Serena to understand.

You’re not just one person. You’re my person. “I know all that, but . . . I don’t want you to do something that will make any of that more likely. I don’t know . . . I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Serena winces at the pathos of her own words, but it can’t be helped, not right now.

“You just said you trusted me, trusted my instincts. They’re telling me that this is the right thing to do. And you’re not going to lose me. Everything should be perfectly safe. I just . . . I just overthink sometimes.” Dully, Serena listens as June tries to command her own voice into sounding resolute and confident.

Serena laughs shakily. “You and me both. Yes, June, I trust you. But . . . please, please think of me, think of Nichole and Noah, if you ever have to choose between something dangerous and something safer. Think about all of us.”

“Of course I will. How can I not? I think about all of you all the time.” June’s voice is choked, and the feeling of melancholy that washes over Serena is almost intolerable. I miss her so much. How long will it be before I can see her—touch her—again?

Serena hesitates. “June . . . there’s just one more thing. Does Hannah . . . does Hannah know anything about us?”

June is silent for so long that Serena already knows what the answer must be. “I . . . we haven’t had that conversation yet.”

“So she just thinks that some friend of yours is taking care of her sister? A babysitter?” Serena wills herself not to sound as hurt as she feels right now.

June sighs. “Serena, you just have to trust me here, the way you said that you trusted my other instincts. They’re screaming at me that finding out that her mother is a gender traitor is not something Hannah could handle right now, especially given . . . given what she’s going through herself. She needs time. I’m her mother, and I have to protect her.”

You always think you need to protect everyone, June. That is, until you decide that you don’t, because they’re in the way of one of your heroic plans. How do you balance all that? But Serena says none of that, not right now. “I love you.” It’s all she has to hang onto right now, but it’s the deepest truth she has to offer.

“I love you, too. No matter what’s going on here, that’s always been true. I love you.” June says it softly, but her words flow through Serena like a soothing balm.

§§§

No balm, however, lasts forever. That night, Serena lies awake for hours in bed, replaying the conversation with June over and over again. Sometimes she finds herself praying. Please, please watch over her. Please keep her safe. She wonders, as she has more and more lately, whether God is actually listening to her right now. I know that I have past sins for which to atone, but I’m trying to do that. Please take care of June. Please. Clenching her fists, Serena tries hard not to imagine the worst. She’s coming back. This isn’t forever, it’s just for now. She’s coming back.

Serena suddenly realizes something that she has been feeling constantly but afraid to allow actual verbalization. I’m unhappy. No, more than unhappy: I’m almost miserable. The thought fills her with something little short of terror. The last time she had been miserable, she had also been Mrs. Waterford. She had beaten June, imprisoned her, raped her. She had been by far the worst Serena Joy that she could possibly be. Being happy—so, so happy—with June had made it easy—relatively speaking, anyway—for her to metamorphosize into someone with glimmers of empathy and caring for those outside of her immediate circle. June, she knows, loves this Serena, not the Serena that she had been in Gilead. I can’t become Mrs. Waterford again. I can’t. I’ll lose everything if I do. OK, yes—I’m unhappy. But I’m not going back to that, to her, not ever.

Falling finally into a fitful sleep, Serena last conscious thought is about June. Just keep yourself safe, and I’ll be myself when you come back to me, the June version of myself, the Hawaii version of myself. I promise.

Chapter Text

It’s been three days since Nichole’s party, and even longer since he and June have spoken, but in all that time Nick has thought of little other than June’s plan to help Mayday murder Commander Bell. Why does she insist on upending her life, over and over again? Why does it seem as though Nichole is always an afterthought in all the chaos, always left with someone else while she’s off saving the world? Nick remembers the blind fury that he had felt when June came back to Gilead after he and the Martha network had risked so much to plan her escape to Canada with Nichole. She’d handed Nichole to OfJoseph without a thought—and how well did June know her then, really?—and returned to Gilead to continue her fruitless search for Hannah. (Her real daughter, Nick had thought to himself bitterly at the time, even though he knew that June loved Nichole and that her trauma over losing Hannah was something that would always be the primary emotional driver of her life.) He’s just as angry with her now, he realizes. I love her. I’ll always love her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see that she’s going off the rails. Yes, Bell is a dick; yes, he’s as bad as any Commander in Gilead, and worse than most of them. But is killing him going to make enough of a difference to the Resistance to make the risk and effort worth it? Nick is barely on board with the samizdat, but at least the dangers surrounding it are relatively easy to contain. Anything can go wrong when explosives are involved, and he would prefer that anyone he cares about to be far, far away from them when they do.
Deep within himself, Nick is also certain that part of the reason—not all of it, certainly, but a distinct part—that June is so ready to go along with Mayday is because of the kiss that never should have happened between the two of them. The kiss had been wonderful, and terrible, and Nick refuses to allow himself the illusion that it was anything more than a rash impulse for both of them. Kissing had felt natural in the moment, and June’s impulsive nature has never been restricted merely to Mayday covert operations. But Nick had felt the almost instantaneous regret pass from June to himself before their lips were fully unlocked. June loves Serena, full stop. She might have loved him in the past, but not now, not anymore, not that way. Accepting that might be painful, but Nick has always known that he exists in a world in which he can never have exactly what he wants. We all would have been better off if she had never come back to Gilead.

§§§
Nick had meant it when he told June that Rose would never want to be involved in a Mayday murder plot. He was so certain of that, in fact, that very few of his myriad of thoughts in the last few days had concerned Rose’s reaction to June’s offer, and as a result, he is genuinely unprepared for what Rose is telling him now.
“I know June told you about the plan with Mayday and Commander Bell.” They had just finished their dinner, and Rose had been silent, idly stirring her tea before she spoke.
Nick nods. “So she talked to you.”
“She did. And . . . I told her that I’d do it. I want to help with this mission.” Rose’s voice is calm, much calmer than Nick thinks is strictly appropriate for the situation.
Nick stares at her. “What?”
Rose smiles faintly at his reaction. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. I think that it’s something that I need to do.”
Nick tries to corral his racing thoughts into some semblance of order. “Rose . . . you’ll be helping to murder someone. You’ll be killing one of your father’s friends, someone you’ve known for years. Do you know what something like that can do to you? It will eat you alive.”
Rose stares at him intently for several seconds before responding. “You’ve killed. Many times. Does it eat you alive?”
Yes, it does. And it always will. He tries not to picture the first people he’d shot, the ones on the stairwell of Congress during the insurrection itself. He doesn’t want to remember the shock frozen on their faces, shock that he knew had been mirrored on his own. “I was just doing my job. This—none of this is your job. You don’t have to do it. You have a choice.”
Rose takes Nick’s hand into hers now. “There’s always a choice. You had one, too. You still do.”
Nick doesn’t answer, because he knows what Rose does not, and he doesn’t want to be the one to shatter her last remnants of belief in justice and autonomy and power. There are no choices in Gilead, not for someone like him. Not for her, either, not really. There haven’t been any for a long, long time.
Nick feels Rose’s index finger caressing his knuckle. “Tell me what you think. Even if you believe that I don’t want to hear it.” Rose’s voice is soft now.
Nick sighs. “I don’t think killing Bell is something you would be doing on your own. In fact, I know it isn’t. It’s June . . . it’s always June. She has a way of convincing people that chaos and destruction is something noble.”
“When you first told me about June, do you remember what you said about her?” Rose is still holding his hand.
“I told you . . . I told you that I loved her, and that I thought I always would. I wanted you to know that before . . . before things got any more serious with the two of us.” Nick recalls that conversation vividly; it was just about as honest as he’s ever managed to be with another human being.
Rose nods. “Yes, you did. But you also told me how brave she is, and how much she cares about other people. You admired that in her, and I know that you still do. You’re worried now, of course, and I understand that. But I think you know who June is and that you still love her for being that way. You need to let me be that way, too.”
Rose’s words hit Nick squarely in the middle of his chest with a force that almost leaves him gasping. “You’re wrong. I mean, yes, I have loved June for being brave and loyal, but I don’t love her for being reckless and self-centered. She’s doing something stupid, and she’s pulling you into somewhere you shouldn’t be at all. You’ll be carrying a bomb. Anything could happen to you. Do you really want to risk being a mother to your son? Do you want to risk . . . our lives together? We might not be perfect, but . . .”
Rose smiles at him sadly. “I love our life, and I’m sorry if you can’t see that I do. And yes, obviously if June hadn’t come to me with this plan, we wouldn’t be having a conversation about it now. But give me a little credit. I’m not trying to copy June because I think she’s the kind of person that you love. I’m letting her inspire me to be . . . more than I am right now. There’s a difference.”
Nick takes a breath. “But why? Why do you want to do this? You say that you like our lives, you like New Bethlehem. We have Joshua. Why risk throwing all that away?”
“Yes, our lives are good—we’re lucky. We’re luckier than most people in Gilead. But that doesn’t make it right. Gilead should never have come into being. It’s not God’s kingdom on Earth, and it never will be. I’ve had so many arguments with my father over this, and I think I finally see that now . . . now it’s time to stop arguing. It’s time to do something. That’s why. That’s why I want to transport the bomb for Mayday. Because getting rid of Commanders like Bell is the right thing to be doing.” Nick has never seen Rose look quite as certain about anything as she looks right now about this.
Nick closes his eyes for a moment, considering everything she’s said. No matter how much Rose might deny it, he still believes that at least a small part of her is doing something dramatic and risky to model herself after the woman she assumes will always be the love of his life. He wishes that there were a way to push all of that outside of the equation, to make certain that Rose is being as clear-eyed as possible in her decision. Rose, I hope you know what you’re doing. And I hope you have enough divine pull that God will keep you safe while you do it. But none of that comes out when he finally answers her. “Ok.”
Rose looks at him. “Really?”
Nick nods. “I don’t like it, and I’m never going to like it. But if you think that this is something important for you to be doing, I’ll support you. I’ll try to, anyway.”
Visibly relaxing for the first time since they began this conversation, Rose lets out a breath and smiles. “Thank you, Nick. It’s going to be fine. The explosives guy that works with Mayday is an expert. All I need to do is help deliver a bomb that won’t be detonating for hours. I’ll be safe.”
Nick nods. You fucking better be. But then something occurs to him. “You can’t handle a big vase and your cane at the same time. How are you supposed to manage that?”
Rose hesitates as a flicker of anxiety mars her expression for the first time. “We’ll have someone else with us, someone to carry the vase. I’ll just be the familiar face that gets us in the door.”
Nick looks at her sharply. “Who will be carrying the vase? Don’t tell me that June hasn’t thought that one through, because I wouldn’t believe you.”
Rose sighs. “I think June told me that it’s probably going to be her daughter Hannah’s friend Skylar. Apparently Skylar heard about it from some of her Mayday contacts and wants to help.”
Nick stares at her, almost unable to process what he has just heard. “She’s fifteen years old. June is cool with her carrying a bomb to murder someone?” Even at June’s most obsessive, he wouldn’t have thought her capable of risking the life of someone who is essentially a child.
“I think that June considers her enough of an adult to know what she wants. And what she wants is to help take Gilead down.” Rose’s tone is so matter-of-fact that Nick suddenly wonders if he’s ever really known her at all. He had thought that he was marrying someone sweet and settled, someone who shared his goal of keeping his loved ones safe. Who are you, Rose? Who are you really?
One thing is obvious to Nick: another conversation with June has just become impossible to avoid. He wants to hear about Skylar’s involvement directly from her, and he wants her to justify why she’s even thinking about allowing it. Rose is an adult who can make her own choices, poor as they might end up being. Skylar, Nick thinks, is a completely different story. They’re the adults in the room, and it’s their job to keep her safe, insofar as that might be possible in Gilead.

§§§
Before Nick can even think about how to approach June to discuss Skylar, he hears a knock on his door. It’s late, and Rose has already gone to bed. Nick is in his office frowning over some trade route paperwork, trying to concentrate when his mind is a thousand miles from what he’s doing. He looks up, startled, and sees June framed in his window.
She rolls her eyes a little. “I know. Not what you were expecting. Can I come in?”
Nick nods cautiously, opening the door. “Rose is asleep.”
“I thought she probably would be. I wanted . . . I thought we needed to talk, especially after Nichole’s party.” June looks so beautiful in the moonlight that Nick very nearly forgets how many rapid-fire bad decisions she’s currently making, and how badly those decisions might impact his own life. Very nearly, but not quite.
Nick tries to keep his voice calm. “I wanted to talk to you, too, but not about the party.”
Awareness flickers across June’s face. “So I guess . . . you know about Rose, right? What she decided?” June is eyeing him cautiously, as if trying to assess his state of mind. He wills himself not to show her anything that he’d rather she not see.
“I know about Rose. I also know about Skylar. June . . . what are you doing? It’s bad enough that you’re dragging Rose into all of this, but Skylar . . . she’s just a kid, and she worships you. She’s supposed to be training to be an Aunt, not carrying bombs into Boston.” Feeling himself losing his battle to remain calm, Nick takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself.
June’s eyes are flashing back at him now. “She’s supposed to be training to be an Aunt? What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve conveniently forgotten that Skylar is not supposed to be here in Gilead at all. She’s supposed to be with her mother and father and brother, living the life of a normal American teenager. None of us are fucking supposed to be here.”
This is true, of course, but it’s also largely irrelevant. Skylar is here—they’re all here—and none of them has any choice other than fighting to survive. “She’s fifteen.” It was the only fact that Nick wants to think about right now. It’s the only one that really counts.
Suddenly, a look of sadness crosses June’s face, “Fifteen in Gilead usually means being forced into having sex with men two or three times your age. Eden was fifteen. They’re not children here at fifteen, and it’s insulting to pretend that they are.”
“So . . . what? Because of that, it’s ok to ask a fifteen-year-old to carry a bomb and help commit murder?” Nick is as frustrated right now with June as he ever has been before.
June sighs. “First of all, I didn’t ask Skylar—she asked me. She found out about the mission from some of her Mayday friends, and she wants to help. She’s not wrong that in many ways she’s an ideal person to go with Rose to the Bell’s home. Nobody would suspect her, and we wouldn’t need to worry about keeping her in the dark. She already knows everything.”
“You should have told her she couldn’t do it. For that matter, you shouldn’t have asked Rose, either. I don’t know what you said to her, and I don’t know why she wants to do this, but she shouldn’t be. She doesn’t have any idea what she’s getting herself into. You do know, and you don’t seem to give a fuck about either of them.” The more this conversation went on, the angrier Nick is getting, and he can’t seem to stop himself from letting June see that.
She’s angry now too, and definitely unafraid of showing it. “Do you have any idea just how patronizing you sound right now? Do you really think that you can control the moral choices that people make? Rose and Skylar want to do this because they think it’s the right thing to be doing. What right do you have to take that away from them? Because Rose is a wife and a mother? Because Skylar is a teenager? You sound like an asshole right now.”
I’d rather be an asshole and keep everyone safe than whatever it is you are right now. “I don’t see how you can do this. I really don’t. It’s one thing that it’s dangerous for you, and for your work with Lawrence. But how can you risk Rose and Skylar’s life like this? Do you care about that at all?”
“Of course I care. I think about them all the time. Do you think I’m some sort of monster? I told both of them the risks—I didn’t want to force them into anything that they weren’t comfortable doing. And yes, I worry even more about Skylar than I do about Rose: she’s young, and she’s Hannah’s best friend. But in the end, we need to let people do what they need to be doing, even if they’re teenagers. Sometimes that means a little bit of a calculated risk. Not everyone is like you, Nick. Not everyone wants to spend a life sitting on the sidelines and hoping for the best.” Some of June’s anger is fading now, leaving something even more unsettling in its wake—something sounding suspiciously like the truth.
Nick tries not to show just how much June’s words sting. “I just want to keep my family safe. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, too, but you never seem to let me do that.” Horrifyingly, he feels his throat constricting right now as his eyes well up just a little.
June notices, of course—Nick can tell because she’s regarding him softly now, almost as though she wishes she could take his hand. “Nick—it’s all going to be fine. Rose and Skylar aren’t in real danger. It’s not as though they’re throwing a live grenade. The bomb won’t go off for hours, and they’ll both be safely back in New Bethlehem when it does. And when it does, we’ll all know that we did some real damage to Gilead, something more than definitive than publishing censored articles and books.”
You don’t know it’s going to be fine. Nobody does. But Nick just nods, because right now, there is apparently nothing else that he can do about any of it.

§§§
The next morning, Nick goes on a long walk by the water, glad that, for now at least, he seems to have the beach to himself. He needs to think, and he wants to be alone to do that in peace.
I love her, but . . . Nick realizes that he’s been saying this same sentence fragment to himself over and over again for a long, long time. Certainly, since June came to live in New Bethlehem. But hasn’t it always been so, if he’s being honest with himself? He has never loved anyone quite as intensely as he has loved June, but that “but” has always been bobbing below the surface of their relationship. But . . . June has a husband. But . . . June left their daughter to be raised by others and came back to Gilead when she had a chance to escape. But . . . June fell in love with the woman who raped and abused her for years. But . . . June is embarking on yet another foolishly risky mission, this time entangling others in her web. And on and on it goes. I wish she’d never come here. Not seeing her has always been hard, but not as hard as this. At least if she’s in Hawaii, I know that she’s safe. If she were in Hawaii, I wouldn’t have this constant feeling of dread.
Glancing at his watch, Nick realizes that if he doesn’t turn back now, he’ll be late to a briefing meeting with Lawrence. He sighs, hoping that June will be off somewhere else when he arrives—after the intensity of their conversation last night, he needs a break. He’s so deep in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t realize that there’s now someone else on the beach, someone expertly tossing stones into the water to watch them skip. Coming closer, he realizes that the stone-skipper is Allie.
“Hey,” he says as he sidles behind her, momentarily forgetting himself as he watches the stones dancing on the water. Good arm. I could never skip stones like that.
Allie looks at him and smiles. “Well, good morning to you. I don’t usually see you out here.”
Nick shrugs. “Seemed like a nice morning for a walk.”
Allie is studying him now, and Nick has the uncomfortable feeling that she’s seeing a lot more than he wishes she were. “If I asked you what was wrong, would you tell me?”
Nick suddenly feels an intense desire to do exactly that. But it’s preposterous—he barely knows this woman, and telling her would mean describing a Mayday covert operation. June would kill me if I did that. But all at once, Nick doesn’t care about any of it—not about Mayday, and not about June’s loyalty to Mayday. He just wants to talk to someone who might actually understand what he’s trying to express. “That depends on how much time you have. It’s kind of a long story.”
The look that Allie gives him is warm and searching, as if Nick is the only person in her world right now. “I’ve got time.”
They amble toward a large, flat rock right on the beach that’s just large enough for two people to sit. Haltingly, Nick tells Allie all of it—all about June, the Mayday mission, Rose, Skylar, his conversation with June last night. When he’s finished, he glances over at Allie to try to gauge her reaction.
“Wow,” Allie says, looking at the ocean instead of at him. “That’s a lot.”
Nick nods. “A lot” doesn’t begin to cover it. “June thinks I’m a coward.”
Allie turns toward him at that. “Nick, I’m sure that’s not true. She couldn’t possibly, not after everything you’ve done for her.”
Nick shrugs. “She said . . . she said that I sit on the sidelines and try to stay safe. The implication is pretty clear there.”
Allie appears to think about that for a moment. “Well, don’t you do that?”
Nick starts to wonder if talking to Allie had been a good idea after all. “Sort of, but I’m just trying to survive here like everyone else. What the fuck else am I supposed to be doing?”
Allie sighs. “I’m not criticizing you. I’m kind of a sidelines sitter myself—I’ve never really tried to get involved in Mayday, even though I know that Gilead absolutely needs to be destroyed. It’s always been a lot easier to keep my head down and do whatever job I’ve been given to do here. And yes, you’re right: this Mayday plan is risky, and as an engineer I can envision multiple ways that it could go wrong. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t admire the hell out of June and Rose and Skylar for trying to get it done. Both things can be true, you know: June can be a reckless idiot, but she can also be a hero.”
Nick thinks about that. Allie has a real way of getting to the heart of the matter. I’m glad that I told her everything. “I guess I can see that, but she doesn’t always have to be the hero. Just one time, can’t she just . . . try to get by?”
Allie touches his hand, and Nick feels an unsettling jolt as she does so. “No, she can’t just try to get by. She’s June Osborne. You should know that better than anyone else does by now. She cares too much for that.”
Nick, of course, does know this, and he knows it very well. But that knowledge doesn’t magically make the risks of this mission suddenly dissolve. All he can do is wait, and hope, and pray that everything goes according to plan. After that, June can return to editing, and once that’s finally done, she can get back to Hawaii and take care of their daughter. If he’s lucky, this Mayday mission will be a one-off for June, a palate cleanser, something to get the hunger for action out of her system. Once this is done, I’ll convince her to steer clear of Mayday. I can do that, and I have to. Nick wishes, however, that he actually felt as strong and confident as he’s forcing his inner voice to sound as it rings in his head.

Chapter Text

For the rest of her life, Hannah knows that she will never, ever forget the feeling of these past few weeks with Skylar. They meet whenever and wherever they can, talking more than they ever have before, kissing when it is safe to do so. Each time their lips touch is a revelation to Hannah, a fresh shock that so much raw, intense feeling about another human being is actually possible. I love her. How did I live this long without her? Watching Skylar’s flashes of joy, seeing what she herself is feeling reflected so openly in Skylar’s eyes, makes Hannah feel like the luckiest person in the world.
Tonight, they’ve both quietly sneaked out of their quarters long after lights out, meeting in the Aunt lounge on the ground floor. Hannah’s heart always pounds at the risk—it’s unlikely that anyone will find them at this hour, of course, but it’s always possible. She’s normally cautious, normally sensible, normally conscious of the rules—but she’s not normal right now. Or rather, her concept of “normal” has shifted forever. “Normal” is being with Skylar. “Normal” is curling up next to her, feeling the urgency of her lips. Everything about her life has shifted into this new version of normal.
Right now, Hannah’s head is in Skylar’s lap, and Skylar is running her fingers through Hannah’s hair. It feels so blissfully wonderful that Hannah just closes her eyes without speaking. Then she takes Skylar’s hand, feeling its answering squeeze. Hannah tries to put it all into words, but finds it impossible to express herself. “This is . . .”
Skylar bends down to kiss her forehead. “It is for me, too.”
Hannah sighs. How does she understand exactly what I mean? But then suddenly, out of nowhere, Colleen bobs to the surface of her mind. Gender traitor. Hannah tries to stuff it away, to recreate the feeling of perfect peace she’d had seconds before, but something is different now.
Skylar seems to notice the shift right away. “Are you ok?”
Hannah nods, twisting around to look up at Skylar. “Do you ever . . . I don’t know. Feel guilty about this?”
Skylar’s eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Guilty about what?”
“You know what. This.”
Skylar is laughing openly now. “Do you mean this?” She kisses Hannah on one eye and then the other. “Or maybe this?” This time it’s a full kiss on the lips, so light and so intense that Hannah feels herself melting, all concerns about gender traitors evaporating.
“Never mind,” Hannah says, kissing Skylar back. “It’s not important.”
Skylar sighs. “Hannah, don’t let the fuckers around here get into your head. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. There’s nothing wrong with how we feel. It just . . . is. They’re afraid of people like us. That’s why they try to stop it.”
Gripping Skylar’s hand, feeling its warmth and sturdiness, Hannah nods without saying anything else. Flickers of thoughts like a movie reel fly through her head. She’s listening to a teacher in primary school talk about the Bible. She’s remembering her Gilead father’s scorn for two young men accused of being gender traitors who were hung on the Wall. She’s recalling lectures about Wifely duties, about the naturalness of men and women marrying and bearing children. She’s thinking about her mother June’s saying that love is love. She’s experiencing again the feeling of kissing Skylar for the first time, of realizing that life is so much bigger and more exciting than she had ever imagined it to be. This can’t be wrong. Whatever they’ve told us, anything that makes me feel this way about someone else can’t be wrong. Love IS love.
Skylar is stroking her cheek and saying something now. “Ok?”
Hannah nods. “Definitely ok.”
“Good.” They curl up together. Hannah sighs, knowing they have to return to their quarters soon, before they fall asleep here, but not wanting to leave. I wish I could stay here with her forever.

§§§
Hannah and Skylar are taking a walk on the beach in between classes when Skylar stops in front of a flat rock. “Let’s sit for awhile.”
Hannah does, suddenly aware that something has changed in the air between them. Skylar looks at her, taking a breath before continuing. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Hannah feels a flutter of something close to panic; words like that are never good. She tries not to show any of that in her face, since Skylar reads her so effortlessly. “Ok.”
Skylar pauses for a moment before beginning. “I’m going to be working on a mission with your mother.”
Whatever Hannah had been expecting, it isn’t this. “What are you talking about?”
Skylar takes Hannah’s hand. “You know I still have some friends who work with Mayday in New York, right? We’ve kept in touch since I came here.”
Hannah nods. Where is she going with this?
“One of them contacted me because she knew about a Mayday mission that was being planned for New Bethlehem,” Skylar continues, watching Hannah carefully. “She heard that your mother was going to be part of it, or at least, maybe was.”
Hannah’s head is whirling now. “What . . . what is it? What’s going to happen?”
Skylar hesitates. “It’s going to sound worse than it is. Mayday is trying to find and kill the worst of the Commanders. There’s a really bad guy in Boston—I can’t tell you how terrible he is—and they’re going to . . . get rid of him.”
Hannah is trying to process all of this. “But what does it have to do with you, and with my mother?”
“Your mother has a connection with Mrs. Blaine, whose family is friends with the Commander they’re targeting. They wanted your mother to ask Mrs. Blaine for help, and she agreed to do it. But they need one more person. I . . . wanted that person to be me.” Skylar is staring at Hannah intently now, as if willing her to understand.
Hannah’s brow furrows. “But you still haven’t explained . . . what exactly is going to be happening. How are you going to kill him?” Can we really be having a conversation about killing someone right now?
Skylar sighs. “Mrs. Blaine is going to visit the Commander at his house in Boston, and she’ll bring a vase of flowers as a gift. That vase will have a bomb in it with a timer, set to go off when they eat dinner that night. Your Mom set it up, and I think she’s probably going to make sure everything goes ok.”
The fear is growing now, so much so that Hannah finds it difficult to speak for a moment. “But what about you? What are you going to be doing?”
Skylar brushes her fingers lightly against Hannah’s hand, and even with her thoughts whirling, Hannah feels the now-familiar jolt of electricity at the touch. “I’m going to be carrying the vase into the house. Mrs. Blaine can’t do that, because she has the cane. I’m just supposed to be her helper.”
“But why you? I mean, anyone can do that job. I get why Mrs. Blaine has to go, since she knows the family and they’d let her inside. But you don’t have to be the one to carry that vase. Why can’t it be someone else?” Hannah is aware that her voice is rising, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything right now except the words echoing inside her brain. Skylar. Bomb. Murder.
“Ever since my friends were killed just for reading your Mom’s book, I’ve wanted to do something. Something big. Something that would show them that . . . that we’re fighting back. That we’re not going to take this shit forever. I have to do that. It’s more important to me than anything. This is the first chance I have to do that. It might not have to be me, but I want it to be me. Can you . . . can you understand that?” Skylar’s voice is pleading now.
More important than anything? More important than me? But Hannah doesn’t ask this. She doesn’t really want to hear the answer. “My mother is letting you do this? I thought she said maybe you could help doing something safe. This doesn’t seem safe. At all.”
“It’s safer than you’re thinking. This isn’t some kind of suicide mission. It’s not like I’m supposed to throw a bomb that’s going to explode right away. I’m just carrying the vase, and that’s all I’m doing. I’ll be back home with you long before the bomb actually goes off.” Skylar sounds confident, and Hannah tries hard to take solace in that. After all, she knows nothing at all about bombs. Maybe this will be ok after all.
The raw terror, however, stubbornly refuses to abate. It might not be ok at all. What if something happens? What if they catch her? What if she ends up on the Wall? “When are you doing this?”
“In two days. Saturday.” Skylar sounds relieved that Hannah isn’t trying to talk her out of it, but Hannah knows how pointless that would be. When Skylar decides something, it stays decided. She’s much more like my mother than I am. I bet my Mom wishes that Skylar were her daughter instead of me. And now sadness is unpleasantly roiling with the terror. I wish I could be brave like them.
Right now, Hannah feels anything but brave. “Saturday. I’m supposed to be having dinner with my Mom at the diner on Saturday night.” Hannah has no idea why she suddenly fixates on this inconsequential detail, in light of everything she’s just heard.
Skylar’s lips quirk into a smile then. “You will. And maybe I’ll come, too. We can have a double order of pancakes after everything we’ve done that day. We’ll order pie. It’ll be awesome.”
Hannah tries hard to focus on that. She pictures laughing with June and Skylar on Saturday, eating pancakes, celebrating a job well done. Maybe, maybe everything will be fine. Her life is so wonderful right now, so much better than she ever remembers its being, that any other outcome remains unthinkable. Hannah is suddenly very grateful that she still sort of believes in God, even if she doesn’t like the Gilead version of Christianity with which she’s been raised. I have to pray for them. If I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t have anything at all. Skylar might not believe in God, but Hannah’s prayers should be enough for both of them to keep Skylar safe on Saturday.

§§§
Hannah is sitting alone in the park the next day, watching the ducks and trying hard not to think about tomorrow’s mission, when she sees Commander Blaine approaching her from the direction of Commander Lawrence’s house. “Mind if I join you?”
Hannah is startled—she really doesn’t know Commander Blaine well, and she always feels awkward around him because he’s the father of her half-sister. She’s never really understood how her mother felt about him when they were both in Gilead, or for that matter how she feels about him now. I do mind. I want to be alone right now. But if nothing else, life in Gilead has trained Hannah to be polite to Commanders and has also taught her that she rarely gets what she wants the most. “Of course. Thank you.”
They sit in silence for a few moments before Commander Blaine clears his throat and speaks. “I know that you’re aware of what’s going to happen tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure . . . that you were ok.”
Hannah is startled, both at the content of what the Commander has just said and at its unusual directness. It’s not the way Commanders generally talk to young women in Gilead. “How . . . how do you know that?”
Commander Blaine smiles, but his eyes are sad. “My wife and Skylar just had a conversation about some last-minute logistics. Skylar mentioned to her that she’d told you about the Mayday mission. I know what you must be going through.”
Because you’re going through it yourself. Hannah blinks, suddenly feeling more kinship with Commander Blaine than she had ever felt before. “I wish they weren’t going. I wish none of it were happening.”
Commander Blaine sighs. “I wish that, too.”
Tears are welling in Hannah’s eyes now, and she brushes them away impatiently. “It could be dangerous.”
“Yes. It could be.” It’s a simple statement, raw in its honesty. At least he isn’t pretending that everything is fine. At least he’s treating me like an intelligent person.
“I still don’t see why Skylar wants to do this. She’s . . . I can tell she’s looking forward to it, that she can’t wait until tomorrow. But why?” She can’t want this and love me the way I love her. The painful thought suddenly breaks to the surface, and the tears are back in even fuller force than before.
The snorting sound coming from Commander Blaine right now is more bitter than amused. “I’ve wondered that why about your mother as long as I’ve known her, and now I have to wonder the same thing about my wife. I don’t know how to answer that. They’re . . . they’re just different from the rest of us. Different from me, anyway.”
They sit quietly for a beat while Hannah digests that. “I’m not brave. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t do what they’re doing.” She feels it as a shameful confession.
Commander Blaine nods. “I’m not brave either, not really. I do what I need to do to survive. Anything extra, I’ve always left to other people. But those other people—Skylar, your mother—we need them. We have to be happy that they’re willing to do the things that we can’t do ourselves.”
“Even if those things hurt us?” Hannah isn’t bothering now to stop the tears that are running down her face, but for some reason she’s not embarrassed. He understands. He understands everything.
Commander’s Blaine’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time. “Even then. Maybe especially then. They’re trying to make the world better, and they’re willing to sacrifice everything they love to make it that way. Even us.”
Hannah studies him, wondering again exactly what his relationship with her mother actually is. “Do you . . . do you love my mother?” Hannah blinks, startled at what she’s just asked, a reckless question that she should never pose to a Commander. But everything in her world feels upside down right now, and she couldn’t have stopped the words from escaping her lips if he had tried.
Surprisingly, Commander Blaine takes the question in stride. “I loved her, for a long time. I still do, but it’s . . . not the same as it was. I have a wife, and your mother . . . she needs to destroy Gilead, however she can do that. It doesn’t leave much space for anything else.”
Hannah bites her lip. “I’m still just getting to know her. I think . . . I think she’s probably a lot like Skylar. They both want to fight.” They both care about fighting more than they care about me.
Commander Blaine is looking at her kindly now, as if Hannah had actually spoken that last pitiful thought aloud. “I wish I could make you understand just how much your mother loves you. Everything she did in Gilead, every person she talked to, everyone she helped, was all to get you back to her. She never stopped fighting for you.”
Hannah feels a warm flush creeping over her. “I . . . I love her, too. I just wish she didn’t want to let Skylar do this. I wish she weren’t doing it herself.”
Commander Blaine is nodding now. “I wish both of those things too, but it’s out of our hands. And with any luck on our side, everything will go according to the plan .”
Luck on our side. Hannah closes her eyes for an instant. Luck and prayers. One or the other, she hopes, has got to be enough to pull them through.

§§§
Late that night, Hannah slips out of her bed after everyone in her quarters is asleep and makes her way to the Lawrence home. As she had expected, there’s a light on in the kitchen. Peeking in, she sees June bent over her laptop.
June looks up as soon as she hears Hannah’s soft tap and motions toward the door. “Hey, Banana.” June, Hannah notices, doesn’t seem surprised at the unexpected visit. She knows why I’m here. She knows that I’ve heard about tomorrow.
Hannah isn’t sure how to begin, or exactly what she wants to say. “Um . . .”
June takes her hand. “It’s ok. Tell me what you’re thinking. You can tell me anything at all.”
Taking a deep breath, Hannah verbalizes the thought that’s at the foremost of her mind with with a startling bluntness. “Why are you letting Skylar go with you on this mission tomorrow? You said . . . you said that you’d only let her do safe things. This isn’t . . . this doesn’t seem safe.”
Her mother is quiet for a moment, as if considering exactly how to answer. “I’m not going to pretend that there’s no danger at all, but it’s pretty limited. As long as everything goes well, we’ll all be safe. I can promise you that.”
You can promise me that if everything goes well, sure. But you can’t promise that everything will go well. Nobody can. “Someone else could do this. Anyone could, really. Why does it have to be Skylar?” Hannah’s voice is choking now, and she knows that her mother has noticed.
June sighs. “It’s hard to explain in any way that would make sense to you. Skylar’s lost so much—her parents, her brother, her friends in New York. Gilead took all of that from her, and it’s left her with a . . . a hole. She needs to make them hurt to fill that hole, and this is a way to do that. She’s old enough—she’s been through enough—to know her own mind and heart. I can’t be the one to take that away from her. I just can’t.”
Hannah feels an unexpected flash of anger at this. “You just met her. What do you know about her heart and her mind?” Her heart and mind should be with me, the way mine are with her. There shouldn’t be anything else.
June smiles at that, but her expression is sad. “I know because I’ve spent years with that same hole, that same need to do something. I understand Skylar, more than I wish I did. If I were fifteen, and I had this chance, I’d move heaven and Earth to do it. Watching her do this . . . I know it’s hard for you, I know that. But Skylar is going to come out of it better than she is now, closer to being healed. And you have to let her heal.”
Tears are falling freely now, and Hannah feels her mother’s arms encircling her. She rests her head on June’s shoulder for a moment, breathing in the comfort of the hug. “Can you promise me that you’ll take care of her? You’ll keep her safe? You won’t let her do anything that might . . . that might get her caught, or worse? Please promise me that.”
June’s arms tighten around Hannah. “I promise. I’ll keep her as safe as I possibly can. She’s my priority. It’s going to be all right.”
Out of nowhere, Hannah has a flash of one of her rare memories from Before. She and her mother are in an amusement park, and Hannah finds herself suddenly lost and alone. Before her panic has a chance to take hold, June has found her, is holding her, is telling her that she’ll always come back. The peace and feeling of safety at that moment had been indescribable, and some of that is echoing in Hannah right now. She knows, of course, that nobody can promise the future, but her mother’s words give her comfort nonetheless. After all, her mother is June Osborne, the woman who rescued 86 children from Gilead, the woman who wrote an international best-seller about life as a handmaid in Gilead. If anyone can keep Skylar safe tomorrow, it’s her. Everything will be fine, because it has to be. Nothing else is even a possibility.

Chapter Text

8:00 A.M.
June is in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, when Lawrence sits down at the table across from her. It’s unusual to see Lawrence up and about this early—he generally stays up late writing and reading, and he prefers to have his breakfast alone after sleeping late before he can face the task of communicating with other human beings. But this morning is an unusual one, and both of them know it.
They sit in a silence that’s more uneasy than companionable. Lawrence is the first of them to speak. “Guess it’s too much to hope that you’ve changed your mind over night, isn’t it?”
June gives him a wry smile. By now, she and Lawrence feel like old war buddies. “What do you think?”
Lawrence shakes his head, taking a sip of his own coffee mug. “I think that one of these days your incredible luck at staying alive is going to run out. Let’s hope that isn’t today.”
Despite herself, June is a little touched at his words. Everyone else has focused relentlessly on the potential danger to Skylar and Rose, not to her. “This one should really be a piece of cake. It’s just a simple drop, with a banger of a payoff. We’re going to be fine.” June winces inwardly at her own bravado. If I say it enough times, it has to be true, doesn’t it?
“Do you remember how I tried to talk you out of Angel’s Flight? Smuggling 86 children out of Gilead seemed like madness. I was sure . . . I was sure I’d never see you alive again. And yet, here we are.” June detects more emotion in Lawrence’s words than he usually allows himself to display. He’s afraid for me. It’s not just about the samizdat, no matter what he’s said before. He cares. She feels an unexpected lump rising in her throat.
Impulsively, June reaches across the table and touches Lawrence’s hand. “This one is a lot simpler than keeping 86 kids quiet on a midnight hike to an airstrip.”
Clearing his own throat, Lawrence nods before taking a muffin from the plate in front of them and frowning at it. “Why is it still bran muffins all the time around here? We’re in New Bethlehem, not Gilead. You’d think that we’d have managed blueberry once in awhile. You’re a Martha. Get on that.”
June’s smile is a little more real now. “I will. I promise. Tomorrow I’ll make blueberry.” The word tomorrow echoes between them, taunting in its starkness. This whole thing will be behind us tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll get to enjoy it. Tomorrow all the anxiety, all the second-guessing, all the planning will be over. Tomorrow will just be coffee and blueberry muffins and nothing else.

§§§
10 A.M.
Rose opens the door to her house almost before June has finished her light tap, appearing more energized than June has ever seen her. Nick is sitting in their parlor, not looking directly at either one of them. “Come in, June. Have you had breakfast?”
“I have,” June says, amused despite herself that even under these very unusual circumstances, decorum in Gilead is still decorum. It’s impossible to receive a guest without making a show of offering refreshments.
Rose is bustling around now. “I’ve got the flowers all ready. It’s March, so we’re limited to what I have growing in the greenhouse. I thought orchids might be appropriate. What do you think?”
June’s knowledge of flowers is limited, to say the least. Suddenly, and for no discernible reason at all, she flashes back to the way that Serena always looked in the Gilead greenhouse, tending her own orchids. It was probably the only time that June had ever seen Serena even approaching something akin to happiness in Gilead. She really loves flowers. Why haven’t I ever given her any? She shakes her head impatiently, focusing on the matter at hand. “I think they’re beautiful.” The precise flowers they put in the vase may not matter at all to June, but she grasps that, for some reason, they matter quite a bit to Rose.
Rose smiles, looking fondly at the purple and pink orchids that are currently waiting in a simple glass vase. “When will the Mayday explosives expert be arriving?”
“Around 11:00. I told Skylar to be here at 11:30. We’ll leave for Boston at noon—Mayday is sending a driver.” June feels a wave of comfort as she recites these details. Everything is going to be fine. We have a plan.
“No.” It’s Nick, speaking for the first time since June arrived.
June stares at him. “No, what?”
Nick’s fists clench just a little. “No, you’re not using Mayday’s driver. If you’re doing this, I’m driving you to Boston.”
Now Rose is staring at him, too. “Nick, what are you talking about? You’ve been perfectly clear that you don’t want to get involved in this. And you don’t need to. We’re going to be fine. You can just wait home, and I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Nick is shaking his head. “No, I can’t just sit and wait and hope that you come back. I’m not sitting on the sidelines for this one.” He looks right at June as he says this last sentence.
June flushes, realizing just how much her words had likely hurt him. “Nick, I didn’t mean . . . you don’t have to do this.”
Nick shrugs. “I think that I do.”
He’s angry, and June knows it. Still, she also knows that Nick will be a comforting presence, even if he’s a reluctant one. “Thank you.” It’s all she has to offer, but she means it from the bottom of her heart.

§§§
11:00 A.M.
Jonathan, Mayday’s explosives man, is explaining how the the bomb will work in more detail than June thinks is strictly necessary. “It’s the latest tech—we’re lucky that we got our hands on it. It’ll work like a charm.” Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, he looks like a stereotypical MIT student. He probably was that, or something like that, Before, June thinks. None of us are what we used to be, not anymore.
June studies the blue vase sitting on the kitchen table in front of her. “We don’t need to do anything? No button to push, or timer to set, or anything like that?” It all sounds too easy.
Jonathan shakes his head. “Nope. I told you, it’s awesome. All of that is taken care of remotely through an app. You won’t have to do a thing.” He sounds as enthusiastic as he might have been talking about the latest version of Minecraft.

Chapter Text

JUNE:
1. day in the life of samizdat; June talks to Nick; June talks to Hannah; June talks to Serena.
2. June feels some distance with Serena; June gets closer to Nick; June's relationship with Skylar; June getting frustrated with the slow pace of Gilead change; Nick and June kiss.
3. June plans a risky mission; Nick tries to talk her out of it; fight with Serena; Skylar and Rose want to go; Hannah tells June that she's worried.
4. Risky mission is executed; Nichole's birthday over Zoom (awkward with Serena); June pushes Rose and Skylar into a dangerous situation; Nick tells June to keep Rose out of this; disaster--Rose and Skylar killed and June very injured.

SERENA:
1. lonely; wrangles kids; meets Casey at daycare and goes for coffee; talks to June--not super satisfying; talks to Blue about how everything is going; writing not going well (no time, kids, no June).
2. Weird convo with June (post-Nick kiss); doing more with Casey; scene with Nichole, who misses June; convo with Tuello, who encourages her to write more
3. Depressed after fight with June; Casey kiss; discusses Casey kiss with Blue; talks to Naomi, who tells her that June is being reckless
4. Tells Casey she can't see her anymore—doesn’t give a real reason; tries to talk to June about why she's being reckless--June blows her off; Serena mad at June and feels totally alone; gets word of June's injury and rushes to Gilead, leaving kids with Peter.

NICK:
1. Convo with Lawrence about the samizdat--is Lawrence planning to take risks?; Nick's thoughts about having June around (pining, trying to ignore that); convo with Rose, who is insecure; Nick and Hannah talk about June; Nick talks to June and things heat up a little; Nick meets Allie.
2. Fallout with Rose after the June kiss; Lawrence talks to Nick and warns him not to get more involved with June--mission might be compromised; Nick tells Allie all about everything; Serena talks to Nick to arrange having him talk to Nichole on her birthday--it's awkward.
3. Rose tells Nick she wants to be part of samizdat--Nick tells her not to do it. Nick fights with June about the risky mission;Nick talks to Nichole on her birthday; Nick tries to get Lawrence to call off the mission; more talk with Allie
4. Nick and Rose not really talking when Rose goes off to the mission; Nick finds out from Lawrence that everything went sideways; Nick calls Serena and tells her; Nick in the hospital, furious with June but also consumed with worry about her.

HANNAH:
1. Convo with Skylar--they both love June and are excited about the samizdat; Hannah's life as an Aunt-in-training; Hannah's feelings about Skylar; convo with June
2. Hannah and Skylar kiss; Hannah feels guilty about being a gender traitor; Skylar talks to Hannah about how much she wants to help the resistance; Hannah asks June about her relationship with Serena--June is evasive; Hannah is a little jealous of how much her mother likes Skylar.
3. Skylar tells Hannah about the risky mission; Hannah acts supportive but worries privately; more kissing--Hannah asks Skylar whether she feels guilty about being a gender traitor; Hannah asks June to make sure that Skylar is safe, and June promises to do that.
4. An Aunt tells Hannah that Skylar is dead and June is injured; Hannah goes to the hospital and hears Nick and Lawrence arguing about how June took unnecessary risks and cause the accident; Nick tries to talk to Hannah, but she is heartbroken and furious with June.

Chapter Text

JUNE:
1. Wakes up from surgery--sees Serena. In tons of pain; Lawrence tells her that Rose and Skylar are dead; June asks for Hannah--Hannah comes in but tells June that she hates her; Nick tries to be nice but can't look at June; June starts to sob and is given a sedative.
2. Back in Hawaii, June is catatonic--ignores Serena, sleeps, doesn't interact with Nichole; Tuello tries to talk to her--doesn't work; June eventually tries to talk to Nick, who tells her that Hannah is miserable and that he just can't be there for her right now--they both did things that led to Rose's death Serena tries to talk to her about everything, but June shuts her out.
3. June sees Serena looking exhausted, sleeping by her bed in a chair, and it gets through to her; asks Serena to sleep next to her but tells her she still doesn't want to talk; talks to Nichole, who asks about her big sister; starts physical therapy
4. Begins to talk to Serena about everything; hears Serena talking to Casey on the phone, arranging to meet her; talks to Lawrence about how the samizdat is doing and how Hannah is; talks to Nick; talks to Hannah
5. thinks about going back to Gilead, both for Hannah and to continue her work; tells Serena about Nick

SERENA:
1. Comes to Gilead as June is coming out of surgery--pitches a fit at both Nick and Lawrence. Nick tell hers that June got his wife and Skylar killed, so he's not super sympathetic. Serena falls apart when she sees unconscious June--tinged with guilt about Casey. Meets Hannah, who tells her that she never wants to see June again. Serena arranges for June to come back to Hawaii so she can take care of her.
2. Serena feels helpless--June isn't speaking to her, and she doesn't know how to help her. Casey calls and asks to talk about things--Serena tells her about June. Casey angry that Serena hadn't said that she was still with someone. Looks at June and thinks about how much she loves her and how much she wishes she never kissed Casey. Talks to Nick about June--Nick is evasive.
3. Spends nights with June holding her but not talking about anything, until June finally breaks down and tells Serena how much she screwed everything up. Thinks about how she screwed up too, but doesn’t say anything. Helps June get reacquainted with Nichole. Tells Casey all about Gilead—Casey says she needs space to process it.
4. June tells her about the Big Project that will lead directly to the coup; Serena decides that they should both go this time; June tells her about Nick; Serena tells June about Casey—they forgive each other. Serena tells Casey that she’s been an important friend but she has to prioritize June and go with her to Gilead.

NICK:
1. Leaves the hospital to go take care of Josh—thinks complicated thoughts about June. Talks to Lawrence about where things are going to go from here. Talks to Allie, who consoles him.
2. Reflects on his conversation with Serena, but decides that he can’t keep getting sucked into June’s bullshit; Talks to Allie—things are heating up between the two of them; Allie tells him that he has to start stepping up with the resistance; talks to Hannah about her mother; agrees to help Lawrence with part of samizdat.
3. Talks to June, who tells him that things are getting better; talks to Allie, who tells him that Nick means a lot to her; Allie helps with Josh; talks to Mayday people—idea for a Big Mission starts to take shape.
4. Nick finds himself less furious with June—tries to use that to help Hannah get over everything; Nick and Allie talk and then kiss; Nick realizes that June will always be his first love, but their paths are diverging. Talks to June and tells her that the two of them can be okay again and that they both have work in Gilead that they need to finish.

HANNAH:
1. Alone in her room, devastated about Skylar, worried about June but also furious; wonders if she’s being punished for being a gender traitor; decides to focus on being a good Aunt and try to ignore the gender traitor part of her. Talks to Allie, who befriends her.
2. Tells Nick that she wants to keep helping with the resistance and asks him about Nichole; very depressed about June, Skylar, living in Gilead, etc. Talks to Allie again, and Allie tells her that she needs to talk to her mother about her problems. Hannah reads June’s book and has a strong reaction to it. Decides she wants to talk to June.
3. Talks to June, makes some strides in forgiving her; asks to meet Nichole; Hannah decides that she wants to honor Skylar by being part of the resistance. Skylar loved June, so Hannah knows that she can’t hate June forever.

Chapter Text

32 - Nick thinks about what it’s going to be like to have June back.

33 - June comes back with Serena, who only plans to stay for a couple of months.

34 - Serena writes articles based on on-the-ground info--gets important interviews; June does her thing with the samizdat. Colleen and Serena talk.

35 - Allie gets intel that terrorism is brewing—they decide not to tell Lawrence. Hannah overhears everything.

36 - Tuello approaches June and Serena and says that the US wants to arm certain terrorist cells in Gilead that they’ve identified. They need to get information to those groups and want the samizdat to help. Nick points out that the computer networks are all being closely monitored (intel from his contacts with the Eyes). But the samizdat can print things that aren’t on the Net.

37 - To spread Gilead propaganda, the High Commanders are seeking young people who can travel to different districts and say how great Gilead is. Colleen wants to go, and Lawrence approves it. Hannah realizes that if she goes, she can help deliver the info that the samizdat prints and help organize the coup. Tuello says that if Hannah goes, he will get her out after she delivers what she needs to deliver. June is against it. Hannah goes to Lawrence and pretends to still be angry with June about Skylar. Says she needs to get away. Lawrence agrees; June is furious.

38 - Gilead High Command knows that something is brewing. Martial law declared in New Bethlehem—Serena can’t leave.

39 - Hannah distributes everything.

40 - Terrorists succeed. Lots of important buildings get blown up. Lawrence figures out that he’s been tricked by Hannah and that June and Tuello were behind this—the terrorists couldn’t have coordinated an attack like this one in so many cities without military help from the Americans. Wants to shut down the samizdat. Blowup between June and Lawrence (with Nick and Serena joining in).

41 - Lawrence’s home is raided. Lawrence seems to be cooperating about turning over June and Serena, but at the last minute he kills both Eyes. In the process, he is mortally wounded himself. Before he dies, he tells June to get everyone out and tells her where to find papers that will let them fly through check points and road blocks. Everyone flees.

42 - Tense travel chapter, ending with them all getting on the last flight out of Gilead before air travel is entirely suspended. Crowds everywhere; road blocks; people are being lined up and shot as they drive. June terrified because she doesn’t know whether Tuello got Hannah out. Checkpoint guard giving them trouble—Serena shoots him and they zoom away toward the private airport that only High Commanders and their trusted associates can use.

43 - They get to Canada, and June finds that Hannah was safely transported and sent to Moira. Everyone is reunited and happy. Nick and Allie can start their lives together, and June and Serena can finish the ones that they started before. FINAL SCENE: Christmas again!