Chapter Text
When you left Luke behind on that platform, when you said you didn’t want to do this alone anymore, this wasn’t what you had in mind.
Of all the people in the world, of course it would be Serena Joy fucking Waterford standing before you.
“I believe that the Lord brought you here so that I could make amends.” That’s what she said to you that night in her cell.
For Serena, this is God’s doing. You saw the way her eyes lit up when she spotted you. And then, the smile she failed to subdue - a smile of disbelief. If you didn't know any better, you'd call it wonder. What’s unpleasant for you is a dream come true for Serena, but what else is new?
And now, her pathetic attempt at an icebreaker, an olive branch. “You got a diaper?”
God and His sick sense of humor. Haven’t you suffered enough for your sins?
All you can do is smirk, quirk an eyebrow. Mirror back what she had done to you on live television, Hannah’s hand in hers. A captive audience of thousands if not millions, and there was only one person she wanted to see her, one pair of eyes she wanted to meet through that screen.
You don’t know how long you stand there, locked in reverie with her. Her eyes flicker down, almost imperceptibly, to Nicole. Your heart stutters-
-and then there's a soft hey from behind you. Serena looks over your shoulder. You snap out of your stare, turning around to answer.
For a moment, you see Jaeden.
How had he survived? The landmine, his legs. He’d lost both of them, hadn’t he? They’d taken him prisoner. He’d screamed in agony as they’d carried him off. How did he escape them?
You blink, and Jaeden is gone.
It's just some random kid, no older than twenty. A fellow refugee also being turfed out of Canada. His travelling companion sits beside him. They could be brothers. Your faith in the decency of strange men is momentarily restored when the pair start grabbing their belongings, taking pity on the two single mothers forced to stand with small children. They vacate their seats. Jaeden’s doppelganger gestures to them as he and his friend move away, heading for the far end of the carriage. You thank them as they move past you.
Maybe they were too young to recognize Serena. Maybe they just failed to place her. Dressed down like this – parka, jeans, sneakers – she could easily pass for a normal person. It’s the most unremarkable you’ve ever seen her. You doubt they would have been so generous to her if they had recognized who she was: the woman responsible for them having to flee for the second time in their lives. They might have considered dragging her off with them, baby or no baby, to throw her from the train.
You take a seat, set Nicole down beside you, drop your backpack to the floor. You wrap your one good arm around her, pull her close to you. You’re glad you don’t have to carry her anymore - your shoulder has been starting to ache under the combined weight of your daughter and the bag.
Serena idles in front of you. All of her confidence from a minute ago seems to have evaporated. You meet her eyes again, challenging her to sit down. When she realizes that you won't scream if she does, she moves to take the seat beside you. She doesn't sit close enough for you to be touching, but you can still feel the heat leaching off her. It makes you realize just how cold you are. The air is stuffy in the carriage, but there’s a growing chill.
You lean forward to unzip your backpack, pulling out your cargo jacket. You look down at your broken arm in disdain. How the fuck are you going to manage this?
Somehow, you do. You remove the sling, gently pull a sleeve over your cast first. It doesn't matter how gently you do it; pain lances through you at the slightest movement. You bite your tongue to stop from screaming. Serena watches you, wincing as you struggle. She doesn't ask if you need help.
Useless fuck.
Once you've tucked yourself into your jacket, you refasten your sling. You slump back against the seat. A new ache pulses through your arm. You tilt your head back against the glass, close your eyes, sigh loudly.
There's a beat of silence, and then Serena's voice. "I need to change him." Another beat. "Could you take him?"
Is she for fucking real?
You slowly open your eyes. You look down at your broken arm, then back up to her with a glare. Her eyes are almost pleading. When you answer, you make your voice as deadpan as possible. "Sure."
Her eyes trail down to your arm. Maybe you imagine it, but you think her breath catches in her chest as she realizes too late her mistake. She never thinks, does she?
Nevertheless, she delicately maneuvers Noah into your good arm. He whines in protest. He made the same noise when Serena passed him into your arms that day in the barn. He's clearly not one to be disturbed. He shoves a tiny fist into his mouth and starts sucking on it; he did that in the barn, too. You smile despite yourself, flexing your hand against his side to keep him secured to you.
He's adorable.
Nicole looks on, quiet and curious, her chin pressed into your arm. Serena kneels to unzip her satchel. First, she pulls out a blanket, spreads it flat on the floor in front of her. Then, she starts removing Noah's essentials, a tiny diaper among them.
Guess it really was a joke.
Surely there's an actual baby-changing facility on this train. Why doesn't she just use that? Maybe she’s afraid of letting you out of her sight, in case you bolt to another carriage. After all, you have a habit of skipping out on her.
Still kneeling, Serena turns back to you. She gently lifts Noah from your hold and lies him down in the space before her. She changes him methodically, eyes darting around now and again to make sure nobody steps too close to him.
Once she's finished, she holds him against her shoulder. She turns back to look at you, eyes pleading again.
This time, you simply nod, and she places him back into your arm. She pulls out a baby-carrier and places it on the seat beside you, then folds up the blanket, tucking it back into the satchel alongside his essentials. She picks up the knotted disposal bag and stands.
As she begins to walk away in search of the trash, you remember. "Serena?"
She turns back to you, hums in acknowledgment.
"Could you grab Nicole's stroller? It's just at the end of the carriage. There's a tag with my name on it."
Make yourself useful for something.
She nods, smiling faintly. You watch her back as she walks down the carriage, excusing herself as she passes people. A monster with manners. She keeps her head down though, refuses to meet anyone’s eye, hiding her face.
Once she's gone, you turn your attention back to Noah. He's still sucking on his fist, eyes wide as he looks up at you. Nicole leans over your arm to get a closer look at him. You smile at her curiosity, tilt him back a little for her to see better. “See the baby?” Her little face screws up. She clearly doesn’t know what to make of him. You smile wider, a giggle bubbling in your chest. Babies have always had this giddy effect on you.
You look at Noah again to find he's still staring up at you. You take him in properly for the first time since the day he was born. He's not as sallow as you remember him being, the touch of jaundice long since cleared up. He’s incredibly light, his skinny little arms and legs make him look frailer than he is. He’s very long in the body. He’s going to be tall, like his mother.
Like his father.
The little shock of hair he has is still brown.
Like his father.
He hasn’t changed much in the last month - it’s still Fred’s face looking up at you.
Your breath catches in your chest. Your muscles cramp into stone. Your skin is crawling. You're suddenly nauseous and it has nothing to do with the speeding train you're on.
You try to remind yourself that he’s an innocent little baby, that he’s done nothing wrong. It all gets swept up in the din between your ears.
You’re utterly repulsed by him.
You glance at Nicole, still looking over your arm at him. The thought comes to you unbidden.
Gilead would say he’s your little brother.
You think of her big sister, her actual sibling, trapped in Gilead. The distance between you and Hannah, growing wider and wider, faster and faster, the further you move out west.
You’re leaving her behind again. You’re about to put an ocean between you and your daughter. Your stomach drops out, the nausea increases. Every nerve in your body is suddenly afire, screaming the name Hannah.
You shut your eyes, clench your jaw tight just in case you vomit. You can’t stomach him anymore. You need to get him out of your arms and away from you.
Where the fuck is Serena?
You open your eyes, refuse to look down. Serena is coming back towards you now, pushing Nicole's stroller ahead of her. She wheels it around and brings it to a stop by your side, just in front of Nicole. Her eyes linger on your daughter again.
She comes to stand in front of you, but instead of taking her child, she picks up the carrier and begins to fasten it to her torso.
Jesus Christ, would she hurry the fuck up?
Finally, she takes him back, murmuring a soft thank you. Your muscles sag, you almost sigh with relief as his weight is lifted from you. She secures him in the carrier, checks to see if he's supported properly, then re-takes her seat beside you. She removes a tiny white hat from her jacket pocket, gently pulls it down over her son's head.
Nicole whines tiredly and leans into you. You ask her if she wants to take a nap. She nods, shoving her thumb into her mouth. You wrap your good arm around her again, kissing the top of her head. Your eyes feel dry and heavy; your body cries out for sleep, but it never comes.
The hours tick by. You're unsure of the exact time, but it must be near morning. Dawn is breaking outside. Nicole now sleeps in her stroller beside you, tucked under a blanket, thumb still wedged in her mouth. Sleep has successfully evaded you.
You and Serena have spent the night in silence. At one stage, you thought she might have dozed off beside you. A quick glance showed you that she hadn't. Her eyes were fixed out the window, head bowed, nose pressed to Noah's crown. He's been fast asleep against her chest since she nursed him earlier.
The silence is grating. You haven't spoken a word to one another since she took him back - but she wants to. You can tell. You've seen her in the corner of your eye, glancing over at you for the last hour or so. The silence is killing her. She aches to speak to you again, properly this time, to make real conversation.
The first rays of sunlight have turned her into a livewire. She's practically vibrating in her seat, leg bouncing up and down. It’s getting on your nerves. You’re incredibly tempted to kick her.
Finally, she summons up the courage to speak to you again. Her voice is tentative. “What happened to your arm?”
Huh. You expected her to begin with Nicole.
“I was run over.”
Her head snaps towards you. “What?”
You shrug, looking down at your sling. “Some lunatic in a truck. Drove straight at me. Rolled right over it.” You remember the crack of the bone, the ringing in your ears, the adrenaline fading into agony. You’ll never hear the Beach Boys the same again. “It was Gilead. I don’t think it was their first try. I was shot at, about two weeks ago.”
She’s horrified, mouth open in shock as she takes it all in. “June, I-,” she stops herself short. She doesn’t know what to say to you.
Not that she’ll ever admit it, nor does she have the capacity to see it, but part of this is all her fault. She was the one who tried to bring Gilead to Canada; her maniacal attempt at keeping herself safe from you. Maybe part of her truly believes in its environmental merits, especially now that she thinks she’s holding the living proof in her arms - but at the end of the day, it was all about Serena: her self-preservation and her never-ending quest for power.
Maybe some of it is your fault, too, for scaring the shit out of her, cursing her baby’s life, taunting her with Fred’s death.
You’d never take back killing Fred, and even if you hadn’t sent her his finger, she would have eventually worked out that it was you. But what if you’d swallowed down your fury and heard her out that night in her cell? Maybe she wouldn’t have allied herself with Fred. Maybe you could have finally convinced her to see sense and work with the Americans, even dangled Nicole in front of her as a bargaining chip.
Not that she seems to care much for Nicole now that she has her very own blessed miracle. She didn’t care enough about Nicole to start with; trying to take her back to Gilead, to grow up in a woman’s hell on earth.
Failing to find the right words, Serena changes the subject. “What about your husband? Is he with you?”
Your heart aches at the thought of Luke. He’s probably been carted off to a cell, his charges doubled for attempting to flee the country. “No, he’s not. The truck driver - he was going to back over me, but Luke pulled him out onto the street. There was a struggle... the driver died in hospital."
Serena frowns with disapproval at that.
You let out an exasperated sigh. "Luke didn't mean to kill him. The driver had a gun, it just... all got out of hand so fast. He was a Canadian citizen so once we heard he was dead, we knew there would be an arrest warrant put out for Luke. Tuello told us he could get all three of us on one of the trains heading west, but the police were already at the station looking for Luke when we got there. He gave himself up, so Nicole and I could get away.”
Luke didn’t even do anything wrong; as he said himself, he was doing Canada a favor. It was your life or the driver’s. What did Rita say his name was again? Thorpe? You might be biased, but you’d like to think that Luke made the right choice in the grand scheme of things.
Fuck Thorpe. You’d be glad of his death if it wasn’t your husband languishing in a cell for murdering him.
You know Serena is glad that Luke isn’t here. She sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting with you if he was. She doesn't know that Luke was the one who called immigration that night at the hospital, who had Noah taken from her. If she did, she might look smug at the thought of his arrest. “Do you think they’ll let him go?” she asks.
You scoff and shrug your shoulders. “Who knows? The Canadians hate us now." Your eyes sting with unshed tears, a lump forming in your throat. “But I hope so. I told him to come find me.”
Serena doesn’t respond to that. The pair of you lapse back into silence. You blink away the tears; you can’t cry right now. It’s not like Serena would comfort you; that’s always been your job.
You sniff, turning to look at her. “What about you? You didn’t last long with the Wheelers.” You smirk. “So much for acting like a Handmaid.”
Serena inhales sharply, tensing at your words. You’ve hit a nerve. She looks down at Noah dozing in her arms. “I couldn’t do it. It was only a matter of time before Alanis had me sent back to Gilead, made an actual Handmaid. I’d never see Noah again.” She turns to look at you, eyes suddenly bitter, mouth twisted sardonically. She quirks an eyebrow. “You think I deserve that.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
Blood rushes to your face at the suggestion. A sour taste floods your mouth. How fucking dare she?
After everything you’ve done to help her, to help her son. How could she believe you would think she deserved that? You've told her before: you’re not Gilead. You’re not her.
Fuck you, Serena, you want to hiss. The old familiar words burn on your tongue. You almost want to take your daughter and storm off.
You know for a fact that some believe Serena deserves that fate. For a dark moment, you even entertained the fantasy. The only time you ever spoke of it aloud was to Rita, that day in the kitchen.
(Poor Rita, caught up in your blind rage. It was wrong of you to do that to her.)
You’ve seen the online forums. You panicked after Fred’s hearing, when you heard about those who showed up to support him and Serena. Curiosity got the better of you. For nights afterward, you sat alone in the dark kitchen, while everyone else slept upstairs. You clicked through page after page on your laptop, eyes burning from the brightness. You read through vicious arguments, all revolving around the Waterfords - and by extension, every Commander and Wife within Gilead. It had been a relief to see others calling for nothing short of a torturous end for Fred. You’re glad to have delivered on that.
But for Serena?
Send her back to Gilead for a taste of her own medicine - and that was far from the worst one you read. It had turned your stomach. These people, these other women, were perpetuating Gilead’s ideals without even realizing it.
But so had you for a moment afterward, high off the feeling of killing Fred, thinking you could prolong that high with Serena's suffering.
Serena deserves a lot of things, but to be sent back to Gilead, to be clothed in red, to be raped over and over again? No woman, no matter who they are or what they’ve done, should ever have to experience that.
So, instead of cursing her out and leaving, you tell her that, meeting her hard stare head-on. “No one deserves that, Serena. Not even you."
She blinks, taken aback. For a long moment, she holds your stare. Whatever she sees in your eyes, her shoulders visibly relax. She turns her face away. She almost looks ashamed.
Almost.
After that, she perks up a little. “The Wheelers brought Noah and I to an event at the Information Centre. Their nanny helped me to escape with him. I went to Tuello, and I asked him for sanctuary. He offered it to me after Fred’s funeral, but I refused him.”
Of course she did.
It’s all you can do to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. How could she be so willingly blind to Gilead's bullshit for so long?
“He prepared documents for Noah and I that would class us as refugees, then he had us brought to the train.” You find yourself feeling irked at Mark for how easily he caved to Serena despite her past refusals of his help - as well as her inability to do the decent thing.
Serena chews on her lip for a moment. “I’ve made a deal with the Americans. When we get to Hawaii, I turn over any information I have on Gilead. All the evidence. I don’t think what I have to offer will be worth much. Maybe it would have been a few years ago, but not now. After that, I’m not sure what they’ll make me do. I’m assuming they’ll want me to write for them.”
So, it’s finally happened.
Serena Joy has turned renegade.
You're almost offended that it had nothing to do with you. Before she joined Fred in their appeal to get Nicole back (before she betrayed you so completely), you might have swooned to hear about Serena’s alliance with the Americans. Now, it just makes you feel empty. It’s too late in the game for you to care. All those missed chances - what difference does it make to you anymore? Your irritation at Mark eases a little, to know that he’s not letting Serena completely off the hook, that they're making her work for her safety.
She snorts, as if remembering something. “Treason and coconuts,” she hums. It’s cryptic. You have no idea what she’s talking about.
“What about Gilead?” you find yourself asking her. She had been so hell-bent on bringing it to Canada, for one reason or another. You find it hard to believe that’s all been washed away now that she’s officially become a turncoat.
She mulls over your question for a moment. “We can’t overlook the effect they’ve had on fertility. Noah wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t working. It needs to be their sole focus, I’ve told Lawrence that. I don’t know a lot about New Bethlehem, but maybe he’s right to reform. Maybe he can make it work.”
Your heart sinks. The fact that Gilead's treatment of women wasn’t the first criticism out of her mouth - the fact that there wasn’t even a real criticism in the first place - tells you all you need to know.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the alliance with the Americans is purely about saving her own skin, but it stings to realize she’s still so lacking in self-awareness. She clearly didn't understand a word you said that day in the barn.
You don’t know why you were hoping for her to curse Gilead outright, to promise you with fire in her eyes that she’d finally burn it all down with you. She’s still failing to see the real problem - at the very least, she’s choosing to overlook it. It doesn’t matter that she’s a mother now, that she’s experienced a forced separation from her child.
If Lawrence were to succeed in his reforms, if she were offered a position of power within New Bethlehem and could keep her son with her, would she go back? You’re afraid to even ask. You considered moving there, but that was for the sake of being with Hannah again. Serena has proved over and over that she has no real loyalty to anyone but herself, especially not when power is involved. Turning on the Americans again would be nothing to her.
“It’ll never work, Serena,” you sigh. If you thought it would, you’d be on a train to New Bethlehem right now, not Hawaii.
She looks down at Noah, strokes a hand along his back. Her voice is low when she speaks. “I meant it when I said I was done with Gilead politics, June. I just want to be with my son, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Gilead doesn’t get their hands on him.”
You glance down at Noah. The son whose life she bought with the blood of millions. Nicole stirs in her stroller beside you. “Well, good to know you still think he was worth it," you mumble.
Serena frowns again and falls silent. You haven’t chided her, not really, so why is she acting like you have?
You stare out the window in front of you. The Canadian countryside rushes by in a blur. It's bright outside now, the sunlight stings your tired eyes. In your periphery, you see Serena turning to look at you again. There’s a beat of silence, and then she laughs softly.
Now you’re the one who’s frowning as you turn back to her. What the hell could be so funny at this moment in time? Her eyes look past you and down; her lips are curved up in a wide smile. It’s almost alien to look at. She looks ten years younger when she smiles like this.
You follow her gaze. Nicole is sitting up in her stroller, leaning forward, little blonde head peeking out around the side. She looks straight past you - she's looking at Serena. Your youngest daughter has never been shy of strangers, so why would Serena be an exception?
Because she’s not really a stranger, is she?
“She’s gotten so big,” Serena murmurs in awe.
You really don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. You had been dreading this, in the back of your mind, since the moment you caught sight of Serena. You knew it would be unavoidable: the pair of them interacting with each other.
You don’t think Serena covets your daughter anymore; Noah’s existence seems to have put an end to that. You don’t know whether to be relieved or disgusted. Your daughter, so casually tossed aside at the promise of a child all her own - the son Fred always wanted.
You can’t understand why that angers you so much. It’s completely irrational. You should feel relieved that she’s dropped her plight, her claim on your child. But to think of how easily she abandoned your daughter, the baby you named to honor her, the baby you shared with her. Our girl, you had whispered to her in Washington, begging her to let her go.
The way Serena looks at Nicole right now, the way you've caught her glancing at her since you ran into one another, it’s not unlike the wonder in her eyes when she saw you. Like she can’t believe her sweet Nicole is here within touching distance. There are so many questions she wants to ask, you know that. You can almost taste her longing.
You realize that, even if Serena isn’t actively trying to steal your baby anymore, she still adores her, and that’s terrifying enough for you.
“She looks like you.”
Your mouth twists into a grimace. Shut up, Serena. She’s blonde and blue-eyed. You think she looks like you.
“I wonder if she remembers me.”
That does it. Your skin is crawling at her candor, her audacity. “Don’t,” you growl, glaring at her. She sits bolt upright, her eyes wide, immediately sensing the warning in your tone. She’s a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar.
(A woman caught stealing another woman’s baby.)
Whatever she sees in your eyes, she looks genuinely afraid of you. You’re unsure whether she’s afraid that you’ll get up and leave, or that you’ll finally murder her with your bare hands. Nicole continues to peer up at her from your side, but Serena looks away now. She fixes her eyes out the window again, well and truly chided this time. You suddenly feel like you’re traveling with three children instead of two.
If you thought the silence had been bad before, this time it suffocates you.
You make your decision there and then. You’ll stick with Serena until Vancouver, maybe until Honolulu. It’s going to be difficult to handle a toddler with a broken arm, you could use the help (what little help she gives you already). Not that you plan on letting Serena touch even a hair on Nicole’s head, but there are other ways she can help you. Besides, you're so lonely for Luke that even the prospect of bad company seems better than no company at all.
But once you set foot on Hawaiian soil, it’s over. There’s plenty of islands to choose from - you want the one furthest from her and that child. You don’t care if she’s working with the Americans or not. Fat chance of that even lasting a week, especially not when Gilead comes calling. Maybe when she turns on them again, the Americans will finally lock her up and throw away the key.
You take back what you said to Luke. You’ll gladly do this alone if it means never seeing Serena Joy’s face again.
Four days later, your train pulls into Vancouver. Passengers are assigned to groups based on what carriage they were in. You're in Group C, the last group, so you have to wait. Typical.
One by one, you're off-loaded onto the platform. The crowd pulsates around you. Everyone is pushing and jostling. You’re suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Every now and again, someone bumps into your arm and you hiss in pain.
Serena walks ahead of you, one hand protecting Noah's head, the other carrying Nicole's stroller. She’d offered to take it for you; maybe she’ll use it as a weapon if the crowd recognizes who she is and decides to lynch her. If she didn't have Noah strapped to her chest, she'd be able to clear a path much easier for you. You try to stay as close to her as you can without walking on her heels - you swear it's an accident the three times you do.
It's a ten-minute shuttle ride to the port. The ship's lights are twinkling against the night sky when you arrive. The ocean breeze is cold, but it’s a relief after four days spent breathing stale air on the train. You and Serena ready your paperwork as you wait in line. The embarkation officer informs you that it's four persons to a cabin, including children.
Then, she asks if you're traveling together, and Serena looks over at you and waits for your response.
You're tempted to say no, just to watch her face fall - but instead, you nod tiredly. Serena's shoulders sag in relief. The officer checks your paperwork, signs off on it and waves you both on.
As you're about to step onto the gangplank, your entire body stiffens. Tears spring to your eyes.
Hannah.
An ocean between you and your daughter.
You’ll keep fighting. You’ll do everything in your power to get her back, no matter how far you are from her - no matter the cost.
You screw your eyes shut, take a deep breath, nod with resolve.
You step off the continent.
A single tear slips down your cheek.
Your cabin is small but not necessarily cramped. There are two beds either side of the room. You take the one by the window. While Serena may be relieved to not have to share with strangers, you're just glad to finally have access to a bed and a shower.
But after four days of broken sleep, you can't summon the energy to wash the sweat and grime off yourself. Your entire body aches. With Nicole tucked into your side on the bed, your back turned to Serena, you’re passed out before the ship even sets sail.
For the first few days, you struggle with motion sickness. To your relief, Nicole is only seasick once. After that, she takes to kneeling upon your bed, staring out the window at the crashing waves, searching for sea creatures. You lie beside her, willing the room to stop spinning. She gestures out the window sometimes, babbling excitedly, and you weakly push yourself up to humor her, teeth clenched against the nausea.
You never leave her alone with Serena.
Serena is unfazed, well-adjusted from all those Caribbean cruises with Fred. The thought of that makes you feel twice as sick as you already are. Noah seems to have inherited her sea legs, because he's calmer than ever. The rocking of the ship easily lulls him to sleep.
Serena refuses to leave the cabin. She meekly asks you to bring her back some food when you venture out for meals. Entitled brat. You don’t hide your annoyance; you just about stop yourself from biting her head off more than once. She's terrified to be recognized - she knows she got lucky on the train. If she mysteriously goes overboard at sea, nobody is going to look for her.
Aside from formalities and the odd acknowledgment, you and Serena spend your days at sea as you did on the train: in silence. Neither of you are strangers to this - you'd call it companionable if it was anyone but Serena. It's like old times, except you don't have to walk on eggshells around her anymore. She doesn't scream at you to get out, doesn't shove you up against a wall by the throat.
No red, no teal.
No Commander, no ritualized rape.
It could be better, but you're all too familiar with how much worse it could be.
Ten days after you set out from Vancouver - fourteen days after you left your husband at the mercy of the Toronto police - your ship arrives at Honolulu Harbor.
Disembarkation is a staggered process. You and Serena hang back, Nicole in your arms, Noah secured to her chest. The pair of you watch from a window as each group is ushered towards the terminals. Your fellow passengers move like molasses; everyone is either sick or exhausted.
Once again, you end up in the last group to disembark. When you step outside for the first time, the heat is smothering. It's almost too much. You've become so accustomed to Canada's cold; Gilead's nuclear winter. Regardless, you welcome the warmth, the sunlight on your skin, it burns red behind your eyelids.
Serena carries Nicole's stroller down the gangplank and, for the first time in five years, you walk on American soil.
True American soil.
Standing on the dock, you gaze up at the flag flying high above your heads: two full white stars, forty-eight outlined.
It's not Boston– it could never be Boston– but this is the closest you've come to home in five years. You tell yourself that you've never been more free of Gilead than you are now. Physically, at least.
Gilead is within you, as Aunt Lydia used to say. You'll never truly be free, but it's something.
Serena reassembles the stroller for you, ever mindful of Noah's head. Once she's done, you kneel before it. You let Nicole slide out of your hold, gently coaxing her to hop in. You hover close as Serena silently gets to work on strapping Nicole in. You pull the hood down to protect your daughter's head from the sun. Even with a hat on, you can't be too careful - she's never been exposed to this kind of heat before.
Once Nicole is secured, you both straighten back up again. You’re alone on the dock, everyone else having been moved inside the terminals. Serena looks at you expectantly. Freedom from her is just within sight. You suddenly feel awkward, and you don't know why. It was always your intention to part ways with her once you got here; surely she knows that too.
You wipe your good hand against your jeans. It’s sweaty from the heat. (You refuse to believe it’s nerves.) "Well," you say, holding it out to her, "Goodbye, Serena."
She frowns down at your proffered hand, then her eyes jump back to your face. It hits you then: she had no idea.
You've seriously underestimated her naivety. You’re stunned at just how wounded she looks, almost betrayed. You feel a sudden pang of guilt, then frustration at yourself, but especially at her.
What the fuck do you have to feel guilty about? If she was stupid enough to think you'd skip off into the Hawaiian sunset with her, then that's her problem, not yours.
Serena glances toward Nicole, then back to you. There are actual tears in her eyes, a tremble in her bottom lip. Are you fucking kidding?
She clenches her jaw, takes your hand in hers. When she speaks, her voice is a choked whisper. "Goodbye, June." The perfect imitation of a little lost puppy.
It should feel fitting; it’s as if you've held up a mirror to your meeting on the train. But you can't help but think it all a bit anticlimactic, after everything that's happened between you.
You hold her gaze for a moment, nod once in farewell, and let go of her hand.
As you walk away, pushing Nicole before you, you can feel her eyes burning into your back. You’re itching to turn around. You could smirk smugly at her, wink, throw a snide comment, flip her off - anything to evoke that old hatred.
One last tete-a-tete, one last screaming match for your grand finale.
This acceptance- this resignation - it’s just not you and her.
And then - your name, and hers: "June Osborne? Serena Waterford?"
The voice comes from your left, feminine and nasal. A woman, late forties or early fifties if you were to guess. Her face is angular, bare of makeup, sleek black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She's dressed in a black pantsuit, white shirt underneath; her heels bring her to about Serena's height.
Flanking her are two American soldiers, dressed in camo gear, guns in hand with the new, yet heartbreaking, American flag proudly emblazoned all over their uniforms. The sight intimidates you; fear slashes through your chest. You remind yourself that these guys are on your side.
At least, they're supposed to be.
"Welcome to Paradise,” she states plainly with no hint of irony. “My name is Ada Risley, and I represent the United States government. You both need to come with us."
And so the trap snaps shut again.
You whip around to look at Serena. Her arms are curled protectively around Noah. She meets your eyes. She's trying to keep herself composed, but her eyes scream the same fear you'd felt moments ago, multiplied tenfold.
Why is she so scared? She knew she'd be working with them. Maybe it's the soldiers, the guns. After all, she was still their enemy up until two weeks ago. Maybe the reality of betraying Gilead has just sunk in for her. She's come to the end of the line - there's no turning back now.
When she sees your lack of protest, relief begins to creep into her eyes. Relief that you’re being forced to stay with her. She doesn’t want to be alone, and she still thinks you’ll protect her for some reason.
What could these Americans possibly want with you? What has Mark Tuello told them? Were they watching as you and Serena got off together? Have you been deemed guilty by association for taking her hand in yours?
And then, a hopeful voice whispers in your mind: Hannah.
This could be your opportunity. You don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. Maybe, just maybe, if you get on side with these Americans, they can help you. There's every chance Mark has already told them about your plight.
The Americans have tried to get Hannah out once; they can do it again. The U.S. forces here must blow those based in Canada out of the water. It's Hawaii, for Christ's sake. Pearl fucking Harbor.
You were so close - so close - to leaving Serena behind for good, but that would have been a mistake. If she were ever destined to be free of you, she would never have been on that train. This is your own doing; you’d cursed both of you to this shared existence with your vow to her, standing before the shattered remnants of the Lincoln Memorial:
You will never be free of me until both of my children are safe.
One of your children is safe now. Maybe the salvation of the other lies between Serena and her new alliance.
Your lips curl into a smirk. You're not free of me yet, Serena.