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Nick leaned against the railing of the stairs leading from his apartment to the Waterfords’ driveway, smoking a cigarette and staring out into the darkness. It was raining, and his shirt had grown damp from the droplets of water that a steady wind propelled in his direction, but he hardly noticed. There were other things on his mind.

Though he’d tried his hardest to ignore her while she was alive, Nick couldn’t remove the memory of Eden from his thoughts. To him, his late wife represented some of the most disgusting aspects of Gilead - not only was she “given” to him as a powerless child bride, but she had been excited about it... thrilled at the chance to fulfill her duty to God. Fucking bullshit. Nick sometimes wondered if the Sons of Jacob ever considered that maybe God actually intended the infertility crisis to wipe out humanity. But of course, they hadn't, and now all of America was paying the price. Except the Commanders, of course. And the few who managed to escape to Canada.

To be honest, Nick wondered how anyone got away at all, given how hard he had worked to get June out. Even with all the waiting, all the secrecy, all the preparation… even with a fucking Eye helping her, she’d still gotten caught. God, it hurt to see her back at the Waterfords’ house, wearing red again. A small part of him was relieved he hadn’t lost her, but a larger part of him felt sick that she was still stuck here, in this place. In Gilead.

What a shithole.

Nick had joined the Sons of Jacob because, at that time, he saw no other option for his life. But if he could turn back time, he’d tell Commander Pryce to fuck off. Sure, Pryce had given him a job, but what had that gotten him? A monotonous life of driving around someone more important than him? June was right - it wasn’t enough for him. Especially without the freedom to speak his mind, or to do anything that Gilead might find offensive… which was pretty much everything. June had dragged him out of denial and forced him to admit to himself how much this life sucked.

And it wasn’t just living his own life that sucked – it was watching the shitty lives of everyone around him. Of the Handmaids, whose lives consisted of nothing more than daily shopping trips and monthly rapes. Of the Econopeople, who lived with the constant presence of armed guardians and fear that their “faithlessness” would be discovered. Even the Wives had it bad, despite their supposed high status. With Marthas to wait on them, they couldn’t even depend on housework to dull the boredom. Nick had never been much of a reader, but at least he had the option to pass the time by reading.

He wondered if Eden had even known how to read. She must have, right? She was old enough when the Sons of Jacob took over to know at least a little, even if her ability was limited. Nick never understood how Eden could be so pious, having grown up with freedoms that were later taken away. It didn’t make any sense.

In any other situation, he probably could have been friendly with her. But as an unwilling husband to a brainwashed teenager, he could hardly stand to look her in the eye. She was a constant reminder of how bad things were, and of how many limitations he faced. June was the only enjoyable thing in his life, and his marriage to Eden had made it more difficult to be with her - which, of course, was exactly what Serena had wanted. That bitch. Maybe it was Nick’s indifference that drove Eden to run off with Isaac, but Serena had gotten them into the situation in the first place.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself. Blaming Serena was the easy thing to do, but it wasn’t an arranged marriage that had killed Eden – it was a loveless one. And he could only blame himself for not being nicer to her. He flashed back to the dingy locker room, where Eden had asked him to forgive her, as if she had done something wrong by seeking love. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. Gilead was to blame for her messed up view of the world, but Nick was the one who had neglected a child left in his care.

He kept seeing her in the dim light of the forgotten swimming pool, standing in terror and grief on the diving platform. And then floating lifelessly beneath the water, anchored to the bottom by the heavy chains that bound her. Dead.

She was so young. Too young. She should still be alive, living out her life with Isaac. Having his babies. Well, maybe when she was a little older, anyway. Fucking Gilead. The entire justification of the Sons of Jacob for overthrowing the U.S. government had been the infertility crisis, so why did they care who women fucked, as long as they got knocked up and carried the pregnancy to term?

Nick put out his cigarette, shivering as he realized suddenly how cold he was. Looking out into the yard one last time, he remembered seeing Eden kissing Isaac by the trash cans; remembered watching with indifference and mild curiosity that contrasted so sharply with the panic Eden had displayed when she realized he was watching her. God, he wanted to forget.

Stepping over the threshold of his meager home, Nick went straight for the kitchen cupboard, not caring about the water dripping off of him onto the floor. There was bourbon inside that cabinet, and he intended to use it as a remedy for both the chills racking his body and the guilt infecting his mind.

**********

Rita was always bitter these days. After all, she had so many reasons to be. Gilead had taken everything from her: her freedom, her dignity, her independence… and worst of all, her son. For the first couple years, her grief had been nearly impossible to bear, but eventually she had managed to convert her sorrow into anger, which over time settled into the perpetual bitterness that she now lived with. It simmered in her heart every waking hour, whether she was chopping vegetables, washing clothes, or doing some other degrading task for the Commander or Mrs. Waterford. It even stayed with her at night, as she lay awake in her creaky twin-size bed, bubbling with resentment until she finally drifted to sleep.

Carrying this bitterness around was not pleasant, but it was easier than constantly feeling the acute pain of her son’s death. Given the continuous tedium of life in Gilead and the complete nonexistence of anything pleasurable, Rita absolutely could not afford to dwell on the immense heartbreak of losing Justin. Focusing on her bitterness helped her to cope with day-to-day life.

But now, Rita had someone else to grieve.

Now, she had not only her son’s death to mourn, but Eden’s, as well. It seemed like such a waste of energy, weeping for a girl who wasn’t even her own kid! But as much as Rita tried to convince herself that Eden’s murder wasn’t her concern, she could not rid herself of the guilt she felt. Her own daughter or not, Eden was a child, and she had shown the girl no kindness. How could she have been so cruel to a fifteen-year-old? Yes, Eden had sometimes gotten in the way of her work, but it wasn’t Eden’s fault that she’d ended up at the Waterfords’. How could Rita not have noticed how miserable the girl was? Or had she noticed, but failed to care? Had she wanted Eden to be as miserable as she was? How could she have let herself become so wicked?

The despair she felt in light of all that had happened, both recently and in years past, threatened to drive her toward the edge once again. It had been so long now since she’d contemplated ending things, but the guilt over her role in Eden’s death felt like more than she could tolerate.

It was tempting to convince herself that her death wouldn’t really matter, that the Waterfords could just get another Martha.

But her death would matter. Nichole needed her.

Rita was an essential part of the imminent plan to get June and Nichole out of Gilead, and even if the plan did not succeed, Nichole needed a stable, loving caretaker to raise her. Rita trusted neither Fred nor Serena to provide that kind of care.

No, she needed to go on living for Nichole, and live she would. She had already survived Gilead and all its misery for this long. Surely she could keep going a day at a time.

Somehow.

**********

Nichole wrapped her tiny hand around Serena’s finger, cooing in apparent pleasure as her other hand clumsily pulled at the pink bonnet covering her fair hair. Tears filled Serena’s eyes as she looked upon her daughter’s face, the pudgy cheeks and wide eyes a reminder that she now had the one thing she’d always wanted most in the world. As much trouble as Offred could be, Serena thanked God fervently for granting the Handmaid a healthy birth, because she couldn’t imagine living without her beautiful girl now that Offred had brought her into the world.

Yes, the tears she cried were happy tears, to an extent. But they also stemmed from grief. Even as Serena played with her baby daughter, she could barely keep her thoughts from straying to the horror of the execution two days prior. Images flashed in her mind, refusing to leave her consciousness no matter how she prayed for relief. Even sleep did not provide an escape from the images. Images of sweet Eden standing in terror on that diving platform, delicate wrists bound in chains that clanked at her every movement. Of Eden reciting 1 Corinthians in the moments before the Guardians pushed her over the edge. Of the two young lovers floating lifelessly beneath the still-rippling waters of the swimming pool as the audience looked on. It had all been utterly traumatizing to watch, and it was equally horrid to constantly relive the disturbing scene through unwanted, intrusive memories. If Nichole weren’t there to distract her, Serena wasn’t sure how she would cope.

It was bad enough that a fifteen-year-old girl was dead, but Serena couldn’t comprehend how this had happened to Eden - one of the most pious girls Serena had ever known! Why would a young woman, who had been so excited to enter into marriage and assume her wifely duties, abandon her sacred union for a relationship condemned in scripture? And so early on in the marriage? It made no sense. Maybe it would hurt less, Serena thought, if she at least understood why this had happened. Had Eden really been so unhappy with Nick? In the Waterford household? Even if the answer was yes, how could that unhappiness have been so strong that she chose death over repentance?

Furthermore, while adultery certainly could not be condoned, Serena did not fully understand why Eden had to die for her sins. She had been so young - and very likely capable of bearing children. Could she not have atoned by serving as a Handmaid? Or perhaps been imprisoned for a while, so that Gilead could re-educate her; show her the error of her ways? Death was just so final, and it seemed too cruel a punishment for a girl whose heart Serena really believed had been in the right place. She made a child’s mistake and paid for it with her life. Surely Gilead had acted too harshly?

And what of Serena herself? She was the one who had pushed for Nick to be married, when she saw how close he and Offred were becoming. Was it her fault that Eden ended up an adulteress? The girl would never even have met Isaac if Serena hadn’t arranged for her to join the Waterford household.

No, she decided, taking a shaky breath. This wasn’t her fault. Eden had decided of her own free will to be unfaithful to her lawfully wedded husband. She was the one who bore responsibility for her own sin. And yet… Serena still felt a deep guilt, one she couldn’t quite explain, at the fact that Eden had died for her error. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t done more, as the mistress of the household, to oversee Eden’s spiritual wellbeing? Or maybe it was because she had helped create this world, in which powerful men were apparently willing to kill fifteen-year-old children…

Serena couldn’t fathom it; didn’t want to fathom it. Gilead was willing to execute teenage girls who mistakenly believed themselves to be in love and acted upon that youthful impulse. Teenage girls. Dead. For acting upon love, whether real or not.

What did that mean for the world that Nichole was to grow up in? Would Serena be able to keep her daughter safe? To teach her the will of God and His intentions for her? Would Nichole be obedient to the Word, fulfilling her womanly duties happily and without complaint? Or would she too end up atop a diving board, waiting to be pushed to her death?

Serena let out a sob of fear, quickly raising a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. She breathed heavily, turning her eyes to the ceiling as tears rolled down her cheeks. Nichole stared curiously up at her, seemingly uncertain what to make of her mother’s emotional upheaval. Wiping the tears away, Serena reached down for her daughter, smiling as widely as she could muster in the midst of her sadness.

“Don’t worry, Nichole,” Serena assured the infant, rocking her against her chest “Mama’s okay. Mama’s here.”

As she kissed the girl on the forehead, the image of Eden forcibly diving into the unforgiving waters returned to her. Serena clutched her daughter tighter.

“Mama won’t let anything happen to you,” she whispered.