darker_london | Hand in Hand (Abby, Flynn, Samson)

It had taken a few days for Abby to work up the courage, but eventually she managed it. She went in to visit Samson Mors. Thankfully, she did not go alone. She was accompanied by Flynn. She had mentioned to her friend that Samson had hit her and she was afraid. Flynn, by now, knew of Abby's past with Aaron, and being a protective soul, he had volunteered to keep her safe. There were few people in her life Abby trusted more to do just that, than Flynn.

Abby and Flynn stepped into Samson Mors' room while he was gaping, open-mouthed at his new television. Since he wasn't afraid of going to Hell anymore, he didn't see the telly as something that was evil. And the range of television shows he could watch on it fascinated him. He looked up at his visitors and he smiled pleasantly. He knew Abby and though the last time he had seen Flynn was when Flynn was there to make sure Samson didn't harm his son, he nodded at the man now. "Hello." Samson flicked off the television with only a tiny look of regret. "Can I help you?"

Abby hung back. afraid that the man would hit her again. She felt Flynn's hand slip into hers and immediately she felt braver. She gave Flynn's hand a squeeze, and together, they stepped forward. "I wanted to tell you... I.. Thank you, Samson. For working things out with Spectre. He... This is doing him much good."

Samson nodded once, not unkindly. "You're welcome, Abigail. And might I add, I am most sorry for lashing out at you upon hearing what had been done to Mara. You must understand...I thought you were condemning her to Hell." Samson still didn't agree with abortion, but the knowledge that his daughter was not damned for it was a great relief. "It's not an excuse. I shouldn't have hit you. Either time..." He had hurt her when he had shown up to take Spectre away too, two years ago. That injury had been far more serious. She could have died.

Abby looked uncomfortable, but she nodded. "You know...I never used to believe you. I thought you were doing this to try to get something, or to try and trick Spectre. But the other day, he told me that he told you what he had suffered. That you had asked because you didn't want to put him through it again. And he said he told you he had described his childhood from his point of view, including the fact that he had been so hungry because of your forced fasting he had been begging food off of his friends at school." Samson looked ashamed, and Abby was glad for that. He should be ashamed. "That's how I knew it was real. You didn't get angry with him, even after knowing he had broken your rules. That he had gone behind your back and disobeyed, breaking his fast when he possibly could."

Samson actually looked pleasantly shocked when Abby spelled that out for him. It hadn't occurred to him to be angry at his son for disobeying him even for an instant. In the past, Spectre breaking his fast without Samson's permission would have resulted in several lashings if Spectre was lucky. If he wasn't, it was lashings and hours of visions. Samson had found him trying to sneak communion in church once, just to be able to eat the small wafer, even though it wouldn't have made a difference. It was food, and to a desperate, ten-year-old Spectre, that was all that had mattered. Samson had rained punishment down on his son not only for disobeying, but for disobeying in such a sacreligious way. Now, to know in hindsight that his son had at least had some relief from his suffering...even if it wasn't much... It made Samson glad. And the fact that it made him glad was more of a relief than he could have imagined. "I...didn't even think of it."

"I know," Abby said softly. "I asked Spectre if you had mentioned it, and he said he hadn't even thought about it, which surprised him. In a good way. He wasn't afraid to admit it to you, where before he never would have given up that bit of information, even if he might have told you the rest. He didn't just tell you honestly how you made him feel, he told you things he previously would have withheld for fear of his personal safety. He's not afraid anymore, Samson. And that...I can't ignore that." Abby sighed and then she rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. "I don't want to be afraid of you anymore either. I adopted your daughter, and I love her. I don't want to fear for her safety in regards to you."

Samson shook his head sadly. "No," he said, his voice firm. "Abigail... You have my word. I won't hurt her again. I...I can't describe the depths of my remorse-"

"You might want to try," Abby informed him. "Mara is going to be tougher to crack than Spectre was. She's younger and therefore she won't necessarily see things in such a logical manner. And she's been through hell. You might just have to describe the depths of your remorse. To her."

Samson nodded, resigned. "Yes...I will."

Flynn finally stepped forward, because it looked like there was about to be an uncomfortable silence and he hated those. "Hi. It's nice to see you again, Samson. I wanted to come in and tell you I think you're being very brave." He held out his hand for Samson to shake and, shocked, Samson took it and did just that.

"Thank you..."

"It's okay," Flynn smiled. "I know what it's like trying to change. It's hard. I used to be involved in things I regret now. It took a long time for me to be able to remove myself from that kind of mentality, but I managed it. I know you can too. And I know it's a lot easier not to try. I respect the fact that you're trying. And I wanted to thank you for it too. As Spectre's friend, it means a lot to me that he could have this relationship with you repaired." Flynn wasn't usually so up-front or talkative, though that had been slowly changing. Abby was moved to see it in action.

"Why don't you show us what you were watching, Samson?" Abby suggested.

"It was some show about spelling and if you spell you win money. Shouldn't adults be able to spell? Surely this game is for children?" Samson said with wonder.

Abby snorted so hard, Flynn looked at her in horror. "That's 'Wheel of Fortune' Samson," she said, giggling. "They're not just trying to spell. It's puzzles!"

"Oh...I see..."

"Are you hungry?" Flynn suggested instead of the television. "We could go to the cafeteria instead?"

Samson nodded. "That sounds like a rather pleasant way to spend the afternoon."

Abby was encouraged by his kind reception of them, and that is exactly what they did. By the end of the afternoon, Abby no longer despised Samson Mors. She didn't fear him. She did still worry for him. It was evident he was hiding his own grief at his actions, but all things came in time. And time, he had.