It was the second meeting this week.
It had been a few days since Melbourne, and I was surprised to find out exactly how much organisation it takes to cover up something like that. There were mind wipe spells, finding and removing videos put on the internet, making sure it doesn't make the news.
There was also a new addition, which I noticed that no one had drawn attention to.
Samson could no longer walk.
The lightning strikes had fried his nervous system to the point where he was paralysed from the waist down. This was the first time we'd really seen him as well. We knew he'd been working with his Descendants to get everyone who might have seen something to dismiss it as a dream, but we hadn't actually seen him.
Honestly, he looked rough. He was usually impeccably dressed and smart, never even a hair out of place. However, today his suit was crumpled and stained and his hair was sticking up in all directions, his olive face pale and drawn. Every now and again sand would curl from his fingertips and then dissipate messily, crumbling onto the table and disappearing, and even that lacked the usual glow of Dreamsand, it was dull, like sand you'd find on a beach.
Once I'd said my piece about making snow sculptures in the area, to enhance the dream cover as well as the weird weather one, we all turned to Samson.
"Dreams in place." he lethargically, "No one thinks what they saw was real."
"Erm, good." Jason coughed. "How about we meet again in a week?"
"Yep." Alexander nodded. "Let's keep it up until we know for certain that no one believes what they saw."
We started to pack up, putting away reports, when I noticed that Taboo had gone over to Samson.
The Heads didn't really like Taboo, I wasn't blind, I could see that. They were afraid of her, but Samson just looked down at her with glassy eyes. He hadn't moved out of his new wheelchair, his normal Head chair shoved behind him.
Taboo tilted her head to the side, and then with a sigh rested her head in his lap like a dog.
This finally got a reaction of Samson, jumping from the cold and looking between me and Taboo with a look of surprise.
"She likes being scratched behind the ears." I said with a shrug, not quite sure what Taboo was doing.
Samson still looked confused, but carefully began to scratch Taboo behind the ear, trying not to scratch off any of the ice.
I knew she liked being scratched a little harder than that, but she still started purring. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the other Heads had stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on.
Samson regularly switched fingers to scratch, but he seemed to drift off into his own world for a few minutes. Then he started crying.
I was stunned. Samson, the rock and voice of reason in the group along with Claire, the man who never raised his voice and always had the right thing to say, was crying his eyes out.
True to form he wasn't crying loudly, his tears were silent, I only noticed because he was staring off into space and they were starting to roll down his cheeks.
Claire continued to pack up, her hands stiff. I just stared at her, not sure why she was pretending that this wasn't happening. She noticed me staring and whispered.
"Most people want to cry in private about these things."
Before I could respond Alexander walked around to Samson's left side with one of the brown chairs in his hand. He set it down next to him and sat down in it. Not saying or doing anything, just waiting.
Jason was next, going to his right side, but seemingly more at a loss than Alexander, his hands twisting over themselves.
"Just because they want to." I whispered to Claire. "Doesn't mean they should."
Before she could respond I joined the other three, sitting between Alexander and Taboo. Honestly, I was at a loss as well, my cold touch probably wasn't going to help.
Finally Claire gave in as well and sat opposite to me and we waited for Samson to gather himself.
He finally seemed to realise we were there and went red, quickly brushing tears off his face.
"Apologies my friends. I wasn't thinking-"
"It's okay." Alexander said. "Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't open with each other."
"It is, nothing you need to concern yourselves with."
"That sounds like something I'd say." I said.
Jason was floundering for something to say, but Claire just decided to be blunt.
"Samson, you look a mess. This isn't like you."
Samson looked at his suit, as if seeing for the first time that it was a mess. He put his hands to his face and bent his head, shoulders shaking.
The four of us looked at each other, not sure what to say. Taboo butted her head against Samson's, licking his cheek. Samson shivered, but sniffed and muttered.
"I am sorry."
"There's nothing you need to be sorry for." Jason said, carefully putting a hand on Samson's knee. "Just talk to us, please."
In a rare show of temper Samson thudded his fists against his now useless legs, narrowly missing Taboo's head and Jason's hand.
"I am useless!" he cried. "A few jolts of lightning and I cannot walk! I cannot do my job like this! I am of no help now!"
"You can still lead. You never liked fighting to begin with." said Claire. "You got this position through your clear head and talent with sand, fighting never came into it."
"I still cannot help if required." he lamented. "And work..."
"If you're fired because you can't walk, then they're insane." Alexander said, and Samson scoffed.
"A kitchen is a high pressure environment Alexander, you need to be able to move quickly, especially during dinner rushes."
"Isn't it possible to change shifts, so you won't have to move around so much." I suggested, one look from Samson told me he'd already thought of that, and he didn't like it.
"Thank you, but, I must go now." he wheeled himself out and away, and we moved out of his way and watched him go.
"Samson loves his job." Jason said once the double doors had slammed shut. "Not being to be able to do it properly must be breaking his heart."
My arms folded against my chest, I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to see Samson as anything but unmoveable, but just now had proved otherwise.
"This is not an easy thing to fix." Claire said. "I have seen patients like this, angry about something that they can't control. He needs time."
"Not alone though. I've seen enough for you memories to know that it's not a good idea." Taboo prompted me, and I passed it on.
"Not on his own. I know his Branch is probably helping him, and I'd hope his work colleagues, but surely us as well?"
"Not sure how we can, except go on as usual." Jason shrugged.
"Just let him know he can come to us if he needs it. We can't force him." Alexander shook his head. "We'd better get going, nothing's going to get done if we stand around like this. See you next week."
We all left, but I doubt any of us could get the image of Samson crying out of our heads, I know I couldn't.
We weren't just going to leave him, it would take time, I know it will, but Samson was going to get through this. Kicking and screaming if necessary.
I'm not dead!
I've been working on some HOG/Mimpossible one shots, which won't be going up on here until Severance is finished on here, and I have to wait until MimitationBalance puts up the Epilogue to Black Sheep. So, that's been taking up some time.
So, actual story related stuffThis is something that was glossed over a lot in Black Sheep, and I'm kinda nervous about this one. This is just how I interpret Samson going through something like this, and I have no experience of it myself, so I'm assuming a lot of things I'm afraid.
I'm also assuming about the kitchen environment, all I know about that is from shows like 'Great British Menu' and 'Masterchef'.
Also, title, had a really hard time on this one, ended up picking my dad's brain, and I can find a double meaning in this, although if anyone has an issue with it, I'm open to suggestions.