Author's Note: Hello, loves! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know you will, WulfLuvr22. :) As always, my beta is my saving grace. Thank you, Kim!
HELENA
The carriage ride was quiet. Lena spent most of it with her eyes closed, as she worked to recall his face in her mind. Skin, scars, dark hair and bright eyes.
He was not handsome, not in the conventional sense of the word.
But, God, he was breathtaking. Like a magnificent sculpture, a masterpiece shattered by unthinking hatred and then painstakingly put back together. Each individual piece was, on it's own, unexceptional and discordant; but together, as a whole, it was all the more beautiful and exquisite for the tragedy it had survived.
He was magnificent. He was incredible. He was a miracle.
His name is Samson.
She remembered the night he had first let her touch him, when he had begged her to be kind. When he had run away from her affection, certain that she would reject him.
She remembered his clever insights, and his biting humor. She remembered the first time she heard a smile in his voice, and wondered what it looked like on his lips. Her quiet, intelligent companion. Her angel.
She had so many questions for him. She couldn't wait to be alone with him again, to see him, and speak with him, and touch him, and kiss him. Her skin tingled, and a smile curled her lips. She couldn't wait.
The carriage stopped, and the footmen opened the door. Lena went first, stepping out into the cool night air with a sigh. Dubois house rose up before her, large and brightly lit and welcoming, even at such a late hour. She shivered, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, wishing she still had her companion's - Samson's - body heat to warm her. Her dress was sopping wet, and completely ruined, and she left a trail of water droplets where she walked.
Abby stepped out beside her, and wrapped her arm around Lena's waist.
"Are you alright?" Abby asked quietly.
Lena smiled. "I'm fine," she replied, and then wrinkled her nose slightly. "But I smell like the river."
Abby laughed. "Yes, you do."
"Come along, girls," Regina said quickly, ushering her daughters and niece up the steps and into the house.
Gerald and Eleanor waited for them inside. When Eleanor saw Lena, pale and soaking wet, the housekeeper gasped and ran forward, pulling Lena into a tight hug. Lena grinned.
"Begging your pardon, my lady," Eleanor said, rubbing at her eyes. "We were just so worried."
Lena took Eleanor's hands and squeezed them gently. "Everything is fine, Eleanor," she said, her voice soft.
Eleanor nodded, and sniffled, and when she started hiccupping, Gerald stepped forward to take over, composed and calm as always.
"I have taken the liberty of ordering you a hot bath, my lady," he said quietly. "If you and Miss De Lacey will proceed upstairs, I will send Eleanor up with tea and toast directly."
Regina pulled a yawning Margot into her arms and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I will put this little monster to bed, and meet you two in the library when you are ready," she said to Lena and Abby.
Lena nodded, and took Abby's hand. Together they walked up the large staircase and down the long hallway to Lena's rooms.
As soon as Abby shut the door behind her, she rounded on Lena with a smile.
"Tell me everything."
Lena laughed. She turned and walked into the dressing room, where a steaming bath awaited her in the large copper tub. Abby followed, helped her unlace the back of her day dress, and then stepped out of the room to grab a chair while Lena settled beneath the bubbles and let the heat work its magic. Abby set her little writing chair at the head of the tub and started pulling pins out of Lena's hair.
"When did you meet him?" she asked eagerly, pulling her cousin's hair out of its soggy bun.
Lena leaned her head back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. "When he pulled me out of the river."
Abby rolled her eyes. "Fair enough. And when did you meet him the second time?"
Lena grinned. "August of last year."
"And was he charming?"
"Quite the opposite. He was absolutely feral." She could remember the anger in his voice, like a constant, low growl. It had lasted for weeks, before his bitterness and suspicion had begun to thaw.
"How romantic," Abby said with a sigh. Now it was Lena's turn to roll her eyes.
"Hand me the soap." She worked to clean the smell of the river from her skin, allowing her thoughts to wander. "He was so angry. So bitter. I thought perhaps he was an old enemy of Greg's, or Papa's. But he did not mention them, not once. We talked about so many things."
"Where did you meet him, Lena?"
Lena blushed. "In my bedroom." At Abby's giggle, Lena's eyes popped open and she frowned up at her cousin. "It's not what you think. We only talked."
"Of course," Abby said with a wink. "So you met and fell in love, correct?"
"Well, I suppose a part of me has always been in love with him. It's hard not to love someone who saved your life."
"True. And your nightmares did not frighten him?"
Lena smiled. "I didn't have them. Not when he was around."
Abby thought for a moment. "Well, that makes sense. He was the one who saved you from the thing that caused the nightmares. His presence must have been very calming."
Lena nodded. She slid down beneath the surface of the water and worked the soap through her hair. When she surfaced, Abby handed her a towel and stepped out of the room again. Lena heard a bark, and Abby's laughter. She stood and dried herself, and pulled on her nightgown and robe.
When she walked out of the dressing room, Eleanor was setting the tea and toast down on Lena's vanity, and Abby was holding Zeus's collar to keep him from eating the toast straight off the silver tray. He licked desperately at the air, vainly attempting to taste the food from ten feet away.
Lena grinned and knelt on the ground and called him. Abby released his collar and he bounded over to her, sat down, and covered her hands and face with kisses.
"I missed you too, cabbage," she said with a laugh, rubbing the soft fur on the top of his head. She thanked Eleanor for the tea and poured two cups, handing one to Abby.
"So, has he asked you to marry him yet?" Abby asked, when Eleanor had left the room.
"No," Lena replied. Her heart tightened in her chest. This was the part of the conversation she had been dreading. "And I doubt he will."
Abby's eyes widened. "Why ever not?"
Lena sighed and pulled her brush through her hair, working the tangles out while Abby took a few bites of buttered toast. "He is not very… conventional."
Abby raised her eyebrows over her teacup. "I noticed."
Lena smiled. She wanted to see him. She wanted to see him so much it hurt. She wanted to be in his arms again. Memories flickered and danced in her mind, warming her through.
"And he is not very comfortable around people."
Abby nodded. "Well, he seemed rather comfortable with Greg and Jasper."
Lena grinned over at Abby. "Oh, he's Jasper, now, is he?"
Abby just laughed and nodded.
"Are you going to take a bath?" Lena asked.
Abby shook her head. "I'll wait. I'm not the one who took a swim in the Thames."
Lena sighed and put down her brush, pulling her wet hair into a loose bun at the base of her neck. She stood, and handed Zeus a piece of toast from the silver tray. "Let's go speak with my mother, then, shall we?"
Abby nodded, drained her teacup and stood. "What do you think she wants to talk about?"
Lena shrugged. "Samson, most likely." She blushed as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers, soft and warm and gentle. He was always so gentle.
She wasn't sure how much she was going to tell her mother, but knew she wouldn't be mentioning the fact that Samson's visits were always at night, alone, and in her bedroom.
Abby grinned. "Sounds like it should be a very interesting conversation."
SAMSON
The world was nothing but fog and shadows cast by the dim, blue-gray light of dawn. Samson made no sound as he walked through the park, searching tirelessly. He knew she was here; he could feel her presence, like a weight pressing down on his shoulders. He knew he would find her. It was only a matter of time.
He passed a copse of ancient, twisted oak trees, and the sharp smell of gunpowder hit him. He turned, and approached the tree line, watching for movement through the thick, gray haze. The world seemed distant and eerily silent. Dawn was approaching, steadily bringing more light into this sleepy, ephemeral world.
He found her there, curled up at the base of one of the old oaks, amid a tangle of roots that had crept up out of the soil. She was wet, and pale, but her eyes burned bright in the shadows.
"You saved her," she whispered, voice trembling.
"Yes."
"Why?" she whimpered.
Samson remained still, and when he spoke, his voice was calm and sure. "I love her."
"How could you love her and not me?" Lilith demanded, sobbing. "She is nothing like us! She is one of them. They scorned us, they beat us and cursed us and cast us out! They hate us!"
"There is no 'they', Lilith," he said simply. "Humans are not all the same."
The light faded from her eyes, and her shoulders fell. Her gaze drifted away from him, weary and solemn.
"They are to me," she whispered.
Samson did not respond. He knew he should pity the poor, broken soul before him, but he could not find it in him to do so. She had nearly killed Helena. She had nearly destroyed Samson's entire world.
His patience had run out.
"Jack is dead," he said, his voice flat. "He slit his own throat."
Lilith nodded, eyes still glazed and focused on nothing. "Life was not kind to him," she said sadly. "Life is never kind to us."
"There is no 'us,' either," Samson growled, his temper beginning to fray. "We may have been created by the hands of men, we may have been pieced together with corpses, and born from lightning, but we are not the same. You were unkind to him. You taught him hatred, and pain, and cruelty. You brought him into the world, into your world, into a place of misery and madness. His death is on your hands, not the hands of life, or fate, or humanity. Yours, Lilith."
Her wide, sad eyes leapt up to meet his, and when she saw the fury, the disgust, and the contempt in his gaze, her face crumpled, and she dropped her head onto her knees and wept.
Samson felt his heart clench. Despite his grudge against Lilith, the smallest bit of sympathy flickered to life within him.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, rocking gently in her nest of tree roots. Her words were muffled by her dress. Samson moved closer so that he could understand her. "I'm sorry, Adam. I did not want this life. I have only ever wanted happiness. I only ever wanted you."
She lifted her head. Her face was a mask of pain and misery.
He had worn that mask for so very long. He had been so lost, so lonely, so miserable. His life had been nothing but torment.
Until Helena.
God help him. What if Helena had rejected him? What if she had given up on him, as he had first expected her to do? He had not been very kind to her in the first weeks of their friendship. He had been so full of bitterness and hatred. He had been so sure that she was just like all the rest of them. Shallow. Cruel. Pitiless.
Was that what Lilith was going through? Did Samson embody the small, fragile hope for salvation that Helena had symbolized for him?
What would he have done if she had rejected him the way Samson had rejected Lilith? What would he have done if he'd watched Helena turn to another man and leave him to drown?
God help him. He would have gone mad.
His heart clenched again, and the flicker of sympathy grew into a sharp, painful knot in his chest.
He knew what it was like to live in Hell. He knew what it was like to know nothing but hatred. To both despise and adore the world around him. To feel like he would never know happiness. Never, no matter how long he lived or how far he travelled. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many people he met.
He sighed.
"I know, Lilith," he said gently. He pictured Lena, curled up in a chair by the fire, sleeping peacefully with Zeus sprawled out at her feet.
He had found happiness. Despite his sins, despite his past, despite the fact that he did not deserve any of it, he had found Helena.
He was the luckiest man in the world.
He could not condemn Lilith's actions. If he had not found Helena, he would have been lost to the world, lost to any chances of redemption. He would have lost hope, and spiraled down into the dark abyss of madness.
He moved forward, and knelt beside her in the wet, damp soil. He reached out slowly, and placed one hand on her shoulder.
"You will find happiness," he said, his voice soft. "But it will not be with me."
Lilith looked up at him, her eyes still weary and sad, still glistening with tears, and a small smile curled her lips.
"I know," she whispered.
The sadness dissolved from her face, her eyes went very wide and her lips curled back in a feral snarl.
And she lunged at him, going straight for his throat.
She was small, but surprisingly strong. Samson tumbled backwards as she collided with him, teeth snapping together a hair away from his neck. Her eyes burned. Froth gathered at the edges of her mouth. She growled and shrieked like a wild, rabid dog.
Samson reached up and grabbed her throat, ignoring the pain as she clawed his arm and face with her fingernails. She was beyond reasoning, beyond control.
Beyond redemption.
He tightened his grip on her throat and twisted sharply.
Something snapped inside her neck.
Her body instantly went limp.
The light faded from her eyes.
Samson set her gently on the ground beside him and rolled to his feet.
He had killed the only person in the world who knew the secret to creating their kind. Who knew the secret of life.
As he stared down at her small, broken body, he felt no triumph, and he felt no guilt.
He felt a sense of finality. He was at the end of the path he had walked for so long.
He was done with his past. He was done with the sadness, and the pain. He was done with the anger. He was done with the guilt. The hesitation. The mistrust.
He had suffered for so long. He had known so much misery. So much darkness.
But his past, and his sins, and the pain and the darkness and the rage, they had all made him what he was today.
They had made him a man. A strong, determined man.
And it was love - Helena's love - that had made him human.
Author's Note: Ding, dong, the witch is dead. Yay! Now, while we watch the Munchkins cavort around Munchkinland celebrating Lilith's demise, you'll have plenty of time to leave a review.