Author's Note: I know everyone wants to see the reunion scene between Samson and Lena, but I must beg your patience, as it is just not feasible now that the Dubois family knows of Samson's existence. He explains it pretty well, I think. At this point, it's a matter of trust, and he doesn't take that lightly.

Don't lose hope, though. It will happen, I assure you.

Also, on a quick side note, I feel obligated to warn my lovely readers that I'm moving in about a week. Not very far, just across town, but there might be some delay in the next few chapters, while I pack up my life and move into our first house. :)

Also, huge props to Kim for naming this chapter for me. She's pretty awesome. :)

HELENA

Lena's mother was sitting in an armchair by the fire, drinking a glass of port, when Lena and Abby stepped into the library. She glanced up at them and smiled, gesturing to the sofa. Lena's stomach tightened as she sat down, wondering what her mother would ask, and how much Lena would have to leave out. She hated lying. Especially to her parents.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked in a soft voice.

Abby looked to Lena with a kind smile. "I am well. Lena is nervous."

Regina chuckled. "Yes, I can tell."

Lena sighed. "Maman, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him sooner, I…"

Regina held up one hand, cutting Lena short. "Don't apologize, my dear. I am not upset."

Lena blinked. "You're not?"

"No, not at all."

"But… don't you wish to know…"

"No, Lena. You do not need to explain anything to me."

Lena felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She took a deep breath. She hadn't quite known what to expect, but she knew her mother would be curious. Regina did not like to be uninformed about anything, especially when it came to her family. And most especially when it came to her daughters.

"Do you like him, maman?" Lena asked quietly.

Regina smiled and took another sip of wine. She looked thoughtful and distant. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "When you were a child, when they brought you home after you fell into the river, I thought I was going to lose you. You looked so… so small, and so pale." Her voice wavered, and Lena felt tears stinging her eyes as she watched her mother struggle with her emotions. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I begged God not to take you from me." She took a deep, trembling breath. Lena reached out blindly and took Abby's hand tightly in hers. "And I thanked God, every day, for sending your angel down to save you."

Regina closed her eyes. "When Emily told me you had been taken, I felt like I was back in France, watching your father carry you inside, watching you fight the fever, watching you struggle for every breath you took, while I sat there, useless and helpless, unable to do anything to help you."

"I'm so sorry, maman," Lena whispered. Regina shook her head, and took another deep breath.

"I didn't know what to do, and I didn't know what was going to happen to you. I felt so lost, and so terrified. I didn't know if…" Her voice caught, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I didn't know if I was strong enough to go through this again. And then… And then Margot brought Samson to me."

She smiled then, a gentle, wistful smile. "As soon as I saw him, I knew who he was. You spoke of him so often, in the months following the accident. I knew he was the angel who had saved you, and I knew that he would save you again. I knew it in my soul. That man would move mountains for you, Helena. He would break down the gates of heaven to get you back."

Lena felt the tears burning in her eyes. She felt raw from emotion and adrenaline. She felt like half of her was missing, like she had left a piece of her soul with Samson, and she wouldn't feel whole again until he was next to her, until she could hear his voice and touch his skin.

Regina inhaled sharply, and blinked her tears away. She straightened her spine and leveled her solemn, pale eyes on Lena. "You asked me if I like him; I'm telling you now that I love him, as much as I would if he were my own son. I do not care who he is, or where he is from, or what he has done in his past. He saved my daughter's life; he brought you back to me, twice. Samson is one of us. And he always will be."

Lena leapt up from the sofa and moved forward. Her mother already had her arms held out, and she pulled Lena down into a tight, fierce hug.

"I love you, darling," Regina whispered, kissing Lena's forehead gently.

"I love you too, maman," Lena replied. "Thank you so much." She stood, and her mother stood with her, and turned to Abby.

Regina smiled, and held her arms out for Abby. "And you, my dear, I am so very glad you are safe," Regina said quietly, hugging Abby tightly. "Your parents are on their way to London; they should arrive in a fortnight, just in time to attend the Masquerade Ball."

Abby laughed and kissed Regina on both of her cheeks. "Thank you, Aunt Reggie."

Regina nodded. "Now, I think I'll retire. Are you two going to wait up for the men to return?" When Lena nodded, Regina smiled. "Very well. Gerald has prepared rooms for Samson and Lord Montford. He will show them up when they are ready."

Lena watched her mother walk out of the library, and sat down in the armchair she had vacated, leaning back into the cushion with a heavy sigh. Abby settled herself back on the sofa and smiled.

"Well, that went well, I think," she said.

"It did," Lena replied distractedly. She was so tired. Her whole body ached. A headache was brewing behind her eyes. But she couldn't fall asleep. She wouldn't allow it. She had to see him. She had to be there when he returned. "I was worried that she might get curious."

"Oh, I'm sure she's curious. Who wouldn't be? A dark, mysterious hero appeared from out of nowhere just in time to rescue you." Abby winked. "It sounds like a scene right out of one of Mrs. Radcliffe's gothic novels."

Lena smiled wearily. "It is a bit unusual, I suppose."

"A bit, yes. And your mother doesn't even know the whole story."

"And she won't," Lena replied. "No one will learn of Samson's origins unless he wishes to inform them himself."

Abby nodded, and then she smiled, gazing into the fire with distant eyes. "I still can't believe your angel and my Forest Spirit are the same man."

Something nagged at Lena, from the depths of her memories. Something about scars. She looked over at Abby. "I was going to ask you about that, in the park," she said suddenly. "You mentioned his scars, once, a long time ago, didn't you? I can't believe we didn't realize that he was the same."

Abby shrugged. "Well, you were barely conscious when he pulled you from the river. And I only met him once. I couldn't see anything but his face; he was wearing a cloak."

"But you remember your conversation with him," Lena teased.

"I do," Abby replied with a smile. "I've told it to you many times."

Lena leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Tell me again," she said quietly.

The sun was out, and spring was coming, warding away the chill in the air as Abby played by the tiny pond near the cottage, watching baby ducklings swim about in slow, happy circles. A shadow fell nearby. She looked up to see a tall man standing beside her, staring down into the pond, at his reflection.

He was awfully pale, and he had pink scars all over his face and hands. Long, dark hair fell around his face.

"Hello," Abby said.

The man jerked back, and looked over at her. "Hello," he replied hesitantly, his voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper. He looked awfully sad, like he had lost his favorite toy, or been scolded by his mama for staying up past his bedtime.

"What is your name?"

He hesitated. "I do not have one."

"Oh," she replied. "My name is Abby. Why are you so sad?"

"Because I am a monster, child."

"Oh, I doubt that very much. Monsters have sharp teeth and glowing red eyes and they eat naughty little girls who refuse to take their naps and eat their vegetables." She narrowed her eyes up at him. "You cannot be a monster. Monsters are scary."

He smiled, timid and wary. It did not look like he smiled very often.

"You are kind," he said softly.

"I know," Abby replied with a shrug. Then, because her mother had taught her that it was always polite to return a compliment when one was paid to you, she added, "you have a handsome smile."

"Do I? I wouldn't know." He seemed confused, as if he had never considered the merits of a smile.

"Yes, you do. You should smile more."

His eyes were so sad. Even when he smiled, he looked sad. And yet, when he spoke, his voice held the slightest edge of hope. "Perhaps, one day, I will smile more easily."

"Hmm. You should meet my cousin," Abby said with a knowing nod. "She can make anyone smile. Her favorite color is yellow. What is your favorite color?"

He blinked, unaccustomed to such rapid changes in topic. "I do not know."

Abby narrowed her eyes up at him. "You don't? Well that is interesting. Do be sure to let me know, when you find out."

"I will."

"Green, Abigail," Samson said from the doorway. His voice was soft, the same voice Lena had heard from the darkness of her bedroom for months. "My favorite color is green."

Lena lifted her pale green gaze to his and smiled.

Her heart beat faster as she watched him move forward, into the golden circle of light cast by the fire. He looked like a warrior, returning home after battle, triumphant and tired. His hair and clothes were wet, and his skin was pale, but there was a smile on his lips that made Lena's entire body tingle.

Abby was grinning from the sofa. "Well, it certainly took you long enough to decide."

"My apologies," he replied. His eyes did not leave Lena, not once. "Though to be fair, it took me a shamefully long time to figure it out myself." His eyes seemed to glow in the firelight, flickering in time with his pulse. Lena stood from her armchair and moved towards him, almost without thinking, but before she could reach him, he held his hand out. She stopped.

He stepped aside, and Lena found herself staring down at the three young boys who had led her to Zeus. They were watching her with wide, frightened eyes.

"Helena, this is Samuel, who goes by Sam," Samson nodded to the eldest boy, whose eyes darted left and right, as if he were looking for a quick escape route. "And Gabriel, who prefers to be called Jack," he gestured towards the middle child, who had his arms clasped protectively around the youngest. "And the little one is Michael; his brothers call him Mickey."

"Hello, boys," Lena said with a smile.

"They are under my custody."

Lena's eyes darted up to meet Samson's. He was watching her with a carefully blank expression.

"They are?" she asked, her voice soft. She heard Abby stand, and felt her slide her arm around Lena's waist.

Samson nodded. "Their father is… gone." His eyes were dim, like burnished gold. He was asking her, with those eyes. And she knew it.

She turned her gaze to the oldest boy, Samuel. "I'm sorry for your loss." He looked so frightened, so skittish, but when she spoke to him, he lifted his gaze to hers, and she saw hope there. Fragile and desperate hope.

"Thank you, milady," he mumbled.

"You boys look very tired," she added. "Would you mind staying here tonight?"

Samuel's eyes widened. "N…no, milady."

Lena smiled. She could feel Samson's gaze on her, intense and unwavering. But she did not lift her eyes from the children. She remembered what it was like to be young and frightened. She remembered that all too well. "Excellent. We would be honored to have you as our guests."

Abby smiled beside her. "I'll go find Eleanor and have her get a room ready. I might even be able to flatter Cook into whipping up some of her famous cheese crumpets." She winked at the boys and stepped out of the library.

Now, Lena looked at Samson. He had a faint smile on his lips, and his eyes were bright. "Your father has gone to speak with the Home Office. Montford went back to his apartments, and I believe your brother has fallen asleep in the blue parlor."

Lena nodded. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to fly into his arms. Would it always be like this? Would they continue to be forced apart by the presence of others? God help her, she would go mad if she didn't get to kiss him soon.

A bark echoed in the hallway. All three boys jumped, and turned to the door. Samuel stepped out in front of his brothers protectively, but when Zeus nudged the door open, he did not run towards them. He padded forward and sat patiently beside Lena, and waited.

"I believe you've already met Zeus," she said with a smile. Jack nodded, but Samuel and Mickey stared with wide eyes.

"Blimey, that's a big dog," Mickey whispered. As if he'd heard, Zeus whined, and dropped down onto the floor, rolling over onto his back and exposing his belly. Mickey grinned, and stepped forward, hand out, to pet him.

Samuel grabbed him and yanked him back. "Careful, Mickey, 'e's liable to eat you 'ole, is what."

"Nonsense," Lena said gently, sending Zeus a loving smile. "He wouldn't hurt a fly."

In unison, the boys turned their heads and looked up at Samson for guidance.

Samson moved forward and knelt beside Zeus, scratching him under his chin. Zeus's big tail thumped happily against the carpet.

Mickey stepped forward, edging closer to Zeus, arm stretched out, despite Samuel's ferocious frown. He tentatively rubbed Zeus's belly, and when he didn't get eaten for his trouble, Jack joined him, scratching under Zeus's chin, just as Samson had.

From the doorway, Gerald cleared his throat, interrupting the silence. He bowed to Helena and Samson.

"I have readied your room, my lord," he said to Samson, "and taken the liberty of having a bath drawn. Emily and Margaret are readying the adjoining bedchamber for the young masters, and Cook will send up tea and crumpets forthwith."

Samson nodded and stood. "Thank you, but I am no lord."

Gerald bowed again. "As you say, my lord. Shall I show you to your rooms?" He stepped aside and gestured to the door. Samson stood, and Zeus rolled to his feet and started licking Mickey's face. Lena smiled at the little boy's laughter.

"Come with me, boys," Samson said. Samuel nodded, and gathered his brothers, and Lena's heart swelled at the growing, if wary, trust she saw in their eyes.

Then Samson turned and took Lena's hand. An electric spark tingled up her arm. He bowed and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Helena," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Samson," she said softly.

"It's morning, my love," he replied with a grin.

Lena laughed. "Very well, then. I shall see you at breakfast."

SAMSON

After he had bathed and wrapped himself in one of Greg's robes, which was far too small for him, Samson sat down on his bed and tried to still his rapid heartbeat. He took deep, steady breaths, but the panic remained, crawling just beneath his skin. He felt caged in this room, in these clothes. He wanted to be with Lena. He wanted to hear her voice whispering to him from across the moonlit room.

The boys were asleep in the adjoining room. After he had carried Lilith's body to the river, he had returned to Grosvenor Square and found them waiting for him on a bench just outside of Hyde Park. They had looked so miserable, so sad and desperate. He had not intended to bring them back to Dubois House with him, but he could not leave them. It just wasn't an option.

Now, they slept curled tightly together, looking so tiny in that big bed. On Samson's request, Gerald had readied the servant's bedchamber for the boys, knowing they would be uncomfortable in a guest room, surrounded by silk and velvet and mahogany.

Samson watched them in silence, wondering what he was going to do with them. What if Helena didn't want three young, orphaned boys? What if she didn't like children at all? The subject had never come up between them. She had always been very careful not to speak of it.

Now, of course, he knew why. The old, familiar anger rose up within him. He wished he knew the path down to Hell, so that he could go there and find Stanford and throttle him for what he had done.

But anger was pointless. He could not hurt Stanford. He could only try to heal the wounds the bastard had caused.

He crossed the room and added another log to the fire. An image of the three boys, shivering in the cool, damp evening, arose in his mind, and he grit his teeth against the guilt. His heart ached for them. He wanted to help them in any way he could.

And he never wanted to see them cold and miserable, ever again.

He watched them for a while longer, to make sure they slept peacefully. A small pile of crumbling cheese crumpets sat on the table beside the bed, the stash Samuel had stuffed in his coat pocket when he thought no one was looking. These boys, they knew hunger. Like Samson had known it, in his youth.

And he wanted to make sure they would never go hungry again.

He turned and walked back into his room, glanced at the bed and sighed. He would get no sleep tonight. But he couldn't bring himself to leave. Now that the Dubois family knew him, and trusted him, it felt wrong to go sneaking through the house to see Lena. He couldn't break their trust like that. He couldn't throw their kindness back in their faces.

He would have to stay away from Lena, for now.

The door to his room opened. He turned, frowning, to find Abigail standing in the doorway. She was wearing a day dress, and her hair was pulled back in a simple chignon. She was carrying a large bundle of black cloth under one arm.

Light from the hallway poured into his room. It was almost lunchtime. He had closed the curtains in both his room and the boys' room, so that they could sleep peacefully.

"We thought you might be awake," she said cheerfully. She glanced at his robe, and grinned. "Eleanor had your clothes laundered. Lena was going to bring them to you, but Greg wouldn't let her. Said something about it being inappropriate. So she called him a stodgy old Englishman. Now they're arguing at the breakfast table."

Samson chuckled, and took the bundle from her. "Thank you, Miss De Lacey."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Such formality," she teased. "Call me Abby."

He nodded. "Thank you, Abby."

She grinned up at him. "Come down and join us when you're ready. We have a very busy day ahead."

"Why?" Samson asked, frowning. "What's going on?"

One of Abby's eyebrows arched up, and she gave him a look that managed to be simultaneously amused and exasperated. "Everything."

Then she turned and walked away. Samson dressed quickly, poked his head into the boys' room once more, to make sure they were still sleeping, and then made his way down to the breakfast room. Every servant he passed nodded their head to him in deference, and several of them smiled at him. No one looked surprised to see the scars on his face, or the color of his eyes.

Gerald had explained that word of Lena's rescue had spread like wildfire through the household. All the servants had been eager to see him, to see a true hero in the flesh, and that Samson would never find any door in this house closed to him.

Samson felt supremely uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being noticed. Or being accepted without question.

He heard Lena and Greg before he saw them. Their voices carried well into the hallway, their tones a mixture of amusement and irritation.

When he stepped into the breakfast room, they both turned to him and fell silent. Lena smiled. Greg sighed in relief. At the side table, where the buffet was laid out, Abby glanced up from her plate and winked.

"Samson, good morning," Lena said, moving forward and taking his hand to lead him to the side table. When his hand touched hers, a spark tingled through his arm.

"Helena, please, propriety," Greg demanded, rubbing a hand over his face. "You can't just…"

"Hush, Greg," Lena scolded, her tone light. "I can and I shall. Samson, please ignore my brother, he's being excessively stodgy this morning."

She handed Samson a plate and returned to the table to take a sip of her hot chocolate.

"I'm not being stodgy," Greg snapped. "I'm just trying to keep up appearances."

The door opened, and Regina breezed in. "Greg, your father has requested your presence in the library." Her eyes lit upon Samson, and she smiled. "Good morning, Samson," she said cheerfully. When Samson started to bow, she laughed. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't you dare bow to me. Now fill up your plate and eat. Lena, Abby, I need you both in the blue parlor as soon as you're ready; Madame De Latier has arrived, and she's positively beside herself with excitement to start on your dresses." She paused to take a breath, and poured herself a cup of hot chocolate. "After that, we need to decide on flower arrangements and the menu. Gregoire, dear, please do not keep your father waiting."

Greg sighed, popped the last bite of toast in his mouth and stood. He nodded to Samson and his mother, and shot a narrow-eyed frown at his sister. "Samson, my tailor should be arriving within the hour to take your measurements. Please join us in the library when you're ready."

When Greg opened the door to leave the room, he had to jump aside quickly to avoid Margot and Zeus, who appeared to be in a race to see who could get to the buffet first. Over the cacophony of voices and laughter, Greg met Samson's eyes and saluted him. His message was clear.

Good luck.

Samson laughed. He had heard the chaos of breakfast many times from the attic, but he had never thought he would be a part of it. Now, as he sat quietly beside Lena, holding her hand under the table, eating a hot breakfast and watching this beautiful, happy family, he felt something swelling within him that warmed him straight through to his very soul. It suffocated the panic and discomfort, the worry and anxiety, overwhelming him entirely.

So this was what it felt like to belong.