Don't Tell Momma


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Scene Title Don't Tell Momma
Synopsis The Beauchamps have settled in, Doreen's taking a nap and Abby's having a heart to heart that is much needed, with her parents. Because her dad can take it better than her mother can.
Date May 8, 2009

Raddison Martinique Hotel

The trip in had gone without a hitch. Adam's tickets had been first class for her parents and Abigail had been waiting at the airport for her parents, replete with apparently a driver who had a car ready and waiting, there for the time that her parents were in town, to take them where they wanted to go. Where they wanted to go right away had been their hotel and within half an hour they had made it the the Raddison Martinique, and were ushered up into the upper echelons of the floors and into a suite.

A bedroom, sitting room, even :gasp: a little fridge to put stuff into. Doreen had claimed exhaustion that she needed a small little nap before they did anything, and she wasn't to be begrudged that. So that left Abigail and her father alone, while the doors to the bedroom of the suite were closed and the older blonde was left to rest.

"I hope it wasn't too bad a flight up, I know momma doesn't much like the planes" Being with them only for so short an amount of time had sucked her own accent back to what it once was. She's getting a drink for them, some soda's picked up on the way in.

"She's a big girl, Abigail, a li'l flight ain't gonna hurt her none," drawls Dean Beauchamp, settling down to one of the couches of the suite and leaning back a little — shifting in his seat, giving the quarters an almost suspicious look. The older man's brow is furrowed a little as he looks back to her, asking bluntly, "So how did you afford all of this, again, honey?"

"I didn't. It was a thank you from someone. For using god's gift. They heard about what I do at the hospital and they… " There's a gesture to the whole room. "So they decided to surprise me by flying you both up" Seven up in an honest to god glass cup. This is no plastic cup hotel. Abigail settles on the other end from her father, curling her legs up beneath her.

A slightly disgruntled sound answers that, Dean's head shaking slowly from side to side. "Ah'll be honest, Abigail, I'm not liking all of this… television interviews, and media coverage. And I especially don't like the idea of you takin' gifts from people for doin' God's work — " The man's hands, callused from years of work, are held up palm-first, " — not, not that Ah'm tellin' you how to live your life, darlin', you know I wouldn't do that. Ah just don't want to see you get led astray by all these gifts and this attention, baby girl. Everybody wants somethin', and you've got somethin' real special that people'll want."

"I didn't know they were doing it until Momma had called up Dah" Abigail protests. "It's not like I asked for it at all. I Promise you Dah, I'm not … taking gifts, or doing things on the TV. I had to do it or they wouldn't leave me alone." She's meek, subservient, red hair tumbled over shoulder. "I don't even like the police giving me that stipend that they do and I give that right to the Church. I promise, i'm not being led down an ungodly path"

"Ah know, ah know…" Dean edges a bit closer to the edge of the couch, reaching out to try and take one of his daughter's hands between his own two as he looks at her seriously, "It's just — your momma, you know how she worries. The city's a sinful place, an' it's full of sinful folk. We still wish that you'd come back. Ah know a lot of things were… said… back then, and ah know that we can't change that now. But we do love you, an' we worry about you, Abigail."

"It's sinful, yes, but it doesn't change that I need to be here. I can't help if I stay in Louisiana, and heal only those in the church. I can't help people find that spark of good and faith in them if I go home. There's so many hurt People Dah" It takes her a moment or two to actually let her father take her hand before she scoots over, draping her legs over his lap and wrapping her arms around him, holding her father tight and tucking her head under his chin. "I promise you Dah. I'm doing gods work more here than I could ever have done back home. They need it here. They really need it here"

A heavy, weary sigh falls from Dean's lips, and he reaches out his arms wide in invitation as she curls up against him. She's embraced fiercely, his chin resting on her head as he murmurs more softly, "You're a good girl, Abigail. Too good for this corrupt world, ah think sometimes. Your momma and ah love you very much, an' we worry all the tahm. We just don't want t'see you hurt, darlin'"

Too late. SOOOO very too late. Your babygirl's been hurt a few times over. There's another reason she's glad they're not staying at her place. They'd see the appointments, the diet list, the medication. She can't hide that from them, but with them here, she can. "No Dah, I'm not. I'm just human, but I'm trying to do the best I can" She sighs softly. "What did you and Momma wanna do while your here? Any place in particular to visit? I promise to have dinner with Teo with you both while your here"

"We'll ask your momma when she's up," replies Dean with a slight shake of his head, felt against her hair more than seen, "Ah'm sure she has a whole list of things she'd like to see." A frown, however, isn't visible - or audible in his voice as he notes, "Yes, we'll definitely have to do that."

"I can show you around the block right now. While momma rests. She wouldn't mind, I'm sure. Or…" Or, she stays in spot. They could stay like this, holding tight to her father. The safest spot in the world. "Thank you. For coming. I needed this Dah. I needed this."

"You didn't need your friend to send us tickets, then," Dean replies gruffly, his arms tightening about her as he pulls her against his chest, sensing her need for reassurance, "You know you just needed to call, baby girl. Ah'm your father. Ah'd move heaven an' earth for you if need be."

She could state again that she didn't send them, she hadn't known until the tickets had been in the hands of her parents. She just nods, a sniffle the only evidence that the redhead is crying. "I know. I know"

A kiss is pressed to her hair, her head, and her father holds her. Not knowing what's wrong, really, but able to tell something is. Not wanting to ask - he just holds her, safe and warm in his arms.

Dean Beauchamp with that kiss, and his holding is gonna get a dose of healing from his daughter, like he had so many times. Not even a prayer needed as the his grown daughter just stays put in his arms. Her psychologist and likely one Detective Doctor Shelby would heartily approve of this right there. She reigns it in quick enough but he's likely to be feeling a week bit less his age and more someone younger. "I'll be fine. I guess I just need a good cry"

"Ah can do that, too, baby girl," Dean replies with a low, rough little chuckle, smiling against his daughter's hair, "Anytime. An' if you want to talk about it, ah'm right here… your momma is, too."

Tell them? not tell them? Tell him and ask her father not to tell her mother. "You can't tell momma."

Uh oh. That isn't a good sign. Dean leans back a little, his brow furrowing as he looks down at her, a frown creasing his lips. "What happened, Abigail…?"

"The month I didn't call you. I didn't loose my phone. Someone took me. They holed me up beneath a … brothel and made me heal. I was flying home to visit you and momma, and they took me. I got put into a different building, and some people eventually came to rescue the lot of us… You can't tell momma"

Oh, look, that's an interesting progression of colors that her father's turning. At first he blanches, and then he's swiftly turning more red, his shoulders and neck straightening as his back stiffens in righteous anger. His voice, however, never raises. "They. Did. What? Tell me these— these— godless bastards are behind bars, or struck down by the Lord's wrath, Abigail…"

"They aren't. They're on a place where the Cops aren't allowed to go and the one that they were able to go for, he ran" If anything, his actions make her shrink in on herself and cower the slightest bit.

"There's a place in this country that the police 'can't go'? Ah see." It's chilly as Alaska, his tone, and she can see his jaw grinding a bit at the very idea. One hand brushes against her hair reassuringly, and he looks down at her with a father's worry in his eyes, saying quietly, gently, "Did they… hurt you, Abigail?"

"Not in that way Dah" She promises. "Nothing the good lord couldn't fix" In other words dean, your daughter wasn't violated. Not physically at least. "You can't tell momma, she can't know. It won't happen again. There's people who keep an eye on me, there's cops who don't like what happened, and they keep an eye on me, I can introduce you to them even, I promise. They tried everything and took good care of me when I came to the station."

The reassurance was honest, and there wasn't any edge to it that Dean could detect… so he relaxes, ever so slightly, even managing a tight smile. "Okay," he murmurs, before stating, "Ah'll meet your friends before ah do anything, then, darlin'."

Another sigh, one of relief, Abigail releasing one arm to wipe at her eyes. "No you see why I didn't tell the person who bought the tickets to go stuff themselves yes?"

"You could've just called," Dean reminds her, quietly, "Why did you wait for someone else to send for us, Abigail?"

"Because I'm like you, and.. I didn't think I needed you. It's hard enough to go to a friend and ask for help and I didn't want you both to blame yourself for what happened, when there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. I almost told you so many times on the phone. I was too afraid to try and fly down again."

A heavy sigh stirs against her hair, and Dean leans back a bit to look down to her with a rueful, sad smile. "Too much like me," he murmurs, "And you're still determined to stay here, even after all that, darlin'?"

"I'm not coming back to Louisiana Dah. I got the guiding Light Church, we'll be going there on Sunday, I have my friends, I have my place. I dunno what I did to deserve it, but it's cheap, and it's twice as big as my last place. I have school too Dah. Become an EMT and ride around in the Ambulances. Do good, help people, do the Lords work. That's all I've ever wanted to do"

"As stubborn as me, definitely," Dean admits ruefully, regarding her for a long moment… and then he nods, "Well. You know ah don't approve of all this, but, it's your life, baby girl. Just remember that we're always here if you need us. Ah look forward to seein' this church of yours, too. At least you've kept up with that."

"Every Wednesday and Sunday, on the clock. Just like you raised me Dah" Abby reaches up with one sleeve to wipe at her eyes. "The good deserves his due in his home and to deny him that is not proper. You'll like Pastor Sumter. He's from Tennessee and has a gift as well. He can give people a glimpse of god's plan with a touch and prayer as well"

"Well, ah hope he can bring some folk to God's way with it, then," Dean nods just a bit, "Ah'll meet him this Sunday, then, an' see how he is." A faint smile, "You know ah just worry, Abigail. Seems it was justified, too."

"You'll always worry Dah. I'll always worry. It's the way of the south, Tea, worrying and god, they go hand in hand" There's a soft snort from the redhead as she sets about to uncurling herself from out of her father's lap and onto the couch proper beside him. "I got good people here. And don't worry, the Good Lord is seeing fit to send people to deal with the people to deal with the men on that island who hurt me"

A faint chuckle at the comments, and Dean nods a little to her, admitting reluctantly, "Ah do hope so. Ah've still half a mind to go down to that station and tell them where they can cram their lack of jurisdiction…"

"Dah!" Abby whines. "It's not the cops!" But surely, that is going to fall on deaf ears likely. She knows her father.

"The last ah knew," Dean replies firmly, "Ah didn't think that 'kidnapping' was legal anywhere in these here United States, baby girl. Wherever it might happen."
"It's not Dah. It happened on Manhattan. It's just because I was kept on Staten Island" But she's had enough, she needs to talk about better things, nicer things, steer him away from it. "How's home?"

A brief scowl from Dean suggests that he's digging in his heels at this subject. He lets it go with a sigh, though, his head shaking slowly as he allows, "It's all good. People're well, the plant's doin' alright. The good Lord's given us plenty've blessings, as ever."

"Good" The redhead answers, intertwining her fingers and laying them in her lap."Well, Momma's still napping" A glance over her shoulder to the door to the bedroom. "We could just go for a walk, I can leave a cellphone number in case she wakes up. This is the safer area of the island and it's the hotel too so she'll be fine. Get some fresh air"

"Sounds good." Dean leans over to press a kiss to his daughter's brow, then pushes himself up to his feet, "Some fresh air'll do us good. You can show me around a little, too."


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