Work Text:
Isaac chooses not to forgive.
It’s frustrating that Sam won’t take it to the police. Isaac and Moe protest, but Sam won’t budge, and there’s tension in his shoulders that reminds Isaac of how boxers defend themselves against an opponent, like he’s waiting for a hit. After training, after the exhaustion sinks in, Sam pulls Isaac aside and says, “I choose not to report because I am tired, and I want to protect myself. They ripped me to shreds for Dubai Air, and while I didn’t regret speaking up, ever, I cannot handle that on top of everything that’s been going on.” Their losing streak, the controversy on Twitter, his new, fledgling business–Isaac hates to admit it, but he understands where Sam’s coming from. But then Sam starts saying something about maybe he should just forgive and let go, and he checks out the conversation in a flash because that is a load of bullshit if he ever hears one.
He doesn’t have the words to tell Sam, doesn’t know how to tell him that there’s no world in which he’d ever forgive the people who called him monkey for a bad game, so he just nods, squeezes him on the shoulders, and lets him go on his merry way.
He hopes Sam won’t hate him for this, but–
He gets Simi’s contact from Richard (who of course has the number of every woman he ever talked to), and from her, he gets the pictures and the extent of the damage. Completely smashed in windows, overturned chairs and tables, wilting produce on the floor, broken neon signs. The wallpaper is all torn up, vandalized with the words, “Shut up and dribble.” He can’t look at the pictures more than once. It hurts, it makes him so angry that his hands shake, it makes him so sad that it happened yet again to Sam, and angry again for how fucking shitty the world is.
Ted seems unsure of what to do, so he goes up to Rebecca. She looks surprised to find him in his office–for how he ranks amongst his teammates, as a player, he’s never sat one on one with Rebecca the way Roy had when he was the captain. Her surprise is quickly overtaken by fury as Isaac shows her the pictures. She looks up at him, the set of her eyes and jaw hard.
“Was this recent?” she asks, sounding like it's a great effort to keep her tone level.
“I believe just last night,” Isaac nods. “The restaurant doesn’t have security cameras, but I was wondering if you’d be able to pull some strings? I know there’s cameras in the area.”
Rebecca looks thoughtful. “I could, probably, but it would usually come after a police report. I don’t know if I could get away with asking too many questions without a formal complaint.” She slides her phone back to him after forwarding the pictures to herself, and Isaac guesses, probably Keeley as well. “Sam’s not pressing charges?”
“He hasn’t decided,” Isaac hesitates. “You know how the press gets, yeah? Don’t know if he wants to make it more public, with the current state. And I’d prefer it to be the way he’s comfortable with, so consider this my the biggest favor I will ever ask of you, Boss.”
The fallout of Dubai Air had been so terrible that Rebecca had to revoke several tabloids’ license to report on Richmond and publish several statements renouncing racism and ‘foul language’. Sam likes to act like he’s unaffected, especially now that it worked out in the end, Bantr stepping in and Cerithium Oil kicked out of Nigeria, but Isaac can’t let Sam go through something like that again. So if Sam decides not to go public to protect himself, the least Isaac can do is honor it.
“I understand,” Rebecca nods, and Isaac can already see the cogs in her brain working as she types away on her phone. “I’ll take care of it, Isaac. Thank you for bringing this up.”
*
He finds Jamie in the parking lot after, and at the sight of Isaac he perks up like he’s been waiting for him. In the past Isaac would’ve been suspicious, but now he’s just kind of endeared. “What’s up, bruv?” he says, pulling him into a one-armed hug.
“Uh,” Jamie says, “I was just wondering if we should do something about it? You know, Sam’s restaurant? I saw the pictures. Should we, I don’t know, post something on Twitter? I’d love to, but I don’t want to overstep.”
Isaac doesn’t know why he’s surprised that it’s Jamie who brings this up to him, considering how quickly he’d stepped into Sam’s defense with Dubai Air. He’s had a lot of growth from where he started. He’s now practically Sam Obisanya’s biggest fan. “Hmmm,” he says. “No. Don’t post on Twitter. Sam says he doesn’t want an even bigger controversy.”
Jamie looks personally offended by that. “What? Saying people shouldn’t die on the channel is a controversy now? Come on, Isaac, let me just tweet some shit at these Tories, please.”
And god bless his eagerness to help, but he needs to remember to sit the fuck down, sometimes. “Bruv, no. You’ll just egg them on and end up making the situation worse. I love you, but I’ve seen how you fight with people on Twitter. That’s not gonna help Sam.”
“I wouldn’t fight people if they’re not so shitty all the time,” Jamie grumbles. “Well, how do I fuckin’ help then, Captain? ‘Cause I ain’t sitting by and doing nothing. And I know you can’t, too.”
What’ll fucking help, in Isaac’s opinion, is if come morning, every single of one of those Tories find themselves dead in a ditch. If every politician magically becomes clean and decides to do the thing the people have elected them to do, and fucking help people. If humane laws are enacted. If evil, shitty people don’t fucking run this country. But he can’t make any of that happen, not with his capacity, and even if he tries, it’s likely that he’ll attract more and more violence their way–which is a bleak reality, he knows, but he’s lived with that reality for all his life that everything is just action and consequence, with only people like him, of course, that ever get any consequence.
And as tired as he is of seeing acts of violence against his people go unpunished, he realizes that it’s even more tiring to always have your guard up, to always have to defend your rights and beliefs. And maybe Sam is right, maybe the bravest thing he can do right now is to protect himself, but fuck, it doesn’t mean Isaac has to be silent and forgive . That’s not going to solve anything either.
“Captain?” Jamie presses. He looks anxious, like a kid itching for a fight.
“I’m thinking,” Isaac says. Sam would want nothing public, so any big gestures are immediately out of the way, but what’s something that they can do, lowkey in scale but highkey in impact? He puts his thumb to his chin. He suddenly remembers his cousin is a contractor. He looks up at Jamie. “Have all the lads gone home yet?”
Jamie, recognizing the face of a man with a brilliant idea, lights up. “No,” he says, practically bouncing on his feet, “but even if they have, I’ll do anything in my power to haul their arses out to be wherever you need us, Captain.”
“Good,” Isaac says seriously. “‘Cause I’m gonna need everyone to be at Ola’s now.”
*
It’s a fucking nightmare trying to tell Colin to paint in straight lines, and even bigger nightmare trying to teach Jan Maas how to delicately do the corners, but Moe is at least a wizard with a screwdriver, and though it doesn’t magically make everything all right, the smile on Sam’s face tells Isaac that maybe it will be, eventually. Isaac figures that what Sam needs the most right now is a show of solidarity, and well, he didn't need to tell the lads twice before they showed up with an assortment of working tools, snacks, and wine–though the last one is more Richard than anyone else.
They pop Richard’s wine and share it amongst themselves, listening to the stories Ola Obisanya regales them with. It’s not hard to see how the apples don’t fall far from the tree, the way Sam takes so much after his father–his mannerisms, his dimples, even the way he speaks. Even if all is shit, and they’re literally dining in the room that starkly reminds them of that, Isaac is glad that no matter what, Sam would always have this fiercely kind man in his corner. Hell, Isaac would love to have Papa Obisanya in his all the time. Jamie’s practically in love with the guy.
They’re helping Simi clean up when Rebecca texts him. He didn’t even realize he had her number. It’s a succinct message: a picture, grainy, but clear enough to show a group of white men breaking into Sam’s restaurant with various blunt weapons and cans of what looks to be spray paint. Isaac shudders to think what they’d do if any of Sam’s employees had been present. He shakes off that dark thought. Rebecca explains that it’s taken off from a corresponding street CCTV. He apparently owes Keeley for this; she apparently knows someone with a lot of influence, and that’s how she’s able to get the footage so fast.
What Sam chooses to do with it is his choice. But we have proof, are ready with resources should Sam choose to pursue.
Isaac texts back a quick thank you, and that he will update Rebecca later. Rebecca hearts his message. People are shitty, but Rebecca is not. Who knows how much of a needle she’ll push alone, but maybe if a bunch of Rebeccas are courageous–and caring–enough to step up, they can finally defeat all the evil, shitty people.
But he’ll talk to Sam later. He hopes Sam will want to go to the police, especially now that they’ve got proof. For now, he pockets his phone and goes back to sweeping the floor. Isaac will never forgive anyone who chooses to fuck with his family.