A Proper Estate

It's been almost ten years since the assassination attempt that left Gabriel Tam critically injured and near death. Almost ten years since Dr. Vincent Navarro told Gabriel Tam what his post-injury options were -- and what the inevitable consequences would be if he didn't retire from Parliament.

("I really wouldn't recommend that.")

It's been seven years since he'd made the trip to the Border and Rim planets to check on the progress of the IIGA - over his doctor's strenuous objections.

("Are you listening to me, Gabriel? This could kill you!")

He hadn't listened to Navarro or to Regan, but he had listened to Simon. He'd kept his promise to take care of himself as best he could, and he'd heeded Regan's warnings and trusted her judgment on what limits were needed.

It had worked. Sort of. But only in part.

It's been three years, now, since his health truly began to decline. A year ago, he'd started making the plans that neither he nor Regan wanted to talk about, but which they both knew were necessary - updating his will, settling financial assets into various trusts and annuities for Regan and their children, all the little details.

He's served almost two complete terms as the Senator from Osiris. Barring a miracle - which he doesn't deserve and doesn't expect - he knows he won't live to see a third.

Then, six months ago, Navarro had called.

* * * * * * *

"I won't lie to you, Gabriel. It's a high-risk trial. Higher than I'd usually recommend to one of my patients. Except --"

"Except that I'm measuring out my time in weeks, right?" He'd chuckled, breaking the awkward pause. "Go on, Vincent. I'm listening."

"Most treatments for your condition focus on neosteroid medications, or modifications to them. This one is taking a more biological approach. They're proposing to change the way your lungs absorb oxygen through the alveolar surfaces. If it works ... it should compensate for the scarring, and your damaged lung capacity."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you could lose the ability to absorb oxygen at all... sooner rather than later."

After a long silence, Gabriel says, dryly, "Well, it's not the first long shot I've taken. I'll discuss it with Regan tonight to be sure she has no objection, but Vincent -- go ahead and sign me up."

It had taken a little more planning than he'd originally expected, due to the need to revise his arrangements in light of Regan's and Vincent's mutual concern and the promise he'd ended up making to Simon.

By the time all the medical details had been worked out, the third-quarter session of Parliament had already begun, necessitating another revision to the schedule. Gabriel studies the calendar carefully, but in the end it doesn't take him long to spot the perfect opportunity.

July 4th. The three-year anniversary of the IIGA. What better time could there possibly be to begin this particular trip?

Energized all over again, he reaches for the comconsole and sends the first wave.

---

"Good afternoon." Gabriel adjusts the microphone's height slightly, then rests one hand on each side of the podium as he looks out at the assembled press. His characteristic half-smile pulls at the whitened scars along his throat and jaw, as usual, but by now it's mere fact and no longer a matter of note either to himself or to the press corps. "Thank you all for coming."

"As you're all aware, a few weeks from now will mark the third anniversary of the passage of the Interplanetary Infrastructure and Guardianship Act. Since then, a great deal has been accomplished under the IIGA to promote economic growth and infrastructure development in a sustainable fashion that benefits Border, Rim, and Core all three. I won't say that it's been the smoothest of roads..."

He pauses for a moment while the ripples of reaction surface, flowing back and forth through the room with currents of their own, and finally subside again.

"... but in the end, I think we can all agree that while it's been quite the journey, it's far from an unsuccessful one."

Another pause; his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on the podium's wooden frame as a gleam appears in his eye. Here and there, more experienced reporters suddenly straighten or otherwise react, their own focus sharpening. One jabs an elbow into the ribs of the cub reporter at his side and follows it up with a hissed whisper. "Pay attention -- something's happening --"

"Be that as it may," Gabriel says crisply, over the rustling stir, "and while I certainly appreciate those successes, now is not the time to rest on our collective laurels. As the programs supported by the IIGA continue and the progress reports continue to be sent, someone needs to make absolutely certain that local concerns are being heard as well. And as the IIGA was my proposal to begin with, I feel that it's my responsibility to do so."

"To that end, I plan to spend the upcoming months between Parliamentary sessions visiting every single Border and Rim planet where an IIGA-funded project has been implemented."

He ignores both the shocked gasps and the sudden hum of reaction and continues,

"I intend to meet not only with corporate and government officials in each location, but also to hold town hall sessions in public venues where anyone can attend to express their opinions and voice their views. While it's my hope that we'll find that everything is operating as well as current reports indicate, I will see to it that any problems are not only addressed but resolved to the fullest extent possible."

Gabriel pauses there, giving a cordial smile to the surprised group.

"I appreciate your time and attention. Now, I'll gladly entertain a few questions... "

As hands fly into the air and the furor of voices rises, he nods to the first reporter, then the next, and the next. The first several questions are fairly simple, nothing complex; he answers them with deft ease and aplomb.

It's the reporter for the Londinium Times, Erica Kalle, who throws the first hard curve.

"Senator Tam, you've already experienced one assassination attempt that you were lucky to survive. Aren't you concerned that this proposed tour will expose you to the risk of another attack?"

He'd been expecting this, or something like it, and can't help but appreciate the directness of her inquiry. Gabriel gives Kalle a grave nod.

"Dissent is critical to the success of any political system, including ours. I could wish that my attackers had chosen a more vocal means of expressing it..." His tone is dry as dust, and sparks nervous laughter. "... but no, I'm not concerned about another incident."

Kalle stands her ground. "That's all well and good, but you must admit, Senator, that there are certain dangers. In light of the disappearance of the Shé Xuán and the presumed death of Andronicus Crowley--"

Cameras flash, trying to capture some unguarded reaction. Gabriel remains still in the strobe-lit glare, his expression calm, and his glance courteously fixed on Kalle as she continues,

"-- and given that you'll also be traveling outside the Core into unsecured areas--"

He raises one hand to stop her right there.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Erica, but that's simply not true. For one thing, I must remind you that the attack on me took place here in the heart of the Core. For another, the purpose of the provisions under the IIGA to reestablish the Independents as local militia in their own right was to address exactly the needs of safety and security that the events surrounding the loss of the Shé Xuán and its people so clearly highlight. Since then, however, there's been enough time past and progress made to ensure that matters have improved. I'm confident that where I'm going, I'll be as safe as anyone else."

Kalle stares at him; they all do. "Are you sure of that?"

Gabriel Tam nods, and says, very simply,

"I'm willing to bet my life on it."

Vincent Navarro doesn't like hopeless situations. Especially when they're avoidable.

That is, it's avoidable in this case if someone can just find a way to break through Gabriel Tam's stubborn denial. He'd thought that after hearing the warning he'd issued in the strongest possible terms upon learning of Tam's travel intentions that the man would have abandoned this mad plan of his, but the morning's wave from Regan Tam had made it clear that Gabriel's done anything but give up his idea.

He'd commiserated with her as best he could, offering sympathy with respect to her husband's rather extreme determination. The call had closed with their mutual agreement to continue to try talking sense into him.

At least, Regan had indicated that she intends to keep trying that approach.

Navarro has other plans.

What he's about to do verges on breach of confidentiality, he knows, but the fact of the matter is that if Gabriel goes through with his trip, the likelihood is almost certain that the man's going to die.

It's not that hard to obtain the call code for Simon Tam from the medical contact database. Navarro's in luck; it's even current, given that Tam's recently completed a portable imager training course.

Once he has it, there's no point in further delay. Navarro sends Simon a message requesting the favor of a medical consult call.

It's late. Regan's at a dinner party with friends; they'd originally planned to attend together, but Gabriel had ended up sending his regrets at the last minute and leaving her to represent the both of them on her own. He'll make it up to her later, somehow.

She'd accepted his claim of a rough day at work and subsequent exhaustion at face value, although he's quite aware that she knows him well enough to know that there's more to it than that. He'll deal with that later, too-- not now.

Not now.

At the moment, the house security has been set to refuse all visitors; likewise, all incoming waves are diverted to message-only, whether sent to the main terminal or over private link. Gabriel himself is established in his armchair in the downstairs den, ignoring his customary newspaper in favor of a recorded newsfeed on screen and the three fingers' worth of whiskey in his glass.

The sound's muted; it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to hear it; Gabriel knows this speech by heart.

He wrote it, after all.

"... the death of Andronicus Ji Crowley, not to mention the manner of his passing, diminishes us all ..."

Only a few months since he'd made it; only a few years since he'd first met the man -- the demon -- who'd gone from an outright enemy to an uncomfortable acquaintance, then later to partner and even friend.

(Are you a man of faith, Gabriel Tam?)

(I think I might be the one who brought you home.)

(I'll be their guardian angel.)

(thou shalt not be a bystander)

(You need to be ready to disown me.)

He'd happened to come across Rhonda Lejeune earlier in the day, as she was apologizing profusely to Mark for her latest in a series of recent mistakes on the job. The change from the laughing and competent secretary he remembered from the campaign trail into an upset admin was appalling; concerned, he'd pressed for a reason. Tearfully, she'd confessed that she'd just not been able to concentrate properly since the tragedy, and had offered her resignation.

He'd refused to accept it, reassuring her that it was all right. That she'd be back to herself soon enough.

(the Shé Xuán hasn't responded ... the ship is gone. Crowley is gone.)

Gabriel attempts to take another swallow of whiskey, only to find the glass empty. (Again.) It thuds against the wood as he sets it down; with care, he manages to keep the crystal neck of the decanter from chattering against the rim of the glass as he refills it. (Again.)

It requires time to get used to loss; he knows that. One adapts, eventually; it just takes a while.

He only wishes he knew how long.

Gabriel is in his study, ostensibly going over a sheaf of files that need review before the next Parliamentary session.

What he's doing instead, however, is twirling a pen back in forth in his fingers, and paying absolutely no attention to the open document on his desk.

He's looking at a picture of River, taken just before she went to the Academy.

Part of the recovery process involves regular appointments with a number of physicians, both specialists and generalists, all of whom tend to profess themselves amazed and pleased at what they call an unusally quick rate of healing-- not unheard-of, to be certain, but still quite rapid.

For the most part, that is.

The broken bones have knitted, and the deep slashes in his chest, face, and throat have all closed, their raw red wounds fading into whitened scars. As a result, Gabriel's smile now is slanted and always will be, just as his voice remains a little deeper and rougher than it was previously. (It doesn't seem to have hurt any; several members of the media have already commented on how his 'experiences' seem to have given the Senator from Osiris more 'presence.') The bruises and contusions are long-healed, of course, as are the surface burns.

It's the internal ones that are turning out to be the problem.

"... I'm afraid you're not responding to treatment as well as we'd hoped." Dr. Vincent Navarro, chief of pulmonary medicine at the prestigious Geraci Medical Center on Londinium, clearly doesn't like having to give this news to his patient, despite the fact that Gabriel doesn't look all that surprised to hear it.

"Perhaps you'll enlighten me, Doctor." Gabriel Tam's gaze meets Navarro's, and there's a resigned sort of acceptance about him. "Just how well am I responding?"

A lengthy silence fills the room before Navarro says simply,

"You're not."

---

It's not as though he hadn't expected it by this point, but hearing the words somehow makes it more real, not to mention irrevocable. Still, Gabriel manages a nod as Navarro continues,

"At first we thought the burn trauma was merely bronchial and alveolar, as if you'd inhaled flame. Unpleasant, of course, but treatable. However, it now appears from the soft-tissue imaging scans that there's damage to the thoracic surface of your lungs and the surrounding muscle as well-- which, quite frankly, should be impossible."

A wry half-smile appears as Gabriel glances at him.

"Impossible or not, it's what I've got to deal with, now isn't it."

"Yes, well." Navarro studies the surface of his desk with deliberate attention, avoiding Gabriel's eyes.

"Vincent." He waits until Navarro looks up at him again, then asks, quietly, "What are my options?"

---

"Let me see if I've understood you correctly," Gabriel says, several minutes later. "If I resign from public office and retire to a quieter lifestyle, I can expect to live out the remainder of my days in relative comfort, is that right?"

"Essentially," Navarro agrees. "You'll need to take a few precautions and a greater degree of care in general, as you'll always be more susceptible to lung infections-- bronchitis, pneumonia, that sort of thing-- but it shouldn't be a significant problem."

"I see." Gabriel's not looking at the doctor now. Instead, he's staring out the office window, watching as ships cross the sky beyond.

Thinking-- and remembering.

(a lot o' folk might well be disappointed, if they saw someone else backin' out on them)

Eventually, he turns his attention back to the other man.

"And if I don't?"

The long hesitation before Navarro replies is a clearer answer than his words.

"I really wouldn't recommend that."

After a moment, Gabriel Tam nods.

"Wŏ dŏng." He gets to his feet, offering his hand and a crooked, cordial smile. "Xièxie nĭ, Vincent. I appreciate your time."

The room is fairly nice, all things considered. There are several chairs, a porta-cot set up discreetly against one wall for visitors that for one reason or another are reluctant to leave, and it's clear that whoever designed this particular private room in the first place intended to make it seem as warm and welcoming as possible.

Of course, given that it's a hospital, there's really only so much that can be done.

Currently, the hospital bed is tilted upwards at an angle, with the evident intention of making the patient comfortable. It seems to be working, at least a little, because Gabriel Tam is asleep.

The new session opens at nine in the morning with the usual procedures, but the near-electric tension in the air is anything but normal. Every single member of the House and Senate knows what's on the agenda for this particular day.

Gabriel Tam does his best to appear relaxed and confident as the routine of Parliament progresses, ignoring the furtive looks and whispers from members and media representatives alike. Not only does he remember clearly how it all began, but he's also had plenty of time to get used to it.

After all, it's been months.

Months of heated debate, of incredible resistance, and of near-disaster of varying kinds-- and to tell the truth, Gabriel's still not quite sure how Regan and Crowley between them kept the events of last week from causing a fiasco at this most critical time, although he has his suspicions. Months of frenetic activity, little to no sleep, media publicity and spin, and slowly-growing support from a number of areas.

Will it be enough? He doesn't know. In the end, it all comes down to this. As the initial business of session draws to its close, the Speaker looks down at the papers on the podium before her and clears her throat.

"The next item to be placed before this body for consideration is that of the 'Interplanetary Infrastructure and Guardianship Act,' as sponsored by Senator Gabriel Tam. Members of Parliament, shall this bill be read a third time and so passed to the Council of Seven to be made law? What say you?"

As expected, Gabriel is the first to rise and call "Aye." One after the other, the members stand and speak their votes, while the Speaker records each answer.

"Aye. Aye. Nay. Nay. Nay. Aye..."

---

When the Council returns from its deliberations two hours later, it's Andreas Torres y Sanchez, of Sihnon, who carries the sealed document from the Westminster Chamber into the great hall. A hush falls over the room as he walks down the long center aisle and formally presents it to the Speaker, who just as formally accepts it.

She waits while the Council members resume their seats, Gabriel Tam among them, and then looks down at the document in her hands. The crack of the seal breaking echoes through the unnaturally-still chamber, as does the sound of her voice when the Speaker reads out,

"Be it enacted by the Council of Seven, by and with the advice and consent of the members of both House and Senate in this present Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, as follows: having been approved by Parliament and confirmed by its Council, the Interplanetary Infrastructure and Guardianship Act is now declared to be Alliance law..."

His conversation with Malcolm Reynolds had both confirmed his expectations and cemented his resolve. Gabriel had sat down with Regan later that same evening to finally explain what he'd been focusing on all this time-- and what he intends to do. The two of them had discussed the plan long into the night, working together to refine the final details.

Over the course of the next week, Gabriel had approached a few key individuals, quietly giving them an idea of what to expect. He never forgets a name or a face, not when it matters, and as a result he speaks with members of Parliament from both House and Senate, Polly Johanssen and Finch Wiley among them; certain business associates in a variety of organizations-- including Bentley Aeronautics, of course, as well as people at Birnam Corp., Iskellian, and Martinpur Select; and a number of media contacts who he's certain will be very interested in this piece of coming news.

Hints and rumors leak, of course. He'd expected nothing less. By the time he takes the floor at the start of session on Monday morning, the mood is electric-- and the hush that falls over the great hall of Parliament is immediate.

"Good morning." Calmly, Gabriel sets his notes before him -- he doesn't need them anyway -- and then looks out at those assembled in the chamber. "Ladies and gentlemen of Parliament, I come before you today as the sponsor of a bill to be entitled the "Interplanetary Infrastructure and Guardianship Act," which I propose be enacted accordingly..."

The only sound in the room is that of his voice as he goes on to explain a number of facts. How this August 1st will mark the tenth anniversary of the end of the War for Unification. How the Border and Rim planets are still suffering, ten years later, both from the ravages of the war and the depredations of the Reaver threat. How the Alliance has both jurisdiction and responsibility for all of its citizens, and a legal, moral, and ethical duty to fulfill. How the current system isn't working.

"... through a system of allocated sponsorship, both Core and Rim will receive significant benefit through sustainable development as follows..."

How financial support from the heart of the Alliance to corporations in its outermost regions will rebuild the shattered business infrastructure and promote growth. How the redeveloped areas will then become stronger and finally self-supporting, reducing the burden on the system as a whole and leading to greatly increased prosperity.

Development and prosperity which will need protection. Protection that the Alliance already, currently, can't provide.

Gabriel pauses, drawing a breath, and then says clearly into the silence:

"Therefore, this Act will also specifically sanction and provide for the reorganization of the militia forces formerly known as the 'Independents,' to receive centralized financial and material support but to serve under local authority..."

It takes a few moments for it to sink in. But when it does?

Pandemonium.

Parliament may not be in session at the moment, nor the Council of Seven in deliberation, but that doesn't mean that there's not work to be done. In fact, it's often the weeks between sessions that make for busier days, Gabriel's found, as it's during those weeks that everyone with a particular issue to press tries for appointments, meetings, or anything that will get them on the schedule.

His staff is good at coordinating, however, and Mark Jiang, Gabriel's executive assistant, is expert at managing both staff and schedule. In addition to everything else, he sees to it that each afternoon has a couple of hours free for Gabriel to use for emergencies, unscheduled visits, or merely catching up on paperwork, communications, and miscellaneous other tasks.

He's in the middle of reviewing a report during one of these quiet hours when Mark comes to the door to announce a special appointment.