gabriel_tam | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's just before three when he arrives at the docks. He's been circumspect; no one knows he's here.

He walks past several storage bays before slowing to a stop in front of Bay Nineteen, peering in. There's a blue-shrouded boxlike shape inside.

Gabriel Tam steps into the shadow and waits.

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"You were-- what?" Gabriel strides forward towards Crowley at this.

"You made what happen?"

Quiet, almost inaudible:

"I think I might be the one who brought you home, Gabriel Tam."

In one smooth movement, Andronicus Crowley rises to his feet, drawing back the tarp entirely to let it pool on the floor.

Sitting in Storage Bay Nineteen, the kind you can quite easily get on short notice if you Know People Who Owe People in Lavinia's med-science facilities, is a small-ish, portable cryo-unit.

"Tell me, are you afraid of enclosed spaces?"

"You're mad." It's said with rather a great deal of shock, as his glance flicks from Crowley to the cryo-unit and back again.

"You're utterly insane."

"Oh, absssolutely," he says with a grin, sudden and sharp and gleaming white in the gloom.

"Safest method of transportation, though, since you're not exactly Friend Of The Month with the Alliance."

Flatly, Gabriel says,

"I don't believe you."

That pulls Crowley up short. Because of all the things Gabriel Tam could have said, ironically enough, this was one that Crowley genuinely didn't expect.

"...Why?"

"Because whatever else you are, you're clearly fond of my children, who are, as you put it, even less of friends to the Alliance."

Gabriel Tam has never been a stupid man. Arrogant, reckless, willfully blind... but never stupid.

"And you wouldn't do that to them, therefore there must be another method available to you."

Bewildered pause.

"It's... a cryo-unit. You go to sleep, you wake up. It's not as though I'm putting thumbscrews on you to entertain myself during the flight."

"That's very reassuring."

It's in moments like these that the similarity between father and son becomes more apparent.

His hands are on his hips, now, his voice an irritated hiss.

"Look, I even have a sedative, alright? Pressure-injector. You won't know a thing 'til I wake you up when we get there."

"And I'm simply supposed to trust you, is that it?"

A man of faith. His glance goes to where white wings should be.

Gabriel sighs.

Simply:

"Yes."

"That would be rather an easier proposition had you not spent part of the evening earlier behaving rather violently, I'm afraid."

He rememembers Simon's threat clearly, as well: "...they know what was done to River, and they know your part in it, and any one of them would be happy to kill you for it."

"Surely there's some other way?"

"I could take you past ident-control in person and have beady little Alliance eyes watch where flagged man Gabriel Tam goes."

Whatever protests remain are held in abeyance as he freezes for several seconds before saying neutrally,

"I concede your point."

Wordlessly, Crowley turns, pulling on the lever that sends the lid of the cryo-unit gliding back with a hissss.

With a nod, he motions to Gabriel to sit on the edge, as he starts piecing together the pressure-injector.

"I'll send a wave to your wife, before we leave. You're with me, still on-planet - negotiations, at a private getaway I have, outside capital city."

He's nearly gritting his teeth as he sits down, but he manages a nod.

It's too sterile, not unlike a certain room that he's resigned himself to never forgetting.

"That should do well enough."

Silent, as he rolls up Gabriel's crisp white shirt-sleeve, and places the tip of the injector in the crook of the man's elbow.

"I'm doing this so I won't hurt you, Tam. To stop myself."

His thumb presses down.

"She wouldn't forgive me if I did."

It's the last thing he hears before the sedative takes effect.

Gabriel Tam slides into unconsciousness with the knowledge that he's placed himself in the hands of a being who would see him harmed... and that it's his daughter's love that keeps him safe now.

Even as the drug takes effect, he's not unaware of the bitter irony.

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