With a convulsive jerk, Gabriel lifts his hands and clutches frantically at his son's.

"Simon." His head lolls to one side for a second as he looks around, his blurred glance going to River and holding before he turns back to him.

"You -- you -- take care of them," he manages to gasp out. "So proud-- of you both-- proud of you, Simon, always--"

Another breath, this one shallower, as his desperate grip begins to weaken.

"Wŏ ài nĭ. Always have. The three of you."