gabriel_tam | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

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Kaylee looks around the room. "It could be worse," she says, philosophically. "But -- not much like home, no."

"I'll have to agree with that."

Gabriel sighs, and shifts slightly, wincing a little as he does.

"I'll certainly be glad to get out of here."

Her glance sharpens a little with worry. "Anybody talkin' timeline for that yet?"

"In a word, no."

Which says a lot about how badly hurt he truly is, Gabriel knows.

He doesn't like it one bit.

She'd ask if that means he hasn't asked, or if nobody's said --

But the way he responded is enough to warn Kaylee off.

"Well," lightly. "Reckon that means you can have time to know the folks here -- seem nice, if maybe a little busy."

"I suppose so."

There's something wearily resigned about that, and Gabriel glances toward the door.

"They do seem to stay on the move."

"...and you wish they didn't?"

"No, it's not that --"

A little too quickly, and he visibly takes a moment to regain his verbal balance before finishing,

"--I just don't like being... stuck... in places like this."

It's a moment before she replies; she reaches out, straightens one of the paper umbrellas in the soil.

When she does reply, it's quiet. "You think maybe -- is there somethin' anybody can do to make you feel less stuck?"

"You've already done it-- you're still doing it," Gabriel tells her, with a small smile.

He nods at the plants and the book, without looking away from her.

"Xiexie."

Kaylee immediately looks awkward. "It's nothin', really, just -- more on a longer-term basis, I meant."

"Hopefully I won't be here long enough for that to become an issue," he says dryly.

"Hopefully," she agrees, and falls silent.

The silence lasts for several seconds, broken only by the soft hiss of oxygen from the plastic cabling that runs discreetly from the wall to the cannula Gabriel's wearing.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds louder simply due to having broken the hush.

"I'm very glad you weren't there, Kaylee."

Under any other circumstances --

It'd be hard not to take that as an insult, wouldn't it? And a little surprise shows on her face, but it's clear enough what he means by it, and she can't say she disagrees at all.

"Me too." Quiet, and a little rueful. "And I wondered what you'd think when I wasn't there, but -- hindsight's good, and all."

"We were very lucky."

A beat.

"I was lucky. More than I deserve to be, I think."

"If every one of us got what we deserved the 'verse would be a pretty gorram sorry place."

Her eyes are on the plant; her voice is sure.

One side of his mouth twists up in a wry smile, the side that's not torn by claws.

"You're probably right."

She takes in the room, what's before her: a hospital room (a pleasant one, but it's still a hospital room), with her father-in-law, with awful injuries, with no timeline on when he'll get to go home. Stuck in this room, with people making sure nobody can get in (and probably, conversely, that he can't get out), in pain, and lonely, and bored.

Kaylee looks directly at him.

"I'm hopin' you're not thinkin' you deserve this. You don't. Nobody does."

They've had their differences. She's still not sure where she stands with him half the time. But that doesn't mean he deserves it.

"I'm sure some would argue with you," he manages, very dryly. Still, there's a hint of humor there, if only that.

Until recently, he himself would have been one of them.

She's silent for a long moment.

And then, very quiet, and very clear:

"You got attacked while you was doin' your job and not doin' any harm to anyone. Whoever it was -- they went after you, when all you did was be where you was supposed to be. Anybody tries tellin' me you deserved what happened is gettin' a wrench to the face."

Because they don't know, she doesn't say; there's a fair amount of authority in her voice that might give it away anyhow.

Gabriel stares at her in surprise for several seconds, and then chokes out a half-laugh.

"Xiexie-- that's good to hear."

He's smiling, now.

She isn't -- not immediately, anyhow, and she's a little flushed when she finally does smile.

And -- as before -- it's small and a little awkward.

"It truly is," he says, studying her carefully.

Injured, ill, and desperately weary... and yet, some habits are impossible to break.

"...somethin' happened to me once," she says finally. "A long time ago. Nothin' you ought to worry about, just -- it's a little serious to me. Is all."