Gabriel Tam (
gabriel_tam) wrote2007-08-03 12:09 am
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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.
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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His tread is noiseless, and he raises a hand to caution Mary as they enter the room.
She, of course, may not be silent enough not to wake the Senator.
Galadan can make no provision for that.
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As they enter the room, she pulls her hand out of Galadan's and runs immediately over (boots clattering somewhat on the pristine floor) to stare fiercely down at Gabriel Tam, attempting to ascertain with her eyes alone exactly what's wrong with him. And what the likelihood is that it will get worse.
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Not to mention the neatly-stitched and bandaged wounds that run along the left side of his cheek and jaw and down his throat before disappearing under the neat line of the hospital gown.
There's a small clear tube -- a cannula -- providing him with oxygen. Even so, Gabriel's breathing is a little harsh, a little strained.
He stirs a little at the sound of her footsteps, mumbling something incoherent.
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Most especially he watches to see what Mary will do, and how Gabriel will respond.
There is much too be learned in moments such as these.
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(He looks different. And there's things in him and -
She wants to know he's still there.)
But she stays still, now that she's by the bed, with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, staring still down. Looking perfectly ready to stand there for hours, until he wakes up.
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She should move to the cot, she knows. She will soon, probably; her neck is still stiff from having dozed off in this armchair earlier. She's old enough for her bones to prefer a soft bed and a real pillow.
But she can feel her husband's pulse, and she's not falling asleep quite yet. So she'll stay a while longer.
And let her eyes drift closed. Just for a bit.
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Slowly, Gabriel comes awake, and as he does her face is the first thing he sees.
"Regan-- ài rén."
It's quiet, and he's a little hoarse, but there's a great deal of warmth in his voice all the same.
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"Gabriel?" It comes out hushed, here in this hospital room where the only sounds are breathing and the low whirr of monitoring machines and the occasional mutter of a guard. It'll be another ten or twenty minutes before another nurse comes by.
But, no, he's awake -- drugged, yes, and bandaged and rasping, but awake, and her heart lifts to see it.
"Morning, xin gan," she murmurs with a smile, clasping his hand in both of hers now.
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"Have you gotten any rest at all?"
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She tries to be as quiet as she can, as the red and blue lights play on her face once again, but the posture is awkward and she is, perhaps, ill at ease, surrounded by the full might of a machina society, all bent on preserving one life.
There's a bell that hangs by a thin cord from the end of her staff; it jingles, clear and sweet among the beeps and gusts.
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If any of the hospital staff step in, he wants to be able to intercept and explain.
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"Wŏ hăo-- I'm-- who are you?"
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Yuna stills the bell with her free hand, and drops back on her heels. She darts a glance at Simon before speaking. "I'm Yuna. Simon brought me to check on you."
She speaks clearly and calmly; more self-possessed than a wisp of a seventeen year old girl really ought to be. "I was there, when you were--unconscious. In the bar."
"I'm sorry I woke you."
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Means she can sit and occupy herself with the book in her lap.
There's something leafy on the bedside table that wasn't there before; there are two small, colorful paper umbrellas neatly speared into the soil at the base.
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His breathing is ragged, with a small wheezing sound to it.
In his sleep, Gabriel's unconscious grimace of pain is unguarded.
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She closes the book, leaves it on the chair, and goes to the sink off in the corner -- there as discreetly as it can be, but -- it's still a hospital room, isn't it.
The sound of running water is quiet; she tests the stream with her thumb first to make sure it's cold.
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He hasn't seen her yet.
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Tam-Tam,
Looks like I owe you one.
-R
As though to drive home the point (assuming there is a point), the envelope also contains one wooden tile bearing the letter R.
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Five seconds after he reads the letter, there's no hope of pretending. The high, buzzing whine of a medalarm cuts through the air as the shock knifes through him, sending his heart rate jolting upwards at the same time that his breathing turns into a series of ragged gasps.
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There is no immediately visible threat, but that does not always mean much.
When the nurse finally leaves, assured that the Senator is in no danger of immediate death, Galadan steps closer to the bed.
"Gabriel?"
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Gabriel sounds tired. One fist is clenched tightly around something small, and there's a partially crumpled letter lying on the bedside table.
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Gabriel stirs at the touch and opens his eyes.
When he realizes who's there with him, he goes very, very still.
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It's hard to smile, knowing what he knows about what happened to Gabriel Tam only days ago. Aziraphael just manages it, and squeezes Gabriel's wrist lightly. "Fortunately, I was already on my way."
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His voice is as harsh and raw as his breathing. Gabriel coughs, clearing his throat, and tries again.
"It's-- I hadn't imagined you'd--"
A careful breath.
"It's good to see you."
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