regan_tam | (no subject)

Regan's been doing a lot of thinking, these past few days.

About the things that are easy to think about. Strategy, political maneuvers, her role and Gabriel's in laying ground work. It's a time for change, her husband said; directed change, with new hands to guide it.

About things she doesn't want to think about. Simon. River. The gŏushĭ bùrú human interest story that tore their lives apart. About your sister is fine, Simon.

About things she almost succeeds in not thinking about -- and then trips over a memory, a thought, lets her guard slip that fraction too much, and it all creeps in. About experimentation and operations, and permanent effects. About the way her husband's white-knuckled hand and level voice did not tremble when he said Besides, it can't be worse than what they'd do to them now if caught. Trust me, Regan.

(And her own voice, the choking feel of her own taut, desperate fury: Gabriel, are you trying to destroy this family? I won't have it.)

(And the feel of her fingers on the commpad, punching in a call.)

And about... above all, about I've seen them.

Two years, since Simon disappeared.

Five, since they sent River off to school. A school that wasn't. She was fourteen, then, a little girl.

Nineteen, now. Nineteen and four months and twenty days. Almost

(there are effects)

a grown woman. Legally adult.

There are gulfs, in their marriage, since things began to fall apart. Too many things unsaid, too many brittle broken edges to dance around, too many things she dares not bring into the open.

But still. But still. Regan Tam is wife and mother. And she has always loved her family -- well, if not wisely.

Gabriel's in his study, working. And so, now, Regan makes her way down the hallway, and leans against the doorframe, waiting for him to notice.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

gabriel_tam

It doesn't take all that long. She's quiet, but he is not unobservant, and as it happens he's been paying particular attention to Regan's actions since their previous discussion.

He's learned the hard way what could happen if he doesn't.

Gabriel turns away from the terminal to smile at his wife.

"Nĭ hăo, Regan."

From:

regan_tam

"Nĭ hăo, zhàngfu."

She steps a little further into the room, returning the smile, and glances at one of the screens around him.

"Hal Carson?"

Regan is much too well-bred to make a face, but she doesn't bother to hide the distaste. Carson is a powerful player in Parliament, and researching him makes perfect sense; he's also, in her opinion, a belligerent and boorish idiot.

From:

gabriel_tam

"Among others," he agrees. "The consensus so far on the reactions from his constituents is extremely volatile in the wake of his insistence that he didn't know about Miranda -- or that even if he had known, that Parliament was only trying to do the best for all and should be left alone."

The look in Gabriel's eyes as he glances at Carson's image is coldly assessing. "He's shifting tactics almost continually -- it's almost as though he hopes volume will suffice in place of content."

From:

regan_tam

"I'm sure it will, for some of his constituency." It's dismissive. That portion will most likely stay with Carson regardless of what any other politician says.

"And he's not the only one. It's a weak point, if you phrase your strike right."

It's easy to fall into this. Old tactics, new arenas and challenges; the mix is fascinating, and a little terrifying, and altogether absorbing. Treacherously so; for a little while, she could almost pretend that there's nothing else preying constantly on her mind.

Almost.

For a little while.

From:

gabriel_tam

"I'm with you, Gabriel," she'd said before. "Your strike," she says now; not their strike, but his. And yet she's here, and has offered an opinion. He's been waiting, since their last discussion-- unwilling to pressure her, he's been giving her time.

It's amazing, how quickly hope surges now.

"It is that, isn't it?" He flashes her a sharp grin, one that's clearly fond as well. Gabriel hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Would you like to sit down? Go over a few things, perhaps?"

From:

regan_tam

She doesn't miss the hesitation before his offer, of course. But... It's been a long while since she's seen that grin, that fiercely confident challenge to the universe. You and me, she's always thought of it as saying; you and me, and let the rest beware.

It's been a long, long while.

Her answering smile is sweet, and crafty, and just as fond, and mostly unconscious.

There's another chair, nearby, on smooth wheels that glide silently over the thick rug. She nudges it nearer and sits, glancing over the screens on his desk.

From:

gabriel_tam

He shifts over, making room-- it's an automatic adjustment, one that gives the impression of long habit.

Everything is ruthlessly organized. Printouts of a few key points lie in stacks by topic on the desktop, the flickers from the digital paper muted slightly by the angle. Terminal screens show a combination of running newsfeeds and political analysis.

The center screen is evidently older than the others, which have only recently been installed. Years older, in fact -- it was Simon's. It's also just as clearly the one he prefers-- Gabriel turns to it, calling up a profile of Carson's publically professed stances on key issues.

From:

regan_tam

Simon's old source box; it was in his room until just a few months ago.

I wonder when he saw-- she thinks, and then lets it go. Does no good to think of that. Not right now.

Regan focuses on Carson's profile instead, her eyes flickering to the sides when a headline or name in the scrolling newsfeeds catches her attention.

She points to a particular quote, a small line appearing between her brows. "Compare that to..." Another quote indicated.

From:

gabriel_tam

"Mí rén de," he breathes, making a quick notation. "Blatant contradiction and yet so carefully disguised that I'm sure he thought he was safe, until you saw it-- he doesn't stand a chance against us, does he?"

The 'us' comes out naturally, but as it falls on the air he slants a sideways look at Regan, waiting for her reaction.

From:

regan_tam

It takes her a moment to notice, too. He says it naturally, automatically.

Then she glances at him.

And smiles, slightly.

From:

gabriel_tam

He smiles back, and there's quiet between them for a brief space as they sit looking at each other. It's one of those oddly memorable moments that is significant in its very simplicity, broken only by the hum of the electronics and an occasional soft beep.

And then the silence is broken again, by Gabriel. Mergers and acquisitions and politics aside, he thinks, finding the balance between the two of them now is more delicate than any negotiation he's ever done.

"It's good to have you with me, Regan," he says finally, carefully, meaning it in more ways than one.

From:

regan_tam

Regan looks down, focusing on her hands. Long-fingered, loosely folded in her lap. The smile slowly fades into something more wistfully reflective.

She nods.

There are so many things she wants to say, wants desperately to ask. Where's Simon. Where's River. How can I see them?

She doesn't dare, yet. Things are still so fragile.

So she glances at her husband, and makes herself only say softly, "Shì a."

From:

gabriel_tam

It's been almost thirty years since a much younger Gabriel, with friends at a party and flush with the triumph of working on his first successful merger negotiation, had noticed Regan with her own circle across the room. She had shone, he remembers thinking, glittering like a star among them-- and had noticed him in turn.

It had taken a while for them to both realize it, but it had all started then with that sudden awareness of each other, of movements and expressions and everything else that makes up the dance of lovers and partners both. And in nearly thirty years, Gabriel's learned to read her well, and she him.

"Go ahead, Regan." It's kindly said, as he turns away from the screen, focusing all his attention on her now. "What is it?"

It's not as though this is exactly unexpected or unanticipated, either. He waits.

From:

regan_tam

It takes a minute for her to answer. To find the words.

Regan is looking down again. At the table, this time, and the printouts stacked neatly. She smooths her hair back, graceful and practiced, an absent gesture of distraction, and resettles her hands in her lap.

"You said... you saw them."

Her voice is low, and controlled. Almost controlled enough to not give away the desperate, divided hope. But Gabriel knows her well, as she knows him.

From:

gabriel_tam

"I did," he answers quietly. "More than once, in fact."

From:

regan_tam

Her eyes do flick to him, now.

Low, "How?" Tight, as if she asks against her will.

Then, a hair too hastily, "I don't mean..." The remembered feel of her fingers on a commpad, and a strained ultimatum. "Not names or, or contacts, I don't care about that. About the details."

How can I, she means.

Or, perhaps, just Can I.

From:

gabriel_tam

He's given this some thought as well, as it happens. Whatever else has happened between them and around them in the past years, Regan is the mother of his children-- and she's always loved Simon and River, he believes.

"It would be dangerous in the extreme to contact them from here." And he's not willing to explain Andronicus Crowley's part in such matters, not yet. Gabriel continues, "But there's a common place that we might visit, where I've met them before."

From:

regan_tam

Five years since River went to school, and then two since Simon went after her and vanished.

In that time Regan has found some balance for her life, filling the emptiness left by the loss of their children as best she can. What peace and stability she has these days was hard-won and rebuilt after the world had shattered, two years ago.

It's ironic that it should be the chance of finding what was lost that shatters everything again. She's not aware of how tightly she's clasping her hands, as if to hold it all together. To hold herself together.

"Could we?"

Could I, she means, and Would you?

From:

gabriel_tam

He'd thought all of this over even before approaching Crowley, knowing that if he chose to move forward, there would come a time when Regan would need to know everything.

Knowing that in order to do this, he'd need to trust her again.

Weighing the memory of a too-bright, crazily tilted room against thirty years of companionship, he'd made his choice.

"Are you a man of faith?"

"I'll make the arrangements. It'll require being away some days, and some travel; you'll need to clear your schedule as well." Gabriel hesitates, then adds, "It's a very unusual place, Regan. There are a number of things that will be hard to understand, at first."

From:

regan_tam

This occasions a small, rueful smile.

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, Gabriel."

None of this is easy to understand. After a minute, Regan asks,

"When will we leave?"

From:

gabriel_tam

"A few days, I think."

Time enough to arrange discreet passage to Lavinia, as well as to come up with business matters requiring his attention there.

In fact, Gabriel's been working on a few deals already, as he suspects he may need to find such reasons more frequently in the future.

From:

regan_tam

"All right."

She's not certain what else to say at present, actually. Everything between them is still more tenuous than she would like, and she doesn't like to think about the reasons for that.

Regan glances at the center screen once more. "Do you plan to work much longer tonight?"

It's easier than asking if he wants her to stay.

From:

gabriel_tam

"Not too much longer," Gabriel replies, quietly. "Matters are still building-- it's going to take some time."

In more ways than just politically, and both of them are far too well aware of that.

"And it's getting late, besides, I know." He smiles at her. "I won't be long."

From:

regan_tam

In truth, she's not unwilling to go. She could use a few moments alone to breathe, to let all of this sink in.

She smiles back as she stands, her expression practiced and yet still sincere.

"You always say that. Wăn ān, Gabriel."