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[regan_tam]

Gabriel's been quiet, in the few days since his last appointment with Dr. Navarro. "How did it go?" she asked, and "All right," he answered, and that was that.

She hasn't pushed. Not yet.

(She's worried. And she's wearily resigned. Which emotion wins out depends on the moment.)

So she keeps herself busy, and tries to keep Gabriel from keeping himself too busy, and bides her time.

Comments

[gabriel_tam]

At the moment, he's leaning back in an armchair, studying a piece of paper with focused intent.

Gabriel's spinning a pen back and forth in his fingers as he concentrates.

[regan_tam]

Regan lets herself through the security system and doors with a nod to the guards outside the house, and ignores the way her own bodyguard (Tutayan Shay, who like many of their guards is both very nice and astonishingly muscular) fades back to join them. This is habit by now; she may never like the necessity, but that doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate it -- more so than ever, now -- and she's learned to ignore it.

"Gabriel?" she calls from the entryway, and sticks her head through the door of his converted study/sickroom.

[gabriel_tam]

"Hm?" He looks up, blinking in surprise before he smiles at her.

"Is it afternoon already?"

[regan_tam]

"Nearly one o'clock, xin gan." She's smiling.

This, like the pen-twirling in thought, is an old habit.

[gabriel_tam]

"Well then."

He sets the paper and pen aside and pushes himself to his feet. It's easier for him to do than it used to be, far easier, although he still moves with deliberate and steady care.

"I can't quite recall -- you didn't have a lunch appointment today, did you?"

[regan_tam]

Regan shakes her head.

(And stops herself from moving forward and taking his arm to steady him, because he doesn't need that at the moment.)

"Today's a free day from now on," she says cheerfully. Then, more ruefully, "As free as it can be, of course." There's always plenty of work to do. "But no more appointments."

She does take his elbow now, if briefly, and give him a light and habitual kiss of greeting.

[gabriel_tam]

He returns the kiss in kind, and smiles crookedly down at her.

"Now that's quite a rarity. Shall we take advantage of it?"

[regan_tam]

"That sounds like a lovely idea."

Taking advantage of it mostly means being able to have a leisurely meal and then chat idly and sit together while they work in the same room, but both are still a rare experience these days.

[gabriel_tam]

Rare enough to be greatly treasured, at that, and at the thought-- if anything, Gabriel's smile grows even more crooked.

"Come on, then."

He moves well enough, now, if at a slower pace than he used to. As they start down the hall together, he asks,

"Do you ever find it all -- I don't know. Wearing, perhaps?"

The question's asked casually, but it's not at all an idle one.

[regan_tam]

Regan glances at him, brows drawing together slightly in question.

"All of what?"

[gabriel_tam]

"I know that I didn't give you much choice about being a politician's wife," he points out, a little dryly.

Considering the situation at the time, it's not exactly surprising, but the fact remains true.

[regan_tam]

Regan smiles slightly, glancing down in thought.

"Sometimes, I suppose," she says.

"But we were busy before, too. And we're doing good work. Important work. There's a, a satisfaction in that."

(But the memory of her husband, targeted, torn open and bleeding out and those awful bubbling gasps--)

She tilts her head sideways, the gesture small and rueful, like a shrug. "Sometimes."

[gabriel_tam]

"Sometimes," he repeats, quietly. "Yes, I suppose so."

There's a pause before Gabriel says, carefully,

"I was thinking about scheduling a press conference soon."

[regan_tam]

Regan glances at him, eyebrows raised in question.

She doesn't miss that care.

[gabriel_tam]

"It's time I got back to work."

Simply said, although it's anything but.

[regan_tam]

That's a very heartening sign. That he feels able to, even at a lower level than before, and that the doctors would let him do so.

On the other hand: Regan knows her husband.

She absorbs that in silence for a moment, before she asks, "What level of work?"

[gabriel_tam]

"The new parliamentary session begins soon," Gabriel replies.

It's just a little too bland.

"I thought I'd pick up where I left off."

[regan_tam]

...Uh-HUH, Regan's face says. Delicately.

All she asks, though, is "Dr. Navarro approved that?"

He could have. She would love that to be the case. She wants her husband well again; she wants this whole nightmare behind them.

And for a moment, she can almost believe it will be. But Regan's learned some lessons about wishful thinking.

[gabriel_tam]

More than anything in all the worlds at this moment, Gabriel would like to be able to set Regan's fears to rest.

Would that it were possible.

"Vincent would prefer I took something of a different approach," he admits. "We're going to have to agree to disagree on the matter."

[regan_tam]

"How much disagreement, Gabriel?"

She won't let her voice sharpen.

Not yet.

[gabriel_tam]

"I'm not ready to retire, Regan."

His voice, roughened though it might be these days, is still firm and without any sign of uncertainty.

"There's too much left to be done, and I intend to see it through."

[regan_tam]

And if it kills you?

The thought is swift, unbidden and bitter.

Carefully, she asks, "What did the doctor say?"

[gabriel_tam]

There's a beat of silence that's just the barest fraction too long beore he says, smoothly,

"It's not what Vincent would recommend."

[regan_tam]

"Gabriel--"

[gabriel_tam]

He shakes his head, one swift motion -- ignoring the fact that it pulls at the scars on his throat -- and holds up a hand to forestall her.

"Regan."

There's no way around it, really; besides which, she needs to know.

Deserves to know.

"I'm -- it won't make any difference if I go back to work now or if I wait any longer, dŏng ma?"

[regan_tam]

"Won't it?"

She not raise her voice. She won't.

(She isn't. But there's the tension of worry and frustration in each word, however controlled.)

"You're still healing, Gabriel. You can't just shrug that off! A month or two more to ease back in -- that won't ruin anything."

[gabriel_tam]

Gabriel's half-smile is tinged with regret as he says, very gently,

"No. I'm not."

[regan_tam]

Regan's brows draw together in confusion.

Her stomach is abruptly an icy fist. That smile, that tone--

He can't mean what it sounds like. He can't.

(She's reading too much into it, letting stress run away with her. That's all. That has to be all.)

[gabriel_tam]

In the wake of that quiet statement, there's not much reassurance he can give, but he tries anyway.

"I'm not getting worse," he tells her. Gabriel reaches for her hand, squeezing her fingers.

(They feel chilled, to him.)

"Don't worry about that, ài rén. I'm not getting worse. It's just that -- we've come to the limits of what can be done in terms of treatment."

A beat.

"I'm sorry."

[regan_tam]

"But--"

Regan lifts a hand, pushing back her hair in an old nervous gesture. "All right, you, you'll heal more slowly, they can't speed it more."

That's what he means.

Right?

[gabriel_tam]

"It'll get easier, I think," he says.

The qualification of her statement is both careful and deliberate.

"As I get used to my ... limits."

[regan_tam]

"Gabriel..."

He was getting better.

(I will be as stone, as stone and water untroubled)

Haven't they been through enough?

"That's not possible. We, we'll get a second opinion."

"You can't just -- just give in, assume this is all there is and work yourself to death from it! These things take time, that's all."

[gabriel_tam]

"I don't have any intention of working myself to death," Gabriel says, a little crisply.

(But only a little. He's had time to get used to the idea; to think it through from every angle.

She hasn't.)

"But I'm going to work. There's too much still left to do. I'll have to take more care than I used to, that's all."

[regan_tam]

Regan takes a deep breath.

"I know you won't," she says, more calmly. Makes herself say it more calmly.

"I know you won't overwork on purpose -- well, no more than ever," and that's with light wryness. (It's a joke, an old tease, except now she has to work hard to keep it teasing and not truth.) "But -- Gabriel, if the doctors are telling you to be cautious there are reasons for that, aren't there?"

[gabriel_tam]

"Well, yes."

Dangerous ground, this, but he's prepared for it.

"As I understand it, I'm going to be a little more vulnerable to ... things. Colds and the like. I'll need to be careful."

Navarro had put it in stronger terms, of course.

"--You're not listening to me, Gabriel. If you don't take proper care of yourself, you're going to die."

"We're all going to die, Vincent. It's only a matter of when."

[regan_tam]

Regan makes a note to talk to Vincent Navarro sometime soon.

Possibly very soon.

(She doesn't want this to be happening. She doesn't want this to be happening. She wants this nightmare safely behind them.

She's learned bitterly well that God and the 'verse don't listen to her wishes on these subjects.)

"But you still feel up to a full Parlimentary session?" This is a neutral question -- worried, unconvinced, but neutral, and not a demand as part of her wants it to be.

[gabriel_tam]

"I doubt that Parliament is likely to wait on my personal schedule," he returns, a touch dryly.

After a moment of studying her, Gabriel reaches out to put his hands gently on Regan's shoulders.

"I'll be careful. I'll be fine, ai ren."

[regan_tam]

Regan studies her husband's face.

(The horrible scars disappearing under his collar. The new lines. The faint lingering pallor.

The determination.)

"All right," she says quietly, at last. "We'll see how it goes, at least."

She needs to talk to Vincent soon.