un_fallen | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's late - or very early, depending how one measures these things - and the only light in the hospital room is a gentle glow from the medical ships coming and going outside the half-curtained window. Two security guards stand alert outside the door and another six are on guard at various points leading to the Senator's room, a comforting presence, while Regan sleeps on the cot by Gabriel's bed. One of her hands lies limply on the edge of his mattress and her breathing is deep and regular. Gabriel's is interrupted by small coughs, on occasion, but not enough to rouse him from an exhausted sleep.

On the other side of Gabriel's bed is a comfortable reclining chair, favored at times by River and Simon. Currently it is occupied by a demonic assassin with unnaturally bright blue eyes. At the moment those eyes are focused silently on Regan. His only movement is a slow tilt of his head when her extended hand twitches slightly in her sleep.

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He's healing, and given the help he's received, faster than he would have otherwise, but there are limits, still.

One of them is to how easily he can sleep when the pain meds (which he hates and tries to limit his use of, even while he knows he needs them) start to wear off, as they're doing now.

Gabriel stirs, and his eyes drift slightly open in that half-daze between sleep and waking.

In the next second, they go wide in shock.

When he sees that Gabriel is awake, Raguel raises a finger to his lips in a shhhhh gesture. He points to Regan, asleep on Gabriel's other side. Her hand is still extended towards him.

He looks frantically toward his sleeping wife, and as he does an expression of terrified heartbreak crosses his face, replaced by desperate determination.

Gabriel turns back to Raguel and whispers, barely making a sound,

"Don't hurt her. Please-- I beg you-- she's done nothing wrong--"

One eyebrow goes up.

"Think so?" he says, the edge of a disbelieving smile hovering at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on. You don't believe that." But he leans back in the recliner, smiling cordially.

"But she isn't why I'm here."

"I do believe that, actually," Gabriel snaps back -- even while still keeping his voice low.

One hand clenches into a fist on the blanket.

"Let me guess. You've come to finish the job?"

"Yes," he says, unmoving.

"But the job's changed. You got my note? Can never tell with those things. Unreliable... but untraceable."

"I did."

There's a book lying on the table by the bed, and his glance flicks to it for a n instant. The corner of an envelope -- evidently being used as a bookmark -- is just barely visible.

(There's a suspicious bulge, too, as if something inside the envelope is preventing the pages from lying entirely flat. Something small.)

A beat of silence.

"Changed how, precisely?"

"Different target," he says, expression turning thoughtful as he looks over at the book.

"Crowley seems to think you've earned another chance, despite - " he waves a hand vaguely in the air " - everything. So. I owe you one. My information was too new."

An unhealthy pallor spreads over his face as he stares at Raguel.

"... what target?"

"Don't worry, I don't think you're particularly attached to him," he says, voice grim. His eyes drift back to the book.

"What'cha reading?" he asks suddenly.

"But if--"

He breaks off at the sudden question, only to find that he hasn't the faintest idea. Gabriel has to look at the book to remember the title.

"Maura Wood's Uncommon Grounds," he says, after several seconds.

The surreality of it all threatens to overwhelm him.

He looks at the cover a moment longer.

"Highly recommended?" he asks, staring at it, then turns back to Gabriel, blinking like he's just remembered the man is there.

"If?" he repeats politely, all attention.

"By some."

He has the distinct sense of walking a tightrope, not at all helped when Regan stirs slightly. Gabriel freezes, waiting until she settles again, then says,

"Is it-- it's related to all this? Someone I know?"

Raguel's eyes snap to Regan as well when she stirs, and don't return to Gabriel even after he's finished speaking.

"I presume you know him," he says, watching the sleeping woman with the same curiosity he'd shown the book.

"He may have helped to save your life, however temporarily. Ring any bells?"

He wants to move, to put himself physically between Regan and Raguel, but at the same time Gabriel knows that it would be nothing more than a useless gesture.

He's only human, after all's said and done, not like--

Light dawns.

"You mean G--"

He snaps off the name, clearing his throat instead.

"The man who stopped you."

"No," he says refocusing on Gabriel with reluctance. "Crowley stopped me. See? You aren't dead."

He gestures to Gabriel as though he might not have noticed.

"I've never intended to hurt Crowley," he continues, looking seriously at Gabriel. It seems important that the man understand this, but the serious effect is undermined somewhat by quiet laughter Raguel seems suddenly unable to suppress.

"Of course, you know what they say about good intentions," he says.

"True as Hell in my case."

There's something chilling about the soft, mad laughter, and it sends a shiver straight up his spine.

"You're very different from how I remember you being, yes."

He has the feeling of walking along the edge of some precipice, and tries not to think about the dizzying drop -- the fall, if you will -- waiting below.

He sobers a bit and looks at Gabriel wryly.

"Yeah, you're a little different, too. Not as much as I thought, though. I remember meeting you that first time - you asked me to look. Asked what I saw, didn't you? First to ask. I thought you were out of your mind."

"Perhaps I was."

It's dry as dust.

"I don't think so," he says, serious. "Wouldn't have been so strange if you were. Anyway, I didn't go into the deeper details." He grins at Gabriel again. Intended or not, it comes across as I've got a secret about you.

"So. Your wolf," he continues. "I wouldn't let him out around kids like that again. Might hurt somebody."

For one painful instant he wonders, and it's written clearly on his face as he does--

--and then doubt gives way under a surge of anger.

"You're a fine one to talk." He gets the words out through gritted teeth, ignoring the pain in his chest, the strain as the scarring slashes on his face pull with the movement.

"Do you know how much -- what's the term? 'Collateral damage,' isn't that it? -- was inflicted during your little stunt?"

Raguel tilts his head again as he had watching Regan, but there is nothing peaceful remaining in his gaze.

"Collateral damage," he repeats softly, moving from his relaxed slouch to a position poised on the edge of the chair in a matter of seconds. He speaks slowly, but something behind his eyes is burning with anger.

"My stunt? Do you think I hadn't looked into your dealings for weeks beforehand? Do you think I wasn't careful to leave all my informants with their lives? Do you think that was easy for me?"

"I'm sure I've no idea."

In this moment, Gabriel Tam is convinced that he's likely to die here, and he's barely aware of the inchoate whisper of a prayer that forms in the back of his mind.

(keep them safe-- only keep them all safe)

"Then let me give you a little privileged insight into the demonic mind, Tam-Tam. It wasn't. I could show you if I didn't think it would kill--"

His hand reaches out toward Gabriel's head, hovers for a moment, then slowly retreats to the arm of the chair. He doesn't otherwise move.

"Guess that would defeat the purpose."

There's a sickly yellow tinge to his skin, and a cold fear roiling through him, but he doesn't move.

There's nowhere for him to go, anyway; there's no one else here save Regan

(keep her safe)

and no chance of help of any sort that could come in time.

If this creature decides to kill him, he's going to die.

"Enlighten me verbally, then," he manages. It comes out harshly, taut words forced past the tightness in his throat.

"Why did you come for me?"

Raguel continues to glare. He's still good at it.

"You are well positioned to arm, train, and control through misguided loyalty every fighting-age dweller on the Rim, for a start," he says.

"I don't trust everything Rosse tells me, but sometimes he has good tips. Carson helped. Records helped. A couple of people I walked past on Londinium helped, and they didn't even know. All sorts of places. Looked like you were planning something. Looked like you deserved it. Looked like justice.

"And that was before I even knew about the Academy."

Gabriel stares at him, dumbfounded.

(It had quite honestly never crossed his mind before this very moment. He's not the military man.)

"Looks can be deceiving," he says, eventually. "Even for you, it appears."

His voice hardens.

"The Academy. Before-- I expect you forgot? Or do you mean something new, this time?"

"Mm," he says, staring back. And then, apparently out of nowhere, "Selves change.

"But I don't forget things... can't. I never knew the whole story, before. Something new. Never knew that you knew and daughter new and mother and brother. Knew."

He seems very caught up in his own singsong until his eyes dart to Regan, stirring in her sleep once again.

"She must love you very much."

"She must."

There's something tight in his expression as he watches Raguel gaze thoughtfully at Regan.

"She didn't know until much later. She forgave me anyway."

"Forgave you, hmm? Yeah, it does that sometimes. Rare enough, but sometimes."

He continues to stare, though he doesn't seem to be seeing Regan.

It doesn't make him any less uncomfortable.

Gabriel shifts slightly, leaning forward, hoping that the movement will catch Raguel's attention and draw it away from Regan.

Raguel turns back toward Gabriel, but still doesn't appear to be focusing on much in the physical present.

"What's your wolf's name?" he asks quietly.

Gabriel stares at him.

"You don't honestly expect me to tell you."

Raguel laughs, still quiet so as not to disturb Regan.

"'Course I do. Why wouldn't you? Not a very good one, is he?"

Good enough to tear out your throat, he doesn't say aloud. Good enough to keep you from killing me, and get my family to safety.

Instead, he shakes his head, slowly and with deliberate care.

"I have no intention whatsoever of turning him over to you."

Raguel looks at him, still grinning. It's just possible he has an idea of what's going through Gabriel's mind.

"And you know what they say about good intentions," he repeats, and looks.

"Galadan," he says a moment later, trying out the word. But after a moment, his triumphant expression morphs gradually into a frown.

It doesn't take him longer than an instant to realize what's happened, even though he felt nothing.

After all, it's the second time.

"Congratulations," he says coldly, pale with fury now instead of fear. "You're quite successful as a thief."

He looks at Gabriel oddly, though it's clear that he's insulted.

"You asked me to. Anyway, you think he won't welcome another confrontation? I bet he's looking for me."

With a slow, fluid motion he stands, moving toward the foot of Gabriel's bed as he speaks.

"It doesn't matter. I remember him. You probably saved his miserable life by giving me his name first."

"Not this time, I didn't," Gabriel retorts. "I--"

A startled beat.

"You-- I-- what?"

"Can't tell the future any more than I can tell the past," he says with a teasing grin, but his expression sinks quickly back into disappointment.

"Was looking forward to that, too."

He continues walking around the hospital bed until he's standing next to Regan's cot, bends down, and looks closely at her. Uncomfortable-looking posture. The outstretched arm. Her carefully coiffed hair sprawled inelegantly on the pillow. The necklace she forgot to take off before bed.

One hand clenches tightly on the blanket as Raguel leans down, looking at Regan, who sleeps on, exhausted. The necklace at her throat gleams in the dim light as it shifts with her breathing.

(He'd given it to her for their twenty-fifth anniversary. Gabriel can still remember how, when she'd unwrapped it, her smile had outshone the polished gleam of the delicately-crafted gold chain and pendant.)

"Leave her alone, or so help me, I swear--"

He looks up, but doesn't straighten.

"Gabriel," he says carefully. "Who recommended your book?"

He'll do a lot to distract this murderous creature from his wife.

"One of my staff," Gabriel tells him.

As it happens, it's even true. Mark Jiang had picked it from a selection of best-sellers and packed it up along with other things to keep him occupied in the hospital.

He stares at it, straightening up the rest of the way, and glances back at Regan before moving back the way he came.

"Of course. Thank you." Back around to the chair where he'd been reclining during most of their conversation, he hesitates.

"Guess I'll leave you alone for a bit, let you heal up."

He seems to be debating something in his mind, and finally asks, "You went to the bar, after? You still end up at the one in the past?"

"You're welcome," he says automatically, fighting against the overwhelming sense of the ridiculous that washes over him as he does so.

He debates not answering the next question, but can't see any real harm in doing so, not to mention that if it'll encourage Raguel to leave--

"It's not the past for me," he replies, finally. "And yes."

"If you want, I--
unFallen
He would probably help you."

He gestures toward the machines, then slips out of the room as silently as he appeared, closing the door behind him.

He hadn't expected, hadn't even imagined---

Gabriel Tam stares thoughtfully after Raguel for a very long time.

When Regan eventually opens her eyes, she finds her husband already awake, paging thoughtfully through Uncommon Grounds.

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