simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

Simon's met at the port by a man he recognizes as one of his father's, and is whisked through the various security procedures and to the entry gate with intimidating professional swiftness. They reason for the swiftness becomes apparent once he's on board; they're very close to being cleared for liftoff.

He makes his way through to sit down opposite his father in the roomy first-class cabin, and lets himself relax into the chair.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Glad you made it."

Gabriel's smiling.

"I suspect I'd have annoyed a number of people if I insisted on changing flights."

"It's good to see you, Dad."

Simon looks tired, but he's smiling too.

"You too."

He nods to the attendant hovering at the door, and leans back in his seat.

"Did you get everything taken care of that you needed to?"

"I did. I don't know if it's done any good, but ..." A sigh. "I hope so."

Pause, and he takes out his datareader.

Gabriel gives him a sideways look, but doesn't press.

(Besides, Simon's focus on the datareader is the sort of cue that even a man far less subtle than he couldn't miss.)

The lift from port is smooth and uneventful.

"I suppose you're even more used to travel than I am, these days."

"Not this sort of travel," he says a little ruefully, tapping at the screen with the stylus and setting it down on the little table between them.

The display's inverted, and it reads are we secure?

He glances at the display, and smiles.

"Enough, yes. Being part of the Council has some privileges, and besides--"

Gabriel's tone turns very dry.

"--we've made a few adjustments to the standard equipment."

"Good," he says, the word coming out on another sigh.

"I came here to meet a ... a member of Crowley's extended family, because there was something I needed to tell him. And it's something I should tell you as well, but not if we're going to be overheard."

There's a distinct beat of silence as Gabriel considers that.

"Something I don't already know?"

"I'm not sure," he says. "It only occurred to me a few hours ago that you might not."

"In that case..."

He makes a slight motion with one hand, indicating that Simon should continue.

"This isn't the first time he's died."

Sometimes, Simon does just say things straight out.

Gabriel eyes him.

"You're not going to tell me he makes a habit of this."

A second's blank look, and then an almost-laugh.

"No, I don't ... I don't think so. The last time I know of was five hundred years ago, for him. From the first time we knew him."

"That's good, at least."

Inasmuch as any of this can be.

"Any idea how long...?"

Simon shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. And I have no idea what he's going to do when he comes back; he'll almost certainly have been declared legally dead in the interim, and it'll be, ah."

His mouth goes crooked.

"Difficult. To explain where he's been."

"To say the least."

Just the thought seems to weary him. He rubs at his forehead, sighing out a faintly wheezing breath.

The sound of that breath catches Simon's attention.

For the moment, though, he doesn't comment on it.

"There's also ... he'll be able to come back from this, but that doesn't mean he'll be...." He pauses again, trying to find the word.

"Unaffected," he says finally.

"I can't see how he couldn't be," Gabriel says dryly, lowering his hand and glancing over at Simon.

"We'll just have to see."

Simon nods.

After a moment, hesitantly: "How much do you know about ... about how it happened?"

"Enough."

A beat.

"They brought word, but I spoke to the Prior. To... confirm."

Very quietly: "I didn't get to speak with him myself. Is he ... how did he seem?"

It's not a question he could ask River. Or even Kaylee.

(Not is he all right.)

"It's been difficult for everyone."

Equivocation, yes, but the sort that by its very nature is an answer of itself.

He lets out a silent breath.

Bad.

Low: "I imagine he didn't feel up to discussing the details."

The lines of strain around Gabriel's eyes tighten as he snaps,

"Frankly, the news of the gunshot and the Reaver attack was more than enough for me. I hope you'll forgive me for not pressing for every prurient nuance--"

He cuts himself off there and sits back, breathing deeply.

"Duìbùqĭ. That was uncalled for."