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After receiving Simon's wave, Gabriel had immediately arranged with Mark to not only reschedule the previously-planned dinner engagement but also to clear the last meeting of the day from his calendar.

As a result, he's able to arrive at Milliways early.

(He's not worried. Not exactly. Still, requests like this from Simon are rare enough to make him wonder.)

Gabriel takes a seat in the armchair by the fireplace and requests a cup of coffee while he waits.

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He nods. "Specifically a request that I speak to a particular patient of his."

A beat, and a very small sigh, and he abandons any further circumlocution. "It's what you're thinking."

"I see."

He makes himself take a sip of coffee, covering any other reaction and buying himself a second or two. Gabriel lowers the cup and offers Simon a slanted, sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry that you were unnecessarily disturbed. I'm sure it won't happen again."

Especially once Gabriel gets through with Navarro, although in a way he can't help but admire Vincent's determination.

"Unnecessarily," he repeats. "Well. I'm very glad to hear that."

"Of course," he says. "I'm not sure what he told you, but he shouldn't have bothered you with it in any case."

Gabriel's pleasant smile holds steady as he adds,

"Vincent has a tendency to worry, I'm afraid."

"I see," he says, with a faint and unfelt smile of his own.

"I take it this means Dr. Navarro was wrong about your intention to embark on a lengthy trip in the near future."

"Ah. No, he was right about that much."

He takes another sip of coffee, then sets the cup aside on a small table.

"The press announcement should take place in a couple of weeks, once the details are sorted. I'd planned to tell you somewhat before that, after more of a schedule for various destinations had been confirmed."

A beat.

"I'm rather looking forward to it."

Simon's not smiling anymore.

"In that case I'd surmise that you've taken some very extensive precautions with regard to your health, for the duration of the trip. That your doctor isn't aware of."

Still calm, but just a little too even on the last words.

"I've every intention of being careful, Simon. You might give me some credit."

Irritation flickers in his glance, but he keeps his tone reasonable.

"I'm planning to make arrangements to have a sufficient supply of my medication on hand for the duration of the trip, as well as to transport the nebulizer apparatus along with my luggage so that I won't miss even a single blasted treatment, no matter what." Frustration flashes, at that, and is immediately suppressed. "I've promised your mother that."

"Do you have anything in place to prevent you from catching a cold?"

His tone's mild, but his pulse is picking up; he can feel it in his temples, in his ears.

(This isn't anger.)

Gabriel looks blankly at him.

"A-- what? A cold?"

A disbelieving laugh.

"Surely you're not serious."

"One cold. One mild respiratory infection. One minor, innocuous local strain of something you've never had --"

A beat. Two heartbeats, rapid and heavy.

"Where will you be traveling to?"

"I've had colds before," Gabriel reminds him.

"As to where, I'm afraid I don't have the final schedule yet, but my intention is to visit every Border and Rim planet where an IIGA-funded project was implemented. Someone needs to make sure that local concerns, should there be any, are being heard, and as the IIGA was my proposal, I feel that it's my responsibility to do so."

Every Border and Rim planet --

He takes a deep breath (abruptly conscious of how easy it is to take a deep breath, how it doesn't rasp in his throat or bubble in his chest; how there's no cough at the bottom of his lungs, waiting to strike).

"Dad," he says, very low, "listen to me. You've had colds before, but you haven't had one since the attack, and I am very serious when I say that right now one could kill you."

He shakes his head.

"I have, though. Late last summer -- or was it early fall?" Gabriel frowns, thinking. "Anyway, whenever it was, it wasn't that bad, all things considered."

He shrugs.

"I'll admit it took me a few weeks to feel like myself again, which is longer than I'm used to, and Vincent and your mother both insisted I take all sorts of additional treatments and medications throughout, but really--"

"Additional treatments. And medications. Would you be taking any of those with you? Or -- I'd say or know where to get them, but the strongest likelihood is that there won't be anywhere to get them on most of the worlds you'll be visiting. And that's if all you catch is a cold -- Ba, do you have any idea --"

He stops. Makes himself stop. And breathe.

"... perhaps I don't."

There's something cautious about the way he says that, something that matches the concern that's visible as he looks at his son.

His next words make it clear that his alarm's not for himself.

"Simon. Ni meí shì bà?"

For a moment the impulse is to snap back, to say don't turn this on me -- but something else, something colder, notices that his father's suddenly taking this seriously.

And says: use that.

Quietly: "Have you ever heard of a Rim disease called the damp-lung?"

He shakes his head.

"I can't say that I have, no."

"It's usually a children's disease." Calm, now. "Wash and Zoe's daughter Naomi came down with it a few months ago, after a routine cargo pickup. The standard broad-spectrum inoculation didn't catch it. I spent most of that weekend on Serenity with her, just in case, but she recovered quite nicely."

A long beat.

"It took me considerably longer."

The scar on his face stands out against his sudden pallor as he stares at Simon.

"... how much longer?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continues,

"You're all right now, though?"

"Close to half a month. And I'm all right now, yes."

A beat.

"It turns out that the damp-lung is children's pneumonic bronchiolitis. Which I caught despite having been vaccinated as a child."

Gabriel sits back in his chair and studies him.

"I wasn't aware vaccinations wore off."

His color is slowly returning, as the shock of hearing about his son's illness fades.

"It's more that it wasn't a very effective vaccination to begin with. The strain's subtly different, but the vaccine hasn't been updated in years because nobody in the Core's caught it. And there are illnesses out on the Rim that no one's ever developed a vaccine for in the first place, a thousand little local variations...."

A breath.

"Dad, do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Silence, for one beat; two.

He meets Simon's gaze with a steady one of his own.

"Go ahead and say it," Gabriel says, quietly. "Let's have it clear."

Simon doesn't look away.

"I'm half your age and in very good physical condition, and I could have died." Quiet, and blunt. "Your own doctor's told you just how high the risk to your life is. He isn't exaggerating."