Gabriel had never had a good impression about politics and business in general. His upbringing had made him anything [i]but[/i] an idealist, him having been a witness to some of the worst states of living by national standards. It was one thing to make big promises on television, but another to actually fulfill them. Politics was a game; that was all it was. And really, he wondered at what point was the line actually drawn between having power and using it reasonably, and abusing that power. Life wasn't a pretty picture, and he knew that enough not to strive towards the "ultimate ideal" of anything. Because ideals didn't actually exist. The phrase "reality bites" could've very well been his personal mantra, because he knew that as much as a man wanted to help others, he also had to look out for himself. 

And in that way, he could tell that he and James were complete opposites. His resident seemed to have a very positive impression of the world. Gabe supposed it was good he did, because that way he had a constant source of happiness, even if that happiness stemmed from partial ignorance. This hospital might've seemed the epitome of a respectable medical institution, but Gabe knew better. He knew that beyond the shiny devices and immaculate walls, there was an underbelly. Here, they were a closer "family" than they seemed, and there was a time when the uninitiated would finally learn how things worked around here. Having James assist on the transplant was only the first test. 

Elizabeth Charles was an unfortunate case, yes, but sometimes unfortunate things had to happen so other people could benefit. It was the circle of life. And besides, Gabriel wasn't the key player in anything; he'd merely participated due to the benefits [i]he'd[/i] receive, and he was far from the type to mastermind anything. No. He was a survivor, and that was all it mattered. People didn't get where they were just by sitting back and being nice to anyone. And if doctors were meant to be leaders in the fields of love and charity, then they were better off working [i]pro bono[/i] overseas rather than in the city, getting paid at borderline insane levels. In the end, people still wanted financial compensation for their time, instead of just that proverbial "satisfaction" one supposedly received from doing a good deed.

"Yes, check to see if the paperwork's been cleared." Gabriel nodded, waving a dismissive hand as he returned his attention to the chart and to Mrs. Cassidy.

---

Elizabeth Charles was as pale as a ghost, a figure swathed in bandages with spots of congealed blood staining her face, her eyes bruised. Beside her, the ECG indicated she was still alive, but the doctors had already informed her husband that she was as good as gone. Robert Charles was the figure of grief as he sat hunched at her bedside, hands forming a steeple beneath his chin. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and it was probably true. When he heard footsteps enter the ward, he turned, barely glancing at the man who'd entered. "They said it was an accident..." His voice was a bare whisper. "But she was always a good driver. I knew she was."