The Mix-Up
Yup, I wrote fanfiction, from the world of the Tomorrow Trilogy by my friend theun4givables. This story is a plot thing I have been wishing would happen for some time, so I made it happen, at least in MY version of events, haha.
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I don't even know what the point of this is. It's been what feels like hours of waiting in this exam room, and the damn nurse hasn't even shown up to draw my blood yet. There's no point to such a thorough exam. At least not with all the genetic testing they're making me do as Emperor. It won't show anything worth seeing; I'm not an NB. I shift uncomfortably on my seat. Let's get this over with, already.
If only Jazz were here. I can think of a much more useful “examination” I'd like to do with him. Too bad they've got him in another room for his exam.
Just then, the nurse finally shows up. I can't help scowling a little.
“Do we really have to do this?” I mutter.
She nods. “Yes, Emperor Savin.”
I sigh and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Christ, this is annoying. I hold out my arm for the nurse to draw the blood. The alcohol swab is cold, and the needle pinches my skin. You would think they would invent a painless needle by now. I could draw blood better than that, though. Not that I should even need to do this.
As I watch the nurse pointlessly collect vials of my blood, I console myself by thinking of Jazz. Maybe he'll want to “play doctor” when we're done.
* * *
It may be one in the afternoon already, but I just got off an eighteen hour surgery. It did not fucking go well. One of the other doctors nearly killed the patient. Christ, I just want to get my damn genetic testing results. And some sleep.
That lab better be open. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I walk down the hallway. Pretty quiet in this area for the middle of the day. I hope that doesn't mean something went wrong. I could not handle that right now. If I have to do the testing over again...
Door to the lab is closed. I knock, not wanting to deal with this shit. A twitchy lab tech opens it. He won't meet my eyes. I glare at him over the top of my glasses.
“Y-yes, Emperor Savin?” he stammers.
“Do you have my genetic test results?” I demand.
The tech nods, still avoiding my eyes. “I have them, sir.” He reaches for something at his workstation. It's an envelope. He hands the damn thing to me.
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose yet again and rip the envelope open. Quickly, I unfold the paper inside. I start reading. So far, everything looks normal. Christ, was this pointless. I'm about to toss the thing in the trash right in front of the tech when something catches my eye.
This paper says I have the Factor.
That can't be right, I think. I look at the paper again. It may say I have the Factor, but I know full well I don't have it. I can't have it; I'm not an NB. It must be the damn lab's fault. I decide there was some kind of error. No other rational explanation exists. And I know how it happened. Jazz is an NB; he would have the Factor. The lab must have somehow confused his results for mine.
I push my glass up the bridge of my nose. Christ, why did this bullshit have to happen? There's one easy way to clear this up, at least. I need to go find Jazz. He must have my results. Without another word or so much as a glance at the tech, I pivot on my heel and stride out of the lab. I nod at a passing surgeon who greets me with a “Good afternoon, Dr. Bates” and hope I don't run into anyone who wants to have an actual conversation.
Luckily, nobody else tries to talk to me. Seeing as it's midday, I decide to head towards the Council room. Jazz should be there to help me clear this up. Walking briskly, I make my way to the room; it's not long before I arrive. The door is closed but not locked, so I open it. Jazz is there, leafing through a large stack of papers. He turns to look at me, face strangely concerned.
“Savin?”
I walk over to him and stand next to his chair, leaning over the table.
My voice is calm when I ask, “Jazz, did you get your genetic test results yet?”
Christ, what if the lab still has them?
Jazz says, “Yeah, they're right here” and gestures at his paper.
“Let me see them.” Without asking, I grab the paper and scan it.
“What's going on?” he wonders.
I mutter, “Just a lab mix-up.”
“Mix-up how? Mine is perfectly normal for me.”
I ignore that and continue reading Jazz's test results.
They say he also has the Factor.
“Damn lab!” I hiss.
Jazz looks at me again, his blue eyes wide even though there's nothing actually wrong. “What did the lab do? Was - was there something in your results?”
I don't even want to say what's in my results because it's such bullshit. “Nothing important,” I answer. “Just going to have to do the testing myself if I want it to come out right. Christ.”
Before Jazz has a chance to snatch my results from me and make a big deal out of nothing, I turn to leave. “I have to go,” I mutter.
I stuff the results into my lab coat and exit the Council room as quickly as is reasonable. Now, I have to find Mari and get her to help me run these tests. I certainly can't trust the normal doctors and lab techs not to make a mess of things. I hope she's in the doctors' lounge.
Mari's there, reading over a medical textbook and drinking coffee. She glances up and sees me. Instantly, there's a strange expression on her face that's not quite outright disdain. I don't have time to play games with her.
She asks, “Is there some kind of emergency?”
I pause, thinking on my words. It's essential she doesn't suspect why I'm really here. I don't need issues over what is just a petty mix-up. “There's no emergency, but, Dr. Hadley, I need your help with something.”
Mari scoffs, “Oh, you need my help with something personal? Sorry, I'm busy.” She picks up her mug and sips from it, pointedly looking away from me.
Christ, I don't have time for this. “Mari, this - this is important.”
At the mention of her name, she turns back to look at me. She puts her mug down. After a long, tense pause, she wonders, “And what exactly do you need my help with, Savin?”
I meet her eyes. “I want you to help me draw blood and run my genetic testing again.”
Maybe she won't even ask me why I want to run it again?
Of course not. “And why do you need to do it again?”
I walk over to where she's sitting and place a hand on her shoulder. “The lab messed it up. Mari, you're the only doctor here I trust to do it right.” Personal problems aside, I know she won't cause the testing to give me results that aren't true.
At the touch, her eyes go the slightest bit wide. She seems to think on it for a moment. I realize I still have my hand on her shoulder, though I don't take it off.
Finally, Mari says, “Alright, I'll help you.”
Then, I remove my hand. We head to an examination room in silence, tensely walking side-by-side. Once there, I sit down on the exam table and look anywhere but at Mari. Christ, this is uncomfortable.
“So, how have you been?” I offer.
“Not as happy as you've obviously been with Jazz,” she mutters.
I don't bother answering that. Right now, I really don't want to deal with our personal issues. I hold out my arm for her to swab. Like last time, the alcohol is still cold and the needle still hurts. At least this time I have a competent doctor who won't screw up the results.
Right as Mari finishes up, she says, “My pager's going off. I have to go,”
I don't look at her as she leaves. I'll have to run these results by myself, so I gather everything and find an unoccupied lab. Thankfully, one's open, and I immediately start running the vials through the machines. We have the best equipment here, so it shouldn't take long. How the doctors and techs could have been so incompetent as to get me the result I originally had, I don't know.
Once everything's done, the machine prints out a sheet of paper with my real results on it. I snatch it as soon as it's ready and start reading.
It still says I have the Factor.
It still says I have the Factor.
This - this can't be real! This can't be real! My chest tightens. Breathing becomes difficult. I grab the back of a chair to steady myself. This - this is wrong. Not just wrong - impossible! I must be dreaming. After all, I have been awake for over twenty four hours. When I wake up next, my head will be clearer. I'll be able to see the results properly, and they - they won't say I have the Factor. Only Natural Borns have that, and I am not an NB!
In a daze, I head back to my room. Christ, I cannot wait for this fucking mess to be over when I wake up. After I get home, I put my results on my nightstand and shrug out of my clothes. I fall asleep almost instantly. My last thought before I pass out is of how the results will look completely normal in the morning.
After a night of poor sleep, I wake up. My results still sit on my nightstand, exactly where I left them. I take a deep breath. Everything should be okay now, I tell myself. I pick up the paper and read it.
It still says I have the Factor.
I - I fucking can't. I try to convince myself there's no way it's right, but I did the the tests myself. I was there when they ran! I was fucking there!
Unfortunately, I don't have much time to even worry about it, as there's an early Council meeting today. How I am supposed to fucking concentrate when, when - I can't even fucking think it. Barely able to breathe, I shower and change into clean clothes. I wear my lab coat because I have a shift starting soon after the meeting. Before that shift, though, I plan to confront my father. That bastard, he - he hid this from me!
During the Council meeting, I can barely fucking stay upright. Deep breathing does little to calm me as I think about what that bastard did. Jazz looks at me with concern, but I avoid his gaze. I don't want to fucking think about this. I - I just can't take it.
As soon as the meeting's over, I rush out of there without so much as saying goodbye to anybody. I need to fucking find my father. That bastard! I storm into the Palace Hospital, hoping it doesn't take me long to reach him. It doesn't; he's in the on-call room, and he doesn't look happy to see me. Well, that's fine. I'm not exactly happy to see the asshole, either.
“Savin, unless this is important - “
“I'd say you never telling me I'm a fucking Natural Born is kinda fucking important.”
“Are you really going to bring this up now?” he asks.
“Yes, I am going to fucking bring this up now!” I shout. “It's not like I could have been killed or anything!” I'm shaking with anger. How could he keep this from me?
My father replies mildly, “Savin, you're not in any danger now that the laws have been repealed.”
“But I was! Why keep it from me in the first place?” I retort.
“It was easier to keep you safe if you didn't know,” he answers.
“That doesn't explain when you never told me after the laws were repealed!” I shout.
My father says, “It just didn't seem so important after that. Anyway, my pager is going off. I have to go now.”
Before I can even protest, he leaves. I'm left standing there, dumbfounded, when my pager goes off. Numbly, I head to the nurses' station. I better get myself in gear for my shift, but I don't fucking know if I can.
I know I can't keep it together when I get to the nurses' station and see who paged me. It's Jazz. And he's holding the paper with my test results on it.
Leaving me no time to react, he grabs me and says, “We need to talk.” Jazz moves with such force I have no fucking choice but to follow him, though I do not want to talk. Not about this.
He leads me to the on-call room and pulls me inside. Only then does he let me go. Jazz is still holding the damn test results he shouldn't even have. He looks at me. My chest hurts, and I find it hard to breathe. I don't want to break down, not now. But he shouldn't have found out!
I say, “You - you weren't supposed to see those.”
Jazz raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because I didn't want you to find out that I - ” I can't even finish that sentence.
He finishes it for me. “That you were a Natural Born? Like me?”
I avoid his eyes, though I can feel them on me. Turning away from Jazz, I stare at the ceiling. I take deep breaths, forcing the air in and out until I'm somewhat calmer and my chest doesn't feel quite so tight.
“You were never going to tell me?” he asks. Jazz sounds so hurt.
Not being capable of words, I shake my head.
“Look at me,” he says.
My chest tightens again. I don't want to look at him right now. It's not up to me, though, because Jazz walks over, grabs my chin and forces me to look. His eyes stare directly into mine. I can feel my hands start to shake.
“It's not some huge secret you have to keep, Savin. Not anymore.” Jazz speaks softly and gently, almost in a whisper.
I don't have a chance to say anything else because he leans in and kisses me. My eyes fly open. I close them, but as soon as I do, he breaks the kiss. Jazz pulls me close. I embrace him in turn.
Though my hands still shake, I find my voice. “I - I didn't know. Not until I got my results.”
He says, “That can't have been easy, but, you know, it's okay to be Natural Born. And it doesn't change how I think of you. It's okay. Really, it is.”
Maybe it is okay after all.
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written for 500themes prompt #91 - "Shard of Honor"
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I don't even know what the point of this is. It's been what feels like hours of waiting in this exam room, and the damn nurse hasn't even shown up to draw my blood yet. There's no point to such a thorough exam. At least not with all the genetic testing they're making me do as Emperor. It won't show anything worth seeing; I'm not an NB. I shift uncomfortably on my seat. Let's get this over with, already.
If only Jazz were here. I can think of a much more useful “examination” I'd like to do with him. Too bad they've got him in another room for his exam.
Just then, the nurse finally shows up. I can't help scowling a little.
“Do we really have to do this?” I mutter.
She nods. “Yes, Emperor Savin.”
I sigh and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Christ, this is annoying. I hold out my arm for the nurse to draw the blood. The alcohol swab is cold, and the needle pinches my skin. You would think they would invent a painless needle by now. I could draw blood better than that, though. Not that I should even need to do this.
As I watch the nurse pointlessly collect vials of my blood, I console myself by thinking of Jazz. Maybe he'll want to “play doctor” when we're done.
* * *
It may be one in the afternoon already, but I just got off an eighteen hour surgery. It did not fucking go well. One of the other doctors nearly killed the patient. Christ, I just want to get my damn genetic testing results. And some sleep.
That lab better be open. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I walk down the hallway. Pretty quiet in this area for the middle of the day. I hope that doesn't mean something went wrong. I could not handle that right now. If I have to do the testing over again...
Door to the lab is closed. I knock, not wanting to deal with this shit. A twitchy lab tech opens it. He won't meet my eyes. I glare at him over the top of my glasses.
“Y-yes, Emperor Savin?” he stammers.
“Do you have my genetic test results?” I demand.
The tech nods, still avoiding my eyes. “I have them, sir.” He reaches for something at his workstation. It's an envelope. He hands the damn thing to me.
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose yet again and rip the envelope open. Quickly, I unfold the paper inside. I start reading. So far, everything looks normal. Christ, was this pointless. I'm about to toss the thing in the trash right in front of the tech when something catches my eye.
This paper says I have the Factor.
That can't be right, I think. I look at the paper again. It may say I have the Factor, but I know full well I don't have it. I can't have it; I'm not an NB. It must be the damn lab's fault. I decide there was some kind of error. No other rational explanation exists. And I know how it happened. Jazz is an NB; he would have the Factor. The lab must have somehow confused his results for mine.
I push my glass up the bridge of my nose. Christ, why did this bullshit have to happen? There's one easy way to clear this up, at least. I need to go find Jazz. He must have my results. Without another word or so much as a glance at the tech, I pivot on my heel and stride out of the lab. I nod at a passing surgeon who greets me with a “Good afternoon, Dr. Bates” and hope I don't run into anyone who wants to have an actual conversation.
Luckily, nobody else tries to talk to me. Seeing as it's midday, I decide to head towards the Council room. Jazz should be there to help me clear this up. Walking briskly, I make my way to the room; it's not long before I arrive. The door is closed but not locked, so I open it. Jazz is there, leafing through a large stack of papers. He turns to look at me, face strangely concerned.
“Savin?”
I walk over to him and stand next to his chair, leaning over the table.
My voice is calm when I ask, “Jazz, did you get your genetic test results yet?”
Christ, what if the lab still has them?
Jazz says, “Yeah, they're right here” and gestures at his paper.
“Let me see them.” Without asking, I grab the paper and scan it.
“What's going on?” he wonders.
I mutter, “Just a lab mix-up.”
“Mix-up how? Mine is perfectly normal for me.”
I ignore that and continue reading Jazz's test results.
They say he also has the Factor.
“Damn lab!” I hiss.
Jazz looks at me again, his blue eyes wide even though there's nothing actually wrong. “What did the lab do? Was - was there something in your results?”
I don't even want to say what's in my results because it's such bullshit. “Nothing important,” I answer. “Just going to have to do the testing myself if I want it to come out right. Christ.”
Before Jazz has a chance to snatch my results from me and make a big deal out of nothing, I turn to leave. “I have to go,” I mutter.
I stuff the results into my lab coat and exit the Council room as quickly as is reasonable. Now, I have to find Mari and get her to help me run these tests. I certainly can't trust the normal doctors and lab techs not to make a mess of things. I hope she's in the doctors' lounge.
Mari's there, reading over a medical textbook and drinking coffee. She glances up and sees me. Instantly, there's a strange expression on her face that's not quite outright disdain. I don't have time to play games with her.
She asks, “Is there some kind of emergency?”
I pause, thinking on my words. It's essential she doesn't suspect why I'm really here. I don't need issues over what is just a petty mix-up. “There's no emergency, but, Dr. Hadley, I need your help with something.”
Mari scoffs, “Oh, you need my help with something personal? Sorry, I'm busy.” She picks up her mug and sips from it, pointedly looking away from me.
Christ, I don't have time for this. “Mari, this - this is important.”
At the mention of her name, she turns back to look at me. She puts her mug down. After a long, tense pause, she wonders, “And what exactly do you need my help with, Savin?”
I meet her eyes. “I want you to help me draw blood and run my genetic testing again.”
Maybe she won't even ask me why I want to run it again?
Of course not. “And why do you need to do it again?”
I walk over to where she's sitting and place a hand on her shoulder. “The lab messed it up. Mari, you're the only doctor here I trust to do it right.” Personal problems aside, I know she won't cause the testing to give me results that aren't true.
At the touch, her eyes go the slightest bit wide. She seems to think on it for a moment. I realize I still have my hand on her shoulder, though I don't take it off.
Finally, Mari says, “Alright, I'll help you.”
Then, I remove my hand. We head to an examination room in silence, tensely walking side-by-side. Once there, I sit down on the exam table and look anywhere but at Mari. Christ, this is uncomfortable.
“So, how have you been?” I offer.
“Not as happy as you've obviously been with Jazz,” she mutters.
I don't bother answering that. Right now, I really don't want to deal with our personal issues. I hold out my arm for her to swab. Like last time, the alcohol is still cold and the needle still hurts. At least this time I have a competent doctor who won't screw up the results.
Right as Mari finishes up, she says, “My pager's going off. I have to go,”
I don't look at her as she leaves. I'll have to run these results by myself, so I gather everything and find an unoccupied lab. Thankfully, one's open, and I immediately start running the vials through the machines. We have the best equipment here, so it shouldn't take long. How the doctors and techs could have been so incompetent as to get me the result I originally had, I don't know.
Once everything's done, the machine prints out a sheet of paper with my real results on it. I snatch it as soon as it's ready and start reading.
It still says I have the Factor.
It still says I have the Factor.
This - this can't be real! This can't be real! My chest tightens. Breathing becomes difficult. I grab the back of a chair to steady myself. This - this is wrong. Not just wrong - impossible! I must be dreaming. After all, I have been awake for over twenty four hours. When I wake up next, my head will be clearer. I'll be able to see the results properly, and they - they won't say I have the Factor. Only Natural Borns have that, and I am not an NB!
In a daze, I head back to my room. Christ, I cannot wait for this fucking mess to be over when I wake up. After I get home, I put my results on my nightstand and shrug out of my clothes. I fall asleep almost instantly. My last thought before I pass out is of how the results will look completely normal in the morning.
After a night of poor sleep, I wake up. My results still sit on my nightstand, exactly where I left them. I take a deep breath. Everything should be okay now, I tell myself. I pick up the paper and read it.
It still says I have the Factor.
I - I fucking can't. I try to convince myself there's no way it's right, but I did the the tests myself. I was there when they ran! I was fucking there!
Unfortunately, I don't have much time to even worry about it, as there's an early Council meeting today. How I am supposed to fucking concentrate when, when - I can't even fucking think it. Barely able to breathe, I shower and change into clean clothes. I wear my lab coat because I have a shift starting soon after the meeting. Before that shift, though, I plan to confront my father. That bastard, he - he hid this from me!
During the Council meeting, I can barely fucking stay upright. Deep breathing does little to calm me as I think about what that bastard did. Jazz looks at me with concern, but I avoid his gaze. I don't want to fucking think about this. I - I just can't take it.
As soon as the meeting's over, I rush out of there without so much as saying goodbye to anybody. I need to fucking find my father. That bastard! I storm into the Palace Hospital, hoping it doesn't take me long to reach him. It doesn't; he's in the on-call room, and he doesn't look happy to see me. Well, that's fine. I'm not exactly happy to see the asshole, either.
“Savin, unless this is important - “
“I'd say you never telling me I'm a fucking Natural Born is kinda fucking important.”
“Are you really going to bring this up now?” he asks.
“Yes, I am going to fucking bring this up now!” I shout. “It's not like I could have been killed or anything!” I'm shaking with anger. How could he keep this from me?
My father replies mildly, “Savin, you're not in any danger now that the laws have been repealed.”
“But I was! Why keep it from me in the first place?” I retort.
“It was easier to keep you safe if you didn't know,” he answers.
“That doesn't explain when you never told me after the laws were repealed!” I shout.
My father says, “It just didn't seem so important after that. Anyway, my pager is going off. I have to go now.”
Before I can even protest, he leaves. I'm left standing there, dumbfounded, when my pager goes off. Numbly, I head to the nurses' station. I better get myself in gear for my shift, but I don't fucking know if I can.
I know I can't keep it together when I get to the nurses' station and see who paged me. It's Jazz. And he's holding the paper with my test results on it.
Leaving me no time to react, he grabs me and says, “We need to talk.” Jazz moves with such force I have no fucking choice but to follow him, though I do not want to talk. Not about this.
He leads me to the on-call room and pulls me inside. Only then does he let me go. Jazz is still holding the damn test results he shouldn't even have. He looks at me. My chest hurts, and I find it hard to breathe. I don't want to break down, not now. But he shouldn't have found out!
I say, “You - you weren't supposed to see those.”
Jazz raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because I didn't want you to find out that I - ” I can't even finish that sentence.
He finishes it for me. “That you were a Natural Born? Like me?”
I avoid his eyes, though I can feel them on me. Turning away from Jazz, I stare at the ceiling. I take deep breaths, forcing the air in and out until I'm somewhat calmer and my chest doesn't feel quite so tight.
“You were never going to tell me?” he asks. Jazz sounds so hurt.
Not being capable of words, I shake my head.
“Look at me,” he says.
My chest tightens again. I don't want to look at him right now. It's not up to me, though, because Jazz walks over, grabs my chin and forces me to look. His eyes stare directly into mine. I can feel my hands start to shake.
“It's not some huge secret you have to keep, Savin. Not anymore.” Jazz speaks softly and gently, almost in a whisper.
I don't have a chance to say anything else because he leans in and kisses me. My eyes fly open. I close them, but as soon as I do, he breaks the kiss. Jazz pulls me close. I embrace him in turn.
Though my hands still shake, I find my voice. “I - I didn't know. Not until I got my results.”
He says, “That can't have been easy, but, you know, it's okay to be Natural Born. And it doesn't change how I think of you. It's okay. Really, it is.”
Maybe it is okay after all.
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written for 500themes prompt #91 - "Shard of Honor"