Gray Morning -- Chapter ?? #3
Ah, here we go. Mitchel being...well, his glorious, Magnificent-bastardy self. I love it. You love it. Everyone loves it. Now read it. ;)
Chapter ?, Chapter ??
Ravi had been a man of his word. Savin stumbled inside his own apartment, his body begging for some time to sit and relax and do nothing, and found a number scrawled on a small piece of paper by the front door. The single letter R underneath the number could only mean it belonged to Ravi, right?
Savin shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up on its hook before removing his keys from his pocket. He’d call Ravi later. Right now he wanted nothing more than to take a brief nap and a shower, though not necessarily in that order. As he made sure to lock the door this time, he began shedding himself free of his scrubs and headed towards the bathroom.
He moved on autopilot, running the water and deciding that, for once, he’d take a bath instead. His legs ached too much from standing on his feet for twelve hours at a time. As he settled into the tub, he closed his eyes and let the warm water overtake him, soothing him and easing some of the pain throughout his body.
How long could he go on like this? The pain would only get worse, he knew. He needed to start treatment sooner rather than later, if he was beginning to feel the pain in his hands, too. At least, that’s what Jazz would tell him to do. No amount of anti-inflammatories kept the pain to a minimum, that day, and he wasn’t exactly ready to give up his career because of pain.
Savin scoffed to himself, opening his eyes and glancing around his pristine bathroom. He should have listened to Jazz, months ago. Should have just gone to the doctors himself instead of fighting it like he had. If he had gone sooner -- if he hadn’t struggled against the idea that he might actually be sick and that this wasn’t the normal aches and pains caused by growing older...
He shook his head. There was no point in beating himself up for past mistakes. The important part was that he had a diagnosis, now. That he had a doctor he could go to in order to discuss further treatment of his disorder, should he feel it necessary. And with his hands causing him so much pain during surgery -- it was time.
He didn’t need to be thinking about Jazz, either. When was the last time he had spoken to him? When did he last check on the younger man to make sure that the stress of running the Empire wasn’t getting to be too much? Maybe Savin should call him, just to see how he was doing.
Maybe Savin could arrange a meeting between Jazz and Ravi. Let the two of them catch up and have some time to themselves. As much as that thought made his heart ache, Savin knew it would mean the world to them both, especially since in just a few more days, both of their lives would be in danger all over again.
Just who the hell was M, anyway? According to Ravi, no one had ever seen the man. Anyone who was within the Resistance’s spy network only received typewritten messages from him. All with the same, one letter signature, and the instructions were always short and concise. The man seemed to have eyes everywhere.
Savin dunked his head under the water, holding his breath as he ran each little detail Ravi knew about the mysterious man through his head. Why just the initial? What did the man have to hide? It was obvious he was pulling the strings -- and according to Ravi, no one in the Resistance received orders to kill Jazz until he disappeared from the --
“Mitchel!” Savin gasped as he pushed himself back above the water, clamoring out of the tub and pulling the plug. His pain was all but forgotten as he scrambled towards the living room. Ravi. He had to call Ravi and let him know, so they could start forming a plan.
It had to be Mitchel, he thought to himself as he snatched up Ravi’s number. He glanced around for his phone, groaning as he realized he had left it in his scrubs’ pocket. Just as Savin began making his way back towards the bathroom, someone knocked on his door.
Savin paused. That knock sounded different from the rapid-fire set of knocks Mitchel unleashed on his door yesterday. Maybe if he just ignored it --
“Doc, I know you’re in there!” Ravi’s voice called through the door. “Open the goddamn door, will ya?”
“Give me a minute!” Savin said back, his hand reaching for his towel to hike it back up his waist. Except he wasn’t wearing one. He dashed back towards his bedroom, snatching a pair of jeans off his floor and slipping them on over his legs as he made his way back towards the front door. “Sorry, I was in the middle of a bath when --”
Savin stopped mid-sentence, his throat closing in on itself as he saw Mitchel standing just behind Ravi. Something about Ravi’s body language unsettled him. His back was stiff, his shoulders thrown back in defiance.
“I see the two of you are acquainted, after all, Dr. Bates,” Mitchel murmured as he all but shoved Ravi inside the apartment. Savin had no choice but to step aside and let the both of them in. “It would be in your best interest not to lie to me, from here on out.”
Savin narrowed his eyes at Mitchel. “I didn’t lie -- I told you last night you would have to tell me what the ‘dangerous looking man’ looked like in order for me to give you an answer,” he said , crossing his arms over his bare chest. He caught the glint of something metallic in Mitchel’s hand -- the one that seemed almost pressed against the small of Ravi’s back.
Mitchel smirked, moving his hand away from Ravi’s back. Ravi’s shoulders relaxed, somewhat, and he moved away from Mitchel and stood beside Savin. “Learning the art of answering a question without truly answering it, hm?” Mitchel asked. That metallic glint Savin had seen moments ago revealed itself to be a pistol, one Mitchel then carefully stashed away within his suit. “You’d have made a good lawyer, Bates.”
“Bite me, Mitchel,” Savin snapped. “What do you want?”
“I want to know how the two of you came to know each other,” Mitchel said, tugging on his suit jacket in order to smooth it out. “Tell me, Savin, why are you acquaintances with a Resistance spy?”
Savin blinked and unfolded his arms from over his chest. He glanced at Ravi, whose expression remained neutral at that point. On impulse, he moved closer to Ravi, wrapping an arm around the taller man’s waist. He could feel Ravi tense under his touch. “He’s my boyfriend -- and how the hell would you know he’s part of the Resistance?” he countered, narrowing his eyes at Mitchel.
Mitchel scoffed. “Like I would believe the two of you are dating?” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “I am not Callahan, Bates. I know when you’re lying to me -- not to mention that Mr. Diehl is clearly not your type.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Mitchel,” Savin pressed, removing his arm from around Ravi’s waist. “How do you know that Ravi’s Resistance?”
Mitchel placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. “You mean to tell me you haven’t figured that out already?”
“You’re M. Mastermind behind the Resistance,” Savin said, lifting his chin and throwing back his shoulders.
“Very good,” Mitchel said, taking a few steps towards Savin’s couch. He leaned against the back of it, holding himself up with his hands as he crossed one leg over the other. Savin saw Ravi’s eyes narrow as the taller man moved in closer to Mitchel. “Ah ah ah, Mr. Diehl -- I wouldn’t bother trying to overpower me now. I do have a gun, remember?”
“It ain’t like it’d be hard disarming you ‘fore you could use it,” Ravi growled, hitting his palm with his fist. Savin heard him crack his knuckles.
“And then what would you do, Mr. Diehl? Give me to the authorities?” Mitchel quipped, smirking at him. He tilted his head to the side. “Or would you, perhaps, attempt to murder me, instead, in an effort to protect your precious ‘Blue Eyes’?”
Savin’s blood ran cold. “My apartment’s been bugged,” he whispered, glancing around the living room for any sign of anything moved out of place. “How long has my apartment been bugged?” he demanded, stalking over to Mitchel.
“Those moving men you hired planted a few for me, when you were moving out of the Palace,” Mitchel said, a thin smile stretching itself across his lips. “I had to keep an eye on you, after all. You were the only person in the Palace who didn’t trust me implicitly.”
Savin’s jaw fell open as his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I’m sure you bugged Jazz’s quarters, too, before you moved out of them --”
“Of course,” Mitchel answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “However, those haven’t yielded nearly as much information as the ones in your apartment -- Jasper seems to take his vow not to discuss work at home very seriously.” Mitchel frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “He won’t even discuss work with Councilor Smith.”
Mitchel then pushed himself away from Savin’s couch and moved closer to him. He stood directly in front of him, that insufferable smirk ever present on his face. “Though, he apparently misses you,” he said, his smirk turning into a grin. “Both of you, in fact,” he continued as he turned to Ravi. There was something to his tone -- something that made Savin tense. “If only he knew that his past lovers were planning to murder his most trusted advisor.”
Mitchel pivoted on his heel, making his way towards Savin’s apartment door. “Of course, should either one of you make an attempt on my life while Jasper is still alive, I will inform him that the two of you have been meeting in secret, and I will make it sound as though your intended target was him, and not me. After all, who is he going to believe? His jilted lovers -- or the man who’s been by his side since the very beginning of his political career?”
Without so much as a backwards glance to Ravi and Savin, Mitchel swung the apartment door open. As the door shut quietly behind him, Savin unclenched his jaw and unfurled his hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled a few choice curses under his breath.
“Guess you were right not to trust ‘im,” Ravi muttered a moment later, crossing his own arms over his chest. “What do we do now?”
“There’s nothing we fucking can do,” Savin hissed, resisting the urge to punch something as his fingers ached from how tightly he had balled them into fists. He turned away from the door and raked his fingers through his hair. “You heard him -- he’s probably already planted evidence to make it look like a botched assassination attempt on the Emperor. And Jazz trusts him, I told you that --”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just you bein’ jealous of the guy. I didn’t think --”
“I know,” Savin said, cutting Ravi off. He pursed his lips together in thought, shaking his head. “Mitchel and Jazz -- they do have a history, but --” He sighed, cutting himself off as he collapsed into his chair. “He made me believe I was a fucking monster. That I didn’t -- deserve Jazz, that I --” He paused, biting his lip and putting his head in his hands. “If I hadn’t let Mitchel get inside my head, we wouldn’t even be in this position, right now. Jazz never would have left, and --”
“He and I woulda never met,” Ravi finished for him, taking his usual seat on the couch. “Which -- hate to break it to you, Doc, but -- I don’t think that woulda mattered much. If I hadn’t met Blue, I would’ve just done the damn job, no questions asked.”
“That doesn’t mean you would have been successful at it,” Savin murmured, lifting his head from his hands. “Jazz is the goddamn Emperor. It’s not like it’s exactly easy to kill him.”
Ravi crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged one shoulder. “I ain’t a regular assassin, neither. Got the reputation I’ve got for a reason, y’know?” he said, frowning to himself. He then pushed himself off the couch and pulled his pack of cigarettes out from his pocket. “Wanna join me?”
Savin looked up at him for a moment, studying Ravi’s face. He then dropped his eyes to the ground and nodded his head. “Yeah, give me a minute to actually get dressed, and I’ll be right out.”
“You know where to find me when you’re ready,” Ravi said, slipping an unlit cigarette between his lips. He then headed out the door, just like Mitchel had only moments earlier.
How the hell were they going to plan anything, when Mitchel was likely watching their every move? Sighing, Savin pushed himself out of his chair and made his way slowly to his bedroom, every bit of pain from earlier flaring back up as he walked.
At the very least, they couldn’t talk in Savin’s apartment anymore. Or anywhere around it, really. Mitchel would know, otherwise.
And if they were going to win against him, they couldn’t keep playing into his hands.
Chapter ?, Chapter ??
Ravi had been a man of his word. Savin stumbled inside his own apartment, his body begging for some time to sit and relax and do nothing, and found a number scrawled on a small piece of paper by the front door. The single letter R underneath the number could only mean it belonged to Ravi, right?
Savin shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up on its hook before removing his keys from his pocket. He’d call Ravi later. Right now he wanted nothing more than to take a brief nap and a shower, though not necessarily in that order. As he made sure to lock the door this time, he began shedding himself free of his scrubs and headed towards the bathroom.
He moved on autopilot, running the water and deciding that, for once, he’d take a bath instead. His legs ached too much from standing on his feet for twelve hours at a time. As he settled into the tub, he closed his eyes and let the warm water overtake him, soothing him and easing some of the pain throughout his body.
How long could he go on like this? The pain would only get worse, he knew. He needed to start treatment sooner rather than later, if he was beginning to feel the pain in his hands, too. At least, that’s what Jazz would tell him to do. No amount of anti-inflammatories kept the pain to a minimum, that day, and he wasn’t exactly ready to give up his career because of pain.
Savin scoffed to himself, opening his eyes and glancing around his pristine bathroom. He should have listened to Jazz, months ago. Should have just gone to the doctors himself instead of fighting it like he had. If he had gone sooner -- if he hadn’t struggled against the idea that he might actually be sick and that this wasn’t the normal aches and pains caused by growing older...
He shook his head. There was no point in beating himself up for past mistakes. The important part was that he had a diagnosis, now. That he had a doctor he could go to in order to discuss further treatment of his disorder, should he feel it necessary. And with his hands causing him so much pain during surgery -- it was time.
He didn’t need to be thinking about Jazz, either. When was the last time he had spoken to him? When did he last check on the younger man to make sure that the stress of running the Empire wasn’t getting to be too much? Maybe Savin should call him, just to see how he was doing.
Maybe Savin could arrange a meeting between Jazz and Ravi. Let the two of them catch up and have some time to themselves. As much as that thought made his heart ache, Savin knew it would mean the world to them both, especially since in just a few more days, both of their lives would be in danger all over again.
Just who the hell was M, anyway? According to Ravi, no one had ever seen the man. Anyone who was within the Resistance’s spy network only received typewritten messages from him. All with the same, one letter signature, and the instructions were always short and concise. The man seemed to have eyes everywhere.
Savin dunked his head under the water, holding his breath as he ran each little detail Ravi knew about the mysterious man through his head. Why just the initial? What did the man have to hide? It was obvious he was pulling the strings -- and according to Ravi, no one in the Resistance received orders to kill Jazz until he disappeared from the --
“Mitchel!” Savin gasped as he pushed himself back above the water, clamoring out of the tub and pulling the plug. His pain was all but forgotten as he scrambled towards the living room. Ravi. He had to call Ravi and let him know, so they could start forming a plan.
It had to be Mitchel, he thought to himself as he snatched up Ravi’s number. He glanced around for his phone, groaning as he realized he had left it in his scrubs’ pocket. Just as Savin began making his way back towards the bathroom, someone knocked on his door.
Savin paused. That knock sounded different from the rapid-fire set of knocks Mitchel unleashed on his door yesterday. Maybe if he just ignored it --
“Doc, I know you’re in there!” Ravi’s voice called through the door. “Open the goddamn door, will ya?”
“Give me a minute!” Savin said back, his hand reaching for his towel to hike it back up his waist. Except he wasn’t wearing one. He dashed back towards his bedroom, snatching a pair of jeans off his floor and slipping them on over his legs as he made his way back towards the front door. “Sorry, I was in the middle of a bath when --”
Savin stopped mid-sentence, his throat closing in on itself as he saw Mitchel standing just behind Ravi. Something about Ravi’s body language unsettled him. His back was stiff, his shoulders thrown back in defiance.
“I see the two of you are acquainted, after all, Dr. Bates,” Mitchel murmured as he all but shoved Ravi inside the apartment. Savin had no choice but to step aside and let the both of them in. “It would be in your best interest not to lie to me, from here on out.”
Savin narrowed his eyes at Mitchel. “I didn’t lie -- I told you last night you would have to tell me what the ‘dangerous looking man’ looked like in order for me to give you an answer,” he said , crossing his arms over his bare chest. He caught the glint of something metallic in Mitchel’s hand -- the one that seemed almost pressed against the small of Ravi’s back.
Mitchel smirked, moving his hand away from Ravi’s back. Ravi’s shoulders relaxed, somewhat, and he moved away from Mitchel and stood beside Savin. “Learning the art of answering a question without truly answering it, hm?” Mitchel asked. That metallic glint Savin had seen moments ago revealed itself to be a pistol, one Mitchel then carefully stashed away within his suit. “You’d have made a good lawyer, Bates.”
“Bite me, Mitchel,” Savin snapped. “What do you want?”
“I want to know how the two of you came to know each other,” Mitchel said, tugging on his suit jacket in order to smooth it out. “Tell me, Savin, why are you acquaintances with a Resistance spy?”
Savin blinked and unfolded his arms from over his chest. He glanced at Ravi, whose expression remained neutral at that point. On impulse, he moved closer to Ravi, wrapping an arm around the taller man’s waist. He could feel Ravi tense under his touch. “He’s my boyfriend -- and how the hell would you know he’s part of the Resistance?” he countered, narrowing his eyes at Mitchel.
Mitchel scoffed. “Like I would believe the two of you are dating?” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “I am not Callahan, Bates. I know when you’re lying to me -- not to mention that Mr. Diehl is clearly not your type.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Mitchel,” Savin pressed, removing his arm from around Ravi’s waist. “How do you know that Ravi’s Resistance?”
Mitchel placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. “You mean to tell me you haven’t figured that out already?”
“You’re M. Mastermind behind the Resistance,” Savin said, lifting his chin and throwing back his shoulders.
“Very good,” Mitchel said, taking a few steps towards Savin’s couch. He leaned against the back of it, holding himself up with his hands as he crossed one leg over the other. Savin saw Ravi’s eyes narrow as the taller man moved in closer to Mitchel. “Ah ah ah, Mr. Diehl -- I wouldn’t bother trying to overpower me now. I do have a gun, remember?”
“It ain’t like it’d be hard disarming you ‘fore you could use it,” Ravi growled, hitting his palm with his fist. Savin heard him crack his knuckles.
“And then what would you do, Mr. Diehl? Give me to the authorities?” Mitchel quipped, smirking at him. He tilted his head to the side. “Or would you, perhaps, attempt to murder me, instead, in an effort to protect your precious ‘Blue Eyes’?”
Savin’s blood ran cold. “My apartment’s been bugged,” he whispered, glancing around the living room for any sign of anything moved out of place. “How long has my apartment been bugged?” he demanded, stalking over to Mitchel.
“Those moving men you hired planted a few for me, when you were moving out of the Palace,” Mitchel said, a thin smile stretching itself across his lips. “I had to keep an eye on you, after all. You were the only person in the Palace who didn’t trust me implicitly.”
Savin’s jaw fell open as his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I’m sure you bugged Jazz’s quarters, too, before you moved out of them --”
“Of course,” Mitchel answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “However, those haven’t yielded nearly as much information as the ones in your apartment -- Jasper seems to take his vow not to discuss work at home very seriously.” Mitchel frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “He won’t even discuss work with Councilor Smith.”
Mitchel then pushed himself away from Savin’s couch and moved closer to him. He stood directly in front of him, that insufferable smirk ever present on his face. “Though, he apparently misses you,” he said, his smirk turning into a grin. “Both of you, in fact,” he continued as he turned to Ravi. There was something to his tone -- something that made Savin tense. “If only he knew that his past lovers were planning to murder his most trusted advisor.”
Mitchel pivoted on his heel, making his way towards Savin’s apartment door. “Of course, should either one of you make an attempt on my life while Jasper is still alive, I will inform him that the two of you have been meeting in secret, and I will make it sound as though your intended target was him, and not me. After all, who is he going to believe? His jilted lovers -- or the man who’s been by his side since the very beginning of his political career?”
Without so much as a backwards glance to Ravi and Savin, Mitchel swung the apartment door open. As the door shut quietly behind him, Savin unclenched his jaw and unfurled his hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled a few choice curses under his breath.
“Guess you were right not to trust ‘im,” Ravi muttered a moment later, crossing his own arms over his chest. “What do we do now?”
“There’s nothing we fucking can do,” Savin hissed, resisting the urge to punch something as his fingers ached from how tightly he had balled them into fists. He turned away from the door and raked his fingers through his hair. “You heard him -- he’s probably already planted evidence to make it look like a botched assassination attempt on the Emperor. And Jazz trusts him, I told you that --”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just you bein’ jealous of the guy. I didn’t think --”
“I know,” Savin said, cutting Ravi off. He pursed his lips together in thought, shaking his head. “Mitchel and Jazz -- they do have a history, but --” He sighed, cutting himself off as he collapsed into his chair. “He made me believe I was a fucking monster. That I didn’t -- deserve Jazz, that I --” He paused, biting his lip and putting his head in his hands. “If I hadn’t let Mitchel get inside my head, we wouldn’t even be in this position, right now. Jazz never would have left, and --”
“He and I woulda never met,” Ravi finished for him, taking his usual seat on the couch. “Which -- hate to break it to you, Doc, but -- I don’t think that woulda mattered much. If I hadn’t met Blue, I would’ve just done the damn job, no questions asked.”
“That doesn’t mean you would have been successful at it,” Savin murmured, lifting his head from his hands. “Jazz is the goddamn Emperor. It’s not like it’s exactly easy to kill him.”
Ravi crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged one shoulder. “I ain’t a regular assassin, neither. Got the reputation I’ve got for a reason, y’know?” he said, frowning to himself. He then pushed himself off the couch and pulled his pack of cigarettes out from his pocket. “Wanna join me?”
Savin looked up at him for a moment, studying Ravi’s face. He then dropped his eyes to the ground and nodded his head. “Yeah, give me a minute to actually get dressed, and I’ll be right out.”
“You know where to find me when you’re ready,” Ravi said, slipping an unlit cigarette between his lips. He then headed out the door, just like Mitchel had only moments earlier.
How the hell were they going to plan anything, when Mitchel was likely watching their every move? Sighing, Savin pushed himself out of his chair and made his way slowly to his bedroom, every bit of pain from earlier flaring back up as he walked.
At the very least, they couldn’t talk in Savin’s apartment anymore. Or anywhere around it, really. Mitchel would know, otherwise.
And if they were going to win against him, they couldn’t keep playing into his hands.