Gray Morning Rewrite -- Chapter 6
I know this chapter is kinda short compared to the others, so far, but it felt complete when I wrote it, yesterday morning. I even had Sarah confirm whether or not this was a chapter end, for me. :) Anyway, please enjoy. <3
If you're reading Gray Morning for the first time, previous chapters can be found here:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
“There’s no need for you to keep pretending you’re asleep, Emperor,” Mitchel murmured, his voice far too close for Jazz’s comfort. “Bates has already left.”
“Wasn’t pretending to be asleep to avoid my own husband, Mitchel,” Jazz muttered back, frowning to himself as he kept his eyes closed. As much as he wanted to lie back and get some rest, he knew he wouldn’t be able to now with Mitchel in the room. “What do you want?” he asked, forcing himself to sit upright again and accidentally knocking his shoulder against the back of the bed. Pain flared through his own arm, causing him to wince.
“Perhaps we should discuss the shooting now, before we return?” Mitchel suggested, a slight frown on his face. “The Council is going to expect you to provide them with a lucid statement.”
Jazz bit his lip and looked away. “As I’ve already told Amelia, I don’t exactly remember a lot of what happened. I was giving my speech as I usually do. I felt something strike my left shoulder, and then -- when I tried to move that arm, the pain nearly caused me to black out, so I grabbed the podium for support. That’s...about it, really.”
“So you absolutely did not see the shooter, then?” Mitchel asked as he crossed one leg over his knee. He rested his hands on top of his legs, fingers interlocked as he pursed his lips to the side. “Have you received any additional threats lately from the Resistance?”
Jazz shook his head, glancing warily towards his hospital room door. “Can you keep quiet about those, please?” he asked, a biting edge to his voice. “I’ve been keeping the number of those a secret from Savin -- he knows threats have been made, just not how many.”
Mitchel raised an eyebrow. “Why would you lie to your husband about the number of death threats you receive?” he asked, turning his head away from Jazz and looking towards the door himself. “Clearly the man is aware that you are in a very dangerous position of government.”
“He’s aware, but this sort of thing,” Jazz gestured to his shoulder, “isn’t exactly a common occurrence anymore.”
“Your predecessor was killed while giving a speech,” Mitchel pointed out quietly, a frown further twisting his lips. “Surely Bates is aware of that.”
“And before Emperor Casio was fatally shot, it had been decades since a successful shooting had happened,” Jazz said, frowning himself. “Obviously the guy who tried to take me out didn’t do a very good job.”
Mitchel’s lips twitched and formed the vague shape of a smile. “I suppose not -- you’re still speaking to me, after all,” he said, and Jazz found himself smiling ruefully and shaking his head at that. “But the man was also good enough to slip past the Imperial Guard -- and unless the Guard themselves are experiencing moments of incompetency....”
“I know,” Jazz said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “There’s going to be another assassination attempt -- probably several of them.”
“That seems most likely, yes,” Mitchel said, uncrossing his legs and settling one hand on top of each knee. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge the Resistance’s presence with the rest of the Council? They’ve clearly been gaining power in these past few months -- if they become any more organized....”
“We don’t know if that was the Resistance for sure, though, Mitchel,” Jazz said, frowning. “And the Council already knows that the Resistance exists, just as much as Savin does.”
“Yes, but they still do not perceive them as a threat -- which is really only proving to be in the Resistance’s favor. If this was their work -- and I can almost assure you that it was -- then we have no choice but to publicly acknowledge their existence.”
“And how, exactly, does that work in our favor, Mitchel?” Jazz asked, leaning his head back against the pillows. He turned his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment, trying to will the pain in his shoulder away. “If we publicly acknowledge that the Resistance is a true threat to the Empire, that just causes the Empire to lose credibility amongst its people. It might also alert those who aren’t exactly fond of their government that there is an organization looking to overthrow me.”
Mitchel scoffed, shaking his head. “I see that even when on pain medication, you’re just as stubborn as always, Emperor,” he said, leaning back in his seat and putting a hand to his face. “What, pray tell, will you do should the Resistance make a public announcement themselves? If they’re strong enough to hire some of the best assassins for hire on the market, surely they’re organized enough to make an announcement of their own. Should that happen, the people will wonder why you didn’t put a stop to them prior to their own announcement -- and it would make the Empire appear incompetent then, as well.”
Jazz sighed and closed his eyes. He knew Mitchel had a point. “We know next to nothing about them, Mitchel. As much as the Imperial Intelligence keeps looking into the threats, they can’t seem to place where they’re coming from. At least, nothing concrete. What if it’s just a handful of people? What if it’s millions? I can’t move forward confidently without knowing more than we do, right now.”
Mitchel leaned forward in his seat, lightly placing a hand on top of Jazz’s own. Jazz jumped and looked toward him, yanking his hand out from under Mitchel’s without a second thought. “Jasper,” Mitchel said, his voice soft and unyielding, all at once, “if you continue to wait until you have enough information to move forward, you’ll wind up the same as your predecessor. There is no doubt in my mind about that.”
Jazz opened his mouth to respond before tightly clamping it shut and looking away from Mitchel. His stomach twisted in his throat, and his shoulder throbbed, an ever painful reminder that maybe, just maybe, Mitchel was right.
Maybe he had already waited too long.
“I’ll be sure to address making a public announcement at the next Council meeting,” he said after a moment, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and turned back to Mitchel. “You should head back to the Capital and hold it down for me. Savin’s here, so you don’t have to keep me company, anymore.”
Mitchel nodded, pushing himself out of his seat slowly. “Of course, Emperor,” he said with a slight bow. “I’ll see you in a few days, then.”
A few days. Jazz bit his lip, the fingers of his good hand playing with the thin fabric of the hospital sheets. A few days, and he would have to plan yet another speech. He would have to stand in front of yet another crowd, arm resting in a sling and his shoulder still likely throbbing from his injury, and give yet another speech. He would have to put his life at risk yet again.
He really had waited too long.
Next Chapter
If you're reading Gray Morning for the first time, previous chapters can be found here:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
“There’s no need for you to keep pretending you’re asleep, Emperor,” Mitchel murmured, his voice far too close for Jazz’s comfort. “Bates has already left.”
“Wasn’t pretending to be asleep to avoid my own husband, Mitchel,” Jazz muttered back, frowning to himself as he kept his eyes closed. As much as he wanted to lie back and get some rest, he knew he wouldn’t be able to now with Mitchel in the room. “What do you want?” he asked, forcing himself to sit upright again and accidentally knocking his shoulder against the back of the bed. Pain flared through his own arm, causing him to wince.
“Perhaps we should discuss the shooting now, before we return?” Mitchel suggested, a slight frown on his face. “The Council is going to expect you to provide them with a lucid statement.”
Jazz bit his lip and looked away. “As I’ve already told Amelia, I don’t exactly remember a lot of what happened. I was giving my speech as I usually do. I felt something strike my left shoulder, and then -- when I tried to move that arm, the pain nearly caused me to black out, so I grabbed the podium for support. That’s...about it, really.”
“So you absolutely did not see the shooter, then?” Mitchel asked as he crossed one leg over his knee. He rested his hands on top of his legs, fingers interlocked as he pursed his lips to the side. “Have you received any additional threats lately from the Resistance?”
Jazz shook his head, glancing warily towards his hospital room door. “Can you keep quiet about those, please?” he asked, a biting edge to his voice. “I’ve been keeping the number of those a secret from Savin -- he knows threats have been made, just not how many.”
Mitchel raised an eyebrow. “Why would you lie to your husband about the number of death threats you receive?” he asked, turning his head away from Jazz and looking towards the door himself. “Clearly the man is aware that you are in a very dangerous position of government.”
“He’s aware, but this sort of thing,” Jazz gestured to his shoulder, “isn’t exactly a common occurrence anymore.”
“Your predecessor was killed while giving a speech,” Mitchel pointed out quietly, a frown further twisting his lips. “Surely Bates is aware of that.”
“And before Emperor Casio was fatally shot, it had been decades since a successful shooting had happened,” Jazz said, frowning himself. “Obviously the guy who tried to take me out didn’t do a very good job.”
Mitchel’s lips twitched and formed the vague shape of a smile. “I suppose not -- you’re still speaking to me, after all,” he said, and Jazz found himself smiling ruefully and shaking his head at that. “But the man was also good enough to slip past the Imperial Guard -- and unless the Guard themselves are experiencing moments of incompetency....”
“I know,” Jazz said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “There’s going to be another assassination attempt -- probably several of them.”
“That seems most likely, yes,” Mitchel said, uncrossing his legs and settling one hand on top of each knee. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge the Resistance’s presence with the rest of the Council? They’ve clearly been gaining power in these past few months -- if they become any more organized....”
“We don’t know if that was the Resistance for sure, though, Mitchel,” Jazz said, frowning. “And the Council already knows that the Resistance exists, just as much as Savin does.”
“Yes, but they still do not perceive them as a threat -- which is really only proving to be in the Resistance’s favor. If this was their work -- and I can almost assure you that it was -- then we have no choice but to publicly acknowledge their existence.”
“And how, exactly, does that work in our favor, Mitchel?” Jazz asked, leaning his head back against the pillows. He turned his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment, trying to will the pain in his shoulder away. “If we publicly acknowledge that the Resistance is a true threat to the Empire, that just causes the Empire to lose credibility amongst its people. It might also alert those who aren’t exactly fond of their government that there is an organization looking to overthrow me.”
Mitchel scoffed, shaking his head. “I see that even when on pain medication, you’re just as stubborn as always, Emperor,” he said, leaning back in his seat and putting a hand to his face. “What, pray tell, will you do should the Resistance make a public announcement themselves? If they’re strong enough to hire some of the best assassins for hire on the market, surely they’re organized enough to make an announcement of their own. Should that happen, the people will wonder why you didn’t put a stop to them prior to their own announcement -- and it would make the Empire appear incompetent then, as well.”
Jazz sighed and closed his eyes. He knew Mitchel had a point. “We know next to nothing about them, Mitchel. As much as the Imperial Intelligence keeps looking into the threats, they can’t seem to place where they’re coming from. At least, nothing concrete. What if it’s just a handful of people? What if it’s millions? I can’t move forward confidently without knowing more than we do, right now.”
Mitchel leaned forward in his seat, lightly placing a hand on top of Jazz’s own. Jazz jumped and looked toward him, yanking his hand out from under Mitchel’s without a second thought. “Jasper,” Mitchel said, his voice soft and unyielding, all at once, “if you continue to wait until you have enough information to move forward, you’ll wind up the same as your predecessor. There is no doubt in my mind about that.”
Jazz opened his mouth to respond before tightly clamping it shut and looking away from Mitchel. His stomach twisted in his throat, and his shoulder throbbed, an ever painful reminder that maybe, just maybe, Mitchel was right.
Maybe he had already waited too long.
“I’ll be sure to address making a public announcement at the next Council meeting,” he said after a moment, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and turned back to Mitchel. “You should head back to the Capital and hold it down for me. Savin’s here, so you don’t have to keep me company, anymore.”
Mitchel nodded, pushing himself out of his seat slowly. “Of course, Emperor,” he said with a slight bow. “I’ll see you in a few days, then.”
A few days. Jazz bit his lip, the fingers of his good hand playing with the thin fabric of the hospital sheets. A few days, and he would have to plan yet another speech. He would have to stand in front of yet another crowd, arm resting in a sling and his shoulder still likely throbbing from his injury, and give yet another speech. He would have to put his life at risk yet again.
He really had waited too long.
Next Chapter