The Tomorrow Trilogy Fanfiction - Forgiveness: Chapter 3
If you're reading this particular Tomorrow Trilogy fanfic for the first time, the previous chapters can be found here:
1 | 2
“Well, Emperor? What can you offer me in terms of protection?” Mitchel asks as soon as I sit down in front of his cell. My whole body aches and creaks. I’ve been up for longer than a full day -- been trying to wrack my brain for an answer to Mitchel’s question.
The worst part? I don’t have an answer. Mitchel is a meticulous, calculating man. He could probably punch holes in any plan I offer him. “There are a few things I can legally offer you,” I say quietly, leaning my head against the bars of his cell. “And I’ve thought of a few things that I could bend the law on, but...” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t think there is anything that would be fool-proof against the Resistance.”
“Then we don’t have a deal,” Mitchel murmurs, releasing a breath he apparently was holding.
I close my eyes, wishing they wouldn’t sting so much at his words. “I know,” I whisper. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my forehead against them. All that traveling -- all that thinking, done for nothing. Can’t save my husband -- can’t get Mitchel to fucking talk, can’t keep my Empire from falling apart. Fucking Christ, what the hell am I even good for, anyway?
“It’s just as well. Freeing me would do nothing to bring him back, Emperor. I think you already know that.”
“You can’t -- you can’t just give up like that,” I insist, turning around to face him. “Mitchel -- you can be safe --”
“Even if you promise me a protective detail larger than the one you receive whenever you step outside the Palace, Emperor, it won’t be enough,” Mitchel mutters, interrupting me. He then turns to face me, his face solemn. “And I’d never truly be free, either. Your Council will lock me up and just let me languish in prison for the rest of my natural life.”
“But you would be alive -- and I could always pardon your crimes...”
Mitchel laughs. Totally loses his shit. He shakes his head, the smile fading from his lips. “I killed your husband,” he spits, pushing himself away from me and off of the floor. “I killed an Emperor. The punishment for that crime is death. The punishment for the information I’ve been feeding the Resistance is also death.”
“You -- you can help me,” I say in a rush, getting off the floor and grabbing his arm before he can move away from the bars. “The Resistance is winning, Mitchel. I’m not -- I’m not capable enough to keep it from happening. More and more of the colonies are turning against the Empire, and some of the revolts are costing us more lives than the Hooban War.”
“You’re grieving, Emperor. Of course you’re not capable of handling the Empire,” Mitchel says, shrugging his shoulder. “The Resistance knew you wouldn’t be able to function without your precious husband -- it’s why we sent Diehl to kill Callahan in the first place. And I was supposed to take things over from the inside -- and take you out when the time was right.”
He stops, lightly brushing my hand off his arm and turning away from me, moving out of my reach. “But Diehl failed. The plan was compromised, and I had to do what I could to right it. Since I failed...” He trails off, shaking his head.
“Then help me give the Resistance what it wants.” I can’t believe I’m even fucking considering this. And judging by how Mitchel stops moving entirely, his shoulders tensing, I don’t think he ever thought I would, either. “You know what the Resistance wants better than anyone -- and to be quite honest, I never fucking wanted this job, in the first place. But I do know that the Empire can’t afford two wars -- especially not one with itself.”
“If you didn’t want it, then why did you accept it?” Mitchel asks, turning around and raising an eyebrow at me. “You could have simply declined to take the title.”
My face feels uncomfortably hot and I drop my eyes to the floor, rubbing the back of my neck. “I -- I only ever accepted the title ‘Emperor’ because of Jazz. I wasn’t -- I wasn’t gonna let him do all of the fucking work.”
Mitchel purses his lips together for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “You truly are lost without him, aren’t you, Bates?” he snorts, walking back over to me. “What would Callahan say if he knew you were planning on handing the Empire to the Resistance?”
He stands directly in front of me, now. Even has his hands on the bars of his cell as he leans in close. My face still totally feels way too hot, but I don’t dare look away from him. “He would want me to do what was best for the Empire -- for the people in it. If -- if that meant giving up our power as Emperors, he’d do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”
My eyes are burning with tears as Mitchel just slowly nods his head and frowns in thought. “You can’t simply just hand them the Empire, Bates,” he says. “It’s not quite that simple.”
“It’s not, but I can oversee a political overhaul of the Empire’s system. Give autonomy to the colonies -- those that want it, anyway,” I respond, loosely crossing my arms over my chest. “It wouldn’t be easy -- but if it’d mean less bloodshed and less hardship for our people...” My voice falters and I clear my throat. “That’s why -- why I would need your help.”
“I am not sure you would truly want my help, Bates,” he says. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t double-cross you? I already have, once. Not to mention that you have a Council.”
“They’re all still new to the game,” I mutter. “They wouldn’t have the faintest clue on changing the entire political structure of the Empire -- and neither do I. I’m a fucking doctor, not a politician.”
Mitchel’s frown deepens. After a moment, he crosses his arms over his chest. “When do they deliberate on my fate, again?”
“In five days,” I answer. “If you decide that you want to talk -- or if you want to become my number one advisor on handling relations with the Resistance, you need to tell me within the next three,” I tell him, my eyes never leaving his. “I need to know before leaving to visit yet another colony.”
Mitchel nods. His lips twitch, as if he were about to smile, but he doesn’t. The bastard instead reaches out to me, sticking his hand through the bars. I take it without question, shaking his hand firmly. For whatever reason, his grip lingers before he pulls his hand away. “Why are you so bent on saving me, Emperor?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “I thought you hated me.”
“I did,” I answer, crossing my arms again and shrugging my shoulders. I turn away from him, my eyes dropping to the floor again. “And I don’t know why I want to -- I just...do.”
And that? Might be something I should dedicate a little more thought to.
***
I don’t know why I even thought I’d have time to think. Drafting war plans without Jazz’s strategic mind is fucking killing me. I can’t do this. This isn’t what I’m supposed to do, this isn’t who I am, and even sitting in the Council meetings is getting more and more difficult.
I’m totally falling apart. I know I am. Three days. I gave Mitchel three days and we haven’t so much as spoken another word to each other. I haven’t even spent time in the hospital -- too busy trying to think every little move through. Weighing every option.
And now -- now I’m sitting in front of Jazz’s grave. Detailing every option available to me to his unmoving tombstone. Hoping that somehow, speaking the words out loud to him will provide me with some sort of guidance. All I get is the wind blowing in my hair and a growing feeling of emptiness.
Mitchel said I was still grieving -- that that’s why everything’s falling apart. But how the fuck can I be grieving when I literally don’t have the time to? I’m running around in fucking circles, never getting a real moment to just process everything.
Something touches my shoulder lightly. I jump and let out a strangled cry, then relax when I realize it’s Mari. “Don’t fucking scare me like that,” I mumble, looking away from her as she sits down next to me.
“Well, it was either wait until you noticed me, or let you know that I was here,” she says, a hint amusement in her voice. “I haven’t seen you in at least a week.”
“Been busy.” Truth be told, though, I’ve been avoiding her. Avoiding my father, too. And everyone else at the hospital. Haven’t even took a step inside it since I decided I was quitting medicine.
The wind blows worse than it has all day, causing me to shiver. Mari frowns, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Are you quitting?” she asks suddenly.
My eyes widen and I turn to look at her, my mouth falling open. Then I clamp it tightly shut, clenching my jaw. “I don’t know yet,” I lie, thankful that my voice doesn’t shake.
“You can’t just give up everything, Savin,” she sighs, gesturing to Jazz’s grave. “Jazz wouldn’t want you to. You need the hospital just as much as the Empire needs you.”
“Can’t fucking do both,” I mutter. At least that’s the truth? I really can’t. “The Empire needs all of my attention right now -- I can’t spare a moment on medicine.”
“Maybe not right now -- but once things are better?” Mari offers. She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears as she looks over at me. “Savin, I know everything sucks right now -- trust me, I’ve been there, but -- you’re not burying yourself in work like you usually do when you’re upset. I’m -- I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I grunt, getting up from the ground. “I’m still burying myself in work -- just not at the hospital.”
“The Empire is more than just work -- and it’s not like medicine where it helps you relax and think,” she says, standing up as well. She grabs my arm just as I start to walk off. “You aren’t taking care of yourself, Savin. When was the last time you slept?”
“Last night.”
“No, I mean really slept,” Mari presses, her grip on my arm tightening.
I wince, but don’t dare push her arm away. She’s stubborn. It’s one of the things I always loved about her -- and how she wouldn’t ever hesitate to put me in my place and challenge me. Just like Jazz did.
Just like Mitchel does.
“It’s...been a few days since I last slept longer than two hours at a time,” I answer finally, my eyes filling with tears. “It’s too much -- my Council just blindly goes along with whatever I suggest and they aren’t confident enough to question me. So I have to think and try and figure out what Jazz would suggest -- hell, what my old Council would have suggested, and it’s just -- I can’t do it, Mari. I can’t do that and keep up with my medical career.”
“Then either do something to bolster their confidence so that they’ll challenge you, or get someone else on your Council who you know will,” she says, letting go of my arm. “Jazz didn’t die saving you just so you could throw your own life away.”
My breath catches in my throat and my eyes sting even worse as I turn my head away from her. “I’m not --”
“You are,” she insists. “And if he were here, he’d fucking smack you.”
I manage a small smile at that. He would. And I know she’s about to. Without thinking, I pull her to me and hug her tightly. Mari gasps, but then I feel her arms wrap around me, too. “I have to go,” I whisper as I move away from her. “But thanks -- I think I needed to hear that.”
She nods, brushing my hair out of my face. “Stop by the hospital when you can, okay? I think it would help you.”
“Alright. I will -- when I can.”
Though right now, I need to see Mitchel. Need to see if he’ll be willing to talk; if he’ll help. As I walk away from Mari, I shove my hands in my pockets in an effort to keep them from shaking. If he doesn’t want to help...
Then I might lose the only person who knows how to challenge me politically -- and might lose the only hope I have for salvaging what I can of my Empire.
.
Next Chapter
1 | 2
“Well, Emperor? What can you offer me in terms of protection?” Mitchel asks as soon as I sit down in front of his cell. My whole body aches and creaks. I’ve been up for longer than a full day -- been trying to wrack my brain for an answer to Mitchel’s question.
The worst part? I don’t have an answer. Mitchel is a meticulous, calculating man. He could probably punch holes in any plan I offer him. “There are a few things I can legally offer you,” I say quietly, leaning my head against the bars of his cell. “And I’ve thought of a few things that I could bend the law on, but...” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t think there is anything that would be fool-proof against the Resistance.”
“Then we don’t have a deal,” Mitchel murmurs, releasing a breath he apparently was holding.
I close my eyes, wishing they wouldn’t sting so much at his words. “I know,” I whisper. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my forehead against them. All that traveling -- all that thinking, done for nothing. Can’t save my husband -- can’t get Mitchel to fucking talk, can’t keep my Empire from falling apart. Fucking Christ, what the hell am I even good for, anyway?
“It’s just as well. Freeing me would do nothing to bring him back, Emperor. I think you already know that.”
“You can’t -- you can’t just give up like that,” I insist, turning around to face him. “Mitchel -- you can be safe --”
“Even if you promise me a protective detail larger than the one you receive whenever you step outside the Palace, Emperor, it won’t be enough,” Mitchel mutters, interrupting me. He then turns to face me, his face solemn. “And I’d never truly be free, either. Your Council will lock me up and just let me languish in prison for the rest of my natural life.”
“But you would be alive -- and I could always pardon your crimes...”
Mitchel laughs. Totally loses his shit. He shakes his head, the smile fading from his lips. “I killed your husband,” he spits, pushing himself away from me and off of the floor. “I killed an Emperor. The punishment for that crime is death. The punishment for the information I’ve been feeding the Resistance is also death.”
“You -- you can help me,” I say in a rush, getting off the floor and grabbing his arm before he can move away from the bars. “The Resistance is winning, Mitchel. I’m not -- I’m not capable enough to keep it from happening. More and more of the colonies are turning against the Empire, and some of the revolts are costing us more lives than the Hooban War.”
“You’re grieving, Emperor. Of course you’re not capable of handling the Empire,” Mitchel says, shrugging his shoulder. “The Resistance knew you wouldn’t be able to function without your precious husband -- it’s why we sent Diehl to kill Callahan in the first place. And I was supposed to take things over from the inside -- and take you out when the time was right.”
He stops, lightly brushing my hand off his arm and turning away from me, moving out of my reach. “But Diehl failed. The plan was compromised, and I had to do what I could to right it. Since I failed...” He trails off, shaking his head.
“Then help me give the Resistance what it wants.” I can’t believe I’m even fucking considering this. And judging by how Mitchel stops moving entirely, his shoulders tensing, I don’t think he ever thought I would, either. “You know what the Resistance wants better than anyone -- and to be quite honest, I never fucking wanted this job, in the first place. But I do know that the Empire can’t afford two wars -- especially not one with itself.”
“If you didn’t want it, then why did you accept it?” Mitchel asks, turning around and raising an eyebrow at me. “You could have simply declined to take the title.”
My face feels uncomfortably hot and I drop my eyes to the floor, rubbing the back of my neck. “I -- I only ever accepted the title ‘Emperor’ because of Jazz. I wasn’t -- I wasn’t gonna let him do all of the fucking work.”
Mitchel purses his lips together for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “You truly are lost without him, aren’t you, Bates?” he snorts, walking back over to me. “What would Callahan say if he knew you were planning on handing the Empire to the Resistance?”
He stands directly in front of me, now. Even has his hands on the bars of his cell as he leans in close. My face still totally feels way too hot, but I don’t dare look away from him. “He would want me to do what was best for the Empire -- for the people in it. If -- if that meant giving up our power as Emperors, he’d do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”
My eyes are burning with tears as Mitchel just slowly nods his head and frowns in thought. “You can’t simply just hand them the Empire, Bates,” he says. “It’s not quite that simple.”
“It’s not, but I can oversee a political overhaul of the Empire’s system. Give autonomy to the colonies -- those that want it, anyway,” I respond, loosely crossing my arms over my chest. “It wouldn’t be easy -- but if it’d mean less bloodshed and less hardship for our people...” My voice falters and I clear my throat. “That’s why -- why I would need your help.”
“I am not sure you would truly want my help, Bates,” he says. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t double-cross you? I already have, once. Not to mention that you have a Council.”
“They’re all still new to the game,” I mutter. “They wouldn’t have the faintest clue on changing the entire political structure of the Empire -- and neither do I. I’m a fucking doctor, not a politician.”
Mitchel’s frown deepens. After a moment, he crosses his arms over his chest. “When do they deliberate on my fate, again?”
“In five days,” I answer. “If you decide that you want to talk -- or if you want to become my number one advisor on handling relations with the Resistance, you need to tell me within the next three,” I tell him, my eyes never leaving his. “I need to know before leaving to visit yet another colony.”
Mitchel nods. His lips twitch, as if he were about to smile, but he doesn’t. The bastard instead reaches out to me, sticking his hand through the bars. I take it without question, shaking his hand firmly. For whatever reason, his grip lingers before he pulls his hand away. “Why are you so bent on saving me, Emperor?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “I thought you hated me.”
“I did,” I answer, crossing my arms again and shrugging my shoulders. I turn away from him, my eyes dropping to the floor again. “And I don’t know why I want to -- I just...do.”
And that? Might be something I should dedicate a little more thought to.
***
I don’t know why I even thought I’d have time to think. Drafting war plans without Jazz’s strategic mind is fucking killing me. I can’t do this. This isn’t what I’m supposed to do, this isn’t who I am, and even sitting in the Council meetings is getting more and more difficult.
I’m totally falling apart. I know I am. Three days. I gave Mitchel three days and we haven’t so much as spoken another word to each other. I haven’t even spent time in the hospital -- too busy trying to think every little move through. Weighing every option.
And now -- now I’m sitting in front of Jazz’s grave. Detailing every option available to me to his unmoving tombstone. Hoping that somehow, speaking the words out loud to him will provide me with some sort of guidance. All I get is the wind blowing in my hair and a growing feeling of emptiness.
Mitchel said I was still grieving -- that that’s why everything’s falling apart. But how the fuck can I be grieving when I literally don’t have the time to? I’m running around in fucking circles, never getting a real moment to just process everything.
Something touches my shoulder lightly. I jump and let out a strangled cry, then relax when I realize it’s Mari. “Don’t fucking scare me like that,” I mumble, looking away from her as she sits down next to me.
“Well, it was either wait until you noticed me, or let you know that I was here,” she says, a hint amusement in her voice. “I haven’t seen you in at least a week.”
“Been busy.” Truth be told, though, I’ve been avoiding her. Avoiding my father, too. And everyone else at the hospital. Haven’t even took a step inside it since I decided I was quitting medicine.
The wind blows worse than it has all day, causing me to shiver. Mari frowns, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Are you quitting?” she asks suddenly.
My eyes widen and I turn to look at her, my mouth falling open. Then I clamp it tightly shut, clenching my jaw. “I don’t know yet,” I lie, thankful that my voice doesn’t shake.
“You can’t just give up everything, Savin,” she sighs, gesturing to Jazz’s grave. “Jazz wouldn’t want you to. You need the hospital just as much as the Empire needs you.”
“Can’t fucking do both,” I mutter. At least that’s the truth? I really can’t. “The Empire needs all of my attention right now -- I can’t spare a moment on medicine.”
“Maybe not right now -- but once things are better?” Mari offers. She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears as she looks over at me. “Savin, I know everything sucks right now -- trust me, I’ve been there, but -- you’re not burying yourself in work like you usually do when you’re upset. I’m -- I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I grunt, getting up from the ground. “I’m still burying myself in work -- just not at the hospital.”
“The Empire is more than just work -- and it’s not like medicine where it helps you relax and think,” she says, standing up as well. She grabs my arm just as I start to walk off. “You aren’t taking care of yourself, Savin. When was the last time you slept?”
“Last night.”
“No, I mean really slept,” Mari presses, her grip on my arm tightening.
I wince, but don’t dare push her arm away. She’s stubborn. It’s one of the things I always loved about her -- and how she wouldn’t ever hesitate to put me in my place and challenge me. Just like Jazz did.
Just like Mitchel does.
“It’s...been a few days since I last slept longer than two hours at a time,” I answer finally, my eyes filling with tears. “It’s too much -- my Council just blindly goes along with whatever I suggest and they aren’t confident enough to question me. So I have to think and try and figure out what Jazz would suggest -- hell, what my old Council would have suggested, and it’s just -- I can’t do it, Mari. I can’t do that and keep up with my medical career.”
“Then either do something to bolster their confidence so that they’ll challenge you, or get someone else on your Council who you know will,” she says, letting go of my arm. “Jazz didn’t die saving you just so you could throw your own life away.”
My breath catches in my throat and my eyes sting even worse as I turn my head away from her. “I’m not --”
“You are,” she insists. “And if he were here, he’d fucking smack you.”
I manage a small smile at that. He would. And I know she’s about to. Without thinking, I pull her to me and hug her tightly. Mari gasps, but then I feel her arms wrap around me, too. “I have to go,” I whisper as I move away from her. “But thanks -- I think I needed to hear that.”
She nods, brushing my hair out of my face. “Stop by the hospital when you can, okay? I think it would help you.”
“Alright. I will -- when I can.”
Though right now, I need to see Mitchel. Need to see if he’ll be willing to talk; if he’ll help. As I walk away from Mari, I shove my hands in my pockets in an effort to keep them from shaking. If he doesn’t want to help...
Then I might lose the only person who knows how to challenge me politically -- and might lose the only hope I have for salvaging what I can of my Empire.
.
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