The Tomorrow Trilogy - Gray Morning: Chapter ??
Clearly, when I get an idea for Gray Morning I have no choice but to run with it. It's like my brain refuses to let me write the books in order... and I'm not even sure there's three books, anymore. I need to do some serious thinking again and rework an outline, if that's the case...
But hey, enjoy Mitchel being not an asshole for once!
"You need to come back."
Jazz stopped mid-chop, knife poised just above the green bell pepper he held with his other hand. His breath caught in his throat, tears filling his eyes. Clearing his throat, he lowered the knife, resting it on Ravi's kitchen counter. "You know I can't, Mitchel," he said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
"Jasper, I wouldn't have come here if we had a choice in the matter," Mitchel muttered. Jazz heard him let out a slow breath. "Bates has completely fallen apart. He doesn't even respond to my antagonism, anymore. At this rate, the Empire will fall to the Resistance in a matter of months."
"If the Empire is so close to succumbing to them, my coming back won't do a damn thing to stop it," Jazz said, turning to glance back at Mitchel over his shoulder. He then frowned to himself and resumed chopping vegetables. "The damage's already been done."
"Perhaps," Mitchel admitted. Jazz heard Mitchel's chair creak as Mitchel stood up. Soft footsteps approached him, growing louder with each passing second. "With your strategic mind, we may be able to undo the damage."
Jazz felt his face heat up, and he kept his eyes downward as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. "I don't even know what's going on internally right now, Mitchel. Not really. The media only covers so much, y'know?"
"Believe me, I am well aware of the media's shortcomings," Mitchel said, leaning against the counter. He ran his fingers through his nearly gray hair and sighed. "Will you at least reconsider? The fate of the Empire hangs in the balance."
Jazz frowned. He pushed the cutting board aside and ran his own fingers through his hair. "You know why I left in the first place, Mitchel."
"I know," Mitchel murmured. "Bates poses no threat to you, not anymore. He's been going to therapy and has gained better control over his anger. I wouldn't ask you to return if I didn't believe you would be safe."
Mitchel's eyes never left his as he spoke. Jazz looked away from Mitchel and sighed. "I can't just take your word for it, Mitchel," he said, turning away from the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and a shiver rolled down his spine. "Even if he came to me and promises me it won't happen again, I wouldn't come back."
"I'm not asking you to return to him, Jasper," Mitchel said, clearing his throat. "I would never ask you to do that, not after what that bastard has done to you. What I am asking is for you to return to the Empire."
Jazz took a moment to look around Ravi's kitchen and down the hall leading towards the front door of the apartment. The other man had yet to return home, and it was nearly dinner time as it was. "I would have to work with him, Mitchel." He bit his lip and shook his head. "I can't do that."
“The man hardly does any work as the Emperor as it is,” Mitchel muttered, a sneer overtaking his features. “I would imagine he would simply let you do whatever you wanted, if you came back now.”
“Or he’ll get pissed at me again for coming back when things have already gone to shit and he’ll --” Jazz cut himself off and ground his teeth together. His eyes stung, so he looked away from Mitchel again and picked the knife back up. “I can’t,” he repeated through gritted teeth.
Jazz gasped as he felt Mitchel’s hand fall lightly on his shoulder. Closed his eyes as Mitchel’s hand then moved rub his upper back in slow circles. “I’m sorry,” Mitchel whispered, moving in closer to Jazz. “I didn’t mean to upset you with my pestering.”
“It’s alright,” Jazz sighed, opening his eyes again and moving out from under Mitchel’s touch. “I just -- I don’t know what to tell you, Mitchel. Believe me, if I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Savin would never fucking touch me again -- that he’d never fucking speak to me again, I’d go back, but --” He brushed his forming tears aside and sniffed. “I just -- I can’t.”
“What if I made ensuring your safety my personal mission?” Mitchel asked.
Jazz furrowed his brow and gave Mitchel an incredulous look. The older man had folded his arms over his chest and had the slightest of frowns on his lips. “You really think you can do that?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know you can be a persuasive man, Mitchel, but I doubt Savin would ever listen to a damn word you say.”
Mitchel snorted and looked away from Jazz. He pursed his lips together, his eyes lifting towards the ceiling in thought. “I can provide you with housing closer to the Palace. If you so wish, you could even start living with me -- and you and I can go to Council Meetings together, so that Bates would never have an opportunity to approach you alone.”
“Savin and I would still have to deal with Empire-related affairs together at the colonies, and you wouldn’t be able to come with me,” Jazz said, moving the cutting board over to the pan he had waiting on the stove. “I’m going to have to be alone with him at some point, if I go back.”
“You can request to go to the colonies alone, can you not?” Mitchel pressed, following Jazz over to the stove. “Travel in separate shuttles, if you need to both be present. It’s not unheard of.”
“That’s a waste of the Empire’s resources, Mitchel,” Jazz said with a scoff. He shook his head, tossing the previously chopped meat into the pan. He pursed his lips together and picked up his spatula, pausing as he went to turn the meat over. “Are things really that bad?” he asked, turning to study Mitchel over his shoulder.
“I already told you, Jasper: I wouldn’t ask you to come back, otherwise,” Mitchel repeated, his face solemn. He stood beside Jazz, his fingertips barely brushing against Jazz’s chin as he directed Jazz to do more than simply glance at him. “I will do all that I can to ensure your safety. If Bates does something untoward, inform me of it immediately, and I will be sure to take care of it. Do you understand?”
Jazz felt his heart stop in his chest, his eyes widening as his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed as Mitchel’s fingers moved away from his face. Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away -- and quickly tried to forget the look of concern crossing Mitchel’s face. “I’ll -- I’ll have to think about it,” he said quietly. He frowned, raking his fingers through his hair, his nails digging into his scalp. “Just -- give me some time.”
“Of course,” Mitchel said, offering Jazz a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ll wish to talk it over with Diehl, as well.”
Jazz winced, and Mitchel's smile faded. "He still doesn't know who I really am," he whispered, reaching for the vegetables without a second thought. "And I would prefer to keep it, that way."
"I told you once before, Jasper. Diehl is a good man," Mitchel said, turning away from Jazz. "I'm sure he'd be understanding."
Jazz hesitated as he stirred the food around in the pan. He glanced at Mitchel and sighed, shaking his head. "He and I haven't been getting along lately."
"Oh?" Mitchel sounded taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that."
“It’s alright -- I think his job is just getting to him,” Jazz said, forcing a half-smile to his lips. Mitchel blinked at that, his eyes focusing on some point beyond Jazz for a moment. “I’m sure it’ll blow over soon.”
“Perhaps...” Mitchel trailed off, loosely folding his arms over his chest once again. He looked away from Jazz, a slight frown on his lips. “You know, I never apologized for my behavior when we went our separate ways.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mitchel. He let out a quiet laugh. “What brought that on?” he asked, his half-smile growing somewhat. “I didn’t exactly handle it all that well, either. You were my first real relationship -- I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”
Mitchel turned to him, his light brown eyes flashing with amusement. “I suppose I should let you in on a little secret, Jasper,” he said, moving closer to Jazz. “You were mine, too.”
Jazz blinked, feeling his face grow warm as Mitchel’s breath ghosted against his ear. “Your what?” he asked, keeping himself focused on the food in front of him. He switched the burner off, setting the spatula aside.
“My first real relationship,” Mitchel clarified, clearing his throat. If it were possible, Jazz noticed the slightest hint of red on Mitchel’s cheeks. “I simply slept around prior to meeting you -- so I suppose we both made mistakes we wouldn’t have made, otherwise, had we both been a little bit more -- experienced.”
“I guess,” Jazz said, moving to pull out plates from Ravi’s cabinets. “Do you wanna stay for dinner, or...?”
“I should probably get going,” Mitchel said, offering Jazz another smile. “There’s a Council Meeting in a couple of hours. I need to prepare for it. You can join me, if you like.”
Jazz nodded, his stomach sinking towards his feet. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Not tonight, but...” He trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. A part of him wanted to go with Mitchel -- if the Empire really was falling apart as badly as Mitchel said it was, he had a duty to go back and attempt to fix it. But another part of him reminded him that Savin would be there. That Savin would always be there.
“I understand,” Mitchel said. He moved in close again, this time his hand landing on Jazz’s shoulder. He squeezed it, his smile fading somewhat. “I’ll be back in a week to see if your answer has changed.”
Jazz nodded, frowning to himself as he watched Mitchel walk out of the kitchen. His stomach twisted as he glanced down at his plate. Go back?
He’d rather jump off a cliff.
Next Chapter
But hey, enjoy Mitchel being not an asshole for once!
"You need to come back."
Jazz stopped mid-chop, knife poised just above the green bell pepper he held with his other hand. His breath caught in his throat, tears filling his eyes. Clearing his throat, he lowered the knife, resting it on Ravi's kitchen counter. "You know I can't, Mitchel," he said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
"Jasper, I wouldn't have come here if we had a choice in the matter," Mitchel muttered. Jazz heard him let out a slow breath. "Bates has completely fallen apart. He doesn't even respond to my antagonism, anymore. At this rate, the Empire will fall to the Resistance in a matter of months."
"If the Empire is so close to succumbing to them, my coming back won't do a damn thing to stop it," Jazz said, turning to glance back at Mitchel over his shoulder. He then frowned to himself and resumed chopping vegetables. "The damage's already been done."
"Perhaps," Mitchel admitted. Jazz heard Mitchel's chair creak as Mitchel stood up. Soft footsteps approached him, growing louder with each passing second. "With your strategic mind, we may be able to undo the damage."
Jazz felt his face heat up, and he kept his eyes downward as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. "I don't even know what's going on internally right now, Mitchel. Not really. The media only covers so much, y'know?"
"Believe me, I am well aware of the media's shortcomings," Mitchel said, leaning against the counter. He ran his fingers through his nearly gray hair and sighed. "Will you at least reconsider? The fate of the Empire hangs in the balance."
Jazz frowned. He pushed the cutting board aside and ran his own fingers through his hair. "You know why I left in the first place, Mitchel."
"I know," Mitchel murmured. "Bates poses no threat to you, not anymore. He's been going to therapy and has gained better control over his anger. I wouldn't ask you to return if I didn't believe you would be safe."
Mitchel's eyes never left his as he spoke. Jazz looked away from Mitchel and sighed. "I can't just take your word for it, Mitchel," he said, turning away from the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and a shiver rolled down his spine. "Even if he came to me and promises me it won't happen again, I wouldn't come back."
"I'm not asking you to return to him, Jasper," Mitchel said, clearing his throat. "I would never ask you to do that, not after what that bastard has done to you. What I am asking is for you to return to the Empire."
Jazz took a moment to look around Ravi's kitchen and down the hall leading towards the front door of the apartment. The other man had yet to return home, and it was nearly dinner time as it was. "I would have to work with him, Mitchel." He bit his lip and shook his head. "I can't do that."
“The man hardly does any work as the Emperor as it is,” Mitchel muttered, a sneer overtaking his features. “I would imagine he would simply let you do whatever you wanted, if you came back now.”
“Or he’ll get pissed at me again for coming back when things have already gone to shit and he’ll --” Jazz cut himself off and ground his teeth together. His eyes stung, so he looked away from Mitchel again and picked the knife back up. “I can’t,” he repeated through gritted teeth.
Jazz gasped as he felt Mitchel’s hand fall lightly on his shoulder. Closed his eyes as Mitchel’s hand then moved rub his upper back in slow circles. “I’m sorry,” Mitchel whispered, moving in closer to Jazz. “I didn’t mean to upset you with my pestering.”
“It’s alright,” Jazz sighed, opening his eyes again and moving out from under Mitchel’s touch. “I just -- I don’t know what to tell you, Mitchel. Believe me, if I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Savin would never fucking touch me again -- that he’d never fucking speak to me again, I’d go back, but --” He brushed his forming tears aside and sniffed. “I just -- I can’t.”
“What if I made ensuring your safety my personal mission?” Mitchel asked.
Jazz furrowed his brow and gave Mitchel an incredulous look. The older man had folded his arms over his chest and had the slightest of frowns on his lips. “You really think you can do that?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know you can be a persuasive man, Mitchel, but I doubt Savin would ever listen to a damn word you say.”
Mitchel snorted and looked away from Jazz. He pursed his lips together, his eyes lifting towards the ceiling in thought. “I can provide you with housing closer to the Palace. If you so wish, you could even start living with me -- and you and I can go to Council Meetings together, so that Bates would never have an opportunity to approach you alone.”
“Savin and I would still have to deal with Empire-related affairs together at the colonies, and you wouldn’t be able to come with me,” Jazz said, moving the cutting board over to the pan he had waiting on the stove. “I’m going to have to be alone with him at some point, if I go back.”
“You can request to go to the colonies alone, can you not?” Mitchel pressed, following Jazz over to the stove. “Travel in separate shuttles, if you need to both be present. It’s not unheard of.”
“That’s a waste of the Empire’s resources, Mitchel,” Jazz said with a scoff. He shook his head, tossing the previously chopped meat into the pan. He pursed his lips together and picked up his spatula, pausing as he went to turn the meat over. “Are things really that bad?” he asked, turning to study Mitchel over his shoulder.
“I already told you, Jasper: I wouldn’t ask you to come back, otherwise,” Mitchel repeated, his face solemn. He stood beside Jazz, his fingertips barely brushing against Jazz’s chin as he directed Jazz to do more than simply glance at him. “I will do all that I can to ensure your safety. If Bates does something untoward, inform me of it immediately, and I will be sure to take care of it. Do you understand?”
Jazz felt his heart stop in his chest, his eyes widening as his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed as Mitchel’s fingers moved away from his face. Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away -- and quickly tried to forget the look of concern crossing Mitchel’s face. “I’ll -- I’ll have to think about it,” he said quietly. He frowned, raking his fingers through his hair, his nails digging into his scalp. “Just -- give me some time.”
“Of course,” Mitchel said, offering Jazz a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ll wish to talk it over with Diehl, as well.”
Jazz winced, and Mitchel's smile faded. "He still doesn't know who I really am," he whispered, reaching for the vegetables without a second thought. "And I would prefer to keep it, that way."
"I told you once before, Jasper. Diehl is a good man," Mitchel said, turning away from Jazz. "I'm sure he'd be understanding."
Jazz hesitated as he stirred the food around in the pan. He glanced at Mitchel and sighed, shaking his head. "He and I haven't been getting along lately."
"Oh?" Mitchel sounded taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that."
“It’s alright -- I think his job is just getting to him,” Jazz said, forcing a half-smile to his lips. Mitchel blinked at that, his eyes focusing on some point beyond Jazz for a moment. “I’m sure it’ll blow over soon.”
“Perhaps...” Mitchel trailed off, loosely folding his arms over his chest once again. He looked away from Jazz, a slight frown on his lips. “You know, I never apologized for my behavior when we went our separate ways.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mitchel. He let out a quiet laugh. “What brought that on?” he asked, his half-smile growing somewhat. “I didn’t exactly handle it all that well, either. You were my first real relationship -- I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”
Mitchel turned to him, his light brown eyes flashing with amusement. “I suppose I should let you in on a little secret, Jasper,” he said, moving closer to Jazz. “You were mine, too.”
Jazz blinked, feeling his face grow warm as Mitchel’s breath ghosted against his ear. “Your what?” he asked, keeping himself focused on the food in front of him. He switched the burner off, setting the spatula aside.
“My first real relationship,” Mitchel clarified, clearing his throat. If it were possible, Jazz noticed the slightest hint of red on Mitchel’s cheeks. “I simply slept around prior to meeting you -- so I suppose we both made mistakes we wouldn’t have made, otherwise, had we both been a little bit more -- experienced.”
“I guess,” Jazz said, moving to pull out plates from Ravi’s cabinets. “Do you wanna stay for dinner, or...?”
“I should probably get going,” Mitchel said, offering Jazz another smile. “There’s a Council Meeting in a couple of hours. I need to prepare for it. You can join me, if you like.”
Jazz nodded, his stomach sinking towards his feet. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Not tonight, but...” He trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. A part of him wanted to go with Mitchel -- if the Empire really was falling apart as badly as Mitchel said it was, he had a duty to go back and attempt to fix it. But another part of him reminded him that Savin would be there. That Savin would always be there.
“I understand,” Mitchel said. He moved in close again, this time his hand landing on Jazz’s shoulder. He squeezed it, his smile fading somewhat. “I’ll be back in a week to see if your answer has changed.”
Jazz nodded, frowning to himself as he watched Mitchel walk out of the kitchen. His stomach twisted as he glanced down at his plate. Go back?
He’d rather jump off a cliff.
Next Chapter