The Tomorrow Trilogy Fanfiction - Forgiveness: Chapter 9
Savin is in my head, eatin' my brains. He wanted me to write another chapter, and I get the feeling that the next one? Well, that one is going to be fun to write, yep.
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
“Alright, so what is it that you also needed to talk to me about?” I mumble as I walk back out into the living room. I’ve thrown my pants and socks, but my shirt remains unbuttoned and untucked as I rub my towel along my drying hair.
Mitchel turns his head towards me, his eyes widening again somewhat. His mouth even drops open as I drape my suit jacket down on the back of my armchair and throw my towel down along side it. He seems to give himself a slight shake in an effort to regain his composure. Meanwhile, my fingers are moving along my buttons deftly, waiting for him to respond.
“You understand what they meant, correct?” he asks finally, getting up from his seat on my couch. I’m just grateful the bastard didn’t sit in my chair.
“They want you to kill me or dispose of me,” I answer, buttoning the last button and straightening the sleeves. As I tuck in my shirt, I notice the way Mitchel’s mouth sets in a thin line. “Right?” I dare to ask, raising an eyebrow as I begin to loop my tie around my neck.
“Not -- quite,” Mitchel admits slowly, approaching me. He removes his hands from his pockets. “They’re aware that we’ve -- worked out some sort of a deal,” he continues -- and before I can even stop him, he’s standing directly in front of me, his hands batting mine away and moving towards my tie. “They think we’ve become something akin to friends -- and they want to test my loyalty.”
His words are carefully measured, just like every single little action of his. And I totally can’t do anything to stop him as his fingers thread the fabric of my tie into a perfect knot. Instead, all I can do is stand there, my face burning as his fingers then slide around my neck to put my collar into place. He looks up at me then, light brown eyes clouded over with some sort of emotion. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, moving his hands away from my tie. “We don’t have the time for you to muddle with your tie, this morning.”
My face still feels too hot, but I manage to keep my mouth shut and nod my head in response as I sling my suit jacket over my shoulders. “Thank you,” I say after a moment as I button my jacket. His previous words then begin to sink in -- the ones about loyalty. Friendship. Are we friends? This is fucking Mitchel we’re talking about, the bastard killed my husband, and --
“You are loyal to my Empire, aren’t you?” I ask, the words escaping me before I can even stop them.
Mitchel blinks, the question totally throwing him off guard. He squares his shoulders and fiddles with the knot in his own tie before clearing his throat. “You want me to give you a plain answer, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I respond, smoothing down the front of my jacket before sliding my own hands in my pockets. “It’ll be better for us both if you’re not only honest but direct with me.”
“I was loyal to Jasper,” he answers, clenching his jaw. “And he, in the end, was loyal to you and the Empire.” He pauses and looks away from me, the frown on his face deepening. “As a way to -- atone for betraying him, I have decided that I will do what I can to protect the things he held dear.”
“So your loyalty has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with Jazz,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “How can I trust that you’re not just luring me into a trap right now, Mitchel? How do I know that you actually made those phone calls to my Council and not just to your friends in the Resistance?”
Mitchel’s expression hardens. “I would never --”
“But you have,” I growl. Without thinking, I point to my chest, right where my scar is. “You shot me. You killed Jazz -- and you lead us to our death with a similar trap -- how do you expect me to trust you, now?”
“You were about to walk with me down to the Council room without questioning my motives not even ten minutes ago, Bates,” Mitchel responds coldly. He folds his arms over his chest and continues to look away from me. “Why now?”
I open my mouth to respond before clamping my jaw shut and pinching the bridge of my nose. Why am I questioning him now? Why am I so concerned about his loyalty and where it lies? “Why did you ask me if I knew what the message meant, then?” I counter, taking a step towards him. “You asked me if I knew what it meant -- and I told you what I thought, and you never outright answered me when I asked you if I was right.”
Mitchel turns his head back towards me, then, and I can see the briefest flashes of remorse in his eyes. “I suppose I didn’t answer you directly,” he says slowly, each word back to being carefully measured and enunciated. “They want me to bring you to them, so they can dispose of you, themselves,” he says after a moment, walking towards me. “I’m supposed to do it within the next hour, and I’m supposed to bring you to the Council room, alone.”
My vision goes red, and I’m on top of Mitchel in a heartbeat, my hands grabbing fistfulls of his suit jacket and pushing him against the living room wall. I try not to think about how I once held Jazz against the wall exactly like this, and instead try to focus on making myself breathe while Mitchel stares back at me, unblinkingly. “Then this is all a fucking trap,” I growl, moving in even closer.
“Is it?” Mitchel breathes, and his lips twitch just a tiny bit. Like the bastard’s about to fucking smile. “What kind of trap is this, then, where I tell you what, exactly, I’m leading you towards?” he continues. He puts his hands on top of my own, his fingers sliding underneath mine in order to get me to let go of him. “I’m giving you a chance to escape, Bates. Take it.”
“What if that’s just another trap, too?” I hiss, throwing him away from me. I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of my eyes. “I can’t just -- fucking up and leave the Empire. It’ll fall apart in two seconds -- and the Resistance would get what it goddamn wants, either way.” I shake my head, ignoring the way the room’s begun to spin and how out of breath I feel. I’m not going to fucking panic. Not in front of Mitchel.
Instead, I pull out my phone. I send a message to the Guard while keeping an eye on the bastard in front of me. “What are you doing?” he whispers, moving towards me. I put my free arm out to stop him while my other hand continues to tap out a message.
“Informing the Guard to put the Palace on lockdown and search the whole goddamn thing for anyone who might even remotely be related to the Resistance,” I answer, my breathing growing steadier as I talk. My voice shakes, a little, as I look up at him. “I’m not fucking going anywhere, and neither are you, you hear me?”
Mitchel seems taken aback, his brow furrowing for a minute before another smile forms on his lips. “I suppose that would be best, yes,” he says after a moment, settling back down on my couch. He folds his hands in his lap and looks up at me. “I haven’t the faintest clue why I hadn’t thought about alerting the Guard, myself.”
The confession throws me off guard, and with the message sent, I lower my hand to my side, my fingers still gripping my phone tightly. “You -- didn’t think to alert the Guard?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You think of everything -- you find the holes in any plan I make, so how...?”
Mitchel looks up at me then, his smile fading somewhat and this odd, awkward expression crossing his face. “I suppose I panicked,” he answers, leaning back against the couch. His eyes never leave mine, and the honesty of his words is almost fucking painful.
“You never panic,” I say, my grip loosening around my phone. “Why would you panic? It’s not like -- like getting rid of me isn’t what you’ve been wanting to do for years.”
Mitchel sighs, putting a light hand to his own cheek and shaking his head. “I suppose my loyalty has changed,” he says, pushing himself back onto his feet. He approaches me, this time leaving almost no distance between us as he looks at me. I can’t read the expression on his face at all -- not like I ever could, the bastard, but even still, there’s almost this -- sadness, this desperation in his eyes. “I was loyal to Jasper, and therefore wanted to protect the things he’d want to protect. Now, however...”
He pauses -- and for a moment, it looks like he might move even closer to me. I can’t ignore the way his eyes drop to my lips -- but I’m only imagining that, right? I have to be. “My loyalty is to you,” he whispers, cupping my chin.
My breath catches in my goddamn throat as he closes the gap between us, his lips on top of my own and just -- what the fuck is even going on? Except I don’t find myself pulling away from him, either, and instead I just stand there like a fucking moron, accepting a kiss I should, according to every sensible bone in my body, not fucking want.
Except my arms move without my consent, pulling him closer to me, one hand finding itself on that junction of jaw and neck as I -- fucking Christ, why am I kissing him back? Why am I deepening it? Why is he letting me?
“That wasn’t -- quite the reaction I was expecting,” Mitchel mutters as we pull apart, both of us slightly out of breath. His face is flushed, though I don’t know if that’s from embarrassment or what. I’m not sure that I even care.
“You and me both,” I tell him, shaking my head as I move away from him. An alert pops up on my phone, a message letting me know that the lockdown’s begun. Mitchel’s phone chirps as well, and he pulls it out of his pocket, his brow furrowing as he reads it.
“We’re not allowed to leave wherever we are,” he says, looking at me. “I don’t think I remember a lockdown being quite so...thorough.”
“That’s because they’ve changed since Jazz’s death,” I answer, avoiding his eyes. I collapse into my chair and put my face in his hands. “You warned me that the Resistance might come after you -- and that they’d still try to come after me. So I changed the definition of a lockdown to be more thorough.”
Mitchel nods. “I hope they find what they’re looking for soon, then.”
I nod in agreement and pick up one of my medical textbooks, thumbing through the pages. “I guess go ahead and try to make yourself at home, while you’re here,” I say after a minute, clearing my throat. I figure I can put our kiss behind me for now.
Except it’s a little difficult to do that, when all I can focus on are Mitchel’s fingers as he places his phone away and then tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it ever so slightly.
Just what the fuck is even going on, between us? Has it really been that long since I’ve last gotten laid that I’m considering it with Mitchel? He hadn’t even suggested it -- he just fucking kissed me with every ounce of desperation you’d expect from someone waiting to be rejected.
And I should have rejected him. He was going to lead me into a trap! He was going to let them take me, he was --
I shake my head and sigh, forcing myself to focus on the words on the page. I suppose I panicked, I hear again. The words cause me to look up at him, and I notice the way he has his own head tipped back, his eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment. And for once, I can truly see he’s just as human as I am.
I hope the lockdown gives us some time to actually discuss -- whatever it is that’s really going on, here.
Next Chapter
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
“Alright, so what is it that you also needed to talk to me about?” I mumble as I walk back out into the living room. I’ve thrown my pants and socks, but my shirt remains unbuttoned and untucked as I rub my towel along my drying hair.
Mitchel turns his head towards me, his eyes widening again somewhat. His mouth even drops open as I drape my suit jacket down on the back of my armchair and throw my towel down along side it. He seems to give himself a slight shake in an effort to regain his composure. Meanwhile, my fingers are moving along my buttons deftly, waiting for him to respond.
“You understand what they meant, correct?” he asks finally, getting up from his seat on my couch. I’m just grateful the bastard didn’t sit in my chair.
“They want you to kill me or dispose of me,” I answer, buttoning the last button and straightening the sleeves. As I tuck in my shirt, I notice the way Mitchel’s mouth sets in a thin line. “Right?” I dare to ask, raising an eyebrow as I begin to loop my tie around my neck.
“Not -- quite,” Mitchel admits slowly, approaching me. He removes his hands from his pockets. “They’re aware that we’ve -- worked out some sort of a deal,” he continues -- and before I can even stop him, he’s standing directly in front of me, his hands batting mine away and moving towards my tie. “They think we’ve become something akin to friends -- and they want to test my loyalty.”
His words are carefully measured, just like every single little action of his. And I totally can’t do anything to stop him as his fingers thread the fabric of my tie into a perfect knot. Instead, all I can do is stand there, my face burning as his fingers then slide around my neck to put my collar into place. He looks up at me then, light brown eyes clouded over with some sort of emotion. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, moving his hands away from my tie. “We don’t have the time for you to muddle with your tie, this morning.”
My face still feels too hot, but I manage to keep my mouth shut and nod my head in response as I sling my suit jacket over my shoulders. “Thank you,” I say after a moment as I button my jacket. His previous words then begin to sink in -- the ones about loyalty. Friendship. Are we friends? This is fucking Mitchel we’re talking about, the bastard killed my husband, and --
“You are loyal to my Empire, aren’t you?” I ask, the words escaping me before I can even stop them.
Mitchel blinks, the question totally throwing him off guard. He squares his shoulders and fiddles with the knot in his own tie before clearing his throat. “You want me to give you a plain answer, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I respond, smoothing down the front of my jacket before sliding my own hands in my pockets. “It’ll be better for us both if you’re not only honest but direct with me.”
“I was loyal to Jasper,” he answers, clenching his jaw. “And he, in the end, was loyal to you and the Empire.” He pauses and looks away from me, the frown on his face deepening. “As a way to -- atone for betraying him, I have decided that I will do what I can to protect the things he held dear.”
“So your loyalty has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with Jazz,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “How can I trust that you’re not just luring me into a trap right now, Mitchel? How do I know that you actually made those phone calls to my Council and not just to your friends in the Resistance?”
Mitchel’s expression hardens. “I would never --”
“But you have,” I growl. Without thinking, I point to my chest, right where my scar is. “You shot me. You killed Jazz -- and you lead us to our death with a similar trap -- how do you expect me to trust you, now?”
“You were about to walk with me down to the Council room without questioning my motives not even ten minutes ago, Bates,” Mitchel responds coldly. He folds his arms over his chest and continues to look away from me. “Why now?”
I open my mouth to respond before clamping my jaw shut and pinching the bridge of my nose. Why am I questioning him now? Why am I so concerned about his loyalty and where it lies? “Why did you ask me if I knew what the message meant, then?” I counter, taking a step towards him. “You asked me if I knew what it meant -- and I told you what I thought, and you never outright answered me when I asked you if I was right.”
Mitchel turns his head back towards me, then, and I can see the briefest flashes of remorse in his eyes. “I suppose I didn’t answer you directly,” he says slowly, each word back to being carefully measured and enunciated. “They want me to bring you to them, so they can dispose of you, themselves,” he says after a moment, walking towards me. “I’m supposed to do it within the next hour, and I’m supposed to bring you to the Council room, alone.”
My vision goes red, and I’m on top of Mitchel in a heartbeat, my hands grabbing fistfulls of his suit jacket and pushing him against the living room wall. I try not to think about how I once held Jazz against the wall exactly like this, and instead try to focus on making myself breathe while Mitchel stares back at me, unblinkingly. “Then this is all a fucking trap,” I growl, moving in even closer.
“Is it?” Mitchel breathes, and his lips twitch just a tiny bit. Like the bastard’s about to fucking smile. “What kind of trap is this, then, where I tell you what, exactly, I’m leading you towards?” he continues. He puts his hands on top of my own, his fingers sliding underneath mine in order to get me to let go of him. “I’m giving you a chance to escape, Bates. Take it.”
“What if that’s just another trap, too?” I hiss, throwing him away from me. I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of my eyes. “I can’t just -- fucking up and leave the Empire. It’ll fall apart in two seconds -- and the Resistance would get what it goddamn wants, either way.” I shake my head, ignoring the way the room’s begun to spin and how out of breath I feel. I’m not going to fucking panic. Not in front of Mitchel.
Instead, I pull out my phone. I send a message to the Guard while keeping an eye on the bastard in front of me. “What are you doing?” he whispers, moving towards me. I put my free arm out to stop him while my other hand continues to tap out a message.
“Informing the Guard to put the Palace on lockdown and search the whole goddamn thing for anyone who might even remotely be related to the Resistance,” I answer, my breathing growing steadier as I talk. My voice shakes, a little, as I look up at him. “I’m not fucking going anywhere, and neither are you, you hear me?”
Mitchel seems taken aback, his brow furrowing for a minute before another smile forms on his lips. “I suppose that would be best, yes,” he says after a moment, settling back down on my couch. He folds his hands in his lap and looks up at me. “I haven’t the faintest clue why I hadn’t thought about alerting the Guard, myself.”
The confession throws me off guard, and with the message sent, I lower my hand to my side, my fingers still gripping my phone tightly. “You -- didn’t think to alert the Guard?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You think of everything -- you find the holes in any plan I make, so how...?”
Mitchel looks up at me then, his smile fading somewhat and this odd, awkward expression crossing his face. “I suppose I panicked,” he answers, leaning back against the couch. His eyes never leave mine, and the honesty of his words is almost fucking painful.
“You never panic,” I say, my grip loosening around my phone. “Why would you panic? It’s not like -- like getting rid of me isn’t what you’ve been wanting to do for years.”
Mitchel sighs, putting a light hand to his own cheek and shaking his head. “I suppose my loyalty has changed,” he says, pushing himself back onto his feet. He approaches me, this time leaving almost no distance between us as he looks at me. I can’t read the expression on his face at all -- not like I ever could, the bastard, but even still, there’s almost this -- sadness, this desperation in his eyes. “I was loyal to Jasper, and therefore wanted to protect the things he’d want to protect. Now, however...”
He pauses -- and for a moment, it looks like he might move even closer to me. I can’t ignore the way his eyes drop to my lips -- but I’m only imagining that, right? I have to be. “My loyalty is to you,” he whispers, cupping my chin.
My breath catches in my goddamn throat as he closes the gap between us, his lips on top of my own and just -- what the fuck is even going on? Except I don’t find myself pulling away from him, either, and instead I just stand there like a fucking moron, accepting a kiss I should, according to every sensible bone in my body, not fucking want.
Except my arms move without my consent, pulling him closer to me, one hand finding itself on that junction of jaw and neck as I -- fucking Christ, why am I kissing him back? Why am I deepening it? Why is he letting me?
“That wasn’t -- quite the reaction I was expecting,” Mitchel mutters as we pull apart, both of us slightly out of breath. His face is flushed, though I don’t know if that’s from embarrassment or what. I’m not sure that I even care.
“You and me both,” I tell him, shaking my head as I move away from him. An alert pops up on my phone, a message letting me know that the lockdown’s begun. Mitchel’s phone chirps as well, and he pulls it out of his pocket, his brow furrowing as he reads it.
“We’re not allowed to leave wherever we are,” he says, looking at me. “I don’t think I remember a lockdown being quite so...thorough.”
“That’s because they’ve changed since Jazz’s death,” I answer, avoiding his eyes. I collapse into my chair and put my face in his hands. “You warned me that the Resistance might come after you -- and that they’d still try to come after me. So I changed the definition of a lockdown to be more thorough.”
Mitchel nods. “I hope they find what they’re looking for soon, then.”
I nod in agreement and pick up one of my medical textbooks, thumbing through the pages. “I guess go ahead and try to make yourself at home, while you’re here,” I say after a minute, clearing my throat. I figure I can put our kiss behind me for now.
Except it’s a little difficult to do that, when all I can focus on are Mitchel’s fingers as he places his phone away and then tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it ever so slightly.
Just what the fuck is even going on, between us? Has it really been that long since I’ve last gotten laid that I’m considering it with Mitchel? He hadn’t even suggested it -- he just fucking kissed me with every ounce of desperation you’d expect from someone waiting to be rejected.
And I should have rejected him. He was going to lead me into a trap! He was going to let them take me, he was --
I shake my head and sigh, forcing myself to focus on the words on the page. I suppose I panicked, I hear again. The words cause me to look up at him, and I notice the way he has his own head tipped back, his eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment. And for once, I can truly see he’s just as human as I am.
I hope the lockdown gives us some time to actually discuss -- whatever it is that’s really going on, here.
Next Chapter