Eric groaned and rolled over with a curse, fumbling blindly for his ringing cell phone. Finding it, he pressed it his ear.

"Leader Coulter?"

Eric grunted.

"Head Leader Miller wants you down in the vehicle bay sir, ASAP."

Eric lifted his head groggily and glanced at his alarm. 2:14 AM. What the actual fuck?

"What the fuck for?"

"He didn't say sir, just to insist you get down here."

Eric rolled his eyes. "I'll be there in five."

Still yawning, Eric pushed through the heavy armoured door of the vehicle bay and squinted in the sudden bright light, seeking out the reason for this early morning foray. Max stood a few dozen paces away, deep in conversation with a few soldiers. Setting his jaw Eric stormed over.

Max flicked a glance in his direction. "Coulter, good. ETA is seven minutes."

"ETA for what?" Eric grumbled, scratching at the stubble he'd had no time to shave off. He'd barely had time to gel his hair for Christ's sake.

Max's face went dead serious and he dismissed the other soldiers with a jerk of his chin. Eric eyed him suspiciously as Max guided him by the shoulder farther away from the bustling men.

The Head Leader crossed his arms over his chest and Eric copied him, raising one eyebrow. Finally, Max dropped his hands, resting one on his hip while the other scratched at the top of his head. "We found her, Eric."

"Found who?" Eric's voice was almost bored, but an ember in his chest had begun to flare to life. Was it true? After all this time? Was she alive?

Max scrubbed his face and bit back a yawn before continuing. "Jensen and his team were on patrol, they intercepted a small party of factionless and engaged in a brief firefight. One of the bastards got loose and took off, so they pursued and found him again near an old collapsed strip mall trying to scramble into some sort of a hidden entrance. They neutralized him and entered the building... they found a secret bunker underground, stuffed full of supplies and weapons. There were a few factionless guarding it, but Jensen had the take on them and his men dispatched the majority. They captured three prisoners. One of those three is Fox."

Eric stared at Max in shock. A wave of vertigo hit and he staggered slightly before regaining control of himself through pure iron will. Gritting his teeth he glared hotly at Max. "Is she okay?"

"Jensen said he hardly recognized her, probably wouldn't have but he caught sight of that tattoo on the back of her neck, that 'E' and looked closer."

"Is. She Okay?" Eric repeated.

"She can't or won't recognize Jensen, is combative and uncooperative so far. He had to restrain her. That's all I know. We'll keep the prisoners here in the detention wing for now. Erudite is sending some medical staff in the morning to evaluate them but they'll more than likely stay here until we figure out what to do with them."

Eric turned away from Max, reeling with shock. Just over two years ago, Fox, his fiancée and love of his life had disappeared on patrol along with three other Dauntless soldiers. One soldier had been found dead a month later, but no trace of Fox or the other missing soldier, a man named Dawson, had ever been found. The last two years had been absolute hell for Eric, complete torture. The unknown, the lack of closure had been the worst, and Eric had started to finally accept that his soulmate was gone forever, that the one woman he'd allowed into his heart had disappeared for good. He'd only wished to know what happened, collect her remains for a proper funeral, closure. His bed and his life had been empty since that day.

Eric rolled, pulling Fox beneath him and burrowed his face into her throat, nipping and grinning against her skin when she started to shriek, struggling in the cage of his arms.

"Eric! Eric stop!" Fox pleaded.

"No way baby," Eric laughed, burrowing deeper, nipping harder, in love with the feel of her pressed to him, her breathy shrieks of delight, her nails clawing at his back.

Desperate now, Fox arched her hips up, brushing against Eric's half-hardened cock and he pulled back with a hiss.

"Hey, no fair," he grinned, dropping his head with a groan as Fox continued to rub against him.

"We didn't decide on any rules," Fox grinned back, wrapping her legs around Eric's thighs and pulling him roughly against her. Eric groaned raggedly into her hair, his body curling against hers and Fox knew she's won, Eric could never concentrate when she started to do this. His hips began to rock against hers, and he moaned low in his throat as his lips replaced where his teeth had just been, his tongue soothing the previous sting.

Kneeing her thighs apart Eric sank into her with a groan, eyes squeezed shut. Slowly he started to thrust, arching his spine, pressing deeper each time, helpless in his desire, grunting roughly in Fox's ear. Fox writhed beneath him, rapidly losing herself in bliss and she pulled Eric's head down to hers, crushing their lips together, her tongue sweeping against his with a sigh. They devoured each other's mouths, tasting every inch and Eric rose above her, muscles flexing and bunching with each thrust.

"Eric, I'm -" Fox breathed, starting to tremble. Eric shuddered above her.

"Let go baby, come with me," he moaned and he felt Fox surrender beneath him, give in to the pleasure and her walls tightened around him as she cried out and Eric stopped fighting his own release. Groaning into Fox's throat, Eric spilled inside her, filled her with his seed and collapsed, panting, on top of her, pulling her close to his chest as aftershocks coursed through their bodies.

Fox had accepted Eric's proposal that night, had whispered 'yes' with tears in her eyes, pulling him to her as she'd cried and he'd rocked her gently, murmuring how much he loved her, how he would never let her down.

Fox disappeared that following day, the last contact being a garbled, static-filled scream from the commander, then dead air. Eric had searched for weeks, scoured the city, become unrecognizable in his mixed grief and rage. Many captured factionless let grisly ends at his hands, unwilling or unable to answer his questions before they succumbed to their injuries. For a time, Max had wondered if he would need to remove Eric from leadership, perhaps imprison him somewhere until he came back to some semblance of normality; but gradually, Eric had begun to accept the cold, hard facts.

Fox was gone, she had disappeared and she was never coming back.

Until now.

"Hey!" Max's hand came down hard on Eric's shoulder, jolting him out of his reverie. "Get it together, they're less than 60 out."

Eric swallowed hard and nodded, yanking his vest straight and smoothing his hair back. The most uncharacteristic feeling of nervousness had settled over him, giving him the faintest tremor in his limbs. Max had said Fox was unrecognizable, unresponsive and uncooperative, would she recognize Eric? Had her nights been spent lying awake, wondering about him, crying for his loss? Had her bed been as intolerably cold and empty as Eric's since they'd been separated?

The first of the personnel trucks pulled up and the sounds of a struggle and yelling hit their ears.

"Christ." Max growled. "Get up there!" He barked and the team jogged forwards, swarming the truck. Eric moved to follow and Max grabbed his arm, warning Eric with a glare to stay put.

The cab doors were thrown open and the soldiers converged on one struggling figure. First one, then two soldiers fell out of the truck with surprised shouts, then a final struggling mass of bodies launched outwards, landing in a pile of flailing limbs and shouts, curses and thuds. Ignoring Max's order, Eric leapt into the fray and soon found the root of the problem, a single struggling factionless. Elbowing a soldier aside Eric body-slammed the individual, pinned the factionless' shoulders to the cement and pressed his knees into their thighs. They were scrawny and bony, no match for Eric's superior mass or strength but they were putting up a hell of a fight anyway. Eric let his body go slack, holding the troublemaker down with his greater bodyweight and roared in his most dangerous voice.

"Stop fighting!"

The factionless spat in his face and, enraged, he slammed their head on the ground. The body went slack under his, their eyes rolling in a daze and Eric finally was able to concentrate on their face. Brown eyes of a dozen different mysterious hues flashed at him, a mix of rage and semi-conscious confusion. The lips were full but chapped as they curled back over sharp white teeth and it wasn't until the factionless snarled at him did Eric realize with a jolt that it was a woman he was fighting with. Then it hit him, the shape of the cat-like eyes, the curve of those full lips, the heart-shaped face, this was Fox beneath him, Fox was fighting with him like she was fighting for her life. There had been no recognition when their eyes had met, no flash of surprise or joy. The woman beneath him was acting little better than an animal, struggling like a fox in a trap, snapping at everything within range. Heavy guilt coursed through Eric, he'd slammed her head into the floor, and he scrambled off of her, stumbling to his feet.

"R-restrain her." He barked, chest heaving with a tangled mix of exertion and emotion. Max appeared at his side.

"Is it her?" He asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Eric muttered, "it's Fox."

Fox was lifted to her feet, and she came to life again, struggling madly against the soldier's grip, but they were expecting it now and cuffs were quickly snapped onto her wrists. Eric turned to Jensen in a rage.

"WHY THE FUCK WASN'T SHE RESTRAINED PROPERLY?!" He roared.

Jensen shuffled nervously, "Eric... it's Fox."

"Does that look like Fox?!" Eric growled, throwing an arm in her direction. He could have hurt her, seriously wounded her just now, and that could have been avoided if she'd been restrained from the start.

"Get her out of here." Max said tiredly.

The soldiers started towards the doors, pulling a still-fighting Fox between them. She threw her head back, teeth gritted and let loose with a wild scream. Her eyes met Eric's as he stared at her in shock, and again there was no recognition, only indignant rage. Their gazes held, Fox still fighting the soldiers, not willing to give an inch, until they'd pushed through the doors, cutting off Eric's view. The thumps and cursing faded and finally Max sighed, turned towards Eric with a resigned frown.

"She doesn't remember you." It was a statement, not a question but Eric answered anyway.

"No."

"They did something to her," Max observed.

No shit, hovered on the tip of Eric's tongue, but he held it back. Fox's long glorious red mane was gone, her hair shaved almost to the skull. Small irregular scars peppered her scalp, as if she'd crashed through a window at some point. She was scrawny, hard and bony, sickly pale. A vertical scar bisected her lips, from the corner of her nose to the point of her chin and a horizontal scar blazed red and fresh just under her left eyebrow. Beyond her physical state however, was the massive difference in her temperament.

There was no trace of the Fox Eric remembered in this new incarnation. The lively spark that had always illuminated her mysterious eyes was now a blazing furnace of hate. The gentle curve of her generous lips was now a defiant snarl. The latent strength and feline grace of her athletic body was now the wiry might of desperation, an animal willing to do anything to survive. The only part of her that was the same was the 'E' tattoo on the back of her neck, the one that had tipped Jensen off; Fox had surprised Eric with the tattoo just a few days before they'd become engaged, a proud brand of his possession of her on her flesh. It matched the 'F' Eric had inked over his heart, to strengthen his soul and resolve, in the first week of Fox's disappearance.

Eric drew in a deep breath, exhaled raggedly.

"What the fuck are we going to do Max?" He mumbled.

Eric paced restlessly in the conference room, too on edge to even try to relax or sit down. His nerves were raw and painful, the scab he'd managed to build over the great gaping hole in his heart had been ripped away and he felt weak from the fresh blood loss, sticky with the arterial spray.

It was mid-morning and Eric was waiting, none too patiently, for the Erudite doctor's report. Max sat nearby, and had given up telling Eric to relax hours ago, when the water bottle Eric had been drinking from had exploded against the wall near Max's head. Neither of the remaining prisoners matched the description of Dawson, but Max had received word that one of the bodies back at the bunker did and he had just returned from informing Dawson's new widow to find that Eric's stalking had remained unchanged, if anything, it had become more frenetic. Deciding he liked his head attached to his shoulders, he had said nothing and sat again, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his head back against the wall. Eric's ceaseless pacing providing a constant, if morbid white noise.

The door opened and Max opened his eyes to see the head Erudite doctor, flanked by two more white-jacketed staff enter the room. Eric stopped, eyes blazing and watched them with a predator's gaze until they sat at one side of the table. Only then did Eric move to the other side and stiffly sit, back straight, hands gripping the arm rests.

The doctor waited until Max was seated before clearing his throat and beginning his report.

"We have positively identified the subject as the missing Dauntless woman, Fox Phoenix LaRue." He paused and Eric scoffed, his voice hard.

"And? We already fucking knew that!"

"Eric." Max snapped. The doctor cleared his throat nervously and continued, eyeing Eric uneasily.

"She is extremely malnourished, as evidenced by her gaunt appearance. I have ordered a massive multivitamin/mineral infusion to combat and treat the deterioration her body has already experienced, as well as started her on a nutritionally complete meal regime. Based off of previous medical records, the patient has a vast amount of new scarring and healed injuries; including some broken bones that fortunately were set correctly and have healed properly. Visual inspection revealed suspicious scarring on the patient's lower abdomen, which we recognized as striae, more commonly known as stretch marks. This led us to an internal examination and the realization that she has given birth recently, I'd say within the last two months. Based on the varying ages and appearance of the striae, I estimated she has carried a baby to full term and given birth once before as well."

"She has children?" Max asked, glancing at Eric, who stared blankly.

"She refuses to answer, so as of right now, we don't know if either offspring has survived."

Max swallowed hard. "What else?"

"She remembers nothing beyond the past two years. The presence of scarring on the back of the subject's scalp suggests a brain injury. We believe she is suffering from severe Post-Traumatic Retrograde Amnesia. However, I believe she has also, to a certain extent, been forcibly indoctrinated, or brainwashed. There may also be a degree of Stockholm Syndrome at play as well. Psychology is not my field, I have asked a colleague to evaluate her for a more complete mental diagnosis."

"Amnesia? Stockholm Syndrome? Brainwashing?! What the hell does all that mean?" Eric demanded, his heart beginning to pound with dread.

The doctor focussed on him. "You were the patient's...?"

"Fiancé." Eric spat.

"Fiancé, yes. Well, pending my colleague's evaluation, it means that the Fox LaRue that you knew is no longer the Fox LaRue behind that door. There is a chance, and again I will have to consult with my colleague, that massive doses of healing serum may help reverse some of this, coupled with practical therapies and time."

"Fox might come back?" Max asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Perhaps, I can make no guarantees right now. My colleague needs to thoroughly examine her first."

"When will your colleague arrive?" Max asked.

"I expect him momentarily."

"I want to see her." Eric growled.

The doctor shook his head. "I want my colleague to evaluate her first."

"No fucking way-"

"Your presence, especially agitated like it is now, will not help her. I want a clean assessment from my colleague."

"Eric, he's right. We need to wait." Max said lowly, tensing to react if Eric exploded.

Eric exhaled sharply, clenching and unclenching his fists. The doctor sat farther back with a wary gaze and Max could feel the warring energies in Eric right now, battling each other for control. Finally, Eric nodded.

"As soon as he's done, I'm going to her."

"Acceptable, provided you do not upset her. If you agitate her, I will have you removed." The doctor warned and Eric nodded tightly.

Pushing away, he spun the chair he sat in around, turning his back to the doctor and effectively ending the conversation. Max glanced at him then rose to walk around the table, speaking lowly with the doctors as they left the room.

Nagging thoughts gnawed at Eric's mind and sanity. Did Fox have living children somewhere? If so, did she have a mate, a partner? If she remembers nothing about Dauntless, has she started a whole new life? Eric knew for a fact that he would not survive this intact if the answer to the last two questions was yes. The last two years had been utter misery, pure hell; and Eric's soul had withered to the point that he questioned it's continued existence. Fox's reappearance, alive and functioning was balm to his agonized heart, he could feel it reawakening, absorbing Fox's presence like water to parched ground. But Eric had been so damaged by Fox's absence that he knew with certainty he would not survive losing her again, at least not with his sanity, heart or soul intact. His body might continue on, a bitter shell, but little more.

He ached to touch her again, curl her into his arms and bury his head in her hair, inhaling her scent, green apples and grass, sunny skies and gentle rain. Fox's body comforted Eric like nothing else, her presence and natural fragrance the things he had come to depend on after a hard day of leadership. When it had become clear that Fox wasn't returning, Eric had tried to escape into alcohol, but becoming blackout drunk almost nightly hadn't taken away his pain and he'd stopped trying after sobering up one morning and discovering that he'd accidentally broken his favourite picture of Fox the night before in a slobbering haze.

Eric was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Max calling him until the older man reached the chair and spun it back around. Eric started, blinking away the memories and the tears they'd brought and levelled a glare at him.

"The psychologist has finished his evaluation. He'd like to meet with us."

Eric nodded tiredly. He didn't give a flying fuck right now, he just wanted Fox. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, rubbing hard.

Max nodded at someone in the doorway and Eric lifted his head to see the doctor from before walk in, a tall older man beside him. The older man's face was lined with other people's troubles, his brow sporting a permanent worry line.

Again, Max took the seat beside Eric and the doctors sat across the table.

The doctor spoke first. "Gentlemen, this is my colleague, Dr. Young. He has spoken with the patient-"

"She has a name," Eric snarled, tired of this 'patient' business. "It's Fox."

"Excuse me," the doctor's cheeks darkened slightly. "Dr. Young has spoken with Fox and is ready to present his findings."

Dr. Young began to speak immediately. "Fox's case is unique. She does indeed suffer from Post-Traumatic Retrograde Amnesia, to a severe degree; she remembers nothing beyond the past two years. I am concerned however, there is usually some degree of regained memory by now and Fox still remembers nothing. This may be a deliberate, if subconscious act on Fox's part, a survival mechanism is you will, but I tend to favour another theory. Amnesiacs need stimulation to spur their memories, submersion in their past environments to trigger the brain to re-establish the connections between recall and stored memories that have been damaged. Fox has been isolated from her home and past life, confined in a new and harsh environment. Her memories remain locked but I am curious to see what returning to her home faction will trigger.

Based on specific analytical questions, I can also say with certainty that Fox has been forcibly indoctrinated, or brainwashed. The blank slate that was her amnesiac mind has been rewritten to favour a factionless view of life and authority. She immediately shows hatred towards Dauntless, blames them for cruelly treating the factionless, raiding their stores and the like, but by asking carefully worded questions I can see the traces of her previous morals and viewpoints. She would not cling to these if she had willingly adopted the beliefs of the factionless. Therefore, I can say with confidence she has been forcibly indoctrinated and continues to fight it, which is nothing but encouraging."

"What about Stockholm Syndrome?" Max asked quietly.

Eric sat up straighter, waiting. What he knew of the phenomenon was that the victim falls in love with their captor; had this happened to Fox? Was this person the father of her children, an obstacle in Eric's way?

The doctor shook his head as he began to speak. "No, I see no real evidence of Stockholm syndrome, she has been indoctrinated and remembers no other life to contradict that. It is as if she was born factionless, has never been part of Dauntless."

"Is it reversible?" Eric's voice was low, his hands white-knuckled on the chair arms. His face had grown paler and paler as the doctor had continued speaking, his hope growing fainter with each word.

"I believe it's possible, with time and certain therapies, as well as infusions of healing serum."

"What types of therapy?" Eric's stomach clenched, he did not want Fox to be doped up on medications.

"Practical therapy, cognitive, occupational. Basically just immersion back into her regular life, once it's determined she would not be a threat to others. I strongly recommend she stay here in Dauntless, there is no need for her to be transferred to our psychiatric centre at Erudite."

"You mean returning to her shared apartment with Eric, going back to her job?" Max was leaning forwards, listening intently. Fox had been like a daughter to him, and his private agony at her absence had been deep.

"Not right away, perhaps a shared accommodation with a female friend; tasks and chores to be done rather than the immediate responsibility of her previous occupation. Too much all at once would be overwhelming, she needs gradual reintegration into her previous life."

Max sat back, glanced over at Eric and raised his brow to the younger man. Eric leaned back as well, crossed his arms over his chest.

"I want to see her now." Eric said flatly.

The doctor sighed then nodded. Standing he said, "I'll take you there." He looked over at Max. "When I return we can discuss the specifics of Fox's treatments." He looked back up at Eric as he started to walk away. "Max can fill you in when you return."

Eric was hardly listening, his full attention focussed on Fox, so close to him now. He reluctantly tuned back in when it became obvious the doctor wasn't going to stop talking.

"Fox is restrained right now. Currently she is confined to a bed, with the IV therapies I ordered being infused in numerous lines. She has been bathed and cleaned, all her current wounds and injuries treated. She has been relatively uncommunicative so far, beyond answering our questions. Two guards will remain outside the room, for as much her protection as yours. I will not tolerate you agitating her. Do not attempt to continue your previous relationship, she does not remember you. Answer her questions, feel free to ask your own simple ones, but do not force her in any way. Do not touch her, do not assume she will tolerate any form of intimacy from you."

"I'm not going to try and fuck her!" Eric growled angrily, partially enraged that the doctor would think him low enough to try and partially because every fibre in his body screamed to touch her, reassure himself that she was alive and real. He just wanted to hold her hand for Christ's sake, maybe stroke her cheek. To hear this doctor talk, anything Eric did would set Fox off, he'd need to sit on his hands.

The doctor stopped in front of a closed door, an armed guard stood on either side. He nodded tightly to Eric, then reached forwards and turned the knob, pushed the door open.

Eric stepped through the door, barely hearing it close behind him. His whole being was focussed on the woman in front of him.

Fox looked up and met his gaze. Eric recognized fear amidst the rage and hate in her eyes, but she didn't look away or cower. She was almost unrecognizably gaunt, her cheekbones sharp blades in her face, her collarbones fully visible. The treatment gown she wore absolutely dwarfed her scrawny frame. Her skin was pale with ill health, marked with fresh wounds and freshly healed scars. Her wrists were wrapped in thick, padded leather restraints, with enough slack she could sit up or lay down at her leisure, but short enough that she wouldn't be able to grab at Eric. The head of the bed was raised, Fox almost sitting upright. She watched him carefully as he approached, her expression remained guarded, almost belligerent.

Slowly, partly not to startle Fox and partly because he was so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, Eric sat in the empty chair near her bedside. He inhaled unsteadily, licked his lips.

"Fox... hi baby," he offered tentatively.

"I am not 'Fox'," she snapped back, no trace of the woman he loved in her raspy voice and Eric felt his tenuous hope flare and die.