Mon Confort
My Comfort by starsofcreation
Disclaimer : the Divergent series and anything recognizable belongs to Veronica Roth
He has never felt such terror as what overtook his body when he'd see her in Peter's arms. It groped at his heart and his mind, made his pulse stop and brain cease.
'She's dead.' The one thought poisonous and terrifying.
But then Peter said she was alive and then they were running, then we was firing, killing, and running again.
Her feet leave bloody imprints through the streets, inside Marcus's house, and into his room. Tobias knows nobody will bother to clean the footprints. There is a war raging on around them and there is no time for such mundane tasks. He glances around the rooms as she does, taking note of every detail. Nothing is different, but yet everything is. "Marcus didn't go into this room after I left. I'm pretty sure," he tells her. He watches her bright eyes flit from corner to corner, book to book, landing on the figurine on his dresser. It is small and blue; its delicate glass body fragile. "My mother smuggled that to me when I was young," he explains. "Told me to hide it. The day of the ceremony, I put it on my dresser before I left. So he would see it. A small act of defiance." He can feel his chest swell the smallest bit with the same boyish pride he'd felt the day of his Choosing Ceremony. Tris nods, a barely perceptible nod. Tobias looks at her, taking in every bruise, cut, splatter and smear of blood. Something about her is different, off. He sees it in the way her shoulders sag, the way she moves ever so gingerly as if she is made of glass and will break at any moment despite his tight hold on her. She is alone he realizes. Her family is all dead, in one way or another. Slowly, she is crumbling, the pieces of her breaking off and shattering. He will be the one to put Tris back together again and keep her that way.
"Let's take care of your feet," he murmurs and slides his fingers to the crook of her arm. Tris's response is a tired and quiet, "Okay." It makes him hurt when he hears how broken she sounds. The water in the bathtub is cold as he crouches to wash her feet. He doesn't mind this because touching her again is like he's alive and his lungs don't feel so heavy and his mind is clear. She takes his hands and washes them until every crevice of his palm is no longer stained with blood and dirt. It feels like a lifetime since he's felt her cool touch. A million years. So he takes the time to bask in the feel of her finger's sliding against his palms. As he dries her off with a towel she speaks, sounding scared. "I don't…my family is all dead or traitors; how can I..." the sobs come from the deepest parts of her. The parts where she buries all the destruction and death she has seen and caused. He has only the protection of his arms to offer so he pulls her to him and holds her tight like he can shield her from all the world's evils. "I'll be you family now." He says unfalteringly. "I love you," she whispers. His heart skips in his chest and he looks down at her. He can see one day, when there is no war or Jeanine Matthews, the future they might have. He can see marrying her, bringing her home every day, spending the rest of his days by her side. He can see it and he wants it.
"Say it again."
"Tobias, I love you."
He kisses her collarbone, her cheek, and lands on her lips. He kisses her with everything he has and more. It's an unspoken promise of a peaceful tomorrow.
"I love you too."
Author's Note: Hi guys this is my very first fanfiction, and I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read it :) all positive reviews and constructive criticism is welcome, but hate is not.