"Where's Tris?" I ask Cara. Her face pales and her lower lip trembles slightly. Her hair is disheveled; her glasses are askew. She doesn't look anything like the strong, smart Erudite I know.
"Cara, are you okay?" Christina asks, slowly, as if doubting her own words. She frowns, and I see her Candor kick in as she tries to figure out what bothers Cara.
"I… I'm so sorry, Four," she mumbles, looking down, her eyes shifting as if she can't focus on anything in particular.
My instincts kick in, and I narrow my eyes. Something tells me Tris is the problem. Tris is hurt.
"What do you mean?" I ask, stepping closer to Cara. Christina, behind me, frowns as if she's tasted something terribly sour.
Cara just shakes her head. I can't take it anymore; I grab her shoulders and shake her, not roughly, but enough to elicit an answer. "What happened, Cara?" I ask quietly, half-growling.
"Tris… went into the Weapons Lab," Cara says tearfully, looking away from me.
Why would she go into the Weapons Lab? Why? Caleb was supposed to. This isn't right. Why would she?
But then it hits me. Of course she would go in instead of Caleb. I remember dimly what she said to Caleb, so long ago it feels like years: I would never deliver you to your own execution. And she didn't.
I look at Cara. "And…?" I choke out.
"She survived the Death Serum, Four." Cara looks me in the eye. "She got by."
I drop my hands, stunned. She survived the Death Serum? I mean, I know that Tris is Divergent and could survive most serums, but I know for a fact that even Divergents cannot survive Death Serum. How did she do it? "Where is she, then?" I ask, hope leaking back into my heart.
Cara averts her eyes again. "She… she was shot. Multiple times. I… I'm so sorry, Four. I know you loved her."
I feel my knees give away, and suddenly, I'm on the ground. "I… What? She's gone?"
Cara shakes her head, and for a split second I'm gaining hope again, but then I suppress it because I don't know what she's going to say. "Tris is in intensive care, Four. She has a four percent chance of surviving. There's minimal brain damage, but she sustains serious damage to her stomach and lungs. The Death Serum didn't kill her, but she breathed a lot of it in, so they suspect that tumors may be forming in her lungs. She was shot in the stomach.
"And… well, the doctors will probably just want you to let go right now, Four. We'll tell you if there are any improvements, Four. I… I'm sorry." She stands there, searching for some sort of emotion in my eyes, but I am empty. Completely, utterly, empty without my Tris. When she sees nothing, she turns away and runs.
It takes a minute for everything to sink in, and then I am helpless anyway.
But then I realize that maybe Cara is pulling some kind of cruel prank on me. Tris is in there, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, and when I enter the compound she will run to me, fling her narrow body on mine, and I will kiss her the way we always kiss.
I look at Christina for clarification. She's Candor, she can tell whether it's a prank or not. I stand up, a little shaky on my legs, and turn to her. But she is sobbing loudly, crumpled on the ground.
No. No. No. NO!
I suddenly feel like I am floating; this can't be true. It can't. It cannot.
I look around: I see the sky, the building, the grass, I stare at the truck. Anything to distract me from the pain looming above me.
Zeke is coming out and walking towards me, saying something, but I don't care. I can't even hear him. I can't hear or see anything.
Empty.
But then it hits me, over and over, as if I am being hit by a truck in the chest: over and over and over. It feels like I've been shot in the chest. I groan, clutching my heart, and double over.
I've never cried like this before.
I am not supposed to visit her. She is under special care, they all say: no one can meet her right now.
But I have to, I just have to. I can't go without.
So I wait until it is night. I have to wait until Cara and Christina doze off; they have been watching me all day. They probably think I'm going mad. All I've done all day is stare at the wall and mumble Tris' name over and over. Maybe I am going mad. It'll be a welcome change, and perhaps it'll be easy to live without Tris if I am out of my mind.
No. Tris isn't going to die; I just need to talk to her… just once. Maybe the sound of my voice can wake her up, maybe I can do something to help… maybe, maybe.
I slip out of bed, and put on some shoes and a shirt, padding down the hallway softly. I don't really remember where the compound hospital is; I just let my feet guide me since they know where they are going.
Soon, somehow, I get there. A guard sits at the door with a gun slung across his body. When he sees me, his expression softens, probably because I look so pitiful right now.
"I… need to visit my friend. Uh… Uriah Pedrad," I say. I realize that I need to visit him. He's in intensive care too; maybe I can see Tris while I visit him.
He nods. "Go right in, son." It strikes me that these people are half dazed right now; their memories were removed yesterday, and whatever Cara and the others told them must be just settling down in their heads. I think back to Peter; everyone must have acted that way.
I walk in, and the bright white light half blinds me. I look around, adjusting, and then walk up to the lady at the counter, who is basically just slumped there staring into the distance.
"Uh… hello?" I say, standing over her.
She snaps back to life in a very… well, surreal way. "Yes, may I help you?"
"Um. I need to visit Uriah Pedrad. He's in intensive care, right?"
She scans her papers. "Yes. ICU 4 is where you'll find him." She winks at me, and it fills me with painful disgust. I walk away quickly, down the hallway.
When I find the ICUs, I slow down until I find the fourth one. I hope Tris is in here, I think. I open the door and walk in.
Instantly, I'm plagued with grief once again, because right in front of me, on adjacent beds, lay Uriah and Tris. The results of my stupidity. The two people I care about most, and they are probably going to die because of me.
Tris is hooked up to hlaf a dozen machines. There is an IV, an ECG, and a couple of others I don't recognize. She looks terrible… her hair is a rat's nest, and there is a huge bandage over her right eye, but she's there. Tris. My Tris. She's here, she's alive for now, she could live.
I walk over unsteadily, not trusting my knees to hold up, and sit on her bed. I take her hand in mine. She is so small, so fragile, like she could break any minute. And now she has. I can only hope she can be put together again.
A sob escapes me as I stare at her face. She's not moving, not doing anything. Just… there.
I lean over and plant a small kiss on her lips.
"I'm so sorry, Tris," I whisper as I break away, my face inches from hers. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry. I love you, Beatrice Prior. Come back to me." By the end of this, I'm full out crying.
I have to stay with her. I can't leave, now, with her like this. I pull up a chair right next to her bed and settle down. I smoothe her hair out with my hand as I keep hers in my other hand.
For the rest of the night, I sit there, willing my love to wake up.