A/N: Hi, welcome to my story. I hope you enjoy it. I would love if you reviewed it, I appreciate each review and they help me grow as a writer. Thank you!
*Disclaimer* I don't own the Divergent trilogy.
Chapter 1
My eyelids are heavy. They press down on my eyes like they're made of lead. Why would they be so weighted? Why can't I move them? They won't flutter or even twitch, not matter how hard I try. Where am I anyway?
Where ever I am is strange. It's too quiet. So quiet that a pin dropping a mile away could be heard. The silence is eerie and unsettling; nothing in the Dauntless compound is this quiet. It's extremely uncomfortable too. Whatever I'm lying on in rough and uneven. It feels like I'm pressed against a bed of gravel and concrete. One thing's for sure, the only good thing I can find about this place is the warm hand threaded through mine. The palm is rough, but the fingers are nimble and strong. The thumb is rubbing soft circle on the back of my palm. Softly, the comforting hand squeezes mine. I know whose hand that is. It's as familiar to me as my own. I know who it belongs to, and it's very comforting that they are here. I wish my mind would stop fogging over as I try to think, try to remember who the hand belongs to.
I give up trying to remember. It's obviously a pointless task right now. Whatever is making my brain scrabble at the effort is doing its job much too well. Instead I go back to my eyes. I want them open. I want to see where I am. I want to know.
My eyes are still shut with a curtain of lead. They feel full of sand now too. I try to pull back my eyelids. Nothing. I pull at them harder. Still nothing. I need to focus all my strength on this. I force a deep breath, centering myself. I pause slightly to cringe when the shooting pain runs up my ribs. I take a second, less calming, and much shallower breath. I tug and push, pull and prod. Suddenly my eyes snap open, as if the last barrier holding them shut was instantly cut.
The world about me is very dark. The ceiling is made of hard stone and mortar, and a faint florescent light clings to the ceiling. To my left is an IV bag. The tube is running right from the pole into the top of my left hand. My fingers move when I make them, even though they are stiff. So do all ten toes, well, I can feel them moving under the grey fleece blanket draped over my legs. To my right is a mute heart monitor, I'm glad the sound was turned down so I could sleep. Next to the heart monitor, in a black plastic chair, is a man. He is silent, just staring at the wall across from my bed. His dark hair is short, Abnegation short. His shoulders are slumped a little. He's been sitting there for a long time. Most importantly, his hand is connected to mine. When he notices me staring at him, notices me awake, he lights up. His smile is a bizarre mix of relief and joy. I don't understand why he would be relieved, I was just sleeping. It's not like I'm on my death bed.
I see him mouth a word, "Tris." He smiles. My name. "Tobias," I say back. The name popped into my head, like a lost popcorn carnal popping in the bowl. Tobias mouths something again. I've never been great at reading lips, he knows that. I wonder why he doesn't just talk. "What?" I ask. He doesn't respond. Instead he carefully leans forward and presses his mouth to mine, too impatient to answer me before he kisses me. I try to kiss back emphatically, but my head pounds. It makes me pull away and close my eyes, the fresh pain washing over me. When I open my eyes again Tobias is pressing a call button on the side rail of my bed, my hospital bed.
Two minutes later a doctor walked in. He wore a black doctor's coat and an unreadable expression. He looked at me, then Tobias, and back to me before he started talking. Except he never says a word. He just mouths things to us, and Tobias nods his head like he understands everything. I'm, in a word, pissed.
"What are you saying?" I say. "What's wrong? What happened?" I start rolling questions off my tongue in rapid fire. Finally I nearly screech when I say, "And why aren't you talking to me?"
The room's still quiet, it always has been. My mind is still slow, working to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. When I get close, I stop thinking about it. I don't wasn't to. It's impossible. I force the thought from my mind; I refuse to believe for even a second that it could be true.
The movement is instantaneous. The doctor unhooks my heart monitor and hooks my IV to the bed and pulls me from the room. As he pushes me from the room I notice his name tag. It is a thin rectangle made of a light grey material. Printed in loopy script is his name, Dr. James Sears, MD.
A few minutes pass before I'm rolled into our destination. A tall woman with dark skin and hair is waiting. She gives me a fleeting hug before helping me onto the flat white board. I look up at her and mouth, "Hi Christina." She forces a smile before pressing the button that slides me into the tube.
I've been in an MRI once before. A couple of years ago I took a hard tumble when I was jumping out of a train. My normal confidence caused me to not see the lip of the cart. Long story short I took a head first dive off the train. I ended up with a broken ankle and a concussion. They strapped me into this tube to check my head. "Don't want your brain bleeding," they said.
I remember the noise. Last time the MRI click and clattered so loud I could barely hear myself think. This time it was silent. I'm sure the worst has happened. Why else would I be unable to hear the infinite noise of the machine?
At least the fogging in my head is clearing. I struggle to remember why I was here. I remember being in a car. I was on my way back from the Candor after a long day of negotiating terms of peace with them. I spent the whole day trying to get them to trust the Dauntless, to trust me. I was in the car, driving down the road toward the compound. I was ready to go home. I had wanted to go home all day long. I remember thinking about what was waiting for me at the compound. Christina would babble about her day. There would be a call on the machine from Caleb. At dinner Zeke would make me laugh so hard my sides hurt, and then he would wrap his hand around Shauna's. They were dating, but weren't flashy about it. Uriah would come to the table and look at me expectantly. Then he'd whisper something in my ear, look at Christina, and we would laugh. We loved making her think that we were talking about her. Then to make her even more pissed, Uriah would ruffle her hair. Finally, Tobias would slide into the chair next to me. He would press his forehead against mine and kiss me. Not deep or intense, we weren't the most public about displays of affection. The kiss would have been short and sweet. Something that satisfied the days wants to see him, but always left me wanting another. Out fingers would lace together and we would join the dinner conversation. We would get back to our apartment and talk about the day. And we would kiss, for real this time. I was just turning onto the main road when headlights flashed in front of me and the world blacked out.
My eyes fly open when someone shakes my shoulder. Did I really fall asleep? I must have. Tobias now sits on the couch in the corner. He has something white in his hands and he drums his fingers on it. He's nervous. Dr. Sears is by the door. He stands there watching me, like he's gaging my temperament or behavior. His think eye brows crease together in concentration. This is what makes me nervous.
Christina is the one who woke me up. She stands next to me. Her black scrubs are rumpled and one look at her tells me that she has been crying. Her eyes always get puffy when she does. When she grabs my hand she gives me a sympathetic look. She points at Dr. Sears. I look at him just in time for him to flip the white board in his left hand over. The writing on the other side is hastily scrawled across the smooth white surface. My eyes flit, line by line, over the board.
Tris, in the accident you sustained a severe concussion.
Your auditory complex, the part of your brain that processes sound was damaged.
Unfortunately, the MRI showed that it is irreparable.
You won't be able to hear again.
It's not written, but I can clearly see on his face that he's sorry. I look away. My mind feels like I'm on the pain killers again. Fuzzy, foggy, unfocused; except this time it's from shock not medicine. I look up to see Tobias glancing at me. His eyes clearly wonder if I'm okay. I still can't think straight. It feels like another person is in control of my body when I shake my head. Except I feel every stroke of pain when my head moves sharply. It feels like someone is taking a hammer to my head. It's so painful that my stomach turns with my head. When the pain stops, a sudden dizziness sets in. My vision wavers; black covers my sight then white.
I still feel sick. Dr. Sears jerks. His hand reaches into his pocket; he reads the pager and leaves before anyone can react. The door of my room shuts and I feel it. The feeling of a heavy stone falling into the pit of my stomach. It takes all my composure not to burst into tears. I look to Tobias, hoping that he can lend me some strength. Except he looks just as shocked and pained as I feel. My fingers reach toward the whiteboard Christina laid on the foot of the bed. I take my time writing on it. The more care I put into writing these words, the steadier I feel. The words "What now?" were printed across the middle of the board. When I'm done, I turn it so they can read it. Christina is the one who answers me. She takes the board from me and writes for a minute. When I can read it again, I see it says:
Tomorrow a doctor from Amity and an expert from Erudite are coming.
They'll tell you.
I have to go, see you later.
The door shut. It was like we didn't need words to communicate. He walks over to my bed without a word and I shift over. He pops the rails down and sits, lying against the bed. When he leans back I grabbed his hand. I need the support. He gently wraps his arm around my shoulder. I instinctively lean my head against his shoulder. My eyes start to water. I know it's pointless to stop them now. I was going to cry sometime. I can feel a sob rising in my chest, cause my ribs to burn. I'm sure I broke them. Tobias turns and rests his lips against my hair. I turn into his shirt. The detergent/Tobias smell calms me a little bit, but it does nothing to stop the tears that seep from my eyes or the shakes that now make my arms quiver. He just sits there, taking my tears in stride. He keeps trying to calm me down. Stroking my hair, kissing my forehead. I can also feel his breath against my ear as he makes calming sounds I'll never hear again. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's having a hard time not crying too.