AN: Editing wizardry provided by Milner.

Four let the weight of the day wash off of him as he stepped into the facility, past the abandoned guard gate and down the hall. He was keenly aware of the sideways glances Zeke threw him as they walked past the empty stations and still equipment into the atrium area without explanation, Christina in tow.

A few clumps of disoriented people wandered here and there, a good sign that everything went to plan; he was relieved. Cara -with a bruise on her face and bandage on her head- stood from a bench with her lips pursed and approached.

"What is it?" Four asked. When she didn't meet his eyes, it set off alarms in his chest. He quickened his pace towards her. Her face was so out of place with the success of the job that it had to mean something went wrong. "Where's Tris?"

"I'm sorry, Tobias." She started softly.

"Sorry about what? Tell us what happened!" Christina demanded, grabbing her arm.

"Tris went into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb. She survived the death serum, and set off the memory serum, but she...she was shot." Her voice began to falter and Four's heart raced. Cara looked down, unable to meet either of their eyes. "They don't think she'll make it."

"Where is she?" He demanded, swallowing hard, trying to get purchase in his vocal cords. "Where is she?"

"She's in the hospital wing, they're making her as comfortable as they can."

She called after him, but he was already sprinting, Christina as fast on his heels as she could manage.

Zeke held his mother as they approached Cara, carefully, but with their own purpose. "Do you know where my brother, Uriah, is?" Cara wiped a tear off her face and started a much slower pace through the compound.

The nurse explained slowly and clearly, holding Four's attention and his body outside of the room. He said that she had lost too much blood and that she was deprived of oxygen. He said she had swelling in her brain and damage to her liver. He said that there were four wounds to her torso- two that exited out her front and one on the side, and one that had yet to be retrieved. She'd also lost her spleen and part of her small intestine.

He also informed him that her next of kin provided blood and had the sole responsibility and authority to make decisions on her behalf. Caleb sat in the corner of her room eying over her charts and cross referencing with a book. He looked up, stunned to see Four staring back at him, and he chewed his lip looking just like her.

Four glared at him -jaw trembling, fists clenched- but his feet were planted like statuary. He couldn't hear the discussion inside the room between Caleb, the nurse, and the doctor. He saw the flash of lights on and off, the gesticulation of the nurse explaining the forms, and Caleb's nervous glances back out at him. Nervous because he could kill him; nervous that he would.

"He killed him, you know." Cara offered, arriving to check on him. "He killed David. Then he saved her."

"He wouldn't have had to if he'd done his part." Four seethed.
"She wouldn't let him." Cara put a hand on his arm and he shook it off. The touch too familiar, too warm in his coldness.

"She made him stay behind."

"If he cared about her at all, he wouldn't have let her." He stubbornly and irrationally rationalized.
"Do you really think that? Or is it just who she is?" Cara reminded him, and he felt guilty for doubting her, again.

But she had promised, and her presence in that bed was proof she had broken that promise. In this moment, black and white was all he could manage.

Caleb signed a sheet of paper and Four punched a wall; the crumbling gypsum flaked around his shoes. He stalked off to avoid strangling Caleb, and circled back after climbing up and back down the stairs. Caleb was sitting outside her door -his face in his hands and his eyes red and swollen- waiting for him. Cara sat near by, a security officer just past her. Four knew why. He stood in front of Caleb, arms crossed, waiting for his verdict.

"I'm going to wait five days, then re-evaluate." His voice broke on the last word. "I just want to see if the swelling goes down, if brain activity resumes." Four nodded his head.
"Just another experiment." He spat spitefully.

"No." Caleb softly mumbled, "I don't have anything left without her. I need to give her a chance to come around, to prove them wrong. She usually does."

"It should be you."

Four stepped past him and into the room, taking a seat by her side and pushing her hair out of her face. The tubes breathed for her, the IV hydrated her, the blanket warmed her, but his hand was the only thing there that could comfort her. So he placed it inside her limp and cold fingers and rubbed warmth back in, willing life itself to transfer.

Caleb hovered near the door, just to say one thing. "She wanted me to tell you that she didn't want to leave you." He couldn't jump fast enough to avoid Four's lunging hands that pushed him out of the door way before shutting him out.

That night and the next day was a blur of routines.

The nurses came in to change catheter bags and Ivs; to feed her through a tube in her stomach; to clear her airway; to change the bandages on her sutures; to swap linens.

Four woke up in the chair by her side, stiff, and ate something Cara brought to him in the hallway. He walked and paced for two hours afterwards while Caleb held her hand.

Sometimes he ran until he could taste iron in his mouth and his gums hurt. Then he would return to the rhythmic beeps that kept her alive, studying her. His mind started to play tricks on him, that she wiggled her nose or the blankets moved. But each time he'd focus on what was in the corner of his eye, stillness would shatter his hopes.

Day two and the routine continued, only to be interrupted by Christina coming to pull his attention to another vigil down the hall.

They said goodbye to Uriah, his family around him to watch him go. Four and the others stood in the hallway, holding on to each other. Zeke and Hana stayed for just a few hours before Amar shuttled them back into the city.

Zeke never said goodbye to any of them -never even made eye contact- just rushed out behind Amar to the truck. But Hana lingered, thoughtfulness behind her puffy eyes. She stepped in front of Four, held out her hands to touch his arms, then pulled him into an embrace. "I hope she pulls through." She smiled weakly, and left. Four felt unworthy.

Day four came after an uneventful day three, and the new routine started.

Twice a day, electrodes were hooked to her head at Caleb's insistence. Little waves popped up every so often, but the technician just called them noise. It made Four nervous to think they could overlook something; that they could pull the plug and kill her.

It became his overwhelming thought, and when his daydreams floated into nightmares, the source for his restless sleep. The third time on day five, Four stood in the corner while the nurse haphazardly placed the pads on her skull, the smell of her morning coffee permeating the room.

"Do they hurt her?" He asked. He hadn't stayed for the experiments the last time, the room too small for him and Caleb, but Caleb wasn't here yet.

"Oh, these? No, not really. It might pull her hair a little when we take them out, though." She started to place with more precision, like she needed the reminder that Tris was still a human worthy of her attention. It made him angry.

The technician followed a few minutes later with a machine on a cart, connecting the cables to each probe, and powered it on. "Let's see, Ms. Prior." He spoke to her gently; how Four would prefer for her to be talked to.

"Sometimes, they respond to things they hear," he explained as he smiled at Four. Not with the pity of the nurses, no, but with the hope of an optimist. "Do you talk to her?"

"Me, no, not really." He admitted, sitting down to take her hand.

"Why not give it a try?"

He swiveled the monitor so that Four could read it. "Each one of these lines is a probe, this is the normal noise of her central nervous system. What makes her heart beat and stuff. So anything that blips up..."

"What should I say to her?" He asked. The lines jumped and he squeezed her hands. "Like that? They move like that?" and the lines jittered again.
"She must like your voice." The technician played with some knobs, "She doesn't respond nearly as much when I'm talking. Say something else to her."

Four couldn't help but blush. Public displays weren't something they'd had time to settle into, but facts had started to become more than just a goal between them. They had promised they would never lie.

"Tris, today is the last day -today is the day- to wake up. To move or squeeze my hand. There may not be a tomorrow." He paused and looked up on the screen to see the pulsing up and down and the technician smiling. "Is that real? Is it real? Is she still here?"

"I think so." He nodded, "Maybe she just needed time for the swelling to go down. Keep talking to her. Might be what she needs to come back."

He started to write up notes, and then exited to file a report of positive signs of significant brain activity.

"You have never scared me more." Four put his lips on her hand and let the relief spread over him. "What have you been waiting for? What are you still waiting for? Just a squeeze of my hand, your right hand. Just squeeze."

But nothing, no motion. He tried to think of something to say, but there just wasn't much that didn't make him feel silly or embarrassed. He half started with talking about his childhood, but that only made him angry.

Then he thought about some of the things she hadn't been apart of during the last raid, only to feel irritated at her lies. He eventually settled into something he'd only thought about thinking about; he talked about a future. It was a picture with alot of gaps, but a future with her and their friends and a world where they could be all of who they are.

Day seven- her brain waves had been steady whenever anyone talked, and the swelling was nearly gone. She moved restlessly in her sleep, and they made the decision to remove the tube in her throat to see if she could breath on her own.

Christina held Four's hand and gripped his shoulder, holding him up. Cara stood next to Caleb who signed the sheet, and then held Tris's hand as they separated the tubing, waiting for her chest to rise. All of them let out a sigh with her first breath.

Day eight- while Caleb had read to her from a medical journal about physical therapy for head injuries, she opened her eyes and thrashed in a fit, disoriented. A team of people flooded into the room to rapid fire questions at her, with blink twice or blink once and did she know her name. They were able to determine that she seemed unaffected by the memory serum, but Cara pointed out that she wouldn't have put in the code if she'd been wiped so the whole fiasco seemed unnecessary and over tiring.

Day nine- she kept her eyes open for an hour at a time, but only responded with slow blinks. When Four reached out for her hand, she pulled back and looked away from him.

The first time, Christina teased him about his lack of shaving, and he immediately corrected his appearance, not wanting anything to confuse her. But again, she pulled away, and tears dripped down pooling against her nose. He stood just outside the door, watching as everyone else asked her questions, read to her, or just held her hand through the painful routines.

"She doesn't know who you are, she probably can't see you clearly." Christina offered, but he knew just as well as she did that her actions were deliberate.

"I don't care, as long as she keeps making progress," he lied, and took a run around the facility.

Day eleven- she had uttered slow and hoarse words and asked for Caleb; they talked quietly for hours.

Caleb told the others that she mainly asked about books they read as children; the name of the characters, the plot points, the progression of the English curriculum. He had asked her about Four; did she remember him? Did she know who he was? Would she talk to him? She just shook her head and stopped responding, falling asleep quickly.

Day twelve- she had spoken with Christina and Cara and avoided his glances from the hallway. She asked if they would ask him to leave. They reduced her pain medication, and she screamed out uncontrollably when they didn't overlap them appropriately. He sat five feet outside her door, outside of her view, and cringed helplessly on the floor as she shrieked. When she stopped, he settled into the chair next to her bed; she avoided his eyes and fought sleep.

"Tris, I get that you're mad at me, the feeling's mutual." He started. "You weren't supposed to get hurt. You were supposed to stay alive."

"Leave." She whispered.

"It's okay, I'm getting over it, but this silent treatment isn't helping." He reached out to rub her arm, "I mean, you know why I'm pissed with you, but I don't get why your pissed with me. In either case, we can work through this."

"Just leave." She sighed and closed her eyes.
"No." All the confusion became anger, and it was hard for him to hold his temper in check when he was so tired. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell I did so I can fix this."

She glared at him, but couldn't hold his stare. "Just leave."

Day thirteen- he had barely slept and she still wouldn't see him, so he formulated his own plan in his head.

It was clear to him that she was making a cognizant decision to exclude him from her life. He thought back on every thing they had ever said. He thought about his threat and her promise; it sat like a pit in his stomach. But it didn't make sense that she was rejecting him when she was the one that broke her promise to stay alive.

He was certain by dinner that he couldn't sit outside her door for the rest of her life. He had to go somewhere where he couldn't act on his masochistic compulsion to be rejected over and over.

"It's so strange." Christina shook her head, "She won't explain anything to me. To Caleb, to Cara. No one." She rubbed his arm a little, but he couldn't take the affection and pulled back. He rubbed his face instead, his hands shaking. He had made his decision.

Day fourteen- he had come from a shower and a nap. Not enough sleep, but he woke with a determination.

Instead of going straight to her room or the hallway outside, he stepped down to the commissary and calmly gathered new clothes -or gently used- since he couldn't afford much.

He crinkled his nose at the blue denim and white shirts that were available. It felt foreign to think about wearing colors. He found a warm knit sweatshirt and a heavy corduroy coat. Lastly, he found a pair of stiff new black boots with a tough sole and thick socks.

Amar was waiting outside the shop for him to step out. "Quite the shopping spree," he teased. "Heard Tris is coming along."

"Yeah, seems to be," he admitted, not really wanting to talk. But then a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, I hear there's a bus leaving for Milwaukee today."

"Yeah." Amar looked at him strangely. "Why?"

"I need to be on it. Gotta move on. Get out of here, clear my head."

"I didn't realize she was ready to travel." He smiled broadly, only Four wasn't smiling with him.
"Just me," he commented.

"What's going on?"

"She asked me to go." He shrugged, "She's pissed at me for something, must have fucked up big." He swallowed hard, "Anyways, there's no life for me here. So I gotta be on that bus."

"Four-"

"Just, Amar, please. How do I get on that bus?"

He found her room empty and her eyes open, examining her fingers and the IV in her arm. He gathered his courage and stepped into the room. She glared at him, then looked away.

"Hi, Tris," he initiated loud and clear so he knew for absolute certainty she knew he was there. She pursed her lips.

"I know I make you uncomfortable." A hint of contorted pain crossed her face. "We used to love each other, and I get that it's not true for you anymore." His voice cracked and the tears came down his face, "So, I'm going." He shook his head, wiping snot from his nose on his sleeve.

"I'll let you be. I'll let you live how ever you want. Just promise me that you'll live a good life," he insisted. "Look at me, and promise." She raised her eyes to his, tears on her cheeks too.

She reached out and touched his hand with her fingers, hesitated, then laid her palm fully in contact and nodded silently. He wanted to leave his hand warmed by her, touched by her. But he swallowed and stood, turned, and didn't look back.

Christina was hovering in the hallway, concern written all over her face. "What are you doing?"

"What ever she wants." He smiled a sour smirk and pulled on his coat. "Take care of her and take care of yourself." He hugged her, almost too hard and certainly unexpectedly.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a bus leaving for Milwaukee, wherever that is." He banged his fist on the hallway wall as he walked down. "I'll write you when I get there."

In threes fast steps, she was in Tris' doorway. "What are you doing? You can't just let him leave like that," Christina begged her.

"It's better if he goes."

"He doesn't want to go. He wants to help you. Stay here and take care of you."

"He needs to go." She wiped her face. "It's not good for him here."

"What?" Christina exclaimed. "He loves you. He really, really loves you, and you're going to let that just walk away? Seriously, you almost died, I don't think you should be making decisions like this."

"I'm not asking you to understand." She stated, then pulled the blankets up.

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