Wow, thanks so much for the follows and reviews. It means a lot to me that you guys take the time to read what I write, and to leave a review is just a cherry on top of an awesome sundae.

I realize this chapter may confuse you with its descriptions of the main characters. They are a strange blend of Veronica's characters and the actors who play them. Also, just to warn you, this is a long chapter so if I haven't used my words effectively, and it's a little confusing, please PM me I will try and clear any uncertainties.

A couple of shout out/replies to some guests reviewers before we start:

CynDLou12 – Thanks for your review. Tris is most definitely badass in this fic but she will have moments of meekness and being weak. Keep reading!

Shanah – Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you like the rest of it.

Guest – Glad you enjoyed the first chapter, hope the rest doesn't disappoint.

All other reviews I will reply by PM

This is a slow-burning, long fic, 177,930 words so far and still going strong, so please stay with me folks.

Happy Thanksgiving to all those who participate in turkey day! Hope you all have a fun holiday.

And so… enjoy.


Chapter Two

Tris smiled appreciatively at the feel of the soft sheets against her bare skin as she drifting up into consciousness from a deep sleep. It had been an extremely long night and after two hours in a unit, she had demanded to be released. She hissed a little as the silk caught on the remaining unhealed wounds on her back and she knew could use another few hours in a unit, but first she needed to check on Four. She slipped from her bed and walked over to her closet, her hand wandering down to pat her ever faithful dog, Jacob, as he followed her dutifully. She found a button down, pale blue shirt with short sleeves and pulled it on, forgoing a bra; her wounds even protesting against the soft silk of the shirt. Matching this with a pair of white shorts she slipped into them with ease. A simple pair of pale blue and white converse shoes finished her casual outfit: she was nothing if she didn't co-ordinate well. She washed her face and brushed her teeth quickly before running a brush through her long blond hair. She looked at her image reflected in the mirror before her, chewing on her bottom lip unconsciously as she focused on her eyes, staring into them as if to see deep within her soul.

Life wasn't so bad, right?

She tried to be good, to be selfless, to be respectful of others, to be the person to make her parents proud. It was just sometimes, something within her didn't want to live by those rules, the rules of her parents. Her soul cried out for something different, for adventure, for danger, for a life on the edge. Was that something she'd been born with, that part of her that made her different from everyone else, that made her dangerous, or was it something she had nurtured with time after…

She shook her head, refusing to think about anything depressing, or morbid, or to do with her parents, and wrenched her gaze way from the mirror and abruptly left her room.

She walked through the corridors of the huge house with ease, smiling and greeting the people she met along the way, determined to brush away her earlier thoughts. She was well known here, this was her home as it was to many who are part of Dauntless: some there because they had no other option and others, like her, out of choice and loyalty. She looked at the long winding bannister which skirted the impressive marble staircase and resisted the urge to sit on the polished dark wood and slide to the bottom. Instead, she walked down the stairs with a bounce in her step. At the bottom she looked down to Jacob at her heels and his eyes followed her hand as she pointed to a door which was open to the outside. He obediently followed her silent command and trotted through the opening.

She set off down a corridor, stopping short when she came up to the kitchen. She quickly glanced into the huge room, its stainless steel appliances gleaming against the teal-colored cabinetry, her gaze nervous as she looked around for the cook, Gregory. Not seeing him, she silently stole further into his domain, a sly smile forming on her lips. She hunted through his well-stocked pantry and clapped with glee when she found her prize: A box of S'more flavored Pop-Tarts. She quickly pulled a foil packet from the box and headed for the toaster.

"You carry on eating those, chérie, and you'll be the size of a cow," Greg scolded as he rounded a corner in the vast room. Greg was the kind of person you could see once, think wow, but easily forget him. At 5ft 11 he was tall enough to make a statement, his hair was jet black and always sticking out at odd angles, his facial hair was there but sparse, as though it couldn't be bothered to grow in properly. His eyes were his most defining feature, a striking clear blue that reminded Tris of the Caribbean Sea. He worked out but not to the point of having heavily ripped arms, just enough to have muscle that bulged when he lifted heavy objects.

Tris guiltily held the sweet pastry behind her back. "But I missed breakfast," she pouted.

"Tris, do not pull that pout with me, you have no power over me remember," he smiled at her.

"Gay men suck," she said with a bigger pout.

"That we do," Greg smiled at her.

"Beast," she laughed.

Greg laughed with her as he pulled the packet from her hands. "And if you think I'm going to let you near any of my appliances again, you're as deluded as you are beautiful."

Beautiful. She hated that word. It was something she hardly ever attached with herself. She had been a typical child, all arms and legs almost like a baby deer, and clumsy beyond belief. Her face average at best, and never thought as anything other than ordinary. Until she hit eleven, then things had changed, she grew into her body, her features soften, and by the time she was fourteen, she was considered an unconventional beauty.

Sometimes, when she was at her most vulnerable, she wished she was that unassuming child again.

Tris kissed his cheek and settled onto a stool by the breakfast bar that was hardly used. The members of Dauntless tended to eat in the large dining room that had been set out like a cafeteria.

"So, I hear you brought us a delectable specimen home from your last excursion," Greg probed as he popped her pastry into the toaster and then he poured her a cup of coffee, bringing her thoughts back to the conversation.

"Yes, I did," she said with a lazy, wistful smile, thinking of the man still resting in a unit and the main object of last night's dreams. She took her coffee gratefully, watching Greg with a steady gaze. "Hands off, buddy. That body is mine," she declared evenly.

"Staking your claim early, chérie," he replied with a pointed look.

"Absolutely," she answered taking the small plate from him with her Pop-Tarts on. "He saved my life and he deserves my gratitude. And I plan to thank him over and over again," she added with a sexy grin.

"You go for it, girl," Greg responded with his own smile and a wink.

"You know I will," she agreed, taking a much needed drink of her java. "Plus, he needs to help me work off all the Pop-Tarts I eat. Apparently, I'm getting fat!"

"Chérie, if there is an ounce of fat on your body, I'll fuck a nun," Greg said straight-faced.

"Nice imagery, Greg," she drawled with a wrinkle of her nose as she finished her coffee. "What's for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Greg mumbled, pulling a recipe book from a shelf.

"Oh, oh," she gushed, bouncing a little on the stool. "Lasagna please," she begged with a smile, "with your special sauce."

"Tris, I think the others are fed up with lasagna," he laughed.

"But I could have died last night," she lamented, not realizing the pout was back.

"That pout has too many outings, Tris. You're a spoiled brat, you do realize this," Greg commented, putting the book back.

Tris laughed as she jumped from the stool, her other Pop-Tart in her hand. "I'm not spoiled, I'm well loved," she countered. "And I'm 23. I'm not a child anymore and I haven't been for a long time."

Greg caught her before she left the kitchen, her chin in his hand. "You will always be a child, Chérie. The child of our hearts," and he kissed her on the lips. "Now scram, you brat," he laughed, slapped her ass as she left the kitchen.

By the time Tris arrived at the medical center, an addition built onto the back of the sprawling mansion, she had finished her other Pop-Tart. She pulled open the double doors that led inside, smiling at a young medic on her way through to Tori's office.

She walked straight in to see Tori sitting behind her desk, tapping rapidly on the keyboard to her computer.

"Hey, Tori," Tris called out cheerfully. "Have you even had a break?"

"Yes, Tris," Tori answered, her eyes not moving from the computer screen. Tris looked over to the small cot Tori kept in the corner of her office.

"I mean in a real bed," Tris clarified. "Preferably a man's bed, with said man in it," she added with a smile.

Tori stopped typing and looked over to the younger girl. Tris was a few years younger than her, but way older in many ways. "And how would that lead to me taking a break?" she asked.

"Well, it's a good way to unwind and relax," Tris grinned and wiggled her eyebrows to her friend.

Tori shook her head with a smile and turned back to the computer and started typing again.

"Still no luck with Zeke, huh?" Tris probed with a gentle smile.

Tori sighed and stopped typing again, this time turning her chair to face Tris where she was perched on her desk.

"I don't know, Tris, I just don't understand him. One moment he's all hot and passionate and…"

"Ripe for jumping?" Tris supplied hopefully, her eyebrows rising.

"Yes," Tori said with a smile. "And other times it's like he's on another planet."

"Men can be dicks, Tori, big dicks," Tris stopped. "Actually, the bigger the better," she finished with a huge smile.

"Tris," Tori warned.

"Strike that," Tris continued, not hearing Tori. "Size doesn't matter, it's how it's used that matters."

"Tris," Tori tried again, shaking her head a little at her odd friend.

"No, forget that, size does matter," Tris finished.

"Are you done?" Tori asked, her eyebrow rising in question and a smirk on her face.

"Yes," Tris answered with a nod and a cheeky smile. "Back to Zeke!"

"Okay," Tori began, scooting her desk chair a little closer to Tris. "It's like I'm getting all these signals from him…"

"Vibes," Tris interjected with a double shake of her shoulders.

"Okay, vibes, whatever. Tris, will you just shut up and let me finish," Tori said with exasperation.

Tris nodded.

"Right, so I'm getting these vibes and all but when I try and implement...,"

"Implement, who the fuck uses the word implement," Tris interrupted her again, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Tori narrowed her eyes at her annoying friend. "Me, I do." Tori sighed deeply. "When I try to progress things, he shuts down and I'm left with nothing."

"Nothing but a serious itch that needs scratching," Tris huffed.

Tori rolled her eyes at Tris. "So what am I supposed to do? I can't just tie him down and take advantage of him."

"Some people like that, Tori. For all you know he's just waiting for you to come at him with a pair of handcuffs, a whip, and wearing nothing but a wicked smile," Tris paused as Zeke Pedrad jumped into her mind. "Never mind, forget that. Zeke would die from shock if that happened."

"Tris, your sexual escapades scare me," Tori said with a laugh.

Tris looked sideways to her friend. "Who've you been talking to?" she asked with seriousness.

Tori laughed as she shook her head.

It was good to hear Tori laugh, Tris decided, her job was too stressful. She had the whole Dauntless to take care of medically, under the watchful eye of their top-notch doctor, Dr. Johanna Reyes, and they sure stretched their abilities at times.

"Okay," Tris said after Tori had stopped laughing, "what we need to do is to make Zeke wake up and see the hot babe."

Tori looked confused. "Me!" she exclaimed, pointing to herself.

Tris shook her head at Tori's refusal to admit she was a hot looking woman. Her dark hair was to die for, cascading in waves down her back, the occasionally thin braid thread through her locks adding a free spirit vibe to the serious persona she usually radiated. Her eyes were almond shaped, adding a sense to mystery to the dark pools. She was slim, worked out, and was one of the most compassionate people Tris had ever met.

"Of course, you fool. You know, for someone so intelligent, you're shockingly dumb at times." Tris grinned.

Tori began to shake her head as Tris continued. "Flirt with someone else, go on a date with someone else."

"I don't know, Tris," Tori mumbled, her face very skeptical.

"Come on, there's plenty of bodies around here, most of them will be willing and, hopefully able, and if you don't want them we'll go out and find you a new body to jump," Tris smiled. "It's been ages since we had a girl's night out."

Again, Tori laughed at her. "Tris, we had a girl's night out two days ago!"

"God, was it that long ago?" Tris asked dramatically, her eyes wide.

"Don't you remember Paolo?" Tori quizzed between her laughter.

"Ah, Paolo," Tris smiled blissfully to Tori. "Now that was a body that just begged to be jumped."

They looked seriously at each other before they both laughed.

"Okay, talking of bodies, how's mine doing?" Tris asked.

"Well," Tori said as she stood and walked over to her filing cabinet and pulled a file folder out. "You could probably do with a few more hours in a unit. Those cuts were pretty deep."

"I wasn't talking about my body," Tris elaborated with a roll of her eyes. "I was talking about the body." She gestured with a hand through the double doors where the units lay.

"Oh,' Tori smiled and moved to picked up another folder.

"Hey," Tris said, jumping off the desk and walking over to join her. "Is that my file?" she asked, leaning over Tori's shoulder. "What shit does it say in there? Are my psych exams in there?"

Tori quickly shut Tris's file. "No, Tris. This is just your medical file. You know, your body medical file, not your psych file, because that shit would make even me run for the hills."

"Ain't that the truth," Tris said with a sad smile.

"Ok, so back to 'The Body'," Tori continued, quickly securing Tris's folder away in the cabinet. She wasn't working for the Dauntless when Tris was first brought to them, but she had read her file along with everyone else's when she had been assigned to work directly under Dr. Reyes who headed the medical unit. Tris's file had given her nightmares for weeks and earned her several trip's to Jack's office, the resident psychiatrist. The thought that one person could take so much abuse and still live the life Tris did was awe-inspiring to Tori.

"I actually think he's prefers to go by Tobias, not the body," Tris informed Tori as she looked through the windows in the door to the room that housed the units.

Tris's eyes crinkled in confusion. "He told me his name was Four," she said with distraction, her gaze landing on the part of him she could see: his head.

"Well, our file says his name in Tobias Eaton," Tori assured her. "And you know our research guys never make mistakes."

Tris shook her head, trying to clear the questions already building in her mind as she turned back to the older woman. "So, what can you tell me?"

Tori pushed open the doors and together they walked into the room. The area was large and the walls and floor a deep gray marble and cold to the touch. Tris had intimate knowledge of that fact as when you were in a unit you are butt naked and when you get out, the floor was bitching cold to sit on naked and to walk on without slippers or shoes.

The room housed what they called units, which looked like sunken bathtubs without faucets. Once a wounded body was placed in the tub a warm liquid surrounded them, filling from the bottom of the unit. The water then hardened and cocooned the body, leaving only the head free to breathe. In its solid form, ithad a healing property a doctor of Dauntless had created 10 years ago. What was in the gunk Tris wasn't sure, and it made her head ache when she thought about it. It could heal most wounds as long as they were in the units in time. They had 12 units in total, but they rarely were all used. In fact, Tori had an inclining that apart from when the agents were in training, Tris was the one who used the units the most. During the training period, everyone was in a bath at least once a day for a few hours.

"His name is Tobias Eaton and he's a cop from Chicago Police Department."

"I knew most of that, Tori," Tris said with a smile.

"He lives in Des Plaines, he's 26, and his father recently died," Tori continued.

Tris nodded to show she was listening.

"His work record is pretty impressive; nine times out of ten he always gets his man. Apart from that, and old medical records, that's all I have at the moment."

They came to a stop by the unit that housed the man Tris owed her life to and she looked down at his almost serene face.

Tori gazed at her friend with interest. She knew his man tugged at something within Tris. The younger girl wouldn't have insisted on bringing him back with them if he hadn't, she wouldn't have risked everything they were, what the Dauntless represented; she would have trusted him to the local hospital.

"Tris, I get the feeling the higher-ups know more about him than I do," Tori divulged.

Tris looked sharply at Tori. "Higher-ups, as in as high as you can get?"

Tori nodded. "And you know you've got some explaining to do to them."

Tris nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, I'm expecting my summons as soon as they realize I'm awake."

"And don't forget your appointment with Jack this time," Tori added, knowing Tris hated her sessions with Dr. Jack and always tried to be elsewhere when they came up.

"I won't, Mom," Tris teased with a smile. She bent down to Four, asleep in the unit, her fingers brushing through his hair just so she could feel its strands. She drank in his defined features: a smooth forehead, a strong jawline which was covered with a smattering of facial hair, his skin tone naturally tanned indicating maybe a Mediterranean heritage. Curling over his shoulders were black lines of tattooed ink, a couple close to his neck, and more over his shoulders and upper arm. Tris followed the lines back over his shoulder and saw a glimpse of more art; spikes up the back of his neck and the others merging into a complicated design which disappeared down into the solidified mass encasing him; healing him.

"We needed to give him a sedative for while he's in there," Tori explained. "He woke in the night and nearly killed Molly trying to get out, despite the fact he's injuries are far from healed."

Tris nodded again. "He will be okay, though?" she asked looking up at Tori, her concern evident in her eyes.

"Yes, Tris," she smiled. "It won't be long until you can have your wicked way with him."

"Good," Tris answered simply. "I owe him a good, long, hard fuck."

"Only one?" Tori asked with a laugh.

Tris tipped her head, her eyes wandering over his soft lips. "How long do you think we could hole up in my room before they send the search parties out?"

Tori faked concentration. "At least a couple of days," she replied in all seriousness.

Tris sighed deeply. "Then that will just have to do." She looked back up at her friend. "You could always use your powers and say I need bed rest for a week."

Tori laughed. "And how much 'bed rest' would you actually be getting?"

Tris grinned wickedly. "Hopefully none."

They both laughed.

Tris looked over to another unit which held Al earlier. "How's Al doing?" she asked.

"He'll be fine. He's back in his room sleeping, I hope,"

"One can only hope," Tris remarked with a snort.

Tori shook her head as she looked down at her friend. "For Christ's sake, Tris, what made you wear a silk shirt," Tori exclaimed. "You know blood is almost impossible to get out."

Tris looked over her shoulder to see blood seeping through the shirt from wounds that had obviously reopened.

'Oh shit!" she cried, standing up. "Do you think Marlene will be able to work her magic with this?"

"I don't know, Tris. Remember the last time you asked her to get blood out of one of your dresses."

"Oh yeah, that was my favorite dress as well," she sighed with a sad smile.

"You need to get back in a unit," Tori instructed. "Another couple of hours and you'll be fine."

Tris sighed as she stood again, relenting to Tori's orders, and then stopped. "Hey, do you think it would be better for me to face the boss with my blood on show. It might make him take pity on me and not throw me to the wolves."

Tori turned and walked back to her office, knowing she had lost Tris again. It would be another couple of hours before she would be able to get her back in a unit, she just hoped the cuts didn't start to heal; scars were harder to remove.

"What the hell were you thinking away: rolling around in broken glass?"

"Hey, that was entirely his fault," Tris told Tori, tipping her head back in Four's direction. "I was on top at first."

Tori stopped, her hand on Tris's arm, forcing her to stop to. "Please don't tell me you were having sex out in that alley."

"No," she sighed sadly, as they continued back to the office. "Nothing as remotely that entertaining. Only saving his life."

As they entered, Tori's office the phone rang. "Forget it," Tori laughed, walking over to her desk. "I don't want to know." She picked up the receiver. "Wu."

Tris walked around Tori's office, listening to one side of the conversation and guessing it was the boss looking for her. She eyed the filing cabinet that housed her file and her fingers itched to open it and look, but she knew Tori was watching her every move. Tris turned back to Tori when she said, "I'll let her know," and hung up.

"Was that my call?" Tris asked.

Tori just nodded.

"Okay, it can't be that bad can it. I'm a Prior after all," she said as she walked to the doors that led out of Tori's office and out of the building.

Shaking her head, Tori laughed a little. "That excuse will only hold out for so long, Tris.'

"Yeah, I know," Tris said dejectedly. "And I think I've already used up my quota for this year."

"For this year! Shit, Tris, try for a lifetime," Tori teased with a smile. Her friend just couldn't help getting into trouble.

"Tris," she called. "Please come straight back or I'll send someone to find you."

"I will," Tris answered as she opened the door. "And after the Eaton Body is up and about, we'll have our night out," she added with a smile.

"Sure we will," Tori laughed disbelieving. "It will be at least 48 hours before we see you again after Tobias gets out from the unit."

"At least," Tris agreed with a smile as she left.

Tris stood outside the large wooden doors which led to the grand library. Post-mission meetings always took place in this huge room, Dr. Jack assuring the boss it was better to create a calming, relaxed environment for the often harsh business of debriefing.

"It's easier to talk when you're all in the same room," a gruff voice said to her left.

Tris turned her head and smiled to Josh, a large, formidable man who could intimidate the fiercest bouncers. He was a tall guy with lightly tanned skin, a bald head, and bulging biceps. He always stood guard during the debriefings, so no poor, unsuspecting person could wander in and hear things they shouldn't. It was the only time the library was off limits.

"How about I tell you what happened and you let them know," she offered, as she flashed him her most beguiling smile.

"Not gonna happen, Tris," Josh retorted as he returned her smile.

"What kind of mood is he in?" she asked, her voice small and her eyes flickering to the door, her apprehension shining through.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth or lie through my teeth?" Josh questioned.

Tris thought for a minute. "Lie to me."

"It's all sunshine and roses in there."

"Thanks, Josh," she said with a smile.

"Shit, Tris, you do know you're bleeding all over that shirt, right?" Josh asked, concern in his voice as his large hand rested gently on her shoulder, turning her slightly so he could see the damage better.

"Really?" she replied with fake surprise. "Maybe I should go see Tori." She patted her hand on Josh's chest. "Be a pal and tell them I'll be back later."

"Tris, get your cute ass in there," Josh ordered and opened the door before she could reply. "Miss Tris, Sir," he announced formally.

"Traitor," she whispered with a sly smile as she slid passed him and entered the room.

The library was usually her third most favorite place in the house. The first being her bedroom and the second the music room, but she seriously hated the library on debriefing days.

She walked to the large oversized chairs and sofa that were always in place by the fireplace. Caleb was seated at the near end of the couch, his brown hair wet, and Tris absentmindedly thought he needed a trim. His features were similar to hers, though he favored their mother more than she did. His eyes held their green color, not like hers that seemed to switch with her mood. His nose suited his face and his chin was clean-shaven as usual. He was tall, maybe hitting 6ft 4, but he looked at ease in the large couch. You could easily think he was a little on the puny side, his size hiding his muscle. But he was like her: deadly when he needed to be.

Will was beside Caleb, handsome in a boy-next-door way, and clueless to his easy charm. His dark hair was glossy and model perfect. His face had a maturity his years lacked, but it was honest. His eyes were a bourbon brown and had a strange way of getting a person to open up when questioned by him. His frame reflected his training, toned and muscled. His natural intelligence and thirst for knowledge often had him sprouting information that was neither asked for nor appreciated, a trait Tris found both endearing and annoying at the same time. He had proven time and again to be a good friend, a staunch companion, and an almost brother to Tris.

Al was the last agent on the couch. Taller than Will but not as tall as Caleb, Al was the kind of person who hid from his height, slouching his shoulders almost as if he was ashamed. He tended to be fragile and uncertain, which often became a problem as when he tried to compensate it usually led to him being impulsive in a way that resulted in somebody being hurt. He was a mass of muscle, strong and tough, probably one of the top fighters Dauntless had. His heart was good and he hated to see a person in distress: a real champion for the underdog.

Amar, Doc Johanna, and Dr. Jack were all in attendance as well, meaning Tris was late. Again.

"Am I late?" Tris asked, trying for innocence.

"Aren't you always," Caleb quipped.

"Fuck off, Caleb," Tris said sharply.

'For Christ's sake, will you two stop acting like children," a deep voice doomed.

"Sorry, Uncle Mason," Caleb said, with a cheeky grin at Tris.

"Tris, will you please sit down so we can begin," Mason Prior instructed.

Tris smiled sweetly at her uncle and took a seat beside her brother on the large sofa. The sofa was huge, so all four of the active agents were able to sit with ease. Mason Prior sat in one of the arm chairs, with Doc Johanna in the other. Amar waited for Tris to sit and then he perched on the rolled arm of the sofa beside her. Dr. Jack was over by a desk, to listen and take notes, which he used in his private sessions with the agents. The only other occupant in the room was Edward Harrison, Mason's personal assistant who always attended the meetings to record what was said.

"So, what happened last night?" Mason asked and all the people in the room turned to Tris.

Tris closed her eyes and wished someone would look at her back and take pity on her. She opened them to see all other eyes on her. Typical, she thought.

"Well, we had the target on track, and things were working as planned," she started.

"Until Tris's outfit caught the attention of CPD," Caleb interjected, all too eager now Tris had started.

"That's a load of crap, Caleb," Tris snapped.

"I think her body might have had some effect, too," Al added in an attempt to help.

"Which wouldn't have been a problem if she had more clothes on," Caleb retorted, glaring at Al. Of course he'd take her side, he was led round by his dick and he'd been trying to bury it in his sister ever since he stepped foot into the house.

"My clothes are not the issue," Tris insisted with a degree of agitation. "I was dressed exactly as I should have been."

"Moving on, Tris," Mason instructed calmly.

"So, I was on the dance floor with the target when Four…," Tris was interrupted by her uncle's hand in the air.

"Four?" Caleb laughed. "What kinda name is that?"

"That's what he told me his name was," Tris spat out.

"Four is the cop I take it?" Mason asked for clarification.

Tris looked at her uncle. Of course he knew that, why did she need to say it. "Yes."

"And did you know this cop before last night?" he questioned her, his eyes narrowing.

"No," she answered evenly.

Mason rolled his hand in indication for her to continue.

"Four pulled me away from the target while these three dicks were trying to decide who should intercede, which they should have decided beforehand," she said, sending them her signature hard, pissed stare.

"By the time they got to me, CPD had sent the target out the club," Tris finished.

"After trying to taste what you had for breakfast," Caleb huffed. "And you did nothing to stop him."

"He surprised me," Tris declared in her defense. She looked at her uncle and continued when he didn't say anything. "By the time we had left the club, the target and CPD were talking in the alley. Things might still have gone more smoothly if Dick number three over there," she indicated to Al at the opposite end of the sofa, "hadn't pulled his gun."

All heads swung to Al and he suddenly became interested in a thread on his jeans.

"So, then three of the targets men arrived and things got a little hairy," Tris continued. "I dropped CPD so he wasn't in the line of fire, which is why I have these wounds on my back."

"How did you get wounds to your back if you dropped him, Tris," Doc Johanna asked in her gentle voice.

Tris shrugged. "He didn't want to stay down; there might have been a little rolling."

"Should have had a camera, porn is a lucrative business, ya know," Caleb interjected with a wide grin, nodding to Will for confirmation.

Tris wacked him, hard, on his arm.

"Ow! Shit, Tris," Caleb cried out. "I bruise easily, ya know."

"Oh, poor little baby," she drawled sarcastically, pinching his cheek. "Have you seen my fucking back?"

"Tris!" Mason bellowed sternly. "Ladies do not cuss."

"There's a lady in here?" Caleb joked, looking around the room.

"Caleb!" Mason reprimanded in the same tone of voice he'd used on Tris.

Caleb and Tris exchanged quick grins, enjoying their moment of childishness.

"Moving on," Mason said.

"So, I got CPD out the way again, when Al was shot in the leg," Tris explained, her voice serious again.

"And I shot body number one," Will added with a smile, pleased he had taken at least one of the other men out, and the only one of the guys to get a solid hit that night.

"So then Caleb got all pissy," Tris picked up from Will with a smile.

"Because you weren't doing any work," Caleb turned to his sister again with a sardonic grin. "You were having a party against the wall with CPD and discussing when you were gonna fuck."

"I was not," Tris cried indignantly, and then she offered a sly smile. "We'd already discussed that."

Mason shook his head at his niece.

"I was trying to keep him out the way," she continued. "But, like I said, Caleb got all pissy."

"Then what happen?" Mason quizzed.

Tris just shrugged. "I shot the other two bodyguards so that just left the target."

Mason looked to Amar and he nodded, confirming the two other bodies were killed by the gun Tris had been using.

"Might I point out Tris had to borrow one of my guns? Again," Caleb interrupted, with his eyebrows raised. "Because she couldn't conceal a gun in her chosen outfit."

"Hello! I had to attract the dead beat somehow, and the more skin you show, the better it works," Tris reasoned.

Mason sat thoughtfully for a minute before turning to Edward. "Make a note for me to speak to Matthew about making something for Tris so she can always carry a gun, no matter what she's wearing."

Caleb laughed. "Yeah, good luck with that, Uncle Mason."

Mason leveled his eyes on his nephew, to which Caleb turned to Tris and raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting her next comments.

Tris squirmed a little in the comfortable sofa and looked back at Caleb, silently begging him to continue, but he just smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, not giving her anything.

"I made a mistake," she said quietly, her eyes shooting down to her knees. "Four seemed quite impressed with my marksmanship and after a taunt or two, the target realized who we were." She shifted and looked at Caleb again, and then shook her head when she realized she wasn't getting any help from him.

"I might have goaded him a little, scared him I think, and I didn't notice him pull the trigger before it was too late," her voice had dropped slightly, barely above a whisper, her eyes now on the luxury rug in front of the open fire.

She looked up in the silence and noted her uncle looking at her intently.

"Go on, Tris," he encouraged tenderly.

"I fell, expecting to feel the bullet, but it never came," she paused, her eyes on the rug again. "That's when I realized Four had pushed me out the way and had taken the hit."

She looked up to see her uncle nod to her. "And who's decision was it to bring him here?" he asked, though she knew he already knew the answer.

"Mine," she said quietly. "Caleb was against it, but Four saved my life, Uncle Mason." Now she pulled put the big guns. She hardly ever called him uncle during a debriefing. This was business not family, though Caleb never had a problem addressing him as such. "I couldn't just leave him there to die in a dirty back alley. An ambulance would have been too late."

She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "It was my decision; this was my outfit, my mission and I take full responsibility." She looked at her uncle, firmly holding his gaze. "And I don't regret it one bit. Like I said: He saved my life."

Mason just nodded at her. Then he leaned over to the small table beside him and pulled a file folder toward him.

"We have learned from our sources at C.P.D that Detective Eaton had been tailing our target for a couple of months. We have come to the conclusion he knew nothing of your mission and it was purely coincidental his own operation was coming to a head last night. Of course, we can't clarify this until Detective Eaton wakes up." Here Mason turned to Doc Johanna. "Do we have any idea when that is likely to happen?"

"Well, he already fought the original sedative we gave him, so we had to administer another. Maybe another 24 hours at best. Then we'll re-assess his wounds to evaluate if he needs further time in a unit."

Mason nodded before turning back to the agents on the sofa, namely his niece. "Then we'll just have to see if Detective Eaton would like to join our organization."

Tris swallowed nervously. "What if he doesn't?"

Mason actually smiled at her. "He might need an incentive to stay."

Tris returned his grin with one of her own, silently thinking, God, I hope he needs an incentive.

"I hope that in all this mess, the target was actually taken out?" Mason asked, getting back on track.

"Yes, sir," Tris confirmed.

"Good," Mason said with a nod. "So, despite the fact that we almost lost a target, almost lost an agent, and gained a wounded cop, the mission was completed."

"Yes, sir," she repeated.

Mason nodded again. Then he turned to Amar. "How did the clean-up go?"

"Clean," Amar answered simply. "Four bullets removed; confirming one kill to Lawson and three to Tris."

"Using my gun," Caleb reiterated, his hand half in the air as if taking credit.

"Yes, thank you, Caleb," Mason said sharply to his nephew before looking back at Amar. "And the bodies?"

"Disposed," Amar smiled. "I know the original plan was to leave the target's body to be found, sans bullet, but since we had no clue how much of Tris was on the body…"

"EWWW" Tris cried, interrupting Amar, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I barely touched him."

"Good job you can't get prints from nipples," Al mumbled.

"My nipples were perfectly under control," she huffed, shooting Al an annoyed stare. "Until I was pawed by CPD anyway," she added with a shrug.

Amar placed his hand on Tris's shoulder. "As I was saying, we had no idea if her finger prints were on the body, so we disposed of the body with the others."

"Thank you," Tris smiled up to him and Amar squeezed her shoulder affectionally. Unfortunately his fingers brushed against one of her wounds and she hissed at the pressure.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks," he apologized quickly.

Mason looked over at his only niece and sighed. "Let's get this finished up so Tris can return to a unit," he ordered. "I have research looking into Detective Eaton's background. There is something niggling at me about him and I'll be more settled when we have all the facts."

He looked at the faces around the room. "Okay, I'm closing this de-briefing. Jack, who would you like to see first?"

"Well, I'd really like to take Tris first but her health is more important at the moment, so I'll take Will, then Al, then Caleb." It was always a toss-up who he saw first; the wounded or the shooters. He turned to Tris. "You come find me when you're out. And I mean it Tris; don't make me hunt you down again."

"Okay," she confirmed simply.

"I'll see you afterward, Tris," Mason added.

"Okay, Uncle Mason."

Mason stood, indicating the meeting was over. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said to the men and the agents. "Tris, Johanna," he nodded to the female presence in the room and then he swept out the room, Edward Harrison following him quickly.

Doc Johanna stood as well. "Come on, Tris. Let's get you healed," she said in her soothing voice.

Tris stood the same time her fellow agents did and, turning, she swiftly kicked her brother in his shin.

"Shit, Tris," Caleb cried out, his hand coming down to rub at his shin. "What the fuck was that for?"

"That's for helping me out, shit sack," she told him in disgust.

Then she swiftly turned to follow Doc Johanna out. The remaining men all hissed painfully at the blood which had seeped through her thin shirt, showing the criss-cross strands of blood that echoed her shredded back. She turned back to them. "Yeah, and I'm not bitching about it either," she said and then she left the library with the doc.