My head is pounding. My lungs are on fire. My entire body is in agony.
I try to open my eyes, but they feel gritty and heavy. Through the crack of my eyelids, I make out a blurry, dark shape leaning over me. I smell wind and sweat and safety.
"T-" my voice cracks, and I cough. An explosion of pain rockets through my chest and I moan.
"Tris," his voice is hoarse and shaky. Tobias presses a straw to my lips, and I suck automatically. Water coats my parched mouth and throat, and I swallow greedy mouthfuls.
"Easy," he soothes, pulling the straw away. I force my eyelids open, blinking at the bright lights surrounding Tobias. His face is pale, his eyes heavy with purple rings. Worry, relief, fatigue, anger war in his eyes.
"Tobias." I reach to touch him, but my hand is heavy, lead, and my fingers drop uselessly against my side. He twines his fingers through mine, his other hand reaching up to cup the side of my face.
"Tris, god. Thank god." Tears well in his eyes and he gathers me carefully in his arms, working around the tubes attached to my arms, chest, neck, body. He is warm and whole, and smells like home. I breathe in, ignoring the stabbing fire in my chest. With what feels like all my strength, I drag my lips across Tobias' neck.
I know the answer to the question, but I have to ask. I need to know.
"Caleb?" I whisper. Tobias pulls back, and his eyes say everything I already know.
"I'm sorry, Tris. He died in the weapons room."
Tears spill down my cheeks, choke the breath from me.
"No, no, no," I repeat. "Caleb. No." sobbing, I cling to Tobias' waist as he gathers me against him, rocking me gently.
"Shhh," he soothes, but I can't calm. The grief and anger overwhelms me, and I am screaming his name. I barely register the rush of footsteps, the muffled voices, the tug on my arm. Weightlessness flows through me, and gradually, I am pulled under, back into blackness.
