A/N: This chapter and the remaining ones will all be written in 3rd person. Also, prepare for angst because there's a lot of it. Thank you everyone who left reviews on the last chapter, I know it wasn't my best. Hopefully this makes up for it :) If you're feeling chatty you can find me on Tumblr at BleuWrites
A blast of chilly air hits Tris in the face as she walks out the massive sliding doors that front the city hospital. Winter is coming on again, and already the scents of Fall - of petrichor and rotting leaves and wood smoke - are fading. It's getting darker earlier too, and though it's barely the end of the work day the sky is already the sort of cobalt blue that precedes darkness, the stars weak, hazy pinpricks emerging on the domed canvas of sky stretching above her.
But all Tris can think about is that it's been eight months since the last time she saw Tobias. A lot of events surrounding that are fuzzy, but that isn't. She wishes it was. She wishes she didn't recall with perfectly clarity his barely contained rage and his I told you once if you senselessly risked your life again you and I were through - I meant it. She wishes she didn't remember him walking away.
All she feels at it now is a sort of numb horror, like looking at a grotesque tableau so many times it loses it's ability to shock, to steal your breath away with how gruesome it is, how wrong it is. She's not catatonic with grief anymore, has long since passed the point where it took everything just to get out of bed and choke down some food; the numbness is better than that at least.
She cuts away from the crowd, dodging between buildings to get to the train tracks. The trains actually stop now, but Tris still likes to get them Dauntlessly; two blocks away from the stop for the hospital they're going just the right speed to do it. The first time she did this it was like an affirmation, a reminder that despite David's best efforts she was alive, and not only that but capable and strong again. Now she does it because it's one of the few things that makes her happy.
Tris tightens the straps on her backpack and bounces on the balls of her feet as the tracks start to sing with the vibration of the train flying down them before slipping into a slow jog. She puts on a burst of speed as the first cars pass, launching off the gravelly ground, and then for the space of a few heartbeats she's flying, unencumbered by the things that hold her down. Her feet land with a solid thump on the textured metal that makes up the floor of the train.
By the time the train pulls to a stop and the rest of the hospital workers get on she's back to feeling numb because happiness is only ever bright, bursting moments; an effervescence that isn't meant to last longer than that. She tucks herself into a corner, trying to be as small and inconspicuous as possible in an effort to avoid any kind of interaction with these people. It's hard enough to talk and joke and laugh and be normal from nine-to-five; she doesn't have the energy to do it when she's off the clock too.
Luckily, she doesn't have to. She makes it all the way back to the Hancock Building, tantalizingly close to the door of the apartment she shares with Christina before she runs smack into one of her neighbors. His name is Bodhi, and unlike many residents of the building he's not from Dauntless, not even from Chicago, actually.
Tris startles him as she bursts through the stairwell door as he exits the elevator. He's still visibly flustered as he runs a hand through his hair and greets her. "Hey," Tris says back wanely, hoping her tone is enough to stave off any conversation as she silently curses him, herself, and every social convention pounded into her head as a child that have her talking to him at all.
"You startled me," he says as if that wasn't obvious, before falling into step with her as she walks down the hall. "So, Christina said you're working at the hospital now? Training to be a nurse out in the Fringe?" he asks conversationally.
"Mmhm," she hums in assent. "It's more like… a cross between a medic and a social worker, I guess," she says slowly, hands making funny shapes in front of her as she reaches for the right words. "The things they're training us to do… it's not like the nurses who work at the hospital."
"Do you like it so far?" he asks as Tris stops at her door, fishing for her keys in her coat pocket.
"It's better than working as a file clerk at the Hub," she says dryly.
"I think it's… really great… what you're doing," he stutters. "Not many people care about the Fringe. A lot of people think it's better to just let the people there suffer and starve and die," he says quietly, suddenly somber.
"Some people here used to say that about the Factionless," Tris says hotly, surprising herself with the sudden vehemence in her voice; usually everything comes out monotone unless she's playing pretend with her fellow students. "Sorry," she says shyly, apologetically. "It's just… my mother was from the Fringe. But they're people, you know? Just like us, except that fate dealt them a crappy hand. It's wrong not to help them."
His brow furrows in confusion. "I didn't think it worked that way, someone from the outside coming into the city, I mean."
"My Mom was… different," she hedges, but all that does is make curiosity glint in his eyes and before she knows it she's telling him all about Natalie's childhood, how she ended up in the Fringe, how she was rescued by the Bureau, and, eventually, how she was sent to the city to spy on the factions. "She was supposed to join Erudite, but she fell in love with my Dad and that kind of changed her plans. The Bureau wasn't very happy about that," she says with a wry smile.
"No, I guess they wouldn't be," Bodhi chuckles lightly. "Have you spent much time out there, in the Fringe?"
"Yeah, a little. We've been going out there a couple times a week to distribute clothes and canned goods. It would be a lot easier if they trusted us," Tris mutters, looking down at the floor rather than him.
"Can't really blame them, can you?"
"No, I guess not."
"Well I, uh, work with a couple people from the Fringe. We're actually planning on going out tomorrow night. You should come along, talk to them; maybe they'll have some ideas about getting the people out there to trust you," he nervously offers.
Tris' eyes flick back up to him and the intensity of his gaze nearly knocks her sideways. His eyes are very green, rich and saturated; where Will's were the color of celery, Bodhi's are like wet moss. And still, he's watching her, hopeful and expectant. And, abruptly, she realizes she's done this before, stood in a hallway talking to a boy who's looking at her like every word out of her mouth is utterly fascinating; who's looking at her like he's drinking her in now that she's laid parts of herself bare for him to see. She's not sure if it's the memory or the reality in front of her that has her body flushing and shaking with nervous adrenalin.
She swallows thickly before answering. "I'm having dinner with my brother tomorrow night. Sorry. I should get going," she adds, nodding towards her door. "I have a lot of studying to do." Tris barely hears his, "I'll see you later," before she's closing the door behind her and throwing the lock.
She slumps against the door and scrabbles at her scarf like it's the reason she can't breath, but even with it pulled off and held limply in her hands air is still hard to come by. It would be nice if there was some simple explanation for it like asthma or maybe tuberculosis, but it's Tobias and in this moment she can't help thinking it always will be. There might be a day where thoughts of him don't ravage her like a disease, but today is not that day.
It takes her a while to peel herself away from the door, to find the note from Christina telling her not to wait up because she won't be home until late if she comes home at all. She doesn't begrudge Christina her coping mechanisms, but it would be nice to come home to something other than a vacant house because it just reminds her how alone she is, as if she could forget. Tris turns on the radio just so the apartment doesn't feel as empty as it is and makes herself dinner, propping her textbook up on the table as she eats.
She tries to force herself to focus on the words on the page, to make the words mean something and not just slide past her eyes. But it's hard when all she can think about is her upcoming dinner with Caleb because losing her parents and Tobias wasn't a fair exchange at all, and sometimes it really makes her hate him. It's hard to think about Bodhi and how he's probably eating alone too, but that's only because it makes her think about Tobias and how he's handsome and mysterious and broken and all the other things that are catnip to girls, and how he's probably not eating alone because of it.
With a sharp inhale and renewed determination she pushes her bowl of soup away and refocuses on the book in front of her, copying out the text in a last ditch effort to make it stick. She keeps at it until her hand cramps and her eyes hurt and she feels like falling asleep right there at the table. Only then does she go to bed because only then will she actually sleep and not just toss and turn and think of how much better it feels to fall asleep in someone's warm arms instead of cold sheets.
It's only a few hours later when the sounds of doors closing and footsteps and drunken giggling rouse her from sleep. Her mind struggles to make sense of it at first since usually what wakes Tris is her mother's voice and horror movie dreamscape nightmares, but she quickly realizes it's Christina and her Distraction of the Week and if she doesn't get back to sleep this instant she's going to be treated to a soundtrack that two closed doors and a hallway between them won't muffle completely.
Tris scrunches her eyes shut and pulls a pillow over her head, but it doesn't block out the memories she's been repressing for months with feverish devotion. They flash behind her eyes so vividly that she can almost feel Tobias' chest against her back, the cool tips of his fingers and warm palm and rough calluses of his hand gliding up the tender flesh of her inner thigh. It feels like betrayal when she feels herself getting wet.
She kicks the blankets away with an annoyed grunt and pulls on clothes at random, the only unifying factor being that they're warm. It wasn't even that good, she thinks bitterly. Awkward and painful and ironically anti-climactic, but definitely not good. But maybe time and love and longing have a way of softening the harsh tones of reality because the memories keep coming and all it does is make her throb and clench and ache for how close they were then.
Tris tiptoes out of the apartment like Christina and whoever are going to notice, making her way to the elevator, and eventually the ninety-ninth floor and the ladder and the roof. She wishes she could go further.
I'm going to marry you someday, Tobias declared with a goofy grin on his face, after. Tris has to hold herself up against the side of the elevator as pain lances through her, steals all the air out of her lungs, as the memory unfurls. I don't get a say in it?, she teased back, a note of giddy girlishness in her voice that had never been there before. No, it's decided, he said, pecking a kiss to her nose. You're stuck with me.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open and Tris feels like she's stuck in her fear simulation, the water pressing down, drowning the life out of her. And she emerges from the elevator the same way she did the simulation then: desperate and gasping and clawing herself free. She spills out onto the floor, rubbing distractedly at her ring finger because ever since Tobias said those words she's felt a phantom weight banded around it.
The wind whistles through the gaping hole in the ceiling and Tris climbs up the later on shaking limbs, keen to escape. The zip line is still strung up, whipping and snapping in the wind, but she walks around to the other side of the roof, staring at the dual blinking lights affixed to the top of the Hub. It pulses slow and deliberate, like the beating heart from which all life in the city flows.
You're not done here, Beatrice, Natalie's voice echoes through her consciousness.
"I don't believe you," she whispers to the wind.
She told Tobias once that everyone would get along just fine without her. And she meant it, but watching everyone she loves move on without her with their fulfilling work and family and friends and lovers, just highlights how much life is passing her by and it hurts because she has none of that and she shouldn't be here to see it. And as much as she tries never to think of him, she's sure Tobias has moved on too.
He's gone. He's gone, and he's never coming back and it doesn't matter, she scolds herself. But that thought is like a top; something that spins out of her control once she sets it in motion because it has been months and he's gone and he's not coming back and he has moved on and it matters.
Tris is sure he's probably got some pretty little thing next to him in bed right now because someone like him is only lonely by choice, not circumstance, and he's got no reason to be anymore. And besides, he left her, and whatever his reasoning was she can't help feeling that the most honest moment she ever shared with Tobias was in Jeanine's lab when she accused him of not loving her like she loved him and it hurts worse for the realization because how could he just leave if he loved her like he claimed?
So yes, he's moved on, she's sure, to a girl with a perfect nose and luscious curves; to a girl with a will to live that burns bright, that puts whatever Tobias used to find in Tris' eyes to shame. To a girl that isn't afraid of intimacy, that probably sheds her clothes with only a hint of alluringly coquettish shyness instead of the nearly crippling insecurity Tris did. To a girl that's making him forget his past and Tris; to a girl he's giving all the things he had promised to her.
The landscape in front of her washes away in a flood of tears, the lights of the Hub bleeding down her face and all she can think is that this is what makes her human and she hates it. Her cheeks are red and roughed from the wind, her tears, the cold by the time her body weeps out all the things that make her soft and leaves her brittle. Anger and bitterness are so much harder to kill than her will to live, and she embraces lover-like because if Tobias can survive, she can too.
When the sunrise slits brightly across the eastern horizon she decides it might be safe to go home. Christina's in the kitchen glowing and disheveled, chugging a glass of water when Tris walks in. "Sorry," she offers, sheepish.
"It's fine," Tris says flatly as she starts pulling off her outerwear.
"So did Bodhi ask you out?"
"How did you know about that?" Tris asks wonderingly.
"He walked to work with me this morning," Christina says with a mischievous smile.
"And he told you he was going to ask me out?"
"No, he spent twenty minutes asking me questions about you," Christina says like Tris is being purposefully obtuse.
"Well, he didn't. He invited me out to dinner with him and some people he works with," Tris says with a shrug.
Christina waves off her comment like it doesn't matter. "He's asking you out," she insists. "He's just trying to do it in a way that won't freak you out." When Tris does nothing but cock an eyebrow at her questioningly Christina sighs and flops down on the couch dramatically. "He asked if you are single and I said yes. But I told him-"
"You told him about-," Tris starts, indignant, but chokes because she hasn't said that name in months and refuses to say it now.
"No! No, I told him your last relationship… ended badly. And that I didn't know if you were ready to date again. And that I'd kick his ass if he hurt you."
"Thanks," Tris says with a small smile, sitting down next to her.
"So, are you going to go out with him?" she asks, enthusiasm making her eyes glint.
"I'm having dinner with Caleb tomorrow."
Christina gives her a strange, searching look. "I think it's… romantic the way Abnegation couples are bound together for life. I think it's romantic the way your parents decided their love for each other was more important than anything else when they were our age. But that's not reality, Tris. Most people have to date a lot of people to find someone they love," she says gently.
Tris wants to ask her if she'd feel the same way if Will was still alive, but that would be monstrously cruel. Instead she says, "so what do you do when you find that person and they don't want you?"
"You keep looking until you find the person who loves you back," she says simply. "You should go out with Bodhi. Maybe he's not the person you love, or the person who loves you back, but maybe he can make you happy, or at least make you forget to be so sad."
"Is that what you're doing?" Tris asks hesitantly, trying desperately not to offend the one friend she has left.
"Something like that," Christina says with a sad smile. "You should go out with Bodhi," she reiterates. "Or at least consider it. You have dinner with Caleb every Saturday night anyway; you should take one night for yourself."
They're quiet for a few minutes, staring out the picture window at the sunrise before Christina rises and stretches and lets loose a huge yawn before declaring that she's going to bed, thankful that it's the weekend and she can sleep the day away.
The trip from St. Louis to Chicago should take a day, if that. But there's been an ice storm that has made the already dilapidated roads down right dangerous; even in a truck with chains strapped around the tires it's slow going.
Tobias' fingers are cold where they're coiled around the steering wheel, the heater doing a pathetic job of actually keeping him warm. He'd stop and dig for the fleece lined gloves shoved in some pocket of his duffle bag, but he's too distracted by his thoughts to be bothered. Scenes flash across his brain manically, the same as when he used to flip around between the Dauntless security cameras when he was bored.
Seeing Evelyn through the crack in the bathroom door as she crouched between the wall and the toilet when Tobias was five, her hand extended pleadingly towards Marcus. It was the first time saw his father beat her.
Evelyn, again, a thin sheen of sweat on her face but wearing a smile no amount of labor pains could wipe away. He'd crawled on the bed next to her when Marcus went to get the midwife and she had pulled him close and whispered that this baby was going to love him as much as she did, that pretty soon he'd have a sister or brother who would follow him around and look at him like he hung the moon and stars. It was the last time he saw his mother for nearly a decade.
Marcus, red faced and furious and terrifying, pulling him out of bed and taking a belt to his back because Tobias couldn't stop crying for his mother. It was the first of many such beatings and though his brain seems intent on replaying all of them Tobias skips through them, the images shifting and blurring together until he lands on something better.
Placing the blue glass statue on his desk, striding out his room, out his father's house, out of Abnegation, confidant, defiant, dauntless, even though he was nothing more than a scared child. Still, he looked Marcus right in the eye when he pulled the knife across his hand and let his blood sizzle onto the Dauntless coals.
His first days at Dauntless. Amar's gloating smile when the stiff Max had dismissed out of hand came out of his fear landscape, weak, shaking, and pouring sweat, but making Dauntless history and earning a new nick-name. Fighting Eric, and the dark places it took him when he let loose sixteen years of rage; how much he enjoyed hurting him; how much that terrified him after the fact.
Tori tattooing him with Dauntless flames, shame and mortification and arousal at her hands on him making him hard as she did it. It was the first time he'd been touched by a woman and something that had always picked at the back of brain every time he was near her even though it never happened again.
Zeke; the awful, awkward 'dates' he let his friend cajole him into. Dauntless girls who were too much. Brash and bold and arrogant and altogether just too much. His friend always matched him up with the wrong kind of girls, hoping opposites would attract, or maybe just hoping they'd steamroll him into finally losing his v-card; either way it didn't work.
Tris. Always, inevitably, Tris. No matter what he's thinking about his thoughts always end up here, in a perverse 'all roads lead home' kind of way, but this will be the last time, he vows so he tries to make it good. His fingers flowing down her spine like he was chasing raindrops. The way her in his arms was always a comfort to him even when it was supposed to be the other way around. Small, strong, demanding. His Tris. His Girl. It would be easier to forget her if he didn't dream about her every night.
Leaving Chicago was the right thing, at the time. He couldn't live in the city knowing she was there, somewhere, spectral and haunting. He would have flinched at every blonde head he saw. But going away wasn't enough to train his heart to unlove her. Maybe that's just the way it's supposed to be with your first love, but he can't imagine a second, and he ditched Peter in Milwaukee months ago for telling him to fuck a few other girls and get over it. Not that Tobias didn't take his advice, or try to anyway, eventually.
He'd spent months traveling all over the midwest, but no matter how many months and miles stretched between him and home, he still felt an instinctive tug towards Chicago, towards her, like his heart was a constantly spinning compass aligning itself with the things he loved best instead of true north. And maybe it's a consequence of that, that left him so unimpressed with other cities, so unable to find a place to start over, to be happy in. And really, that was all he wanted, to be happy again; it was as simple as it was impossible.
It was a combination of Johanna's letter burning a hole in his pocket, desperation and determination and drinks and petite blonde, and before he knew it he had her pushed up against the crumbling brick wall of the bar. The kisses had a bit more teeth to them than he was used to, but closing his eyes and pretending this girl was his girl got him halfway there with her hand palming him through his jeans.
Of course moaning Tris' name killed the mood pretty quickly.
There was a lot of yelling after that because he was pretty sure that neither of them were drunk enough to somehow pass off that name as her name or something else entirely so he didn't try, just stood there and let her yell her fill and storm off. He watched the moon set and sun rise and decided that it was time to go home no matter how vehemently Evelyn opposed his plan.
It wasn't that being gone wasn't working for him, it was that Tris was the one who turned her back on him, who threw the promise of their future in his face. He just had to lock her out of his heart and his mind and the distance between them would be exactly the same no matter what city he was in. At least in Chicago he could make something of his life instead of running away from it.
A lot has changed in Chicago since the downfall of the Bureau of Genetic Welfare. The city was only ever meant to sustain the population of the factions, and now that it's an open city, it's struggling to accommodate the influx of people from other parts of the midwest looking for a place that lives up to the promise of an utopia; a place of safety, a place of peace and plenty.
While "safety" might be the easiest part of that equation, "plenty" is not. There are housing shortages as aged buildings are renovated to be fit for human habitation again. Food and fuel are rationed; fresh fruits, vegetables, and meat are priced at a premium, though rice, beans, and powdered milk remain cheap. And as the department of public works scrambles to update the infrastructure it's not uncommon to turn on the tap only for it to sputter dryly and rolling blackouts to sweep through the city.
It's the latter that greets Tris when she gets home from another long day at the hospital. The Hancock Building has a generator, but it only puts out enough power to make the emergency lights glow sodium-yellow and keep one of the elevators running.
Tris dodges between the line of people queuing up in the lobby for it like their legs don't work and takes the stairs instead. She's halfway up the first flight when she hears the door bang and a voice calling out to her. When she leans over the railing Bodhi is taking the stairs two at a time to catch her up. They've shared a few conversations over the last few weeks, but he's never so overtly - and literally - pursued her. It's a struggle to stay put and let herself be caught, but she does.
"So," he says, drawing the word out teasingly as they troop up the stairs, "I was wondering what it is you have against the elevators since you're always taking the stairs. Or do you just not trust the generators?"
Tris could lie a little and say 'yes' and leave it at that, but if he's really as interested in her as Christina claims he's going to find out sooner or later, so she tells him the truth. "I was shot when everything… happened... at the Bureau," she says, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "It took me a long time to recover, but being able to do this reminds me that I couldn't, once, and not to take it for granted."
He's quiet for a moment as they reach a landing and turn onto the next flight of stairs. "You're a pretty tough girl," he says approvingly. "It's kind of intimidating though."
"How so?"
He shrugs a little. "Most men want to be a little heroic, running to the rescue of pretty girls. You're no 'damsel in distress' though. I like it. It's intimidating, but I like it."
Tris can't help startling a little at that revelation. She always thought Tobias' need to protect her had more to do with his childhood than an X-chromosome quirk. And she can't help reevaluating her choices in light of this new piece of information, wondering if she'd been a little weaker if Tobias would still love her; if she could love herself if she was.
"I guess you have to be tough if you want to go into the Fringe though," Bodhi muses.
"No, you just have to care," Tris says with a frown, more thinking out loud than anything else. "Caring makes you strong enough to do things you don't think you can."
"Strong enough to face GD rebels?" he asks, curious.
"It wouldn't be the first time. Besides, most of the people in the Fringe are just desperate, not violent," Tris says a little defensively.
"I know. I meant it when I said that I think you wanting to help them is great. I'm just sizing myself up, I guess. I don't know if I'd be brave enough not to piss myself if someone pulled a gun on me," he chuckles, self-deprecating.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better I've known a lot of people who've had a gun pointed at them and none of them have ever wet their pants," Tris offers with a wry smile.
"I does, thank you. So have you thought anymore about my offer of dinner?" he asks as he holds the door open for her once they reach their floor. "You can even bring your brother along if you want," Bodhi says enticingly.
"Ugh… no. I love Caleb, but…,"
"But, he's your brother," he supplies. "I get that. I love my brothers, but they're not my favourite people in the world."
"How many do you have?"
"Two, and a sister. They're still in Omaha, except Amelia, she lives in Des Moines. You didn't answer my question," he points out.
"I have thought about it," she says quietly, looking at anything but the boy in front of her. "And it's really nice of you to-"
"I don't like where this is going," Bodhi says with a nervous smile.
"I'm not turning you down," Tris says hastily, hoping that if she can just say the words quickly she won't chicken out.
"So, you're saying yes?" he asks, beaming.
"Yes, I'm saying yes," Tris says with a forced smile.
"Great!" he says a little too loudly, a little too enthusiastically, and visibly cringes at how he sounds. They hastily work out the details and though Bodhi looks like he's walking on sunshine when they say goodnight Tris is more subdued. No matter what Christina says Tris still feels like she's using him, still feels guilty for it because he's nice and she likes him, but she's not really interested in him in the same way he is her.
Tris shuffles through her apartment, reaching out blindly for the flashlight her and Christina keep by the door for times like these. The beam of light bounces around the room at awkward angles as she pulls off her gloves and coat and scarf. She's got it tucked into the crook of her elbow as she rifles through the kitchen drawers looking for a pack of matches to light the stove with when there's a knock at the door. She groans to herself, certain that it's Bodhi, probably back to chivalrously offer her candles or something.
He's just being nice. He's just being good neighbor. She reminds herself as she makes her way to the door. He's just - And the world stops right there, because it's not Bodhi and his green eyes staring back at her.
She's vaguely aware of the sound of the flashlight clattering to the floor, of the noise of shock that eeks up her throat; of her mouth hanging open and her eyes going wide. And when Tobias takes a step across the threshold she takes one back. One step forward, one step back. It could be a metaphor for their relationship.
Tris jolts into the wall, and he traps her in with his arms. The deep blue of his eyes swims closer and closer threatening to swallow her whole. She doesn't realize how hard she's shaking until his hand comes up to cradle her cheek and the ground feels like it's going to slip out from under her. He moves closer still, lowering his lips to hers, and all she can do is stand there and let him.
Tobias' lips are soft and questioning, his eyes searching when he pulls away for a second. She doesn't know what he's looking for, or what he finds, but he dives back in deeper, the plush warmth of his mouth and the taste of him on her tongue makes something in her sigh and release; makes the darkness coiled inside of her unfurl like smoke and curl through her limbs, sinuous, transforming her into something new. This is the release she was chasing in the Weapons Lab that day, she's certain of it.
Tris pulls Tobias closer; drowns, dies, and is reborn with a gasping sob that begs forgiveness. Her heart thumps wet and heavy in her chest, and she swears she can feel the rush of blood each pump pushes through her veins, breathing life into the flesh that had been her prison. For the first time in so long she feels alive, free.
She shakes for a different reason as his hands slip under the hem of her shirt, slide up her side high enough that his thumbs brush the sensitive underside of her breasts before retreating down, over her hips to her thighs, like he's trying to commit the landscape of her body to his memory by touch alone. Tobias hoists her up, pins her between his chest and the wall, his heart and hers beating out messages in morse code, one for the other.
There are other parts of their anatomy sending out signals too when he presses against the tight, hot space at the apex of her thighs.
The moan he licks off her lips is all the permission he needs to carry her through the apartment. Tris throws an arm out to scrabble at the wall, telling him enough to know which bedroom is hers. He stumbles over something and they crash together onto the bed, Tris scooting up and kicking the blankets down at the same time, Tobias chasing after her. They fumble at each other's clothes because this is still a dance they don't know all the steps to.
He pushes her shirt up and kisses the spot over her like it's her lips, like he's so hungry for her and this is the only way to sate it. She arches into him because she wants him to consume her, or maybe she wants to consume him, keep him safe inside her so he can never leave again. She grabs his hair and binds them together when his mouth seeks out the sensitive tips of her breasts, and knows this is what she needed from him all along; him not being afraid of scaring her.
One of his hands grips at her hip and the other stitches together, palms pressed in prayer when he slides inside of her. He doesn't stop to ask if he's okay, if he's hurting her, if it's too much; if he's allowed to touch and taste and take. Her back bows up under him and she breathes out in a sharp hiss because it hurts. Even if it's not the first time it's been a long time and she'll bleed in the morning, but it's worth it because it's him and her and them, together.
And unlike their first-last time Tobias doesn't try to soothe away her pain with gentle words and tender lips. He draws out slow and lets it fade on it's own until Tris' hips move in time with his own, pulling him so deep inside of her she doesn't know where he stops and she begins. And after months of the desolation of abandonment, it's exquisite and addicting how close he is and she'll never get enough of it, of him.
Their breath comes out in soft wet pants, tying them in lovers knots as they move together as one. It's rapturous and she thinks she finally understands why people writhe and speak in tongues in the throes of religious ecstasy because she's never felt closer to God than here and now with Tobias inside her. And maybe that's the trick, that God isn't without but within and all those years spent projecting outward served as a divide.
And all the things that were competing for her attention the last time - the pain, the self-consciousness of being naked, of two bodies reaching for something and coming up empty - melt away because all that matters is here in her arms and whatever they were looking for then, they've found now.
Tobias' hand glides down her sweat-slick thigh and hitches it higher around his waist, opening her body up to somehow allow him deeper. The shift strings her body up tight, like everything inside of her is being coiled in the space between her legs, ready to snap. And it does. She comes with a shuddering, breathy moan and a heat that spills out from her center and travels to the farthest parts of her body. It would be frightening how intense it is if it didn't feel so good. It leaves her limp and liquid and only hazily aware that Tobias' thrusts are erratic before his body stutters and he moans hotly against her neck.
He doesn't move for a long time and she doesn't want him to. He goes soft inside her, and nuzzles sweetly and languidly at her neck like he's just as repentant as she is. Tobias rests her forehead against hers though when he says, "tell me you love me," his voice a tortured rasp that reminds her there's still a lot of awful, complicated things between them.
"I love you," she whispers in the space inbetween them, sealing the vow with a kiss.
Tobias rolls off her and Tris feels something sticky and sinful seep out in his absence. She follows him, propping up on her arm. "Tobias, I…," she starts, but the words bottleneck somewhere between her brain and her mouth and that's all that comes out.
"Not tonight," he says, slipping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her down so that she rests on his chest. "Just… not tonight," he repeats, fitting his lips to hers so she can't object.
So they don't talk, but they do speak because the body has it's own language; speaks in a way hollow words can't. Tris falls asleep around dawn, feeling sore and sticky and exhausted, but loved again. And for the first time in a long time she doesn't have nightmares, Tobias' body fighting them off just by virtue of being curled around hers.
Besides, the real nightmare doesn't start until she wakes up, hours later. Alone.
