The factionless camp is a plot just outside of Amity. It's pretty large, spread with brick houses from old buildings as far as the eye could see. It had its own guarded entrance, the dauntless camps made from dark green tarpaulin tents starting from either side of it and running parallel to a flimsy wire fencing. Jack remembers the debate on whether they needed to be fenced in anymore. It seemed as though anyone could scale it if they tried; even a small child, and the factionless plowed the fields of Amity freely during the day anyway.

The reason why Eric hadn't authorized to lower the fences, is because he thought that if the did, it would give the Factionless ideas on becoming a whole independent unit - and he didn't want that, not from people who he saw as wastes of space. He said 'oppression with a society like theirs was vital', and stuck by it. Though, he could agree that their help in Amity made the seasonal weather changes and the forever increasing requests on produce far easier to maintain and reach each year.

"Assholes and elbows, everybody out!" A senior officer commands at the back of the truck once they come to a stop. It's every man for himself, everybody rushing to grab their equipment and exit without being the last.

Jack is marched with the other new faces to a freshly bleached-smelling tent with cots of beds lined symmetrically either side. Men and women shared; not that that was unusual. Everything is basic, everything is bland, and it is cold. Jack breathes in deeply, trying to forget the ebbings of homesickness already cursing him, and locates a bed.

"Consider yourselves lucky with having the rest of the day off. We rise at zero-six-hundred hours!"

Next to each bed, they are given a small line of drawers for their things and a dim lamp which was already on for their arrival. Jack decides it's best to settle himself in, make it as comfortable as possible, put his clothes away at the very least. Dumping his rucksack on the bed, he begins unfastening the straps.

"You're the Coulter's boy." An unfamiliar voice has Jack peer up to a guy probably younger than him. He appears to be claiming the cot directly next to his, but facing him from across his bed, nonchalantly copying with unpacking.

"It that obvious?"

The guy studies him closer. "Your shoulder-width sure says so."

Jack smiles to himself. If only he knew though how much he loathed his father's influence over him. "You already know who I am then, is there any point in introducing myself?"

"No, Jack," the guy jokes. "The names Ryan but I go by Chip too." Jack's frown is so unique to his father and it urges Chip to continue. "Chipped my bottom tooth when I hit the net the moment I jumped into Dauntless. It's quite a funny story actually. As I landed, my first flew up weirdly into my mouth with the momentum and tapped my bottom tooth. Usually it's the top, but no, nothing is ever normal for me."

"I can relate to that," Jack mentions.

"I called out something like 'I chipped my tooth!' and they wrote down Chip. Voila."

"They didn't let me choose a new name. It was already Jack the moment I jumped." And if he had his second chance, he'd call himself Ardvard to really piss his dad off. He keeps himself concentrated on folding his clothes and putting them in the drawers so he couldn't show his frustration.

"You also didn't choose to be here, did you?"

Jack doesn't like the fact his emotions must be so readable, narrowing his eyes at this chatterbox next to him.

"Fine, I'll keep my mouth shut." Chip puts his hands up in apology. "I won't talk anymore and let you fester."

At the bottom of Jack's rucksack, he pulls out his headphones at long last, placing them over his ears and playing music while falling back on top of the sheets, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Chip merely scoffs and shakes his head. If he wanted to sulk for his entire time here, it's going to be a really long month for him.


Sundays are usually Eric's day off. He'd maybe go to the gym for a little longer than usual, eat with his family at lunchtime, cut his hair, watch Sarah in the shower, maybe toss himself off afterward with plans to screw her later. But no. It's different today, and for the first time, he doesn't know whether he should continue on with the usual by the way Sarah blanks him.

He doesn't like it.

He watches her flit through the kitchen, cleaning each surface twice; even after she touched or moved anything. He even watches her fill the washing machine with annoyance while his coffee grows cold on the table in front of him.

Eventually, April brings the distraction he needs. In baggy sweats, she places herself next to him with some terribly pale face. He pushes his cold coffee towards her. "Heat it for me," he commands. She does groan in agitation but does it none the less, only to slouch back next to him straight after.

"Mom, I need something to eat." April uses her whiny, soppy voice full with hopefulness.

Sarah barely looks at her. "Do it yourself."

Eric and April share a glance. He then lifts his chin, taking a breath before speaking. "I think the kitchen is clean, sweetheart."

"It won't clean itself. And April, before you go anywhere, you will tidy your room." Sarah still doesn't acknowledge them when she passes, disappearing into Jack's vacant bedroom.

"Don't tell me she's sulking over Jack actually doing something with his life," April whispers, beginning to lean forward tiredly on her forearms. Eric whacks her to make her sit up straight.

"You were drinking last night?" he asks.

"Of course." She yawns and it pisses him off. "It was Saturday night."

"Cut your shitty attitude, go shower, and then go to the gym. You've missed breakfast which is your own damn fault." He sips the coffee quickly. "And that means now, blondie."

Whether his daughter sensed the tense atmosphere or not, he's more than happy she doesn't serve him backchat. He couldn't deal with her mouth and a wife that has legit gone crazy, and by the sounds of it - throwing the vacuum against any solid surface she could possibly find.

April doesn't shower, leaving the apartment exaggeratingly yawning no more than five minutes later with her hair in a bun and a large sweatshirt, casually mumbling, "Chow for now."

Still festering in domestic annoyance, he notices the cable of the vacuum is plugged in the hall, so he casually strolls over and kicks it out, ceasing the endless white noise. As Sarah appears, he smiles viciously. "It's me." She doesn't share his enthusiasm and as she turns he grabs her arm. "What are you doing, Sarah? You're stressing over nothing."

"I'm keeping myself busy." Her cheeks are flushed pink, hair stuck to her forehead. It's in her eyes though that he can see everything that she's not saying. She actually looks kind of repulsed by him - that's not entirely unusual...

"You want to-"

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" Sarah's so blunt it takes him by surprise. She plugs the vacuum back in and he pulls it out like a spoilt child.

"You don't want me here, fine. I get it. Be angry at me all you like but it's not going to change anything. Fucking deal with it." She ignores him, the worst thing she could possibly do. "I'll go fucking somewhere else!" He flings his hands up exaggeratedly in the air while storming to the bedroom to grab his jacket and collect his phone. He's still putting it on when he reappears, just as, she again, plugs the vacuum in and disappears into Jack's room.

That's when he loses it.

This was always a problem. He was two sides of a coin; one shiny, one in absolute filth that no amount of soaking could clean. He never thought about what he did before he did it, and could never confess the guilt he would feel afterward.

Eric yanks on the stretched cord that lead into the room, not realizing his strength as the vacuum comes crashing out of it, and Sarah lands on all fours in the doorway.

She was fucking holding it.

"Sarah, shit I-" He steps closer as she rolls back onto her ass and leans against the inside wall.

"Get out." It's whispered so low he doesn't know whether he thought it instead. She wipes at her face, still not able to look at him. "Get out, Eric." The calmness of her voice is more threatening and telling than her words.

He wanted to stay and argue. He wanted to try and get through to her that this wasn't anything to be worried over. He wanted to say he was sorry and imagined them forgiving each other and moving on. Instead, he does nothing and leaves his little wife be, along with a small fearful voice nagging in one ear that perhaps this was beginning to spiral out of control - out of his control. And he had no idea what he could do about it.


Wedged into a communal shower, the water running black beneath their feet, Jack still finds himself chuckling from time to time. The steam creates a mist high above their heads, voices echoing. He couldn't have found better people to be with if he tried. Their team effortlessly formed a unique friendship in just one day alone.

"It's supposed to be the introductory day, instead my ass has been flogged worse than my initiation. In fact, worse than anything I've done yet." Chip scrubs at the thick lines of dirt under his chin with a bar of soap. "I can take beatings, yelling, gun practice for hours on end, but those fields are something else. Those Amity's must be ripped."

Jack lets the water pour over his head for a long while as Chip continues rattling on next to him. His eyes slide to the right feeling eyes on him. He's being watched unsubtly by a girl maybe a year younger, freely letting him see everything; the way her hair drenched over her shoulders and leading to her breasts, the toned abdomen glistening under the water. She smiles at him once he realizes he is staring a little too long and he forcibly smiles back before turning his head to the wall in front of him.

"You have interest…" Chip whispers suggestively.

Jack merely rubs a hand through his short hair, clearing any shampoo left. "Nah…" he drawls. "I need to focus."

"She really likes you." Chip is making this conversation too obvious by continuously glancing over to her as he turns under the water. "Jennifer or Jenny, I think she goes by."

"She could be called ketchup for all I care."

"You got a girl back home?"

Jack shuts off the shower, grabbing his towel hanging next to him and wrapping it around his waist. "No," he snaps a little harshly. "I wasn't sent here to pick up girls."

His friend shrugs. "May as well have some fun while you're here though, right? Maybe you should-"

"Maybe you should keep your mouth shut." Snatching up the bottles of his shampoo from home, he looks Chip right in the eye. "Concentrate on your own business, not mine."

Again, his friend finds himself holding his hands up. "Jeez, okay…" And Chip watches Jack leave. "Chill…" He shrugs to the girl who disappointedly looks away.


Sarah's too busy in her preparation for her second meeting with Erudite; papers fanned around her in the boardroom, to notice Blake Hammond watching her from the open doorway.

There's a bit of a ruckus from the other meeting rooms and offices; people skimming past, so she doesn't have the sense to look. But he does. He watches her bite the end of her pen, then down to a flattering pair of heels, letting his eyes run up her patterned stockings to the hemline of the classical A-cut dress she wears that had risen up ever so slightly.

"Knock knock."

Sarah jumps, her head jerking over towards him. "Oh, Mr Hammond!"

As she stands to shake his hand, he smiles pleasantly at her, closing the door behind him. "Please, call me Blake."

"Betty was supposed to fetch me when you had arrived. I'm sorry…" she trails off as he rushes to pull out the chair for her to sit back down, grabbing the seat closest to her for himself.

"I hope you don't mind, but I told her not to bother. Seemed a little too formal." He remembers the folders in his hand and places them in front of him. "The plans have been drawn."

"That's brilliant."

"It took a while as something far more important came to my attention. Regardless, I tried to get them drawn up as soon as I possibly could because of the issues we had in the last meeting; a lack of information, and I didn't want it to appear any less important or as if I am wasting your time."

Sarah shakes her head. "I wouldn't worry."

"Good. Well, I'll dive right in. Of course, I am here for the preparation of the expansion, but also-"

"It still hasn't been decided if this is actually going to go ahead yet," she reminds him. The last thing she wanted was him to ride too high on his horse.

She expects some sort of subtle tantrum, but instead, he graces her with one of his unique smiles and unnerving her to no end with a confident stare. "That's a given." His words are too smooth, too low. She eventually has to clear her throat and focuses on the papers in front of her. "What I was going to say, is that there is a more damning problem I've stumbled across. It's not the most pleasant of subjects, but I think you will agree that is indeed the most urgent." Blake pulls out a small-scale map and passes it to her.

It's a complete maze of runways and the layout of the factions. It's hard to distinguish exactly what he is referring to. She hates to admit it. "What am I looking for? You can't expect me to see what you see by handing me an unnoted map, Mr Hammond." Sarah lays it flat to allow him to clue her in.

A smirk plays on his lips that she doesn't see as he leans closer. "Our three factions; Erudite, Dauntless, and Candor have the same waste system under the cities grounds. Abnegation's is veered off on a single system on a much smaller scale, and Amity runs with the land in the opposite direction."

"...Okay."

"The system has sat underneath us for countless years, adapted to our city." With his two index fingers, he positions off a section on the map. "The problem is here. This is the evacuation."

"That's beyond the wall."

"Yes. It's collapsed," Blake states clearly. "We need to close it off and redirect it… here," he points it out. "Before we have a sanitary crisis."

Sarah now believes she is not fit to deal with Erudite and wishes Eric took this damn project on. "This is a state of affairs that needs to be considered by all the factions. This isn't an individual problem we can head all the decisions for." It's the best response she can come up with under the pressure.

"Your husband, Mrs Coulter, is certainly one person who can head this movement, or at the very least brandish it vital. I mentioned this in a briefing, and it's actually humorous if I think about it, but the people of Erudite are calling for me to front the repairs and take over some of the cities responsibilities." He leans back in his chair and puts a hand to his chest. "I don't want to encroach on your husband's domain. Believe me, I really really don't. I'm new to this game and my persistence was fighting for what my faction wanted. But this is beyond what we want. This affects multiple factions. I'm just the nose who stumbled upon it."

Sarah swallows dryly. "So, what do you want me to do about it?" With such a harsh question, she still manages to make it sound pleasant. "Surely if it was that important you would insist on meeting with Eric?"

"I just assumed Erudite business is run through you now. You were both adamant." Blake is leaning so far back in his chair with a look of expectancy; as if she was about to suggest something completely miraculous. Sarah only feels like she is floundering.

"I will speak with Eric. I'll make it a priority." Even she doesn't recognize her own voice, and with his twitching lips, he also knows that she is at a loss.

"Photos!" Blake suddenly remembers. "I took the opportunity to gain photographic evidence so there is no delay - unlike the last problem we had. A lady like yourself shouldn't have to venture to the source of the sewers, ma'am."

"That's very considerate of you." As she studies the photos of what looks the mouth of a cave crumbling on one side, she feels his stare.

"Myriad…" he suddenly mumbles causing Sarah to slowly peer up at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to name the expansion and new parts of the buildings Myriad. I may even name the entire project that. Has a better ring to it, wouldn't you say?" he asks. She is at a loss for words. He chuckles before adding, "...Almost like the shade of your eyes, what a coincidence. All the myriad shades of blue." She can't help but blush, her cheeks tinging noticeably pink. "I'm sorry if I have embarrassed you. I just found it quite fitting. Screams Erudite, don't you think?"

"Shall we concentrate on the blueprints for the expansion?" Sarah rushes.

"Certainly." Blake flicks through his papers. "And shall we name the sewer problem Roses?" he mumbles with his eyes still downturned to the sheets in front of him. "I have never been taken with the smell of them."

"That's a matter of perception."

While she is blunt; her tone anything other than amused, he seems to be. "You're very much right."


"This guard malarky is a piece of piss," Chip comments while they watch the buzz of factionless life from inside the pathetic excuse of a fence. "Do you ever think, when the factions were being made, Amity was truly the leftovers; you know, like factionless, so they made another faction to accommodate."

Chip still peers off into the distance as Jack snaps his head over to him. "You know what, you think too much, that's your problem."

"But who really decided that? ...This is the factions, we shall name them this and stuff them with people with these traits."

Jack kicks a stone out in front of him. "I… mate, I really don't care. What's done is done."

"What do you care about?"

Now that is a tricky question. All of Jack's thoughts had been on showing he was just as capable as Eric thought. That he could survive without being close to home. And that he was eager to follow his father up the ladder to leadership like he always wanted.

That was a farce. Really in his mind, he'd gone along with it because after initiation and the build-up, life wasn't so planned out and simple as he thought. He wasn't satisfied. He didn't like the idea of leaving home at first but came to see it as a chance to find himself.

However, he still felt lost. "Surviving the month," seems to be the only logical reasoning he had at the moment. Steeling his jaw, he keeps his sight out in front of him.

"What's it like being a Coulter kid?" Chip continues regardless of his friend's hostile appearance.

"Privileged."

"And your mom's a Stiff. That's unusual-"

"Don't talk about my mom." He'd heard it all before; all the provoking insults, all the slurs against her, and it was partly why he said privileged; intentionally mocking himself over something that had been said before. They couldn't be any more wrong. "I'm out of here," he says suddenly, sauntering off towards the main gateway.

Chip looks to and fro between their small chosen group, signaling for them to stay there as he races to catch up. "That's against protocol! Jack, stop!"

"Stay here then. I'm still patrolling. I'm just doing it over there, through the woods." He smirks so much like his father over his shoulder. "Taking in the scenery." He thinks for a moment before adding, "Need a piss too." As long as Mark or their intakes instructor didn't see them, no one would bat an eyelid. They were too busy splintering the groups on different activities to pay much attention anyway.

While Jack walks calmly, Chip keeps throwing a look back to the camp, stumbling to keep up and steadying the gun hanging from his shoulder. "I swear, I will point fingers if they find out. I'm not lying, so don't expect me to."

"Whatever." Jack shrugs. They reach the tree line and he thunders straight through, finding a spot to unzip his flies. Whilst he's pissing, Chip is still a nervous wreck.

"What if there are people out here?"

In annoyance, Eric's son leans an arm against the tree, still occupied. " We shoot 'em. I don't know, depends."

"On what?"

Jack smiles to himself, zipping his flies and turning to his friend. "If they shoot at us first." He begins hacking his way through the undergrowth, ascending a natural bank with the sound of Chip clumsily following. Reaching the top, they come to a lazy pace and Chip soon begins to relax, only occasionally mumbling to himself.

Amity had it good, and so did the factionless now. Jack's mesmerized by the very tops of the trees swaying above him. Through the parting of them, small dashes of light were thrown down, highlighting bright blue and purple wildflowers. Below him, by his feet, moss grew on fallen logs, some type of mushroom clinging to the base of trees. In passing, he dipped his finger in the sap of a tree, memorizing the feel of the bark under his hand, the waxy layer on small leaves or the furs of the stems. Finally, he crouches down to the track of an animal, a content, honeyed smile on his face from the relaxing atmosphere around him. "The animals are still free, even behind the wall," he murmurs, completely forgetting that Chip is behind him.

"Thanks." Confused, Jack peers over to his laxed friend still standing, steadying his gun from swinging as he turned. His face must say 'For what?' because Chip runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair before continuing. "You made me remember that there is more than just us here." Jack doesn't reply, turning back to measure the size of the print to his outstretched hand. "That we're lucky to be here now. Well, I'm lucky. If you hadn't of wandered off I'd still be watching a dusty track road and rubbish skimming the floor." Jack stands up to look for a trail in hopes of finding whatever it was that had passed through there only shortly before they arrived.

"Stop talking. All anybody and everybody does these days is just talk; nonsense, shit, who has more than me, the weather. Be quiet."

"Be quiet and listen to nature," Chip suggests with a blissful sigh.

"No, just shut the fuck up. You don't have to listen or see or feel what is around you. A quiet mind brings it."

"Is that why you use headphones?" Chip asks.

"Does it matter at all why I really do anything?"

"You are the most wayward person I've ever met."

"And yet, you still talk endlessly to me."

Chip shrugs this time, peering down to the ground. "I didn't say it was a bad thing." Jack's eyes are a deep ocean when he decides to look back up from the forest floor to him, his expression altogether smothering what really rippled through his vast mind.

"We should head back." The tall Coulter boy stands to his full height but decides to walk side by side this time then trailing off ahead. They walk wordlessly, Chip having taken some incentive from their conversation. Descending the bank they had traveled across for a change of scenery, the break in the trees is ahead of them that would expose the furthermost corner of the factionless camp.

Jack turns his head to Chip as they walk out into the warm rays of the sun, and briefly smiles.

A few shots ping from the floor and off a nearby tree that startles them both, Chip throwing his hands up to a group of Dauntless they hadn't noticed. "Friendly!" he shouts at the top of lungs. "Jesus Christ!" he pants, nervous laughter breaking his composure, turning to Jack to comment.

Jack Coulter isn't looking at anything other than his hand pressed to his right shoulder, bringing it away to look at the crimson spilled between his fingers. "I'm hit. I'm hit. They shot me." His face blanches and he tips backward, losing his footing at the same time Chip grabs him.

"Man down!" Chip calls out to the Dauntless patrol, pulling the strap of Jack's gun from him and applying pressure, using most of his weight. "You're good, man, you're good." He pleads with the other patrol to hurry up with a swift glance then back to his fallen friend. "Just a flesh wound…" he comforts him.


Sarah doesn't know the people Eric is talking to. She allows distance between them while waiting for whatever conversation they are having to end. It's also not the first time in her life she has peered through the window of the gym and training room. Many years ago, when she was just a girl of eighteen, she remembers coming to find Eric here. It's a weird sensual feeling; a fleeting moment of familiarity, all that might have lived before deemed itself suddenly brand new. She wanted to believe the fingerprints in the dust of the small lip of seal of the window were hers. It was a strangely comforting idea.

When Eric dismisses the conversation, that's when she makes her break. It's a sullen, sweaty smell and lighting, various grunts from around the room that she ignores. Eric sees her coming, opting to drop the weights into their holder after only seconds of using them and shows his broad back and admirable lines that she knew of that still managed to pang the small muscles in her stomach.

He's somewhat breathless when he turns and puts balled fists onto his hip, his vest considerably loose around his neck and a stain of sweat looping down his chest. "Wife," he addresses her, but it's not exactly kind.

"There's… some things we need to talk about. I was hoping to catch you in your office but…" Her brows furrow, glancing at anything but him and crushing the folders to her chest. "...you weren't there, so I thought you'd be here. So now I'm here."

"Well, that ain't obvious," he snorts to himself.

"It's something very important. Erudite want some answers-"

"Fuck Erudite. I'm not in the mood to talk right now." He casually bats the air, opting to sort through the weights and lifts one in practice. "I'm done with work today. I actually thought you may just want to speak to me in general because you've barely uttered a word for a day or so. That was a stupid fucking idea obviously."

"I'm trying-"

"It seems I'm always fucking trying but it's like hitting a steel gray wall."

Sarah sighs through her nose. "Please don't talk over me."

"Well, I'm getting bored of it. I'm bored of this - shitty tip-toeing." He scoffs to himself. "In fact, I can't even tip-toe, my shoulders are too bogged down with other people's shit and attitudes, along with your…" He flicks a hand up and down her. "Personal issues, or whatever the fuck this is. A day is enough. This is enough."

"This is enough?"

"Yeah," he calls out over his shoulder. "It is." But he's beginning to sound less confident, trying fruitlessly to distract himself with a plain stand of weights.

Sarah drops the folder from Erudite to the floor. "Then I have had enough of this." As she turns he's quick to close the distance and grabs her arm, dragging her back as she fights feebly, her heels scuffing the floor.

"Don't walk away from me."

"Then don't expect me to deal with things the way you do. This may not be a big deal for you, but you could respect me enough, at least, to comprehend exactly how I'm feeling." She shrugs his hand off of her in a final act of defiance. But before she can fathom what he's doing, he bends down and scoops up her foot, removing her heel and forcing her to cling onto him with her balance off. "Eric! What!"

"I don't like these." He inspects the shoe, then flippantly lobs it over his shoulder.

Sarah purses her lips, poking at his piercings above his brow while kicking off the other shoe to regain her balance. "I don't like that!"

Eric pulls her hair out. "I don't like that fucking bun, never have, and you still wear it more often than not." He smirks incredibly close to her face, probably intending to intimidate her.

"Your hair looks stupid longer. Cut it," she pants with the command, blowing hair from her face.

"The thing you do with your eyebrow is condescending," he mentions and she has no idea what he's talking about. What thing?

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk! Your nostrils flaring are... are." Her nose scrunches up and she continuously stutters.

"Sarah syndrome strikes again," he claims. "But while we're being utterly honest…" his voice drops low and he leans more into her space. "I have to admit, I like it when you do that."

"Don't patronize me! Don't glide your way out of this with your scrambled words…" She looks to his arms. "...and body. That's not how these things work."

"How do these things work? What fucking things?" Only minutely he glances behind her, then licks his lips. "...You, er, you checking me out?" Sarah glances behind her to a group of people leaving, and then at the clock above the door. The large room has grown vacant, probably completely aware of Eric and his wife bickering and opting to leave.

"No, Eric." She waggles a finger, backing up, still barefoot and hair loose. She knew what he was doing; he was twisting this conversation, distracting her. "Don't!" Sarah hits a stand of exercise equipment behind her. Scrabbling around it, she makes it only to the nearest pillar that ran parallel throughout the large room.

She would gasp if she had time. His hands clamp onto her upper arms, spinning her, pushing her hard enough against the pillar to keep her pinned, but not enough to hurt. "I saw your email about whether I'd spoken to Jack. I have." He eases up a little, his words softer than before and eyes searching; a sense of normality settling as they stared at each other. "You could've asked me that yourself."

"But we had a fight…" She says delicately, tilting her head in a way Eric loved. A fleeting image of a time when Sarah was younger ignites his blood.

"I don't know whether this is obvious to you by now or not, but I fight with everybody." He twirls a strand of her hair around his larger fingers, stroking the side of her cheek, then neck and shoulder, brushing down her cleavage for a moment. "You trust me, don't you? You trust me to look out for our son and do what's best? Let me take some pressure away from you."

Sarah tries to look away but can't help fluttering back up to him. "That's the thing, Erudite-"

"Fuck Erudite for tonight. Tell me first thing tomorrow. Just tell me what I want to hear now."

She rubs her lips together before answering, "Okay, I trust you." And his smile is radiant. But as she leans towards him, her head cradled sweetly against his chest with strong arms binding around her, that radiant smile drops.

Maybe he should have mentioned that it wasn't really Jack who he spoke to, but Mark. That there had been an incident where Jack was shot from friendly fire and their son was extremely lucky that the bullet went straight through, missing his vitals, and currently residing in Amity's infirmary.

Instead, Eric stares out from over the top of her head with a dead expression, knowing that he lied so dishonourably, and says nothing.


A/N:

Apologies for any grammar mistakes, my Beta abandoned me, with no food or water... :P