Last chapter was short, so I'm posting this right now. (Mainly because I don't like switching POV's in the middle of a chapter.)
TOBIAS
"Collins," I say, trying to make this fast. I didn't want Tris being left alone for too long.
"Yes, Tobias. You need anything?" Dr. Collins puts down the pen he was using.
"She woke up. Tris. She woke up."
Dr. Collins looks surprised, raising his eyebrows. It's probably the most emotion I've seen him express. "We'll have to check her and test her then. She's very lucky."
I nodded. "I can't take her home today?"
"As soon as we make sure everything's alright. I'll send some nurses in." Dr. Collins goes back to writing. He genuinely doesn't care. I wonder what he could have been like before he was erased. Was he actually a sincere, kind man? I felt a pang of guilt strike me, but erasing all of these people is what Tris died for. At least he doesn't know anything about genetic discrimination.
I go back to Tris's room, where she sits on the bed, under the covers like I left her. Something is different. She acts different around me, and I don't like it. I don't know why, and I hate that. Instead of sitting next to her on the bed, I collapse onto the chair. I feel a little embarrassed from crying by her, but it was just too much shock and happiness and everything in between. "They need to check you. Then you can leave," I tell her, and she nods, focusing on her fingers. "Do you want me to explain?" I ask her, trying to break this silence. I want things to be normal, and I'm afraid they'll never be normal again.
"Okay," she says.
"Do you remember when you went into . . . into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb?" Tris freezes. She starts to take deep breaths, closes her eyes, opens them, looks at me.
"I get it. I think I get it. I got shot, and then I thought I . . . woke up though? I was in the hospital and Uriah was already dead. Christina came and you never visited. I saw people, but they were quiet. Christina was the only one who talked, I think. Then, I thought I went into your fear landscape and I . . . I was in the simulation instead of you. Remember when you were controlling the Dauntless soldiers destroying Abnegation? I was controlling it instead of you, and then you tried to stop me. You gave your gun to me," Tris says, her voice getting quieter. "You said the same things I said and we had the same fight. Then I woke up. Again."
"The first time you woke up, that was something called a hallucination. It seemed real, but it wasn't. Christina came to visit you in real life, when you were unconscious. That's why you heard her voice, I think."
"Why didn't you come to see me?" Tris says. I hesitate.
"I was broken without you," the tears come again, "I stayed in my room and just died everyday. I couldn't go out or anything. They originally tried to contact me, but couldn't find me. We thought you were dead, Tris. You were dead to me. I saw you, dead, on the table, and you don't know how much that hurt." I feel ashamed as my tears fall to the tile floor. I don't want to be like this in front of Tris, because I need to be strong and normal and nurse her back to health. "Caleb told me you didn't want to leave me. I thought you did. If you didn't want to, why did you? I don't know."
"I would never leave you. I somehow survived the death serum," Tris says.
"How?" I shook my head.
"I wanted-I needed to survive. For you, and Caleb, and everyone who died for me. I'm not kidding. I just . . . I couldn't leave you," Tris says, giving me a sad smile. A twist of confusion hits me when she says she died for Caleb, after all he had done.
"Thank you," I eventually say, reminding myself that none of that matters, all that matters is that she is here, I'm here, and things can only get better.
The nurse comes, and pokes and prods Tris. She even takes her temperature and weight. Then she turns to both of us.
"You lost a lot of blood. You're very weak, so take it easy for the next couple of weeks. You might feel cold, or have minor trouble breathing. It's normal. If you don't start to warm up in a week, come visit. And if you have a lot of trouble breathing, visit for that as well. A wheelchair won't be good on your body, so it's best that you don't really move around a lot. Otherwise, you can go home. By the way, the beds for the new bedrooms should be coming in tomorrow. Hope you feel better," the nurses smiles, and walks out of the room. Tris smiles back at her, and I smile at Tris. I feel stronger. I feel the way I was before again. I have Tris. We have each other. She makes me strong. I pick her up like a bride, and she chuckles against my chest. My muscles ache from inactivity but push through it. "Ready?" Tris nods eagerly, smiling, and I carry her all the way to my room. I try to hold her in one arm as I open the door to my room. I struggle with it for a while as Tris thinks I can't hear her laughing. I finally get it open, but immediately freeze. Pieces of the mirror are strewn out on the floor and there are holes in the walls. The things on my dresser are lying on the floor and the handle of one of my dresser drawers is coming off.
"Tobias," Tris breathes. She stops, and looks around. I want to drop her on the floor, I want her to tell her to leave, I want to tell her that she shouldn't be afraid. Should she be afraid? Am I really as dangerous as it appears in this moment? But we are all broken inside, just some more than others. I hope Tris can understand. "Was it...because of me?" I don't answer her.
"Oh, Tobias." I can tell she hates not being able to walk. She just pulls closer to me, looks up and holds my face. I stare down back at her, in this broken place, these broken people.
I hold her wrist gently, trying not to hurt her, and pull it away from my jaw. "There's one cot. You take it. I . . . I've got my spot on the floor," I say, remembering back when I first showed my tattoos to Tris, when I slept on the floor and gave her the bed. She remembers it too, I can see the gears turning in her head. I set her down on the cot and kick away shards of mirror to clear a place to lay down. "You need anything?" I ask Tris. I notice she is still pale, and seems like she's shrunken. Her muscles are gone. "No," Tris says. I hold her white hand, which feels icy. "You're cold," I say, alarmed. "Nurse said it was normal, remember?" I remember, and let go. I study the details of her face.
Most of the time I can tell when people are lying, and her death was a lie, because Tris is still alive, her eyes dull and her cheeks pale and her small body barely holding itself together, lying helplessly on a cot. That's not what matters though. Tris is still alive and she wouldn't leave me here alone. She didn't leave me here alone.
"Good night," Tris says. "Good night," I repeat, and lay down on the ground. I hear her breathing become even as she falls asleep.
I stare up at the ceiling, listening to Tris's breathing, constantly reminding me that she's there, and she's alive.
Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can't escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this:
We can be mended. We mend each other.
