Major thanks to Bamberlee who sent this back early!
I hope that this sheds some light on everyone's (least) favorite character! I know people either love her or hate her, and hopefully, you'll like her version of a few events. For obvious reasons, this won't include every single scene because some of them have been done multiple times. But this is mostly all new, so enjoy!
In case you still don't know who it is: It's Arlene ;)
He loves her.
I pick up on this while I stand there and watch, completely immersed in the show unfolding before me. It's a real soap opera of sorts; one of tormented love and angst, of unrequited feelings that may never be resolved, of pure and innocent longing.
I can feel the frustration from here.
He hovers near her, his gaze sweeping up over her forehead, her skin pale and sweaty, and his hands clench then unclench. I can tell there's an ache deep inside him, one that will only be soothed by reaching out and taking her smaller hand in his. I imagine it would be comforting to her as well, to give in and hold onto him.
Because she feels the same.
She gazes up at him with the same sincere, desperate stare, knowing full well this is all there is. She can't do anything more than watch him, his hair messed up after his fingers have raked through it, and his eyes worried. A coiled up tension lurks inside him, one begging for anything to give just a bit. A fraction of an inch is all it would take to undo the hurt between them.
He leans in, his eyes now everywhere but her, making sure no one is watching.
This is forbidden to him, something he doesn't deserve or even understand, and it's clear as day when he eventually jerks away from her as someone rounds the corner and nearly knocks into him with complete and utter disgust.
"The fuck you doing, Stiff? Get outta my way."
Eric throws Four a dirty look, stalking past him with all the authority of a man on a power trip. Eric's gaze is sharp, sharper than mine, and it cuts through Four the way Eric wants it to. Four doesn't so much draw back to get away from him, but more to protect Tris. She's been brought in after coming down with a spectacular case of the stomach flu, and he's stupid to get so close to her for more than one reason. But he does, after all –he's the one who brought her here.
Despite her having a boyfriend who doesn't like him.
Despite her being unable to go more than a few minutes without gagging.
"Fuck off, Eric." Four's own retort is feral, his protectiveness over Tris truly heartwarming, until she swats him away.
"I'm going to throw up." She groans, and her skin turns a seasick green color.
Four doesn't move.
Eric does.
He takes off, walking faster, his superior immune system not willing to be touched by such a common virus. He finds me in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and dark and nasty.
"What is this? The Dauntless infirmary or a community health center in Abnegation?" He barks, his deep dislike of both Four and Tris further ignited by the sight of them together. "Here. Sign these so I can get started. I need my initiate to pass. We'll be in this week for the exam."
"Mmmm." I take the papers from him, my own work, and I idly watch him standing there. He stares at me, waiting for me to conjure up a date and time, out of thin air, all for him.
But I enjoy making him wait. Not many can hold Coulter in place for more than a few seconds. He's a man with free reign of his kingdom, and he takes advantage of it. Other than Max, occasionally holding the sliver of seniority he has over Eric's head, no one controls him. He comes and goes as he pleases, backed by Jeanine. It's been that way since he got here, and even now, with his lone, single initiate, he still has the same freedom. "What's his name? Your…initiate?"
"Her." He corrects me without thinking about what he's saying; arrogance at it's finest. He would never waste an opportunity to let someone know they've made a mistake, especially me.
But I haven't. I know his initiate is female. I know a lot of things about her. That she's small. Young. Very pretty. Prettier than most here, but also far more delicate looking. He might think he can train her to kick someone's ass, but at the end of the day, it's likely she'd be murdered before she's even stepped on the mat.
I also know she follows him around, both by his command, and a willingness to not die.
Maybe something else.
Something she doesn't know yet.
But I like it.
I like the idea of him and her, this offering from Amity that's been bestowed to him, as they trudge through her training together. I, myself, am not a part of it, but that doesn't mean I can't have a vested interest in how it turns out.
"Her." I repeat, unable to help myself. "Tell me, what's her name?"
He narrows his eyes at me.
"So I can be ready. I'll need to know who you're bringing to me."
Eric stares with a dark, impatient snarl and his mind whirls. He's trying to figure out if I know who she is, and how. If I'm messing with him, or if I'm being sincere with my curiosity, cataloging this information to make her appointment go smoothly, for him.
He must go with the latter.
"Everly," he announces, and there's a hidden hint of something behind the way he says it. As though he shouldn't say her real name out loud, and perhaps if he does, he'll jinx something. "Her name is Everly. Don't be obnoxious when you meet her, either. Just give her the exam and don't talk."
"Impossible." I roll my eyes, and his own dismissal is as sharp as the part in his fuck-boy haircut. "Make sure her paperwork is complete. That'll speed things up."
"Whatever."
His thanks is the same as always, nonexistent. He storms away with his shoulders back, pausing only to let a slew of nurses rush a violently ill Tris past him. His face wrinkles in disgust, both at who Tris is, and the fact that she's fallen ill so publicly, and then he's gone.
In a huff of annoyance and impatience, Eric leaves the infirmary to find…her.
His initiate.
Everly.
"You think he likes her?"
I look up at Max, and his gaze is oddly thoughtful. There's no doubt he's conjuring up images of Eric and Everly, their dark clothes blending together as he beat her into the ground, pulled her up, and made her do it all over again. He and I had watched the security tapes. We'd wrestled them out of the control room, prying them from Kacie's cold hands and colder stare. We'd sat and watched hours of footage, looking for the things most would miss, or perhaps overlook.
But not me.
I knew Eric well, very well, and his behavior toward the girl was irrational. Completely and utterly not himself.
Telling.
No amount of snarling or snapping at her could hide his interest. To an outsider, it looked like he was grooming her for a position here. He was brutal with her, violent as he forced her into place, and impatient as he taught her skills that the boys in Four's class would have an advantage with. It was a weird ballet they performed, him pushing and shoving and all but forcing her to break under his pressure, and her refusing. She slowly wore him down, never giving up, not even when her head hit the mat or he made her run until she was close to vomiting.
She blossomed under his dark rule, and in turn, he spun out of control.
For a man so sure of himself and his desire that he needed absolutely no one, he was never without her.
He stared, long lingering gazes that rivaled his worst enemy's sullen, heart-broken stares. While he had mocked the Stiff at every turn, he mirrored him with this new forbidden enchantment with the girl in front of him. His hands clenched when he walked by her, and his jaw tensed when she veered too far away. He ate with her in the mess hall, sacrificing his precious reputation of being an absolute asshole who wouldn't dare eat such common food, and in those moments, he was human.
When he thought no one was watching is when he slipped up. In the unusual way his expression slipped, giving way to rare appreciation. Enjoyment. She might have wanted to throw her lunch tray at his head, but Eric was enjoying the simplest, most basic form of human interaction. He was lapping it up, every second spent with her. The game was a bit unfair, of course. He had her undivided attention, but she had his as well.
Max didn't agree.
"I think he likes her." He declares, his voice slow and clear. "But I can't figure out if he really likes her, or if this is just because she has to stay with him."
"How did you manage that?" I ask, and my own stare falls to Max's laptop. If I asked nicely, or even if I didn't, he'd let me look at it. I could lie and say I needed to research someone, but I knew his passwords. He was complacent with his work, never changing or updating anything, and it had been easy to get it the first time around. I'd found myself hotly jealous he'd arranged this entire living situation without me, but I appreciate his effort. I'd found out Everly lived with Eric instead of the initiates once Four had given me a headcount for his class. She wasn't on there and wasn't staying with them out of fear she'd be killed. A few quick keystrokes later, I was able to find her in the database, confidentially listed as living at Eric's apartment.
Where not many had set foot, let alone stayed the night.
"I knew it would work. We don't even use the keys anymore." Max laughs, and he looks smug. "The one I gave her was the key to Harrison's office. I knew she'd try to open it in front of Eric, and he'd have no patience for that. He wasn't going to drag her back to me."
"Really?" I cock an eyebrow at him, and he nods.
"Okay, so there was a chance. Maybe, twenty/eighty that he'd call me and say it didn't work. But I didn't think he would. It would be involving me, and he's smarter than that."
I nod, impressed with him. "Even minutes after meeting her, he didn't want anyone else involved."
"Nope." Max raises his glass at me, and I raise my own to meet his. "For someone so smart, he's being awfully transparent about this."
That was the problem with Eric.
It always had been.
While he was smart, brilliant and cunning, he was oddly stupid. Oddly oblivious to how his life was spinning out of control. Unaware that those around him feared him because he could kill them, or make their life a living hell, not because he was Eric. But because of his brute strength, his emotionless stares, and the coldness that radiated with every step. Because he was out of control, no one to reel him in, and no real reason to.
But things were changing.
I could feel it and I could see it now, right in front of us.
We tune in to the live security feed, and a few seconds later, Max and I watch as Eric and Everly walk to dinner, just a tad too slow for Eric's normal pace.
He is oddly defensive of her, and oddly protective.
In turn, she is oddly defensive of him. Equally protective, as though she knew he needed someone to look out for him.
The first time I notice is after her visit. I'd flat out accused him of pressuring her to sleep with him to stay in the game, and it had made sense when I said it. They were essentially living together, while in an apartment larger than most, during a stressful time in a confined space. She wanted to stay here, desperately, and he was used to getting what he wanted.
I hadn't been counting on that being her.
At first, the game of observing them had been for my enjoyment. Or at least that was what I told myself. I could only stitch up so many wounds, glue so many sections of skin back together, and bandage so many injuries before I grew bored. I had turned this shit hole around the best I could, and even that only held my attention for so long. It ran efficiently on my orders, and it gave me plenty of time to dip out and find Max.
That was how the betting began.
Having grown used to seeing Eric and Everly together, we moved on to guessing what he would do. Watching him squirm as he tried to figure out how he could imprint his legacy upon her, turning her into the soldier of his dreams while his stance told us he wanted something else. We decided to take bets as he slowly slipped up, letting her inch closer to him without even trying.
The major signs were worth a low number of points.
Like when he touched her shoulder while they walked. It was on purpose, under the guise of guiding her down the hallway, but his fingers hovered there, invisibly marking his territory. But clear as day, caught on camera. The smaller gestures were higher points. Could we catch the second when he touched her back? Or the way his head tilted toward her while she asked him a question?
There were bonus bets for when things became obviously physical – ten points if he pinned her down, fifteen points if it took him longer than normal to get up off her.
The games quickly picked up the pace from there.
Until I watched her grow red under my questioning, viciously defensive of Eric Coulter.
It was a first.
While he was lusted after by many who found him physically attractive, almost anyone would have ratted him out if they thought they'd get a reprieve from his grueling training. There were a few who might have kept quiet, enjoying fucking him to make their way through the rankings, perhaps thinking it would lead to more.
But not Everly.
She looks pissed, and not that I'd think she was sleeping her way through the ranks.
That I was insinuating Eric had pressured her to do so.
I paused in my thinking, working through hundreds of rationalizations of why she would be defensive of him, until my brain landed on the most plausible theory of all. She liked him, and he liked her. They had a mutual understanding of each other, a connection that others didn't, and it didn't stem just from their training. I saw it in the way she sat up straighter, knowing he was waiting for her, and he'd take her home. I saw it in the way her eyes flashed at me, angry that I'd think such a thing of her precious trainer, and suddenly, all the cards were wild.
They liked each other.
I thought of this while he snarled at me for daring to speak to her, his expression just as furious as hers had been. It was more than just implying he'd be dumb enough to sink to such a tactic, all to get his rocks off. He had plenty of women who'd happily go home with him, satisfied with whatever he gave them. But not Everly. He was insulted, because there was something about her that he liked, and I was dirtying the image he was trying to build for himself.
He was angry enough that he stormed off and refused to speak to me for days. I deserved it, sure. I knew I'd crossed a line there, out of concern for Everly, but also for him. I accepted his need for space, until I was over it.
Until she was called down to the infirmary to hold Eric's hand while he was stitched back up.
I watched him from a distance, filling the syringe as quickly as possible before I went over to him. He was wild and feral as he thrashed on the exam table, unwilling to let anyone near him. I had barked at a few nurses that we'd sedate him if he refused to cooperate. He needed to be dealt with quickly; the faster I could give him something to speed up his healing time, the faster he'd recover. But no one wanted to go by him, for he was violent and angry, his pride wounded at being shot.
He was about to leave or commit cold blooded murder, when she appeared with Max.
I could see him tense up, his eyes skating over her with sheer horror, both at being seen here, and at being hurt in front of her. He'd long presented himself as untouchable. A sheer, stoic overlord that couldn't be harmed.
Not this human man, who would bleed out just like the rest of us.
I watched Everly approach him carefully, her hair a mess, clearly having been pulled out of bed and urged down here. I watch her look at him, her shoulder creeping up higher, the tension that he'd been hurt visible with every step she took. I watched her reach for him, small fingers finding his, and I'd nearly stabbed myself with the pain medication.
She touched him freely. Like she'd been granted the privilege long ago, a complicated agreement between them. I watched with the utmost guilty pleasure as she and I both stepped closer, and he leaned into her.
He wasn't aware that I was heading his way, moments away from interrupting his moment with her, but it had to be done. His thigh was bleeding, seeping through his pants and down his leg, and so was his hair.
Our exchange was as unpleasant as ever.
I'd tended to him more times than he'd like to admit, never in front of the girl he so desperately liked, but always when he was at his worst. This was no exception, and he left without looking at me. In fact, he avoided me like the plague, recovering at home, with Everly. He went out of his way to not answer my calls, or run into me. He stayed far away, keeping to himself and her, returning to an Eric who answered to no one.
Until he strolled in and announced he was marrying her.
With all his logic, he fails to realize what he's doing.
A legally binding marriage, one with heavy repercussions if he failed to uphold his end of it. Even in Dauntless, where the lawless and wild found their place, there were still rules and regulations. By officially marrying his trainee, he was agreeing to take care of her for her time here. Because she had nothing –no assigned living space, no real source of points, no position or job, and no chance of being guaranteed one, she would be his responsibility.
Even if this didn't work out, whether it be a day, a week, or six years from now, he'd be responsible for her. She could, and would, be prompted to file for half of what he had.
And Eric had a lot.
Working for Jeanine gave him everything he could want, and then some. Points beyond what he could spend, freedom that was more valuable than his points, and a name for himself here. Fancy things, that no doubt his little Amity trainee was now accustomed to.
Everly, were she to decide she didn't want to be married to him, would be awarded all of the same luxuries he'd affronted her. He'd be forced to make sure she stayed alive and comfortable, forced to pay for her existence until the day she stopped breathing.
I stared at him, his hair freshly cut, and his uniform extra dark, and I noticed he looked alive. He looked vibrant as he stood there, ever so pleased at his brilliance. He'd wandered down here to gloat his superior intellect in my face. To mock me for ever thinking he'd hurt her, to shove it in my face that he'd come up with a plan that would forever keep his darling Everly safe, no matter what.
"You're marrying her? The one who already has your last name?"
I raised my eyebrow at his error, but even I knew it was no error that he'd written her last name as his.
Eric rarely made mistakes.
He'd made one agreeing to help Jeanine, but it was to spite his parents. It was to guarantee he'd never return to them who he was and would rise above what they had expected. He'd chosen to leave because his path was promised to him, but also out of a buried hurt that neither of them gave a shit about him.
But Everly did.
That was why, in his ever-thinking and mostly rational mind, marrying her was the best option. It was why he'd written her last name as his, boldly and brashly declaring she belonged to him. His intent, while obnoxious and teeming with his own brilliance, revealed the true feelings of a man who had none.
That he had a few, and he had no clue what to do with them.
He'd decided that by marrying her, he'd keep her out of harm's way but also with him. And if she stayed long enough, immersed in the world of only him, perhaps she'd eventually like him enough that she'd stay on her own free will.
"People are going to think you're forcing her into this you know. Have you heard of Stockholm Syndrome?" I point out, neatly signing some pages that would be sent to Erudite to be catalogued. Medical results proving the vitality of our members, and their ability to function as soldiers. "You aren't worried that anyone will ask you about what you're doing?"
"It's not their business." Eric retorts smoothly, his fingers reaching to pluck a book off my shelf. It's one his father has written, and he flips through the pages with haughty disgust. "I need to keep her safe. And this will. No one will bother her if she has my last name. Even you could have figured that out."
His words are meant to evoke a reaction, but all they evoke is an eye roll. I'm not stupid enough to believe he'd marry her to keep her safe. Eric Coulter gave zero fucks about anyone. He'd sell his own soul if it meant gaining another centimeter of authority, and he'd sell the souls of anyone who was close to him to gain another.
This was something else.
"You must be very impressed that you came up with this plan." I staple the last pages together, and Eric slams the book back in its place. He throws me a blistering stare, one that hints I was stupid for not seeing how smart he was. "Perhaps she's what you need. I hope it works out for you two."
"I don't need anyone. Didn't you hear me? This is for her own protection. I'm not marrying her because I'm in love with her." He responds immediately, disdain at the idea that he might ever want for such a relationship or have such ridiculous feelings toward someone. Or that he'd need for this small girl from Amity to stay by his side, unless she wanted to leave. "I told you, I'm keeping her safe. That's it."
"I'm sure." I respond just as immediately, and I look at him intently. I'd never so much as uttered the word love, but he had.
I knew then and there that while his words said one thing, his tone belied something else. He was rarely down here just to talk with me, and the reason why he was here wasn't lost on me. I'd kept an eye on him since his birth, and in this moment, I was the closet person he had to family.
He had friends, sure. Two bumbling idiots who had latched onto him and never looked back. Rylan was the loudest and most outgoing, and Dauntless afforded him the ability to slack off as much as his heart desired. He worked when he wanted, partied the rest of the time, and adored his friends to the point of stupid loyalty. They had grown up together but had little in common. Eric could have gone on to follow in his father's footsteps, but Rylan wouldn't have amounted to much. But they had each other's back, as sort of a ride or die brotherhood that Eric never had.
Jason was quieter, more concerned with his own life, but held a fierce closeness to both Eric and Rylan. The three of them had bonded during initiation, and I'd met Jason there. I'd fixed his collarbone for him, shoving the bone deep beneath his skin and back into place, then given him something to help it heal in time for his next fight. He was goofy, the sort of kid who believed in aliens and UFOs and monsters in the basement, but he was kind. He liked Eric for Eric, was smart enough to see things from a perspective that would help him go places, and had been awarded the position of Leader, along with Rylan, once Eric had enough power to do so. He was part of the team crafted around Eric, easily making sure his vote would always be the winning one.
I idly wondered what they thought of this situation –of Eric, taking a wife, one who barely came up to the middle of his chest.
"Do your friends know?" I ask, unable to help myself. "Do they approve of your marriage? Won't this get in the way of your endless happy hours?"
He isn't impressed with my questioning.
"No."
"Am I invited to the wedding?" I stack the papers together, noticing Everly's file is on top. Everly Coulter, that is. Already his wife, already reaping the benefits of the safeness he proclaimed he offered.
"Fuck off, Arlene." He snarls, and he heads toward my door. He throws me one more look to make sure I can see how ignorant he thinks I am, then cocks his head at me. "Don't ask her any questions, either. This stays here. You breathe a word of this, and you're dead."
He emphasizes here, as well as dead, and I have the sudden flash of dizzied realization that this poor girl has no idea she's marrying him. I'd known him long enough to know that he wasn't quiet about what he did. He may have been a private person, but he liked for others to know just how much better his life was than theirs.
But he didn't want this to get back to Everly. Not yet.
Because she didn't know, and perhaps wouldn't for some time. It takes me mere seconds to figure him out. He would wait to tell her until he believed she wouldn't leave, and therein lie the real truth of what he wanted. He wanted her to stay with him, without having to tell her such a thing.
He was suffering from the horror of one's most basic emotions.
"Eric," I call out, fully ready to tell him he's being ridiculous, and he should tell her he intends on marrying her. That Everly looked at him the same way he looked at her and she might just agree, but he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
I sit there, rendered speechless, and I find myself staring at the page with her name on it. He was marrying her, and she didn't know. Maybe I wasn't far off with my assumption that she was what he needed. After all, how many women had he ever announced any interest in, let alone a desire to marry. There was something so simple about it, almost downright uptight, that he'd want a wife.
Especially one who was still associated with the Amity faction.
I pick up my phone to call Max, and then I set it down.
I decide I like this idea, and I will respect Eric's wishes to keep it quiet.
For now.
To my chagrin, there is no wedding.
There is no formal announcement, or even a hint that our fearless leader has taken a bride. I'm sure the rumors about it would have been utterly delightful to untangle. After all, his wife was far younger than him, was still in the process of wrapping up her initiation and was from a faction the exact opposite of this one. There were already lots of people who liked to talk about them. Lots of whispers about why she seemed so happy with him and was it fair that she was. Many had tried to conquer the elusive Eric by any means. Dressing up. Dressing down. Flashy piercings. Colorful hair. Low cut tops. Winking at him from across the bar.
It came as a shock that the only girl he liked was one not set on impressing him.
I'd watched her just as I'd watched him, and I could appreciate who she was. She was patient with him, never giving in to his temper or his flashes of anger that came at everyone but her. She was kind, somehow soothing his internal rage that everyone around him was annoying. She was small, half his size, yet enough that she had a presence that rivaled his.
Most importantly, she liked him, despite his work against the factions, and his generally shitty attitude.
He liked her, too.
He let her touch him, fingers grazing fingers in the most telling sign of all. Something as trivial as holding her hand in public, yet so unlike him.
"Can you believe it?"
Max asks lazily, looking at me with his feet propped up on his desk. I'd joined him for lunch, not wanting to eat in the infirmary after our most recent outbreak of an itchy rash that had made a sudden resurgence. I wasn't worried I'd catch it, but we were running low on the serum to make it stop, and I was tired of watching angry soldiers clawing at their skin in annoyance when they were told to come back in an hour.
"He really married her. I knew he liked her from the day he met her." Max proclaims, but I disagree.
Eric didn't like her when he met her. He would have thought about her from every angle, including his odds of her ranking anywhere near where he wanted. At first glance she would have been unimpressive to him. A young girl who had made the wrong choice, and in turn was handed Eric as her savior. But he was no savior, no prince in this darkness, and certainly no future boyfriend. He was short tempered and snappy, unwilling to change his life to fit around her, and he would have rather died than be associated with failure.
But something had changed, perhaps something deep within the night that none of us would have seen, and now, he had her for a wife. The one person no one expected to actually stay here.
"This really calls for a celebration. I feel like I can finally take a day off and not worry he's about to destroy the faction with some manhunt." Max laughs, entirely missing my silence. I realize he's thinking that now, Eric has someone looking out for him, and perhaps we can all rest easy.
"We'll see about that."
I finally answer, but I'm not convinced.
His father had emailed me not long ago.
I was privy to the insider information that Eric had been working to further Jeanine's plans, and his position here hinged on this deal. It was a tricky one, for on one hand, he actually did work. He was orderly and precise, never late with what he was required to do, and never pushing it off on others. On the other hand, this was something that had been promised to him before he was old enough to know better, and he'd accepted it. There was no doubt his signature was boldly signed on papers that Jeanine held onto, and his participation wasn't optional. His father had hinted to me that Eric was slacking on his end of the deal, and even Daniel knew why.
It was Everly.
His attention was no longer on hunting those who didn't belong or tearing apart the hidden identities of our very own Divergents. I hadn't seen him stalk out in a long time. He hadn't come down to ask me for any reports on those in the initiation classes who might have had an easier time than others, and he hadn't come back in the middle of the night with a smirk on his face.
He'd been practically silent, his time and attention focused on whatever was going on in his apartment. I could see the distraction on him, even up to the day he announced he was marrying her. This egotistical plan was his own, and he was thinking of only her and him. Not the long-term effects of what could possibly happen, or that by failing to produce the results Jeanine wanted, he was striking a match that would ignite the explosive temper of his very own Aunt.
Something told me he thought he'd just walk away from it all.
But he couldn't.
The web he'd woven would be trickier to get out of than waving his hand and telling Jeanine off. She could easily turn the factions against him, perhaps blaming him for what was happening, or leaking such information to the public. She could sway the other Leaders to believe he was behind her plans, her attacks, her own thoughts.
His father knew this, too.
But there was nothing any of us could do. Eric hated Daniel, for good reasons, and now he was growing tired of doing someone else's dirty work. It wouldn't be long before Jeanine tried to get to him any way she could, and that meant Max would be her next means of communication.
I finish my soup quickly, and I advise him to not take any time off.
I keep an eye on them the best I can.
My workload doubles as our membership swells, and I find myself overworked. I can't say I mind. There is something accomplished in tackling the number of cases that come in, and I enjoy the organized chaos. I find it comforting, a throwback to standing next to Dr. Coulter while he performed surgery, working day and night. Even the hum of the fluorescent lighting is familiar, buzzing over me while I run a thermometer across Karl's forehead.
"Hold still." I instruct, holding the giant brute in place while he squirms. Other than for my own charts, I don't need to run any tests to tell he has a fever. I can feel the heat radiating off him, and his cheeks are red. He'd come in straight off his shift, soaked to the bone from the rain, and his eyes were glassy.
"103.3" I read, and he scrunches up his face.
"I have to work tomorrow." His voice sounds strained; young and scared of losing his job here, and I realize he's from the latest class. He's just been assigned his first position here, one that he doesn't want to call out from. His work ethic is admirable. Stupid, considering he looks like he's about to keel over, but admirable.
"I'll write you a note." I inform him, and I check his vitals. The poor thing clearly has some sort of bug, one that won't go away if he's slogging through the mud outside for hours on end. "If they have an issue, they can take it up with me. Half your unit is out sick right now."
"I know," he mutters miserably. "I was covering for someone today."
"Figures." I tell him, and I step back to see our delivery man heading through with several large boxes. They are all marked fragile, along with the Erudite logo. The white sticker on the first one announces it's the serums I've been waiting for, and the second box is labeled contraceptives. He smiles and waits until I point him in the direction of the store room. "I'll be back. I need to sign off on this order. You sit tight and I'll write you something to take for the next few days. You can go back to work by Thursday if you're feeling better. If not, then Friday."
"Fine." Karl slumps in his chair, awfully familiar in this moment. I can't place if it's the dark scowl, either at being ill or being told he has to stay home, or the uniform and the blonde hair. It dawns on me that he reminds me of Eric, and I shove that thought away. I hadn't seen him in a bit, since he was busy keeping his wife safe from all the horrible scenarios he'd envisioned.
I leave Karl sitting there, and I quickly sign off on the delivery. It's followed by six other boxes, all vaccines, and I sigh in exasperation when he tells me those will need to be refrigerated.
They are coming from Jeanine with orders to be injected into all members of Dauntless with no questions asked.
I run into Eric in the hallway.
It's dark and gloomy, the air turning from cold to downright freezing, and he looks preoccupied. For a second, I take in his imposing form as he barks at someone next to me. A second later he checks his phone, and there is the barest hint of a smile that threatens to break through his steeled scowl. This new expression tells me he's reading something from Everly. It's an odd look coming from him, but from what I've heard and observed, he's quite happy with her. He spends all his time with her, and she spends all her time with him.
With a painful jolt, a warning throbs in my head, that eventually, she'll realize he never leaves her side. The suffocation will kick in, and she'll go mad as she tries to claw herself out of his clutches.
But I'm wrong, and surprisingly so.
I learn she has friends here, and she joins them for dinner quite often. That Eric gives her whatever she wants, because he can't bring himself to say no to her. He's careful with this freedom, though, having plenty of eyes around the faction. I'm a bit stumped that her friends include Christina, and surprisingly Tris.
They watch her with the same expression Eric does, just a tad less intense. They like her for her, laughing and giggling and introducing her to all the things she'd missed during her initiation. They stick close to her, never letting her out of their sight. I wonder if Everly feels like she's drowning in all this protection, and it's unlikely she'll ever see daylight without someone on her tail.
"What do you want?" Eric's inimical greeting jerks me away from these thoughts, right back to him, standing there, impatient as ever. While Everly's magic has worked to make him less…murderous, he's still Eric. He has no more patience for me than anyone else, and his main goal in life seems to be to get home as quickly as possible. Even now, he tilts his head at me, and his eyes are steely.
"How's your wife, Eric? Is she staying safe?"
The words that should come out of my mouth are that I'm happy for him. I'm happy he's found what he didn't know he needed, and his new life is one I approve of. The irony that his power hungry ego is waned by a small girl who holds his attention while they walk isn't lost on me, nor him. But I can't help myself. I've watched him grow from a surly teenager to someone's husband, and this idea is as ridiculous as placing an eighteen-year-old in charge of our faction.
"She's great." He answers smugly, his lips turning to smirk at me. "She's very safe, thanks for asking."
I stare back at him, his cockiness in full force, and I shake my head.
"I'm sure she's grateful for you as her bodyguard. How else would she survive here?"
I can't help but goad him, knowing he fancies himself the reason she's alive. His smirk barely falters, and he shoves past me with his head held high.
"I'll let you know the day she gets kidnapped. How about that? You can lead the rescue mission."
His arrogance follows him, loud and clear, as he heads in the opposite direction.
The rumors pick up in their viciousness, as sharp as the needles I stab through their skin.
Poor Everly is the subject of most of them. The rapt fascination about her, is aimed directly at her, riffled with both jealousy and anger. The jealousy comes from those who wish they knew Eric the way she did. It is loud and obnoxious, when she walks along with him or simply mentions his name. She is awarded the sole prize of being the person he cares for, and this revelation is painful to anyone who thought it would be them.
She ignores it, but she's aware of it. She's very positive, both in attitude and her place here. She never bows to the stares of those around her, and she never caves in and gives them what they want. Weeks pass, and eventually a very large wedding ring sits on her finger, and the symbolism is presented as a way to shut up the masses.
She is his wife in every aspect.
He has a wedding band as well, the dark metal on his finger announcing his marriage to her. The rings are not from here but a subtle nod to his upbringing. I stare in surprise while he signs a form in front of me, the dark band glinting under my office lights, and it looks nice on his hand. I stare while he signs for the forms to continue having his wife vaccinated at a different rate, ensuring there are no complications or reactions. His desire to keep her both safe and healthy is truly heartwarming, and he checks the box confirming she's received birth control without blinking.
"Do you need anything else?" I ask, my gaze glued to the way he's chewing on his cheek. His pen hovers over the line asking how many children they have, before he writes a very large zero. "How is Mrs. Coulter? I heard she's working with Four."
"Unfortunately." He snaps, signing Eric Coulter on the bottom of the page. The papers are outdated, but as the main provider for the two of them, she falls under his care. "It's temporary. I have a few things to work on, and Four needs help. She likes it and I can't complain."
"But is he keeping her safe?" I half joke, and his gaze is serious when it snaps to me.
"He better be."
His words are a threat, and he slams the pen down.
He throws up violently.
I put my hand on his back, hating the way the muscles contract tightly as the next wave of nausea hits him. There are a few reasons Eric would be throwing up in the infirmary, tucked deep in the back, out of anyone's line of sight. He'd shown up drunk, drunker than one could possibly imagine, and was led in by Rylan. Rylan's concerned gaze told me he knew something was wrong, and were Eric to suddenly die of alcohol poisoning, Rylan could be blamed.
No one would find him guilty. They'd understand why he took his friend out in an attempt to cheer him up, and why he'd let him drink until his vision had gone blurry.
The past few weeks had been utter hell.
My words felt like a rotten premonition when he told me Everly had been taken. I felt the same creeping, scratchy horror, like a bug crawling under the sleeve of my shirt, as he spoke. He dully told me she'd been taken from the training room, reported missing, and it was implied she was now dead.
As anyone with half a brain cell could have predicted, Eric did not handle it well.
His reactions felt within the pamphlet guidelines on grieving that Blythe would have shoved in his face were she in his life. He was angry. Shakingly furious and violently vindictive. His rage came in great swells, rising up when he thought he'd gotten control over it, and breaking loose when he lost all control. His rage then tapered to misery, probably the most shocking on him. His appearance quickly went downhill, his hair unkempt and his eyes dull, and that mixed well with the depression that followed.
To be fair, those around him were just as shocked, and they dealt with their own feelings on the loss of Everly as well as trying to keep Eric alive. There was a slippery moment where he spiraled so low, that his arrival in the infirmary as someone with little left to live for was unsurprising.
"It's almost over." I grit my teeth when he hunches over, livid at his body betraying him like this, and further livid that he was brought to me. He'd never needed anyone. From a young age, he'd quickly adapted to survive on his own. He learned not to depend on others. That he was the only one who would take care of him. It warped his thinking, allowing him to flourish on his own as the years went by, never needing a soul.
But this is hard to watch.
I had always felt a sense of important, protectiveness over Eric. It was probably as close to a maternal kindness as he'd ever experienced, though neither of us would admit it. I'd never coddled him, but I'd actively sought out his wellbeing. I'd made sure he didn't fuck up, I made sure that even with all his work and sneaking around his ass was covered, and I'd been keeping an eye on him and his wife. He didn't appreciate my hovering, or my hinting that now that he had Everly, he could have the family he'd been robbed of.
"Just one more minute." I glance at the watch on my wrist, fully prepared to give him another shot of the cocktail we'd whipped up for him if this one didn't work. Upon his arrival, I'd immediately been able to figure out he'd drunk himself into oblivion. I'd skipped the usual blood test that would tell me just how drunk he was, and I went straight to barking at the closest nurse to grab me a few things. Moments later, I'd injected it right into his arm and he'd hissed at me like a feral animal.
I tried to explain he'd been given something to sober him up, completely eliminating the alcohol coursing through his veins. A painkiller, for the throbbing headache that would follow. Something to stop the vomiting. A dose of vitamins meant to replace what he'd been neglecting. My next step was to start an IV for him, pumping him full of fluids and perhaps something to help him sleep. "Eric, you have to stop this. You have to…"
I pause, because he looks up at me.
His eyes are gray and lifeless, reddened from the endless dry heaving he'd just gone through. He stares, the very edge that made him Eric gone, withered away until one very exposed man knelt before me. He looked like Eric, but his voice was hoarse, and his skin was ashy.
"I have to what…" He mutters up at me, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Tell me what I should be doing, Arlene."
He speaks nastily, the betrayal bubbling up beneath his skin. The anguish in his stare is there, too, intense enough that I want to look away. He stands up, drawing himself to his full height, his pain dulled by what's been injected into him. He opens his mouth to say something, but he sways on his feet, his center of gravity thrown off from the alluring daze of the painkiller.
He closes his eyes to steady himself, and his hand grasps the doorframe.
"She's dead. I couldn't keep her safe. You were right."
Those words hurt, because I had mocked him. I'd laughed at the idea that he felt such a frantic desire to keep Everly alive, hurt the fragile feelings that he'd have buried forever if they hadn't been reciprocated. I'd done worse than Blythe or Daniel, and I couldn't undo it. No matter how hard I tried.
"You have to pull yourself together. For her." I speak quietly, and I reach out to grab his arm. He lets me only because his reactions are delayed, but his sneer tells me he's done here. "This isn't the end. And you know it."
He jerks away from me, not believing a word out of my mouth.
I'm right.
Of course.
She returns one day, and he pushes her right into my office. I stare directly at Everly Coulter Coulter, her large eyes terrified that he's brought her here, rather than straight to his bed. She blinks while he speaks, and there's a quietness to her that wasn't there before.
When he quickly spits out that she doesn't remember anything, I nearly fall off my chair.
"Shit."
I knew there was something off. It wasn't just her attire, a flimsy, nearly see through nightgown with his jacket thrown over her. She looks right out of the Amity faction, her long hair tangled around her shoulders and her eyes too innocent, and he holds onto her tightly. She has no shoes on, no recognition other than toward Eric, and it's obvious her identity has been stripped from her, right along with her ability to get away.
In the dim lighting of my office, they are both equally pale.
But they are reunited.
Her small hands seek out his, especially when she learns he's leaving her with me. She is complacent as I take her blood, wincing and cringing as the needle pierces her skin but she mostly stays still. Her gaze falls beside me, long eyelashes blinking when I reach for a vial, and her lips press together as dark red blood pours into the tube.
She is nothing like the Everly I have met before. The one who furiously defended Eric's character, a laughable choice at the time. She is visibly defeated as she struggles to remember anything, and the few questions I ask are met with great hesitation. She has no clue what they gave her or when, and she doesn't know how she got to Amity.
But she remembers Eric on some level.
Her gaze searches for him, anxious and panicky that he's not in here. He returns for her a few minutes after I've finished, and her relief is as obvious as his. He reaches for her, not caring that I'm watching, and he grasps onto her tightly.
He turns to look at me, his eyes dark and cold as the reality of his wife not knowing who he is sinks in.
"Well?"
I snarl at the doctor reading the bloodwork, nearly as impatient as Eric. He'd called me endlessly since her return, suddenly finding the ability to pick up the phone and utilize my number freely. Not to say hello or thank me for saving his life while he was drowning in his own misery. To repeatedly ask me when his wife would remember him. To growl in my ear that he was waiting, and shouldn't the results be back already.
Now, they were.
The doctor shifts in his seat, gesturing at the screen in front of him, and I immediately pick up on the fact that he's not about to relay anything I want to hear. "Well, it's not great news, unfortunately. They've injected her with several things. An adjusted version of several serums from Erudite, including the truth serum."
I blink in annoyance.
"But they've done something to it. They combined it with their own version, and because they weren't quite sure what they were doing, the end result lead to memory loss. On one hand, they could be commended for figuring that out. But their concoction temporarily changes the routing of where memories are created and stored. The signals are confused, and therefore, the processing is interrupted. I have no way of telling if it's truly temporary or not. If she can remember new memories, she should be alright. On the other hand, she may never regain the time she lost or the previous memories."
The doctor looks at me, and he shakes his head in dismay of someone messing with the Erudite science. He's been brought here on orders from above, because the brain wasn't my specialty. Kidnapping victims who'd been injected with serums made by the Factionless wasn't even this man's area of expertise, but he knew enough to help.
He'd worked with Daniel for years.
"You'll need to tell her husband to sit tight. She's metabolized most of it. What's left should burn off soon, and there's really nothing we can do to speed it up. There are a few things we could try, but you risk messing with her ability to retain new memories." His blue scrubs are so bright they are offensive, and he speaks slowly, in a precise calculated manner.
I stare at the laptop he has open in front of him, and the image on the screen is familiar. A strand of the serum, twisting and turning around and around, occasionally stopping so he can examine it in great detail. The name Everly Coulter, written to the side.
Her physician's name listed as Daniel Coulter.
I'd called asking if he had anyone on hand who could run over here. I didn't explain why, not until he pressed enough that I revealed it was for Everly. His surprise was immediate, and had he not been scheduled for the entire day, he'd have been here himself. But he'd sent me his most trusted colleague, and not much later, I had my answer.
Eventually, if everything worked out the way we were hoping, Everly would remember.
Until then, Eric would just have to be patient.
Which he wasn't.
He'd never been patient. Not as a child, not as a teenager, and certainly not as the Leader of Dauntless. The only person he'd ever slowed down for was Everly, and even that had been to make sure she succeeded. Things were different now, but I wasn't blind. What he felt for her eclipsed his logical thinking, and his desire for things to return to normal would lead to one ultimately frustrated man who wouldn't be okay with waiting.
"I'll pass on the information. Thank you." I nod at the doctor, and he presses his lips together in dismay.
"Dr. Coulter would like to see her. Perhaps…perhaps you could suggest to Eric—"
"No." I answer flatly. "He won't bring her to Erudite. Not now."
The man stares at me, like he knew the answer would be no, and it had pained him to even ask. He found Eric's decision irresponsible, and Eric wasn't even here.
He didn't have to be for me to know he wasn't taking Everly anywhere, especially Erudite. His relationship with his father was more strained than ever. It should have been better.
Daniel had shown up when Eric was in Erudite, and he'd offered to help him find Everly. But a man who spent his days in an operating room had no clue how to handle his son losing the only important person in his life, let alone how to find her. He'd called me after seeing Eric that day, and he implored me to keep an eye on him, sensing that Eric was unraveling right in front of him.
His efforts were somewhat appreciated.
Less by Eric, more by me.
I had long looked after Eric in place of Daniel and Blythe, and even I found it hard to listen to Daniel talk like he had any right to be worried about him. It was an instinctive protectiveness over Eric on my part, always at the forefront of my mind, but never vocalized.
Daniel had been gone for most of Eric's life. By the time he could attempt to form a relationship, the damage had been done. Eric was smart enough to see through his thinly veiled attempts at being a father and combined with a mother who found him to be in the way, Eric wanted nothing to do with them.
By the time Eric left for Dauntless, he hated them enough that there was no hope to repair the relationships, even if he had wanted to. Even now, he was reluctant to let Everly get to know Daniel, mostly because he knew the disappointment that he brought. I understood this, and I did my best to make up for it. I watched him like a hawk. My original transfer here had been to make sure he stayed in line, but it had long ago morphed into pure concern.
I often think Daniel understood this. He was careful to ask about Eric when he knew I'd give him the information he wanted, and he was even more careful to try to hint that he thought about his son. His offer to help, both in finding Everly and sending me someone to give us some answers, was a start, but it wouldn't be enough for Eric. Until Everly could remember, nothing would be good enough for Eric.
So, I call him myself, sparing both Eric and Daniel the furious rage that would erupt between them, and I tell Eric the test results.
He hangs up on me, irritation bleeding through the phone.
Eventually, she remembers him.
I know this, because she walks with him, her dress flimsy and short, shivering until he yanks her against him. He hisses some joke at her, something about his toaster and his dishwasher and would she ever remember how cold it was, and for one quick second, they are absolutely normal. His rare, concerned rage is pardoned, so he can smile at her, and his eyes are light.
It hurts to see him like this, painfully alright because she is back, and his life has resumed the way it was.
Despite having the entire faction at his fingertips, at the end of the day, Everly is the only one who matters. He looks only at her, in the utmost pure honest kindness he's ever had, and she looks only at him. The only person to ever look out for her, to ever destroy himself in the process of finding her.
He keeps his arm around her, navigating down a flight of stairs, rolling his eyes when she claims to not have a jacket, and I step back.
There is a happiness to him, warm and vibrant, so completely honest - that it's more terrifying to see than when he's on a rampage.
"They might have a baby."
I pause in what I'm doing, which is writing up a list of medications I'm running low on, because Rylan is in here, talking far too loudly. He had two volumes he spoke at –loud and louder, and it was like no one had ever told him to be quiet. Or maybe they had, and that's why he was always as loud as possible.
But now, he's in here, practically yelling his words, which is fine for the sake of gossip. He's casually leaning in the doorway eating a popsicle, waiting for his friend to be released.
"They're really going to have a baby?" Jason looks up from the bed he's sitting on, and he rubs at his head. He'd come down here with a sore throat and a headache, and Rylan had decided to join him. Where he got the popsicle, I don't know. But I certainly wouldn't be licking something while the germs were flying through the air in here. "We already talked about this. Eric got really mad when Linda thought they were having a baby. What makes you so sure they'd have one now? Didn't she just remember him?"
"She could already be pregnant," Rylan announces, waving the popsicle with wild enthusiasm. "And who cares when she remembered him. She still liked him."
"She's not pregnant," Jason scoffs, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "She looks the same since she got here. Same size, same height. The only thing different is she married Eric."
"You don't get taller if you're pregnant. Or did I miss that in biology?" Rylan looks thoughtful, like conceivably he had missed that day when they announced that a symptom of pregnancy was a growth spurt. "Anyway, if they have a baby, and they need help, I'll help raise it."
"I don't think Everly would let you anywhere near their baby." Jason informs him, and he thanks the nurse who comes by and hands him two small cups. He downs the first one, a powerful single dose antibiotic that'll knock the bug right out of him, then drinks the water. "Besides, wouldn't Eric have said something? Like, hey how's it going, I think we're going to have a child sometime soon."
"No." Rylan huffs. "He wouldn't announce it. That's why I'm telling you. Because he isn't telling us."
Jason closes his eyes, and I stay still, my pen hovering over the box of how many syringes I need to order.
"That makes no sense."
"Well, you're just too sick to understand what I'm saying." Rylan answers and he resumes eating his popsicle. "When they finally tell us, I expect full credit for telling you first."
"Sure." Jason stands up slowly, and he looks at his friend. "It would be nice if they had a baby. I think they'd be good parents. But…" he pauses, and I wait to hear what his hesitation hangs on. "Can you bring a baby to Clyde's? Where will we meet them for dinner? Neither of them like to eat in the mess hall."
"Fuck, you're right. I don't know if you can bring a baby there. We should go ask. Maybe they'll make an exception for Eric's baby." Rylan throws his popsicle in the bin marked 'laundry' and reaches for Jason's arm. "Come on. They said you'll feel better soon. You can walk it off."
"It's my throat that hurts, dumbass." Jason swats him away, but he pulls his jacket back on and cocks his head to the side. "But fine. We should figure this out. I'm supposed to meet Max but I told him I was sick and he said not to worry about it. So I can go with you."
"Perfect."
They leave, and the noise in the infirmary lessens considerably. I stand there thinking, agonizing over an idea that is suddenly highly plausible. Eric Coulter, grand Leader of Dauntless, self-proclaimed hunter of those who didn't belong in the factions, reformed and emotionally unpredictable child of one of my closest friends, could possibly be a father.
The idea is preposterous.
Disastrous.
Eric was not an ideal choice to be anyone's father. Immediately, I remember he was violent. That I'd shoved Four's neck back into place, his spine having been jammed into the ground when Eric attacked him. I'm reminded he is quick and impatient, constantly edgy, and mean. He dislikes everyone, prefers silence and solitude, and is selfish with his time.
And his apartment is pristine, certainly no place for a child.
But it was crazy enough that it might work.
His wife, the ever cheerful Everly Coulter might like this idea, too.
She was the exception to every unspoken rule he'd ever made in his life. She was deserving of all his time. Of the kindness that no one in Dauntless would ever see. The warmness found only in his moments with her. I liked the idea that she might want to have a child with him, and I would get to see this baby.
I ignore the bustle around me, letting this salacious and ridiculous idea roll around a few times. The image of him, holding their child, while Everly stood next to him. She had calmed him down in more ways than one, and there was a high chance if she wanted a child, he'd do it. He'd give her whatever she wanted, and perhaps this would be it.
They'd have a family. Something that might seem like the absolute norm for anyone else here, but not for Eric. It was elusive, the ultimate symbol that he'd far surpassed his overly ambitious parents, by having not only a wife who adored him, but a happy marriage. A baby would only further that. It could solidify them as having everything one could possibly want.
The perfect family, led by him.
It wasn't like Everly came here with a tragic backstory from the hills of Amity, or had grown up without one. She seemed reasonably well adjusted, despite coming from a faction who was high most of the time, and she was surprisingly mature for her age.
But still, she'd obviously felt the need to leave Amity for Dauntless. There was something missing in her life, something she hadn't found there, not even with her hippy dippy boyfriend. Daniel had been the one to tell me he'd looked up her family. She had a mother and father who no doubt loved her, but she was lost in the waves of a faction that needed large numbers. She would be expected to stay there, to work in the fields or groves, and eventually raise a large family, never amounting to more than someone's wife.
That had to sting, knowing you were part of a family who simply expected nothing more from you.
Eric had never been child of the year, but he'd had a different sort of neglect. He had parents who were too busy for him, too unable to pencil him in, from the very moment he was born. No amount of income or fancy schooling could replace the fact that he was raised by hired help, and no amount of therapy would ever get him to forgive Blythe.
So it made sense to me that they'd find each other, the only ones able to give the other what they needed. Everly found Eric to be strong and smart, probably handsome even in his angriest moments, and she'd never once expected him to change. In turn, he found her brave and kind, soft and sweet. The kind of person who'd never love him, except she did. She loved him like no one ever had, without any sort of strings attached. He loved her without any strings attached, willing to give her the world.
It only made sense they'd eventually have a child.
However, at the age of nineteen, a baby might not be her top priority. She could possibly feel pressured to finish Eric's program first, perhaps making a name for herself so no one thought she was here on a free ride. I squash down the vile panic at this thought, that maybe she'd dismiss the idea completely. This would have to be her decision, something the two of them agreed upon. The final piece to complete their lives here, together.
I abandon my project of inventory completely, and I head off to find Max, knowing full well he's free.
He's completely on board with the idea, but he points out that Eric doesn't like ideas that aren't his own. I realize that unless he decides he wants to have a baby, this won't be happening.
I forget about the baby.
I'd more than hinted at it, planting the seed that it could be what he wanted. Everly had been the first step in reconstructing his mess of a life. A child would be the second. He darkly informed me his life was just fine. He ignored me when I bluntly asked if he wanted a child, but his eyes flashed. They were full of contempt at me daring to boldly tell him what to do, but also somewhat intrigued. There was a hint of superiority in the idea, and I watched it blossom the longer he stood there.
He left in a huff, always exasperated, never short on irritation.
I don't see him for a while.
I'm busied with all kinds of visits that are disturbing, each one more complicated than the last. Even though they are trained how to fight, most new initiates miss the danger of the faction completely. Our lack of rails, anywhere, is the result of plenty of broken bones and cracked skulls. The steps here are slippery, usually covered in ice or water, never marked. The hallways are dark. The lighting is low. Where the ceilings are sky high, things flit down all the time, and people smack into walls trying to gaze at what's raining down, like absolute morons.
I am busied by the increase in training. Soldier after soldier, coming in looking more and more beat up as they hunt down Evelyn. Peter's patrols are the worst, often given the toughest routes and the most trouble. I see Karl more frequently, and every time is the same. Much like Eric, he loathes being treated as though he's injured, and he groans the entire time. Eventually, he and I come to a mutual understanding. He signs in, his cheery disposition darkened by the blemish of being hurt, and I treat him. He gets to skip the nurses, the aides, and Molly -reminding me that I've taken him back ahead of the others.
As I stitch up the back of his head, him having fallen backwards, while racing down a parking garage, I freeze. It smacks me in the face that not only does he have the exact same hair color as Eric, but I've given him the same special treatment. I've let him come in and seek me out, willing to help him any way I can. I don't realize what I'm doing, until my fingers dig into his skin and he yelps.
"That uh, hurt."
He's polite now, having realized I can help get him out of here quickly if he seemed to appreciate me.
"Sorry," I mutter, not at all sorry. He looks up at me in confusion, and it's like staring at a nicer and younger version of Eric. "You're all set. You should be fine to return tomorrow. Just be careful when you wash your hair."
"Thanks Arlene." He slides off the table, just as tall as Eric, and nearly as large. When he'd arrived here, he wasn't small by any means, but now, he'd give Eric a run for his money. "Hopefully, I won't see you anytime soon."
He says goodbye cheerfully, his attitude far better than our surliest leader's, and I watch him saunter out of here. His girlfriend is waiting for him, and she reaches for him to make sure he's okay. She's accompanied him a few times, nothing like Everly. She and Karl are both tall, both blonde, and both publicly affectionate toward each other. I stare while she grins at him, giving him shit for having split his head open, and then takes his hand. He grins right back at her, and they leave, happy as ever.
"Are you okay?" Molly jars me back to reality, handing me a chart. "Max is looking for you. Something about a party."
"What party?" I whip my stare up to her, narrowing my eyes. "What are you talking about?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. He just said to come find you. He's been sitting in your office for twenty minutes now."
"Fine." I huff. I take the chart from her. I don't like surprises, and I certainly don't like someone waiting for me, like I've been purposely ignoring them. I leave in a hurry, only to find Max waiting for me, in my office.