(Tobias)
Christina is breathing. I know the relief I feel should encompass the preservation of her life, but all I can think is that this means Tris is alive.
I watch the computer screen. I've been watching it for half an hour, hardly blinking.
When we got back to the apartment, the hidden camera that we attached to Tris showed us nothing but the ceiling of a dark room. The camera rises and falls steadily. She's breathing.
I'm shaking.
I shouldn't have let her go. I shouldn't have let her walk out into the grass, to a fate we were all damn sure of. I shouldn't have let someone knock her out and drag her across the grass, to keep her in this dark room that I can't tear my eyes from. It's my fault.
Where is she? I remember the maps that I once watched Peter study. The world is huge. She could be anywhere. She could be anywhere, and yet, she can't be. These people had to have taken her somewhere close, or we would be watching the roof of a car bump along a road.
It's one in the morning, and I know I won't be able to sleep; I won't be able to take my eyes from this screen. Every time someone suggests that I get some rest, that they'll keep watch, that I need to sleep, they are met with death glares or silence.
Is she facing something in her mind? Is this a fear simulation, or just a sleeping drug? I glance at Christina, lying across my couch, just for a moment. She looks peaceful. I hope she is. I hope Tris is.
...
Hours are passing by. It's now six in the morning. People are sleeping all over my living room, sprawled out, mouths hanging open. Christina is still unconscious.
Matthew and I have been up all night, never taking our eyes from Tris and Christina, exchanging a word or two every now and then.
Even now, as the sun rises over the city, casting pink, purple, pale blue shadows through the huge window across the room, he strokes her hair and I stare at a screen.
This goes on for another 20 minutes before something changes.
The camera starts to move. I sit straight up. Tris's breathing becomes heavier, and then she's still again, but her fingers come into focus, and she gently touches the lens. It goes black for a moment, before she removes her hand. She breathes in relief.
"I'm sorry. I love you," she whispers softly. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. "I'm going to stay still now." And she does.
I shake everyone awake, with Matthew's help.
By the time I've described what happened, Christina suddenly sits straight up.
"Christina…oh my... thank god," Matthew says, and they wrap their arms around each other.
"Welcome back. What was it? A serum?" I waste no time in asking questions.
Matthew scowls at me. I don't care.
She shakes her head. "It just put me to sleep… but I'm a little dizzy," she replies.
"Lay back," Matthew suggests, and she does.
"How's Tris?" She peers at the screen.
"She woke up a few minutes ago," I say.
"Do you know where she is?"
"Not yet."
I return my attention to the computer.
Tris is not breathing steadily anymore. Her breaths are quick, ragged, anxious. She's scared.
She's brave.
I don't stop waiting for something new to happen. It takes another hour.
But something definitely happens.