Tris presses her hands to her face, groaning loudly as Peter works; growing impatient.
"You don't have to stay you know? I'm not gonna break the damn thing."
"I don't want to go back to my office." She stands behind his chair, arms folded.
"Oh, Four's there, huh?" Peter says, typing away as he logs into his computer. He wasn't chosen for leadership and that bothers him still sometimes but he finds that he likes all the gadgets in the Dauntless control room. And he imagines this is much more fun than patrols. He always had a knack for computers. Plus, if being stressed over their factions affairs is the reality of being a leader, he definitely doesn't need that.
These two haven't always gotten along—he was a bully and she didn't respect him. But he drew the line at taking out whole factions. And she really needs someone to help her with her current problem without them going to blab to the whole faction. He doesn't have many friends—none that ask too many questions. They only gossip about what they saw on the surveillance cameras.
Speaking of which, she's thankful no one has brought up seeing her and Four hook up in the stairwell.
"Not that it's any of your business…" Tris grumbles, "But yes."
"Yeah, he's in a shit mood today. Saw him and Lauren arguing on the monitors earlier." Peter waves to the exact computer he means and she doesn't care to look.
Her chest hurts from the thought. She's unsure why she's so upset, because she was unfair to him. But it would be a lie if she said she'd been prepared to hear he's out and about with Lauren. She and Peter aren't that close. She's not going to air it all out to him.
"I don't care, Pete." Tris sighs, "Breaking up with someone means no longer having to care about who they're arguing with in the hallway."
"That's true," Peter wags his finger at her as he finishes gathering all the possible equipment he can potentially need. "So, is this one on the books?"
Tris looks at him with serious eyes and her tone tells him she means business. He folds his arms and she chuckled to herself a little. "...this is on me."
He whistles as he rocks back in his chair. "Fine by me."
"Good." She logs into the laptop and opens the email in question. "I need you to find out who sent this."
"An ema—oh, wow." He says, cheeks puffing as he reads the contents. He recognizes the last name listed in the information boxes at the top. But says nothing. He doesn't care enough to ask if this is real.
"Can you do it?" Tris asks, hoping she wasn't wrong to come to him. Zeke would have asked too many questions. And would probably go back to Four and tell him his fellow leader is still looking into Eric's affairs.
"Find an IP address? pft easy." He says, cracking his knuckles as he begins his work. Tris takes to looking around the room. She finds the personal affects everyone has at their stations to be rather adorable. Pictures, trinkets mostly.
Everyone is out to lunch right now, and there's about half an hour left.
"It's encrypted," Peter sighs.
"So that means…?"
"Someone went through some extra annoying steps to make finding them an extra annoying job," Peter says and she can hear him roll his eyes. "But it's fine."
"I really appreciate you doing this for me, Peter."
"Yeah!" He's not bothered, and he quite enjoys being useful. He's grown a lot in recent years. And he's doing what he can to separate himself from the image he so stupidly committed to when he first pledged himself to Dauntless. "Just remember this when I fuck up and need your help." He glances over his shoulder and she laughs.
"You only get one favor sir," She wags her finger at him.
"So Jeanine really killed his dad, huh?" Peter wonders aloud. It didn't take a rocket scientist to read the threat in the email. "I remember when the news broke that a doctor fell down an elevator shaft."
"I don't remember. We tended to not read Erudite's reports."
Peter can understand that. The relationship between the factions has been strained for years. He even played at it during their initiation.
"All the adults talked about it nonstop for weeks," Peter went on, recalling. It wasn't often that news from one faction was discussed in another—but a death like Shawn Coulter's was a pretty big deal. "Yeah, I'd do some pretty fucked up things to make sure my mom wasn't like… pushed in front of a train or something. Faction before blood, be damned."
Tris didn't want to think about it. "Are you almost done?" She asks, changing the subject.
"Just started," he snorts. "Just relax. I'll be done soon and you'll have an IP address… and if you're nice, I'll tell you where to go from there."
"Sorry. Just.. anxious. I don't like this."
"This explains so much actually. Why she didn't speak, and probably why he was convicted." Peter says. He's not Eric's biggest fan, but he didn't find his teaching methods all that wild or evil like Four believes.
"Yeah," Tris nods. "You can't tell anyone about this Peter."
"I know, Tris," he says, looking her in the eyes. "I won't."
"Swear it," Tris adds, and he doesn't hesitate.
"I swear. I won't tell." He says, and he makes sure she can tell he does mean it. She nods at him and he looks back at the task at hand. He follows the usual channels and gets past the presented problem. "Will you ask for an appeal?"
"That's the hope."
"Good, I hope you win." Peter says. "You know, I'm sure there are a good amount of people in his corner. No one in Dauntless can really point a finger."
"That doesn't really stop them, does it?"
"Damn, you're right." He continues on with his work, starting a trace. He's quiet for a moment, the only sounds come from his fingers hitting the keys.
"You know what you're doing?" Tris finds herself asking, and he laughs sardonically.
Tris feels uneasy. Elizabeth hasn't been harmed physically, and it doesn't look as though that should be a worry any longer. Considering it's been 7 months and she's still living, and hasn't noticed anyone following her, Tris is positive it was one of Jeanine's goons who threatened Elizabeth from the very beginning. Those men and women responsible are facing life in prison, or already dead. A Karl Hennig to be exact, who's no longer breathing—shot at the fence trying to flee. Where he was going? That's beyond Tris and everyone still residing in Chicago.
So it's good news, kind of. But Tris doesn't like reaching dead ends. And something still feels amiss. It can just be that she'd been looking forward to grabbing the poor sod by the throat, looking them in the eye before acquainting their face with her fist.
This doesn't feel like the end. And Peter wasn't sure either. There's something going on.
Walking into the Justice building in Candor, Tris swallows down her nerves and walks directly where she knows Candor Lawyer Joshua Benning's office is located. She doesn't stick out as much here, her full black garb is a little less noticeable in a sea of black and white. Leather leggings in the late autumn heat maybe wasn't the best idea, but her tank top leaves her tattoos on display while providing a bit of a reprieve.
Her boots crunch loose marbles of gravel, calling the attention of a Dauntless Patrol. Some look at her in question and she smirks before pressing her index to her lips. They look away.
There's no security in this place that Tris isn't ranked higher than; as their Dauntless leader, she's obviously their superior.
She spots a few familiar faces amongst the Dauntless, none of which she can remember by name—which is probably bad. She can tell they're confused by her presence. What reason could she have to be visiting a defense attorney?
Tris can see all the curious faces looking at her, but she squares her shoulders and carries herself with the confidence of a leader, unbothered by the attention on the outside. But she knows this is just fodder for gossip. People will jump to their conclusions no matter the topic anyway.
The outer walls of every office is made of glass—with shingle-blinds that alternate between open or closed—and she can see the dark-haired man sitting at his desk in the office she's heading directly toward, his feet up and sitting back in his chair. He's on call with someone, and quickly rushes to end it as he sees someone coming towards his office. Tris knocks as announcement, not permission to enter and swings the door open.
Joshua Benning is in his mid-thirties, but the few subtle lines in his face are only noticeable if someone really looks. The bridge of his bulbous nose is long, but perfectly straight. His expression always seems a little mischievous, accented by his naturally occurring smile, the fullness of his lips focused in the center of his mouth. He's unmarried by design, too focused on work.
It came as a shock to him losing Eric's case… or at least, his expression had suggested as much when the verdict was read. Tris is naturally suspicious of him, and the lack of an immediate appeal. And especially now, when the death penalty has been shot down? It feels wrong. And the Dauntless in her goes off the feeling in her gut, the Erudite wonders why.
He folds his hands on the table, smiling up at her. "Tris, I presume? You're early. But you did sound urgent on the phone—please sit."
Tris called, as soon as the threatening email had been settled. "Hi, busy?" She asks, noting the files sitting about the desk. His paper calendar—old school but not completely shocking—is littered with pen markings.
"You've caught me on a slow day, actually." He watches as she sits down, hands clasping as she regards him with her silent skepticism. "You have some questions about Eric's case?"
"Just a couple," Tris shakes her head. She doesn't want him to think she's here for an interview. But she is serious about getting her answer about a pressing question. "Why didn't you call Elizabeth Coulter to the stand?"
His amenable expression falters and he gives a dry chortle. "I'm not sure we should even be discussing this."
"I can go to Jack Kang and he can go through the proper channels. Would you rather explain yourself to him?" She asks, grit in her tone. He looks at her then, expecting her to back off. But she won't. "Why did you tell her that her truth is biased?"
"Because it is," Joshua says, his angling of his face makes some strands in his pompadour shift down into his eyes. And he takes a hand through the wild strands. He exhales hard. "I understand and appreciate the morbidity of Ms. Elizabeth's situation… but it doesn't change the facts. She was not present during any of Eric and Jeanine's negotiations that obviously occurred. And she wasn't there for her husband's untimely accident."
"She has an email threatening her—they admit they're responsible for her husband's death. A jury should have heard it from her… Eric's hands were tied. He had to help Jeanine or risk losing his mother too." Tris argues. "Benning…you don't think the Jury needed to hear that Jeanine was threatening to take everything from him? You shouldn't even be the one deciding that."
"He was arrested on charges related to murder and treason against Dauntless, Tris… the facts are that he did those things."
"Did you show him? Did you let him know he could have been helped?" Tris asks, and she knows the answer is probably no.
Benning grows nervous then—she can tell by the way his fingers tick, itching to scratch at his wrist. Before she can open her mouth to berate him, he shakes his head. "I defended him with the best possible plan to winning. I argued our best bet."
"Which was what?! No defense at all! You had the answer the whole time!"
He folds his hands near his mouth. "You're never going to get him to go for a retrial." He is so confident in that, it makes her want to scream. He crosses his arms and sits back. "I'll draw up the paperwork if you really want it.. but—"
"So do it," Tris blurts. She doesn't know what she's going to say to Eric. But she can't stand this.
"So, what's new?" Uriah asks as he and Tris walk towards the edge of the roof, overlooking the dead street. She stops and throws her head back with a groan that makes him chuckle. It earns him a punch to the gut. "That's a tough one?"
"I don't know where to begin," Tris admits. They sit on the ledge, straddling the cold cement as they face one another. He sets down a case of beers at their feet. He takes one, removes the cap easily and chucks it over the side. She takes the bottle from him, folding her fingers together as he opens his own bottle. "There's been a lot in the last couple days… As you know… Four and I broke up."
"I wasn't gonna bring it up." Uriah shrugs. He used to be much nosier than he is now.
"So you have heard," Tris's brows lift and then drop again as she tilts her head in forfeited irritation. "I suppose I expected that."
"I mean," He huffs, "I figured you'd want to talk about it one way or another."
"What?"
"You two were together for over a year. I guess that's a long enough time to be upset when it's over." He laughs when she looks at him confused. "I just mean, you're getting better about not bottling your emotions."
"Abnegation…"
"Yeah yeah, you're not used to it still."
"I've been practicing." She lamely defends herself. She can't help but laugh at herself. "I let him have it when we argued."
"You did not!" Uriah calls her bluff and she deflates. "I bet it was one throwaway comment."
"It was," Tris doesn't even try to say he's wrong. "He had me on my back leg most of the argument."
"It was bad?" He asks, taking a swig of his aged beverage.
"Better than worse," Tris says.
"What the fuck does that even mean?" Uriah bursts into a peel of laughter, making her snort. "I can't imagine you two were amicable."
"Huh?" She asks, "We totally could have been."
"But you weren't." He shrugs. "Can't bullshit a bullshitter Tris. You two could never have discussed your issue peacefully."
"Thanks doc." Tris snorts. She's not mad about his assumptive assessment, only because he's not entirely wrong. If she and Four had had healthy communication they would've been halfway through their rift. But they were two far gone. "The fire was gone." She says aloud and without meaning to.
Uriah arches one of his low set brows, "You really think that was the problem? Not getting laid every night?"
"Pedrad!"
"You didn't deny it." Uriah laughs. She blushes like mad and he can't help the giggle he lets out. It makes her stick her tongue out at him.
"So if you're the expert, what was the problem?"
"You love Eric. His sworn enemy." Uriah says it so simply, as if he's just reciting what he saw on the weather report.
Tris nearly downs her whole beer instead of replying immediately. There's a long pause and she suddenly can't look at her friend. He's the only person she's told just how confused she's been. "There's a lot going on."
"I get that. But don't lie to yourself about it," he says.
Her brows furrow. "That's not… don't make it—ugh. Okay. I didn't mean for any of this to go down the way it did."
"I know that. I don't get it. But it's not any of my business. I just don't want to see you get h-"
"I'm not gonna get hurt," Tris cuts him off. "And I really wish no one ever says that again."
He swallows down his urge to back down. He can be just as stubborn as she is, "This is gonna get really bumpy. Whatever you're gonna pursue. It's gonna piss some people off."
"what do you think I'm gonna do? Break Eric out?"
"No. That would be stupid. And you're far from stupid." Uriah says, "You're gonna keep fighting for him. And now that you and Four aren't together… he's gonna fight you tooth and nail." He knows because Zeke brought it up. Four is convinced she's pushing to get Eric released. "All he'd need is support from Tori and they'd put it up for a vote…"
"Dauntless leaders are elected." Tris shrugs. "They chose me."
"And all of that can change. I'm not saying I'd ever change my vote. But there's no telling what could happen."
"Dauntless don't like being lied to."
"No we don't," Uriah shrugs. "But some are quick to anger and being irrational. I know there are people who would support Eric's release but there are people who would go after him."
"They'd have to go through me."
"You would say that." Uriah smirks. He sighs. "I guess I'm fighting too."
"I can convince Chris to join." Tris is joking along with him but she knows his sentiments ring true.
"You think something foul is going on? With Eric I mean… his first trial? He did the things they said, didn't he?"
Tris feels a knot form in her stomach. "Not all of it. He was left in the dark about a lot of things. He'd never admit to that—being a pawn. But yeah, there's a lot Jeanine and Max just discussed by themselves. She killed his father."
"I remember that," Uriah recalls. "But you know… people fall."
"Down elevator shafts?" Tris quirks a brow. And he shrugs. It's true. It wasn't like anyone would believe a doctor in good standing would be murdered.
"So Eric was blackmailed? I didn't know that."
"I can't believe it wasn't brought up," Tris sighs.
"He could only talk about what he's asked. And if they didn't want anyone to hear that—wait… why wouldn't he bring it up?"
They look at one another…
"Pride." They say in unison.
"He could have been killed." Uriah squeaks.
"I know," Tris shrugs.
"And you saved him."
"I knew there was something we didn't know. And it was down the rabbit hole."
"So… have you told him?" Uriah asks as he chucks his empty beer bottle off the side of the dilapidated building.
"You shouldn't do that you know?" Tris lightly scolds and he just rolls his eyes. "Told Eric...what?"
"That you love him… duh…" Uriah rolls his eyes. "Are you being obtuse on purpose…?"
"Ooo, obtuse." Tris teases.
"Shut up, I read." Uriah sucks his teeth. "Answer the question."
"No," Tris breathes, "I haven't. Doesn't change that he's in there."
"But you'd say it and it would be out there."
"He knows." Tris grabs another drink and pops the cap. She places she metal cover on the ledge.
"How do you know?" Uriah asks, not letting her off the hook. "I know… you haven't but you'd rather not know what he feels instead of him saying he doesn't care at all."
"No…" she shakes her head. "I don't care. I can't force—"
"Oh cmon, Tris!"
"Fine!" Tris hollers. "I'm terrified that he'll laugh in my face."
"First of all, he'd have to be a complete and total idiot to do that. And you and I both know he's not. He's like a genius," Uriah shoves her shoulder gently and then points in her face. "And two, there's no way he doesn't even like you a little bit. He didn't kill you when he had plenty of chances."
Tris snorts, "wow, the bar is low."
"Don't be a pansy, tell him how you feel."
"You know, I didn't ever think you'd be the one advocating for this."
"He wasn't ever that bad, dude," Uriah admits. "Only people who really hated him took everything Four ever said about him too seriously. Eric was the quiet type of leader. I mean, you can ask around about his training but there wasn't a lot out about him. Didn't have too many friends. You know."
"The year after our initiation was quiet when you think about all the stuff going on in the background."
"Yeah, but I guess that's questionable now too." Uriah shrugs. "But you know him."
Tris laughs, "you're the only person I know who would say that to me."
"What? Like you don't go see him every day? You have to know something no one else knows."
"Actually you're the one person who doesn't judge me."
"What am I gonna say to keep you from going? Only you know what you guys are to each other at this point. I'm not gonna pretend that whatever it is doesn't make me wonder. But it's not my place to try and stop you." Uriah has never been one to concern himself with the affairs of others to the point where he feels he can command them. He's just into the gossip sometimes. There's so much going on all the time he can't fault her for finding an escape. Even if it's weird.
"Part of me thought you'd never talk to me again."
Uriah laughs. "Why? Cause of Four?"
"Well, yeah." Tris says, chin dropping slightly.
"He and Zeke are best friends," Uriah muses, "I like you better."
She laughs, "Thanks." She brushes her hair out of her face, messing it up a little. A breeze blows by, tickling her nose. The weather's starting to change, cooling from an unfortunate summer. "I don't want it to be weird."
"It's already weird. But who cares?"
"I do," she almost whines and he laughs. "We still work together."
"Is he really focused on you right now?" Uriah asks with an obvious question in his face.
"What are you getting at?"
"There's so much going on, I don't think he's focused on your break up. Lauren is driving him nuts already."
Tris snorts, wiping her face. "I guess you're right. I'm just… overthinking it and I said I wouldn't."
"I think you're taking everything surprisingly well. I mean everyone was acting as if the world was ending not even a month ago."
A chuckle reverberates in her chest and she shakes her head. "Why are you like this Uri?"
"Just born with it I guess."
"I cried today," Tris admits openly. But not really intending it. "I had a moment on the train coming back from Candor."
"Oh," he swings the leg hanging out over the ledge. His heel hits the side of the building and gravel free falls from the bottom of his boot. "Nothing wrong with a good cry… but what were you mourning?"
"Everything," She exhales. She doesn't ever really allow herself to ugly cry. It's a foreign feeling, being out of control of her emotions, and she doesn't like it. "I almost lost it on who I went to see." Honestly, she did.
He notes that she was blatantly not telling him something—who she went to see. But he won't ask and really he could make a deduction but he doesn't care to. "They would have deserved it."
Tris cackles, nodding. "They would've."