Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm really glad people are reading this and liking it! If you have any ideas or suggestions, let me know!

Sukeytawdrey – thanks a lot for your comment, it's really nice to get a "real" perspective on something - I was hoping Dr. Cooke's reaction wasn't too unrealistic. :)

Chapter Ten

Four's POV:

I look at my watch. I have 20 minutes until it's time to meet Zoe, so I decide to pass by the dining hall for something to eat. Just as I'm arriving I see Evelyn leaving from the other side of the large room. I think of calling her but she's too far away. Three people are with her: an elderly man, a woman around Evelyn's age and a child, a girl with dark curly hair. They're probably factionless newly arrived from the city; new people have been coming in from Chicago every day. It's always just a few, but I imagine this trickle will turn into a stream soon enough, especially if the chaos there lasts. Evelyn has come to visit me twice since we first saw each other a week ago. It was nice to spend time with her in such a harmless way – not planning a war or any imminent danger lurking around the corner, no shouting matches taking place. These meetings have made me start to become hopeful that things may actually work out between us in some way. As I watch her walk away, I notice that I've strangely never run into her at the compound before, though.

I grab a tray, put a sandwich and an apple on it and look for a seat. Zeke is sitting with Shauna near the doors Evelyn just left by. I walk over to them and sit next to Zeke, who claps me on the back. "Hey," I say. "How's life in the compound, Shauna?" She just arrived three days ago with her mother, the only family she has left.

Shauna eyes her environment in a suspicious manner. "It's ok, I guess. No one is trying to kill each other here, so that's a plus." Zeke grins at me. I understand Shauna's hesitation to seem too friendly about this place. It's hard to imagine these people have been here all this time watching us and doing nothing, all for the sake of their precious experiment. It's hard to imagine everything we once believed is just a complex, orchestrated lie. Even though that's all changing now – the experiments are all in the process of being shut down – it's been really hard to explain everything to the new people. We can't tell them we erased everyone's memories on purpose because the Bureau of Genetic Warfare was horrible and needed to be stopped, but we still want them to understand that a lot is happening here and that the beliefs we hold aren't necessarily the only ones that exist in this country. On top of that, Shauna and her mother shared a deep-rooted mistrust of Divergents and now they are being forced to admit that their prejudice makes no sense, which is probably somewhat embarrassing. What meaning can Divergence even have in a world with no factions and where we don't acknowledge any kind of genetic damage? That's the world we're trying to create now.

I nod to her. "You're right. I think it's what I like most about it here."

I quickly eat and listen to Zeke as he points at some people and tells Shauna who they are. He's been helping her get used to life here. Every new person to arrive is assigned a 'mentor' who spends some time with them in the first few weeks and answers all their questions; this is one of the new measures that have been created in the past weeks. It's been hard to find enough mentors because a lot of the regular compound population still isn't reliable enough to do the task, so pretty much every person that wasn't affected by the serum has been doing it. I already know I'll be mentoring someone soon, regardless which job I choose.

When I'm done, I start to get up and Zeke asks, "What's your rush?" I tell him I'm going to meet Zoe to see about some jobs. He smiles up at me and says, "Ah, well then you'd better hurry, Four. 'The future belongs to those who know.'" He quotes some Erudite propaganda phrase that they always printed on fliers just before Aptitude test day. That all seems like a lifetime ago. I grin at him, wave at Shauna and leave.

I'm to meet Zoe near the security clearance of the compound, underneath the old statue. It was emptied weeks ago, now it's just a big slab of stone hanging in the air. I look at it as I wait for her and wonder about all that's been going on. Now that I know Tris is going to be ok, it seems like my vision has returned to me: before I could only see her, only think of her, there was room for nothing else. I was completely consumed by the need to see her alive and well. Now I'm beginning to perceive my surroundings again. And I don't know if I like what I see. Johanna is still the leader of Chicago. Elections are to take place in two weeks, but no one really knows how that's to work out. There's still fighting taking place in the city – different groups have formed and they want different things. Some of the old Allegiant are against the elections and want everything to return to the way it was. Others don't want an election to choose people who will make decisions for them, they want to choose the new system to be installed. But there are so many possibilities, how could an election decide the new system? If there were only three or four options, the people of the city could choose between those, but that sounds dangerously close to the limiting way things were done before. And then there is a large group – and by far the most dangerous – that seems to consist mainly of some factionless and the traitor Dauntless that don't seem to want anything except destruction. They riot, steal food and anything else they can get, and go around the city terrorizing people. Some of the Dauntless have become like a police force, but they aren't enough and they aren't well organized. All in all, it's a mess.

The most difficult part so far has been information. It's hard to get information to people now that there is so much chaos and the factions aren't working anymore. Johanna and her helpers have tried to share what they know about the world outside, but a lot has been misunderstood and twisted. Rumors are flying through the city, nobody knows what to believe. A lot of people are frightened of the world outside Chicago. Those who have been leaving generally steal away quietly and don't make a big fuss over it. They just go. We have sent three small groups from the compound into the city so far to help talk to everyone about the truth of the experiments, but it hasn't been enough. And letting them know the truth brings another problem with it – at the time there can't be more than sixty people from the city here, but what happens when they all start leaving? When they all come to live in the compound? Chicago was self-sufficient, it produced everything it needed to keep the population alive. The compound is almost self-sufficient, only technology like computers and cars is built elsewhere, but it's designed to take care of a much smaller population than that of the city. There is no way everyone can live here. And to send everyone away, into the big cities of the country? These people – we – don't know anything about this world. It would surely lead to even greater problems if everyone left at once.

Things at the compound have been going fairly well. Everyone is almost back to normal, it seems that no one has forgotten too much or is having difficulties re-learning the important stuff. It is a common belief here now that genetic manipulation isn't the reason for this country's problems. Human nature is complex, people aren't just damaged or whole, we need to figure out a new approach to solving our issues. The compound has been in contact with the Bureau's headquarters in New York, the capital, which is something like the control center of this country where all the leaders live and work. I suppose the Bureau is surprised at this sudden change of heart in everyone here, especially David, but there was little support for the experiments with the government anyway, so it's good timing to get closing them on the agenda. And now a process of re-defining the purpose of the Bureau and advocating against genetic discrimination has begun. But the prejudices sit very deep among large parts of the population of this country, even amongst the so-called the genetically damaged themselves. I don't know if I'm right in this, but I get the feeling no one really knows where to go from here.

A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Zoe smiling at me. She still looks a little bit off – her mouth is slightly parted, her eyes are just a bit too wide, like she's constantly surprised about something. I know it's the last stage of her recovery from the memory serum. In one to two weeks everyone should be back to completely normal. Well, the new normal.

"Hello Tobias. How are you?"

I incline my head. "I'm fine. Are you feeling better?" The people at the compound were told there was an accident which caused the memory loss. Everyone able has been taking care of them these past weeks. Everyone except me, that is, but I guess I also wasn't able in my own way.

"Oh, yes. I'm much better. I hardly forget anything anymore." She smiles again. "I think I'm well enough to show you around and help you find a job you like."

I nod and she heads off, leading the way.

For the next three hours Zoe shows me every part of the compound. Having been here so long, I thought I was finally getting to know the place. Now I realize I don't know it all. It seems like the entire compound including the surrounding buildings and fields is nearly the size of Chicago. We drive around in a tiny car with no doors that seats two people – Zoe tells me it's called a golf cart. I have no idea what that means.

She seems not to leave any job out except the ones I simply wouldn't be able to do because I know nothing of them – which is mainly scientist stuff. On the outskirts of the compound. There are fields that need to be tilled and greenhouses that need to be taken care of. I don't know anything about plants, but she says it's mainly physical work that needs to be done and someone would help me learn what to do. I think of the Amity with their greenhouses and wonder whether this work would fill me with that sense of peace we felt while staying there. We continue on to a series of small buildings that contain several different kinds of workshops – there's one for cars, one for computers and other electronics and two others in which mainly wood and metal are worked on. My fingers itch as I see the many tools hanging neatly from the walls. I can remember longing for a time in which I might trade in my weapons of destruction for tools of construction. Maybe I should give one of the workshops a try.

We go on and on. There are jobs as drivers that deliver goods all over the compound and regularly leave the compound to pick up things that come from the outside. Another area of work is in security management, which pretty much seems like what I did at Dauntless. There is the actual security work – Zoe seems to think I would do best in this area, and she says I might even get to train the new people that come in after a few years. Several jobs have to do with helping those in leadership positions; they need people to do research for them, to organize things, to run errands for them. These jobs mostly seem boring to me because it would imply mainly sitting in a room at a computer or on the phone. And even the thought of having to work for David makes my blood boil. I could never do one of those jobs as long as he is still here. There are also different kinds of caretakers – some people tend the grounds, the fences, others clean the different buildings, some are in charge of making sure every area has enough supplies.

"And then there are the hospital workers, but I guess that's also an area you would need training for to work in," Zoe finally concludes as we stop in front of the main compound building again. "There are, of course, a few other jobs you haven't seen, like the pilots, but this should be enough to help you decide." I frown at her. "Oh, you don't know what a pilot is. That's someone who flies an airplane." She points toward the distant road where the planes are parked. I shudder at the thought. That's a job I'm definitely not interested in.

Zoe continues, "You don't have to make a definite choice now. I would recommend you go to the places you found interesting and just spend some time there, try things out. That way you can get a better idea of what to expect. Most people have been here for a long time and were trained for their work from a young age. You, on the other hand…" she falters in mid-sentence, the confused look returning to her eyes. This must be a point where her memory fails her. "Well, I suppose you get a fresh start."

I thank Zoe for her help and we say good-bye. She walks into the main building and I head towards the hospital. The entire way I think about the things I have seen and wonder what I should do. I also think about Tris's words, whether any job could seem right. Why did she think that? Could I not be happy in one of those workshops, learning to build and repair useful things? I can almost imagine a life in which I return home each day sweaty and tired, Tris arriving there at the same time, asking how her day was, happy and calm. Normal. I can just picture it in my mind. But then all my thoughts from earlier on about the state of this world return to me and that feeling deep in my gut that something needs to change returns.

Christina is opening the hospital door just as I arrive there. She sees me and her eyes go wide in surprise.

"Hi Christina," I say with some amusement as we enter the hospital.

"Hi Four. What are you doing here? I thought you start working today?"

"No, I was just being shown jobs. I have to choose something first. Tomorrow I'll start somewhere to try it out."

"Oh," Christina says. She chews her lip. "Well, Tris isn't here."

I frown. "What?"

"I mean, she's here, but she's not in her room. She's at physical therapy."

I look at my watch. It's almost four o'clock. "Oh. Well, she should be back soon, right? I'll just wait for her."

Christina's lip chewing becomes more intense. "No, I don't think so. I think she'll be gone for a while. She told me they were starting some new method with her and it would take longer. It might take hours."

I squint my eyes at Christina. Tris didn't mention that to me. But why should Christina lie? "So why are you here?" I ask.

Christina looks up at me. "I'm here for something else. I have to go now. Bye." With that, she takes off down a hall and soon disappears. That was odd.

I stand there for a moment and wonder what to do. Then I remember Uriah is still in intensive care. Zeke and Hana begged the doctors to give him some more time, just in case there is any hope he might get better. I guess seeing Tris in the same state and getting better so quickly, they couldn't help but hope that maybe he too would wake up again. But there's been no change in him and the doctors are insisting he be taken off life support soon. I've been to see him twice before, but the guilt always made me leave again soon. I think Tris also feels awkward about it now – like she wonders why she was given another chance and he wasn't. I sigh. Maybe this is a good chance to spend time with him while he's still here.

(page break)

Tris POV:

I wipe a bead of sweat from the bridge of my nose and glance at the clock. 4. That means we'll be done any second. I remain in my position, standing firmly with my legs spread a bit farther than shoulder width apart in a deep crouch, my arms outstretched to the front of me. This is my last exercise for the day, to strengthen my leg muscles; it should increase my stability while walking.

I look at the clock again. My legs begin to tremble. When do I get to stop?

Finally and mercifully my physical therapist says, "Ok, you can relax now, Tris." I quickly stand and let out a long breath. "Shake it out." I walk tentatively in a small circle, shaking out my legs and rubbing them.

Just then Christina bursts in the door. I frown at her. What's she doing here? Oddly enough, Ivana, my physical therapist only looks over at Christina for a moment and looks back at me. As if she were expecting her.

I stand up straight. "Christina, what's going on?" Ivana and Christina share a look. How do they know each other?

Christina explains excitedly, "Well, what you told me a few days ago stuck in my mind. You want to get better, preferably fast, and you're worried it's not possible. I've been talking to some people and we've devised a plan."

"Some people?" I ask.

"I started with Dr. Cooke. Then I spoke to a few other doctors, Dr. Jones, Dr. Torres, Dr. Zimmermann. And then I spoke to Ivana and her team." I can only stare at her. That's nearly everyone that's had any say in my recovery process so far. "Oh, and I talked to a few nurses." Ok, now that's everyone. Christina smiles at my disbelieving expression. "Don't worry, I didn't tell everyone what we're up to. I just wanted to get a general impression of how well you are. I did share your concerns with Dr. Cooke and Dr. Zimmermann." Dr. Zimmermann was the main surgeon and he's been overseeing the recovery of my wounds. "And then Ivana and I had a nice long chat. Do you want to know what we came up with?" Christina's smile is nearly cracking her face in half by now. I feel faint; I can only nod slightly to tell her to go on.

Ivana picks up. "There are several issues that need to be attended. You had a lot of tissue damage where the bullets entered and then more from the surgery to get them out. Time will heal that, but a proper exercise regime will ensure it heals well. Then you spent over a month lying down without any movement. That means you lost a lot of muscle mass and are generally weak. This too can only be changed through exercise. But there is also a neurological aspect to this. Comas tend to have something of a 'reset' effect – people lose functions and abilities they had already developed. While in your case very little was lost, we still have a lot of work to do with your coordination. Christina tells me you weren't just healthy, but physically very able before. I understand you were something of a warrior?"

"Didn't you see me on the screens, Ivana?" I ask in annoyance. I hate it when the people here ask questions to pretend not to know things about our lives.

"No, actually," she replies. This surprises me, I never realized some of them chose not to observe us.

"Oh," I say. "Well, we were in the Dauntless faction, so I guess you could say we were the warriors of the city. And in the last few weeks before arriving here there was a war, so we actually had to fight."

Ivana nods. "This means you have higher expectations for your recovery. You don't just want to be able to walk and talk and write, you also want to be fast and well-coordinated. Perhaps you would like to be able to shoot again." I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Ivana doesn't seem to notice. "And you want quick results."

I do. But what will all this require of me? "Dr. Cooke agrees with this plan?" I ask nervously.

"Yes, he actually helped us come up with it. He said he worries you might push yourself too hard, but he trusts Ivana's judgment and he prefers you push yourself with her supervision than without," Christina answers. "And Zeke helped us, too. He told Ivana about how the Dauntless are trained. He didn't really know what it was for, though, she just said she was interested."

It's very impressive how much trouble Christina has gone through all because I'm not happy with my progress. I guess there's a little bit of Abnegation in everyone. Before these thoughts make me get too emotional, I quickly say "Ok, tell me about the plan."

"There's one more problem first," Ivana says. "The bullet in your leg." She points a slender hand towards my leg. I look down at it, as if I could see the bullet lodged in my thigh underneath the pants, the skin and the muscle. "The doctors have been planning on removing it in a month or two. But then you will have to recover from that surgery again and this will definitely be a setback. And there's only so much we can do now with the bullet still in there." Ivana cocks her head at me in a curious manner. Her long blond ponytail slips over one shoulder. "We've convinced Drs. Cooke and Zimmermann that it would be best to get this last surgery done sooner than later. They say you can have the bullet removed in a week if you continue progressing until then. Dr. Cooke says to let you decide if you want to."

Another surgery. That means being anesthetized again. The thought makes a feeling of panic arise in me, constricting my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut again and breathe deeply to calm myself. This is something I haven't spoken about with anyone yet – not with Christina, not with Tobias or Dr. Cooke, but right now there is nothing I fear more than returning to that ocean of darkness and pain. At night I leave my curtains slightly open so the light from the light posts outside the hospital can shine in. I've never been under full anesthesia before except maybe after being shot, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have an idea what was going anyway. Will it be like the coma? I don't think I can handle that one more time. But I agree with Ivana, waiting to remove the bullet will only slow my progress and I have to move on, I can't be constantly concerned with getting better. There is so much to do outside of this hospital.

"Ok," I say. "Next week. I'll tell Dr. Cooke tonight when he comes to see me." Ivana smiles approvingly. Christina seems not to have expected anything else. "What do we do until then?"

They explain the training plan for the following week to me. It consists of different kind of exercises to increase my strength, stamina, and most of all coordination. I will have to take a break for a few days after the surgery and then slowly work into it again, so Ivana wants me to work hard this week to make up for that. We begin straight away. Every day I will have an hour of the 'classical' physical therapy followed by two to three hours of additional exercises.

As I lie down on the mat to begin the first round of core exercises, I look at the clock and see that it's almost 5. "Wait," I say. "Tobias doesn't know where I am, he'll worry."

Christina responds, "I already told him. I didn't say anything specific, I just said you were at physical therapy and it might take a few hours." Then she looks at me and says, "What?" defensively. "I just happened to run into him on my way here, ok?"

"You really thought of everything, didn't you, Christina?" She just grins at me.

Soon I realize Christina intends to train with me. She has her own workout plan, which is more rigid than mine, but a lot of the exercises she does together with me.

Ivana spends the next two hours torturing me. There is no other way to describe it. By the time we are done, I am covered in sweat, my wounds ache and every single part of my body, even my fingers and toes, hurts. I feel as if I might faint soon. It seems Ivana is very confident in what I'm capable of. Perhaps even more so than I am because I never would have thought that I could make it through that. While they look nothing alike – Ivana has pale skin and long blond hair, she is tall and thin but surprisingly muscular, and her eyes are like blue ice – something about her reminds me of Tori. I imagine this is what Tori would have been like as an initiate instructor. There is a warmth to her but also a certain sense of little tolerance for weakness. I don't think there will be much need for me to push myself much with Ivana here to make sure I am making progress.

I walk slowly back to my room after we are done, taking ginger steps to avoid more pain. Christina is excited and talks to me the whole way, but I'm so exhausted I can hardly hear her. She takes off in the other direction when we reach my hall saying, "Bye, Tris! See you tomorrow!"

Tomorrow. Great.

When I reach my room I am not surprised to find Tobias standing in it. He's facing the window looking outside; the fading daylight shows a few snowflakes falling gently from the gray sky. I take a moment to just observe him. He's wearing a black sweater with a round neck, a blue shirt hem peeking out from underneath, and jeans. Two black flames are just visible climbing up his neck. His shoulders are broad and his stance is sturdy. Everything about him gives the impression of strength and stability, though I know he is also volatile in a way. Part rock, part water, part fire. I love him.

He turns towards me. I probably look terrible – sweaty, my hair matted to my head, limping slightly. Concern fills his dark blue eyes immediately as he rushes over and surrounds me in his embrace. "Tris! What happened? Are you ok? Where were you?" I can feel him clench his fists as he hugs me tighter for an instance; I pull gently out of his embrace and take his hands in mine, trying to transmit my sense of calm to him.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired. I had physical therapy."

"But that started at 3!" he exclaims.

"I know. It's pretty long and very intense." Again, I see worry fill his eyes. "I'm fine, Tobias, really. I wanted to do more than just the one hour every day. So Ivana and Christina came up with something which will help me get better faster."

His eyebrows furrow down. "Christina. That's why she was acting that way… Are you sure it's safe though? Aren't you supposed to take it easy?"

"I want to do anything but take it easy," I reply in exasperation. "And there's no need to worry, Ivana knows what she's doing and the doctors are in on it." This seems to calm his apprehensions a bit. "Speaking of which, have you seen Dr. Cooke?"

"No," Tobias answers. He places a hand on my cheek. I lean into his hand and cover it with mine. I know this means he's relieved to see that everything is ok. I'm just exhausted and happy to be with him.

After a few peaceful moments I open my eyes and say, "I'm going to take a shower quickly before Dr. Cooke comes back. I'm pretty sure I don't smell very nice."

Tobias grins. "You're right." I punch him in the shoulder with my good hand. It hurts me, too, but it's worth it. He rubs his arm as I turn to my little closet and get a change of clothes. "I think you're already stronger, Tris. You don't need to work out so much."

I laugh and enter my bathroom. "See you in a minute," I say and close the door.

It's only the second day I've been showering without a nurse's help, and I'm definitely in more pain than usual, but I manage well enough. The scar tissue around my wounds seems redder and more swollen than usual. I shower quickly and get dressed. It still feels strange to wear any color I choose. The compound has provided me with the clothes I have now so I can finally stop wearing hospital gowns. I put on dark gray sweat pants and a white tank top. I make a mental note to ask for more clothes to exercise in – at this rate, I'll need fresh clothes for training every day.

Tobias looks at me as I leave the bathroom. I'm still toweling my hair dry. His expression makes me nervous. He seems to be taking in every inch of me. I suddenly become very aware of how pale and skinny I am, of the pink scars on my right arm and left shoulder so visible. I pick up a light blue hooded sweater from the bed to put on, but Tobias says softly, "No. Don't."

I look at him, the sweater still in my hands. He gets up from his chair and approaches me. I can feel my heartbeat increasing as he gets closer. His presence is so strong in this moment that it overwhelms me. I'm afraid and nervous and anxious all at once. He stands a few inches away from me, then runs his hands through my wet hair which is now almost shoulder length. Tobias leans down so he's looking into my eyes. "Tris, you're so beautiful."

I think I'm trembling. But it isn't fear that's coursing through my veins, it's desire. I long for him. He is mine. Our lips meet in a kiss as delicate as a flower petal, but it isn't enough. I press harder into him, and my hands find their way to his body, slide over his waist and his back. He tightens his grip on my hair and for a moment we are lost in each other.

Then a quiet knock on my door brings us back to reality. We both look at the door. "Dr. Cooke," I say breathlessly. I reluctantly let Tobias go and walk towards the door. It's Dr. Cooke as I expected and he is accompanied by Dr. Zimmermann.

"Miss Prior," Dr. Cooke explains happily. "How good to see you out and about like this." He looks over at Tobias, who is now standing behind the chair with his hands resting on it. "Mr. Eaton."

We greet each other and the doctors enter my room. I quickly put on my sweater, hang the towel up on a peg on the bathroom door and take a seat on the bed. The men all remain standing.

The doctors ask me to tell them about how I am doing. They ask several specific questions, especially about my new training regime with Ivana. Dr. Zimmermann inspects my scars for which I have to take off my sweater again. I'm happy for the loose sweatpants because I can push them up enough for him to inspect the back of my thigh without having to undress further. They feel around the wound for some time while I lie on my stomach, talking to each other. Finally Dr. Zimmermann asks what I think about removing the bullet sooner rather than later. I notice Tobias is surprised by the question, but I have already made up my mind. I sit up again.

"If you both agree, I would like to do the surgery next week," I say.

Dr. Cooke nods. "I thought you would say so, Miss Prior. If you continue doing as well as you have this past week, we see no reason not to. We will of course continue observing you to make sure another surgery does not present an unnecessary risk which may be harmful to your health."

I expected this part. Now comes the uncertain bit. "I really want to do this, I think it would help me move on faster. But I don't want it done under full anesthesia."

The Drs. look at each other. I can feel Tobias stiffen where he stands. I avoid looking at him.

"Miss Prior…" Dr. Zimmermann begins. "I'm not sure if you're aware what that means. The bullet is in very deep. We can use local anesthetics, of course, but there is no way we can guarantee you won't feel any pain. Only a full anesthesia can ensure that."

"I do understand, Dr. Zimmermann. I'm not afraid of pain."

Dr. Zimmermann seems troubled, but Dr. Cooke just looks at me curiously. I feel as if he understands me better than anyone except perhaps Caleb and Tobias. In some things maybe even more because he isn't blinded by his feelings for me like they are. "What are you afraid of, Miss Prior?"

I feared he would ask me this question. What can I say? The truth? Am I ready to share this with anyone yet, with these three men? Perhaps if it were only Dr. Cooke… I look down at my mattress.

"Well, maybe we'll just see how this week goes and talk about this again in a few days. What do you think?" Dr. Cooke suggests. I'm thankful he didn't press the subject. I nod.

He takes some notes in the clipboard which always hangs by my bed and then flips through the pages for a moment. Dr. Zimmermann asks about my antibiotics. It seems they are through with their questions when Dr. Cooke notices something on one of the pages. "I see we haven't tested your reactions in some time, Miss Prior. Are you feeling very tired right now or do you think we might still be able to do a little test tonight?" I look at him. I didn't think there would be any more such tests now that I'm clearly fully awake. Dr. Zimmermann also seems perplexed, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm alright for a short test," I answer.

"Excellent," he replies. "Then follow me to my office." I get up feeling a bit confused and wave to Tobias. Dr. Zimmermann bids us good-bye and we leave the room together. Dr. Cooke and I walk to his office which is thankfully on the same floor. When we arrive there he asks me to take a seat. He opens some drawers and pulls out some things. Soon he hammers lightly on my knees, just above my elbows, at other joints. He pricks my feet, shines a flashlight in my eyes, asks me to do different movements with my eyes closed or open, sometimes he presses against my arms or legs to resist the movements. Once he asks me to close my eyes and hold a pen, then a coin, then a syringe and I am to identify each object. We've been through these tests several times before in the past two weeks. My reactions are generally normal, though sometimes a bit slow or weak. It's not different from anything I expected.

Dr. Cooke finally takes a seat in front of me. "Are you afraid of being anesthetized because it might remind you of the coma?" he asks directly but in a gentle tone.

I look down at my bare feet dangling in the air above the floor. "Yes," I say quietly.

"If I told you that anesthesia is nothing like a coma, that you just close your eyes and the next thing you know you're awake, would you believe me? And I say this not just based on scientific knowledge but also on experience because I have been under full anesthesia before."

I think about this. He wants to know if he can convince me to understand this thing, so I can rationalize my fear. But my fear isn't rational. I shake my head.

He sighs. A long silence stretches out. At last Dr. Cooke says, "Miss Prior, you never told me what you experienced during the coma."

I look at him. I have grown to trust this kindly man like I have trusted few people before. He has proven time and time again that he is not only competent but also intuitive and compassionate. I wonder if that is enough. It has to be enough.

"It was horrible," I say in a faint voice. And then I shortly describe the two phases, first the dark ocean and the pain, second being awake but not being able to interact with the world. I don't say much and I am unsure how to describe it, but somehow I think Dr. Cooke is filling the gaps with his immense knowledge and experience. When I am done I almost expect to see fascination in his eyes, but all I see is a profound sympathy. That's something I love about him, he is clearly very interested in his area of expertise, but his human empathy is stronger. Knowledge isn't above everything else for him, it is rather a means to an end, and that end is the well-being of his patients. In that he is so like my father who gave up being Erudite despite his intelligence because he couldn't do enough for others there.

"I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult to go through. Not all comas are like your experience, in fact I have come to believe that each experience is as unique as the situation of the patient, but we are recognizing now that a good many coma patients are in some way conscious and aware of what's happening. And many remember that time. Miss Prior, I was convinced of your strength from the moment I heard what had happened to you, but I think nothing has proven it to me more than this knowledge of what it was like for you during that month. You are handling this extremely well."

His words are oddly comforting, but I don't know how to answer them, so I remain quiet. What now?

"You know, you could talk to someone about all of this. Someone professional, I mean, someone who can help you think through all this. There are two very capable psychologists on this compound, I'm sure they could be of great assistance to you. You will have to heal on the inside as much as on the outside."

I nod. While I'm doubtful talking to some qualified stranger will help me, I do agree that there is much healing within that needs to take place.

"In light of all this, I do see how the idea of a full anesthesia might be frightening. I don't know if you are ready to deal with great amounts of pain, though."

I stare at him. "What do you think I'm doing right now?"

Dr. Cooke laughs lightly. It's a happy sound. "I suppose you're right. Let's see how the next few days go, alright?"

"Ok," I say.

With that he gets up and walks towards the door. I follow him. Just as I am about to pass through the door, he places a hand on my shoulder. "In a few weeks I will have to leave." I'm surprised. Why leave? "I don't actually live here, I was just brought here to help with your case and with the mass memory loss that took place. Once that's all done, I will return to where I'm from, which is Las Angeles. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be here indefinitely. If you ever need to talk to me about anything, please come see me or have me sent. I always have an open ear for you."

I thank him and then we say good-bye and go separate ways.

(page break)

Four POV:

After some time Tris returns to her room. I'm anxious and nervous, but I can see how tired she is, so I tell her she should rest a bit and we can talk later. Her thankful look is enough to fuel my patience. She brushes her teeth and takes off the blue sweater she's wearing. A tiny sliver of her lower back appears as she is pulling the sweater over her head and it makes my fingers itch to slide over her pale skin. She climbs into her bed. I pull the blankets to cover her tightly and kiss her forehead. "Tobias?" She says looking up at me with her eyes wide. "Will you stay with me a little bit?"

I torn off the light in the room. As I go to close the curtains, she says, "No. Leave them open, please." So I leave them open and pull the chair closer to her bed so I can sit with her hand in mine. It reminds of all those hours I spent watching her helplessly in the intensive care. The memory fills me with pain and relief so I squeeze her hand tightly. She squeezes back. The light from the window falls softly on her face and she seems almost like a ghost, like some apparition from another world. I watch her eyes fall closed, listen to her breathing even out. This is where I will stay.