I DO NOT OWN DIVERGENT.
Okay, so this one goes deep. I think it's the longest, and by far the most emotional. Like I said, hang in there, because it'll get better eventually. Eventually.
TOBIAS POV…..
I call an ambulance but they get here too slowly. I press Tris to me for what seems like an eternity, muttering transparent condolences to her to try to calm her down. But she's not listening to me. Her hands are pressed up against my chest, making red handprints on the fabric of my shirt, and her eyes are closed. She's in a little corner of herself that I still don't know how to get into, even after all this time. Her teeth are clenched so hard I'm afraid they will break, and she looks like she's in actual, physical pain, despite the fear. I think she is. I think she's losing the baby now, before they can do anything about it. It's awful how fast things can be taken away from you, how fast things can turn for the worst.
When the people get here, they run in and put her on a stretcher to take her to the hospital. She doesn't cry, but her entire body is shaking and I know that she's breaking on the inside. And the worst thing is… I can't help her. I can't do anything about it. I'm useless.
She's rushed into the emergency room, and while they plug her into machines and stick iv's in her arms, I sit outside her room and silently sob, my entire body racking with each breath I take. I don't know if people stare. I could care less. Because right now I feel like I am physically dying. By heart is breaking for Tris and the life that she carries inside her- if it's still alive.
When I have myself composed enough, I walk into Tris' room. My face is blotchy and crusted with salt water, but she's in worse condition. There's a doctor over to her right with a clipboard in his hands, and his words are condolences, but they are monotone and soulless. Tris has both of her hands over her face, she's curled up into a little ball with her knees to her chest. And her body is shaking violently.
I go over to her and wrap my arms around her body. I sit her in my lap and try to calm her down as much as possible, but I also break when the doctor speaks next.
"I'm so sorry. There was nothing we could do."
I look up, tears streaming down my face. "Was it our fault? I mean, did we do something wro-?"
"No, this wasn't either of your faults," he interrupts, his face somber. "The baby had a terminal illness. If it had lived to be born, then it wouldn't have made it for more than a few months." He quickly exits the room, muttering a "I'm so sorry." Those words actually have emotion in them. He closes the door with a quiet 'click'.
I stare into space for a minute. And in that minute, I let my child go, as awful as it sounds. I love it to death. I loved it so much already, although I didn't know it personally. But I love it's mother, too, I love Tris so dearly. And now it's my job to protect her and to console her, because I'm sure she'll grieve for much longer than I will. That baby was part of her. Part of her. And I know that what she's going through now is something I'll never understand, no matter how hard I try.
I brush a lock of hair out of Tris' eyes, trying to get her to talk to me, to look at me, something.
Suddenly, she lets out a keening moan, like she can't hold it in any longer. High- pitched. A quiet, grieving moan of a mother. Tears stream down her face and she looks away from me. "Tris-"
"Don't talk to me," she says, her words morphing into the keening moan that stretches eternally out of her lips. "Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. Just leave me alone."
Her words are like a punch to my throat. Is she mad at me? No, I…. I don't think she is. She just wants to be left alone. I nod slowly to her and set her back down on the cot, pulling up a chair so I can sit beside her and still give her the space she needs. I lay my head down on the thin mattress and feel in my pocket for the small square box that I placed there a few days ago, hoping the right time would pop up. I was about to propose when she started bleeding. I wanted to do this right, I wanted to have a wife and a child and a normal life, but everything seems to go wrong during the worst times possible in my life. I take the box out and flip the lid open, quietly and slowly so Tris doesn't see.
What's the point now?
Eventually I call Christina over because Tris needs her and I need someone to help Tris. I can handle my own pain, it's hers I can't stand.
"Christina?" I say, my voice hoarse and cracked.
"Tobias? What's up?"
"I need you to come to the hospital."
All I hear is static on the other line for a minute.
"I'm on my way."
Christina comes and meets up with me outside the room. My jaw is clenched and I'm trying my best not to cry.
"So what happened?" she asks me, her eyes clouded with worry.
I don't say anything. I just stand there, my eyes glazed over.
"Tobias," she says gently, resting a hand on my shoulder. "I know it hurts. But you have to tell me." She points at the closed door. "For her."
I close my eyes as a tear falls down. "The baby died." I hear her choke beside me as I sink to the floor, to my knees. I press my hands to my face. "She doesn't want me anywhere near her. She's mad at me for doing this to her. I…." I curse. "I can't help her!"
Christina kneels in front of me, tears welling up in her eyes. She opens her mouth like she's about to say something, but she just shakes her head and hugs me instead. I sob into her shoulder for a long time before I decide to put on Four's face again, cold and distant. I stand up. Christina looks surprised when she sees my metallic expression.
"Tobias, I think maybe she just needs another girl to talk to," she says as she stands. "I don't think she's mad at you. I think she feels like she's let you down." She rests a hand on my arm. "She'll be okay, soon. It just takes time. Time heals all wounds, and if it can't completely heal them, it at least stitches them together." I sit outside the room in a chair while Christina goes to talk to Tris.
All I hear for a minute is silence. Then I hear the soft croon of Christina's words and then the choking sobs of Tris. Then it's all Christina. I can't understand what they're saying, but I know that Christina's trying to console Tris the best way she can- apparently better than I can at the moment.
Then…. silence. All I hear is a deafening silence.
…
She won't talk. She won't eat. She won't sleep. She just stares into space for hours upon end, blinking occasionally. The food that I place in front of her is untouched. And since she refuses to eat, so do I. I know it may be selfish, but I feel like I deserve to be as much pain as she is in.
I talk to her, and at first I try to coax a response out of her, but eventually I give up and just start talking. I start talking about anything. After a while, even I stop listening to the words that come out of my mouth, but I can hope that she hears some of what I'm saying. I can hope that, as transparent as the hope is.
Every day, I see her getting thinner. The doctor's haven't yet been forced to put a tube to feed her yet, but they will soon. The few pounds of weight she had put on during pregnancy are quickly used up. And soon, I notice the gentle swell of her lower abdomen is gone, too. I cry a lot that day. For her, and for the baby too.
…..
I see our baby in my dreams as I sleep, my head rested on the mattress of her bed and my body in a stiff- arm chair.
It is a boy, with dark hair like me and features like his mother. And although the thought of having a son scares me to death, because of what Marcus did to me, I am thrilled the day that he's born. Tris is exhausted after almost twenty- four hours of labor, but the wispy smile on her face is unmistakable.
Tris cries the day he takes his first steps. The day when he says his first words.
"Daddee!" he slurs with infant gurgle. I pick him up and fly him through the air, and his laughs echo in the room. He's so perfect.
He's perfect. And he's mine. He's ours.
…
I'm poked on my shoulder and I cough when I raise my head. I can practically feel the dark circles underneath my eyes, but I don't really care that much about them, about myself. Tris is still beside me, her eyes bloodshot and unmoving.
"Christina," I say, standing up. "Why are you here?"
She looks at me sternly, setting down a small duffle bag beside Tris' bed. "Because someone has to do something about this," she gestures to me, to my thin frame.
"I'm fine," I say dismissively, sitting back down in my chair.
She looks at me a minute before I see the flames leap out of her eyes.
"Dammit, Tobias!" she says loudly, tears leaping into her eyes. "Do you think that you, punishing yourself, will make her feel better?!" She points at Tris' form violently. She seems to be sleeping now. "You are not making things easier for anyone, especially her! Do you think she would want you to be like this when she finally does snap out of it? Pitiful and sad? NO!" She raises her hand like she's about to slap me, and I flinch, but then she lowers it. "Get ready. Now. Shave and bathe. Before I get mad." She starts to walk out the door.
"You have no idea what it's like," I say coldly to her.
She turns back with a fierceness that I've never seen in her before. Her eyes carve into my soul.
"I know what it's like to lose someone I love. So don't you tell me I don't know what it's like. And I'm trying to help you before you loose someone else, too." She doesn't look back at me again, and closes the door with a sharp thud.
After that I feel like a big jerk. I hold my head in my hands and take a deep breath. I feel like screaming, or crying, or just plain dying. Maybe I'm depressed. But I feel like I have every right to be. Still, I wish I could take the words I said back, but I can't. They're out there, I can only hope that Christina won't keep a grudge against me.
I do heed Christina's words, though, as harsh as they are. I know that she was just trying to knock some sense into me, and I'm thankful to her for that. They just hurt a little in the process.
I soon bathe and shave the thick shadow of a beard that I've grown in the bathroom that's adjoined to the room that Tris is in. I brush my teeth, too, and change into some new clothes that are in the bag left by Christina as well. The black shirt is a little big, but it feels nice to wear a clean shirt that will also hide the thinness of my middle.
When I get out, I sit idly on the side of Tris' bed for a while before I decide that I don't care if she minds me holding her anymore. She's my girlfriend, and one day she will be my wife, so if she slaps me I'll be fine with the reaction. I'll be happy for any reaction that she gives me. She stays asleep when I move her, but when I lift her slight frame, I see a moderately- sized pool of blood on the bed sheets and on the back of her hospital gown, and I curse, setting her back down. I run my hand over my face, anger flushing my cheeks. I thought the doctors were taking care of her. And it's obvious her body is reacting violently to losing a child, so they're supposed to take care of that! Soon I'm pulling one of my large black shirts and a pair of panties out of the bag that Christina left, cursing loud enough for the next room to hear me, I'm sure.
Before I can change Tris' clothes, a young male doctor comes into the room, his face gathered into a scowl. Good. I'm disturbing them enough to get something done around here.
"What are you doing?" He says, his voice hardly restrained, "You're disturbing other patients. Please quiet down, sir."
I turn my face into a disgusted smirk. "Are you one of her doctors?" I say, pointing to Tris.
His face softens. "Yes. Why?"
It's all I can do to refrain from punching him right now. "Please enlighten me on why the hell there is a pool of blood underneath her, sir? And why not a single solitary person has come in to do anything about it, or even check on her in the last forty- eight hours? What? Is a miscarriage so low on your priority list that no one even bothers?" I can feel my voice beginning to rise.
"Sir, we've just been very busy lately, and I swear I was about to get someone to her room. It's just-"
It's like time slows down. My heart slows, like Dauntless training taught me to do. I would've probably accepted his apology if he hadn't of just lied to me like a coward.
I punch him square in the jaw.
…
He stumbles back and touches a hand to his jaw. He looks at me like I've lost my mind. I can't help but think he'd be in Erudite if that's still how things were set up here. His hands are shaking as he presses a button on a device on his shirt, probably for security to come, but I don't want to hit him again. I don't plan to damage the guy seriously, but if I let myself loose on him, some bones would probably be broken. I stand up strong and tall, like Four, prepared for the security guards.
I hear the door open slowly. It's Christina. She looks around the room and stands between the two of us, then looks at the doctor's jaw and then back to me, her jaw set tightly.
"Four," she says sternly. She hasn't called me that in a long time.
Soon, the security guards come in, and the doctor tells them what happened. That I punched him "out of nowhere," and that I need to be restrained.
I laugh. "That's not true at all." I say it all so bitterly. "I noticed a moderate amount of blood on the sheets of her bed, and on her," I say, pointing at Tris. "Yes, I got upset, and when the doctor came in, I asked him why that was there, and why the staff was not taking care of her. And he gave me lies. Hollow excuses of a coward." I look at the doctor coldly. "If he had told me the truth, I might not have punched him."
The security guards come towards me without saying anything.
Christina quietly steps between me and them.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she says, holding up her hands, her eyebrows knitted together. "This man and his wife just lost their first child, okay?" she stares into the eyes of the security guards without flinching. "And she's obviously being neglected by the staff here. And although I don't think Four should've punched the idiot doctor that tried to make excuses, I think he has every right to be upset." She pauses. "There's no reason for you to take him away, though. I'll get him out, give him some fresh air. Actually, we were just on our way. You see his wet hair? He just got a shower so we could go outside." She looks at me, "Right?"
"Yeah," I say, running my hand through it.
The security guards look at each other for a long moment, and then the taller one, probably the leader, shrugs. "Okay. But I'm watching you, Four, and if you so lay a finger on anyone else here, I'm taking you away. Got it?" His eyes aren't cold, but no nonsense and to the point. They scream former Dauntless, but I never remember seeing him there.
"Yes. Thank you," I say.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, his words clipped and sad.
I just nod my head, looking at the floor. The doctor looks like he wants to complain, but they just file him out of the room. I don't even smirk at my winning, I'm too exhausted to be a smart alec, all of my anger is drained.
Christina looks at me, then she shakes her head and presses a palm to my cheek. She sighs, "I'm sorry, Tobias." I guess that apology was for everything, including her calling me Four. She doesn't reprimand me, she knows that I feel bad enough already. Wordlessly, she goes to the bag where I left the shirt and panties, then looks at Tris. "We'd better change her clothes. Just be careful around her stomach muscles, I'm sure she's still sore." I nod and begin to peel the covers off of Tris' underweight frame.
Christina and I quietly make our way out of the room when we've finished redressing Tris and cleaning her up. Christina assures me that she'll be fine by herself, even if she does wake up, and that I need to get some food and fresh air.
Once we get outside the hospital, we sit on the steps leading down to the parking lot. I sigh deeply, kind of nervous to be away from Tris. But it does feel good to be out here in the sunlight, with the wind lapping at my wet hair and skin. We stay silent for a long time, just watching the different people file in and out of the hospital. It's Christina who breaks the silence.
"I know this is probably a stupid question," she says, running a hand through her hair, "But when I first woke you up, when you were sleeping in the chair with your head on the cot, you were smiling. Why's that?" I look in her eyes and see a natural curiosity. Sometimes her curiosity is prying, but I go ahead and tell her without bothering to hide my answer.
"I was smiling because I was dreaming of what our life was going to be like, with me and Tris. I…. I dreamed about my son." I pause. "I don't know if it actually was going to be a boy, but… you know." I press my head into my hands and cry silently. I hear Christina sniff after a long while.
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," I choke out, shaking my head in my hands, although I'm lying. "It's fine."
Please don't hate me XD
I hate and love writing the sad stuff at the same time. But it can't all be happy or it wouldn't be fun to read, right?
~Beff Monster