Hello again! I hope all of my American readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday! And if any of you dared to go Black Friday shopping then I hope that wasn't terrible either. This chapter is another long one so I hope you enjoy it!

Once again, of course my thanks to BK2U for all of her hard work with this. She always does her best to make these chapters as good as they can be. Thank you as well to all of your support! Next chapter will be posted some time on Monday most likely. Have a lovely weekend everyone

The final days of preparation are fast approaching. It feels more like the countdown to the beginning of a war when really it's only a business meeting. A war would likely be preferable to Tobias. His panic spurs him to quickly transform Friday night into an ongoing training session.

At first he just sits down with his notes after work to scan through them. He falls onto the couch and intends to just glance at each page. But the more he looks the more apparent it becomes how little he actually knows. All of these figures, the statistics, even some of the vocabulary just throws him completely off. It's a whole other language, and it's one he's been half-heartedly trying to learn for weeks now. He's still lost.

Tris had offered her help but he had turned her down, afraid that her presence would distract him yet again. All he knows is that when he walked in the door after work the sun had not yet set, but now everything is cloaked in darkness. At some point she must have flipped a light on for him.

The roiling in his stomach and sweat on his palms keeps him focused long past when he wanted to throw every single paper out the window. He can procrastinate like nobody's business, but once the threat begins looming closer, all he can do is panic.

Monday, he only has until Monday. That thought is the loudest one currently resounding in his head. The fear has him convinced he'll be up all night with this, surrendering any hope of sleep because he knows he'll just lay awake and freak out further.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he has a guilty thought that he has barely acknowledged Tris since he's gotten home. He doesn't want to be that person, the one who doesn't care about those around him, but the matters at hand are too pressing to worry about politeness. Or at least that's what he keeps telling himself.

After a long while, Tobias figures she's just gone and fallen asleep in his bed, and he tucks all thoughts of Tris firmly aside for the rest of the night. Instead of being passed out somewhere, however, she is standing right in front of him and literally pulls the scattered papers from his fingers. He looks up at her incredulously, a small part of him feeling angry until he sees the plate of food she balances on the palm of her other hand.

"Time for a break," she says softly, setting all of his stuff on the coffee table, turned over so he can't even look at it if he wants to, and hands him his plate. "Sorry," she says and he thinks she means in reference to pulling the papers out of his hand. "We're running a little low on options for food."

Tobias sees exactly what she means as he glances down at his plate to find a pork chop, baked beans, and the same green beans they'd been eating for the past three nights. She had also added two buttered pieces of bread, doing her best to stretch the meal. "We can go shopping tomorrow," he promises, even though all he can think about is how there's not enough time for sleep, let alone shopping.

Tris perches herself next to him, sitting on the edge of the cluttered sofa. "Are you sure I can't help you?"

It's sweet, Tobias thinks, as he chews more food than he ever thought he could fit into his mouth. He shakes his head to buy time until he can swallow. "I appreciate it, but I need to do this on my own. I'm sorry I'm in your space though, I'll move so you can sleep."

A wave of her hand assures him that such a thing isn't at the forefront of her mind. "Please, it's not like I do much sleeping anyway."

The offhand comment garners his attention and he pauses his voracious eating. "Are you not able to sleep?" he asks, remembering last night, or technically early this morning, when she had been up. For whatever reason, the idea that she might have trouble sleeping on a couch night after night had never occurred to him. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nothing but obvious. He can switch off with her; that would be fair.

Again Tris just shrugs away his question. "Can I ask why this is so important?" She bites her lip and he can feel nervousness exuding from her, though he isn't sure why. He relaxes his own posture by leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Tris imitates by resting herself into the cushions and tucking her feet up under her.

"It's just work stuff," he answers, trying to make it sound as mundane as possible. It isn't just work stuff, though. It's the difference between freedom and subjugation. Safety and fear. A small part of him is irrational enough to even shout from the recesses of his mind life and death. His father would never kill him over work. He had to have enough faith in the man to at least believe that.

His words are so unconvincing that it's not surprising when Tris doesn't buy it. "Why do you do it?" she asks him. If it was anyone else in the world he'd probably just make something up. Something about money or how great his life is because of who his dad happens to be. A lie would be so much easier than the truth.

But of course it's not someone else. And Tris just sits there with her eyes wide and innocent, asking him for the simple truth. "Are you sleeping okay?" he counters instead, because he resents the way her eyes can do that to him. How stupid of him to drop all of his defences due to one simple look. His guts have already been spilled out on the ground for her to do with as she wished. Admittedly, she's done nothing to discourage any form of trust, but this give and take is lacking any sense of take. He has a right to questions, too.

Tris bites her lip and seems to contemplate answering. "I haven't slept well at night for a really long time."

The truth makes him feel ashamed. He's not sure exactly why. Not noticing? Or not asking before, maybe? "You should have said something, Tris," he tells her quietly, forgetting about the damn meeting for the first time all night. "Tell you what, I'm going to be up all night working on this. You should sleep in my bed tonight."

"Can I just hang out here with you?" she asks.

The question takes him by surprise. The warble in her voice has quite an effect on him. All he wants to do is pull her against him and shield her from whatever it is that keeps sleep away. "Of course," he replies, reaching a hand out to tuck some of her loose hair behind her ear. "Thanks for dinner. You know you really don't have to do that stuff."

It's a regular concern for him that she feels obligated to do all of these things, like cooking and laundry and cleaning. He didn't invite her to stay with him in order to gain a maid. He just hopes she knows that. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

This, too, feels like his fault. Should he offer to help her find a job? He could get her one at the office, probably. But will that insult her? Maybe she doesn't want one...

His greatest fears are confirmed as he realises that now that the papers are no longer in his hand and Tris is sitting next to him, he doesn't care in the slightest for all of those dumb facts and figures. He wonders what she would do if he were to just lay his head in her lap. He imagines that she would brush hair off of his forehead. He can even see her being the sort of person who would bend down and press a kiss to his lips. It's a nice thought.

"When I used to study for a big test," Tris says, picking his papers back up off the coffee table and flipping through them. "My brother would quiz me at every opportunity. Even if we were brushing our teeth, I swear." She laughs lightly at this. "I used to get kind of annoyed by it but then I figured it was just because he wanted to see me succeed."

It might be a terrible thought to have when Tris is finally sharing a story from her carefully guarded past, but Tobias can't help but wonder if she looks at him in that same way? Does Tris think of him as an older brother who would quiz her during mundane life tasks? Is he a family figure to her?

Surely it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Ultimately he knows that he should be happy just being whoever it is Tris needs or wants, and that nothing else really matters. But the thought disturbs him so that he can't help but try and read her a little more closely, desperate to figure this out.

"Do you miss him?" he asks cautiously.

Tris seems to weigh her answer carefully before saying anything. "I miss what my life used to be," she finally says.

"And what was that?" he asks quietly, leaning in closer so she can't hide behind his papers.

Again she stops and thinks, like she can't quite remember what the answer to this question is. "Safe and happy and everything that makes life…normal."

"Sounds nice," he adds, because he doesn't know if he has ever been familiar with happy. He knows for a fact that he and safety are strangers. "How long has it been?" Perhaps he is pushing his luck, he knows. She isn't obligated to share a thing, and he wouldn't blame her if she told him to fuck off. His curiosity propels him forward, though. "Since you last saw them, I mean."

Once again he experiences a pang of guilt as he sees her visibly fight off tears. What has he done? "Almost four years," she chokes out. For a brief moment Tobias is worried she's going to dissolve into a sobbing mess like last week. His hand reaches out and rests on top of her knee. "It's funny," she starts without a trace of humour in her voice. "How you can be one person but feel like the pieces of yourself have been left behind, some in places you don't even remember."

Her words don't seem to make much sense until he thinks about it more deeply. He remembers how he, too, felt like pieces of himself had been handed out. Some buried six feet under with his mother, some shaken and beaten out of him, a few lost in an office with not enough heat and too many closed off businessmen. Perhaps in this moment there's even some resting in the papers still clutched in Tris's hands. Tris. He'd happily offer her all of his pieces.

He wonders where her pieces are. With her family, her friends, her home, on the streets, in the beds of strangers? How sad to think that pieces of her had been spread out so far. How much does she have left?

Tonight she doesn't look sad, and her eyes aren't close to shedding tears. No, tonight she appears defeated, the very image of someone too weak to carry the burdens she's shouldered for so long. He can see the weariness in her eyes, the exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders. He knows that kind of misery that makes someone cast their eyes downward like that.

All he wants is to make it better.

"I'm really worried about this thing for work on Monday. I have to do this big presentation since my father will be out of town, and it's really important that I get it right." His confession is his way of reminding her she's not alone, not an attempt to solicit her sympathy for his minor problems. He wants her to know that he feels trapped,too.

Bonding over mutual hopelessness can be of use, after all.

"What happens if you don't get it right?" she asks, not bothering to reassure him. He likes that.

His exhale of worry is not as nice, however. "Bad shit, Tris. A lot of bad shit."

She swallows, shifting uncomfortably where she sits. "Would he…hurt you?" her voice is small and feeble. Even though there is no threat to her he can still feel fear radiating off of her.

Just about now he would do anything to reassure her. "I'm a little old for that nonsense, don't you think?"

His words sit between them for several moments. He really isn't, he knows. His father was a fan of the belt up until the day Tobias had left that house. Now Marcus likes to use it as a running joke, but really it's more of a thinly veiled threat.

"Some people are just terrible," she mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

There's little choice but to agree with her, which he does with a quiet, "Yeah," and a small nod of his head. "Hey," he says, long after silence had comfortably enveloped them.

"Hm?" she asks, her voice tired, like perhaps she'd been dozing next to him. He knows she hasn't fallen properly asleep, though. Her breathing always shifts once she is fully asleep.

"Thanks for not being terrible," he whispers, his forehead falling to just barely touch hers.

She smiles a tired smile and cracks her eyes open just enough to look directly at him. "Ditto."

Dawn has broken, but the only thing that manages to wake Tobias is the sensation of someone shifting on top of him.

At first he thinks nothing of it; he simply tightens his hold and buries his face into her hair. But then realisation breaks through the haze of sleep. His eyes fly open to find Tris almost entirely on top of him, curled up with her head resting in the crook of his neck. She lets out a sleepy sigh and settles against him.

Her weight against him doesn't feel constricting, just reassuring. Although he knows that he should disentangle himself and cede the space to her, especially now that he is awake and oriented, he can't quite bring himself to do so. Even with his sore muscles and stiff joints all he cares to do is tighten his hold on her slightly.

For a while he just lays there, not really trying to fall back asleep but also not forcing himself to stay awake. There's no panic or dizzying worry over the stock market or how to present the company's recent drop in the last few months buzzing through his head, just her steady breathing against his neck and the slow beating of her heart pressed against his chest focusing all his attention on her.

He does spare a thought for the potentially awkward moment when she does wake, but he just can't bring himself to care. Instead, he watches the slow rising of the sun and lets his fingers run very carefully through her knotted hair.

It's an intimate moment, even if only one of them is awake for it. Tobias can feel the tension in the air, a spark that will not be ignored. He thinks of the ways he could wake her, with kisses or fingers running down her sides or tracing patterns into her back.

But alas, he simply lies still and hopes not to wake her. Mainly because he doesn't know what to expect whenever she does happen to wake. He'll just revel in this moment for however long it lasts.

Finally, she does begin to stir and although his first instinct is to hold her close he loosens his grip. At first she just stretches out, her hand practically assaulting his face before he has the chance to move it, and then she rubs the sleep from her eyes. A moment later she makes her own physical calculations, similar to the ones Tobias made, and as soon as she realises her position she blushes a fierce shade of red.

Her eyes look up and find him staring down at her. He can't help smiling. "S-sorry," she stammers, as she scrambles to move off of him.

Not for the first time he wishes he could just say what he really thinks. Or do what he really wants. Tris sure has a way of testing his self-control. "Don't worry about it," he assures her, offering a yawn and a stretch as he sits up. A rather large part of him hopes that she thinks he has only just woken up as well. "Don't know about you, but I slept pretty damned well."

Actually, he did know about her, because had she not slept it would have woken him up. He wanted to hear her say the words, though. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." She shakes her head and takes several steps away from the couch.

It makes him think of all of the other nights they'd fallen asleep together. The first night on the couch and the time in his bed. Both of those times had been a peaceful night's sleep. They had also been intimate and personal in their own way. This, however, this was an entirely different level.

Tris winces as she backs away, and he swears he sees fear in her eyes. She looks like a caged animal as she stares at the spot where they had been sleeping.

"Sorry," he says, even though he's not really sure what he's apologising for. Tobias supposes it's because she is so obviously uncomfortable. Though last night had not been intentional, it's still clearly freaking her out. "I didn't mean-"

Immediately she cuts him off. "It's fine," she says in a small voice. The look in her eyes and the pallor of her skin suggest otherwise. Damage control is apparently going to be necessary.

Admittedly, her reaction is a bit hurtful to him. He would gladly sleep next to her like that every night for years to come, yet she is visibly upset. He needs to defuse the tension before Tris works herself up any further. "So, grocery store?" he asks, trying to re-establish some semblance of normalcy even though they both seem to feel like the entire Earth shifted beneath them overnight. Perhaps because their personal Earth had.

She nods, turning to the couch to fluff it up. He wonders if she really cares that much about the state of his cushions or if she just wants something to do. "Just let me shower first."

"Good idea," he replies, feeling very much in need of a shower himself.

They both hover for a moment after that, neither of them saying much of anything before finally Tobias just turns and walks out of the living room, having nothing else to say and unable to bear any more silence.

His shower is brief and his clothing choice painless now that he's gotten the hang of the whole casual clothing scene. Jeans are a staple, he has decided. He never thought that Tris would beat him, but somehow she's managed to not only shower and dress faster than him, but she's also frying the last of the bacon and eggs. Again he feels bad that she is always doing the cooking and cleaning. He feels like a slave driver in some 1950's marriage. He fights to keep himself from making yet another comment, however.

She keeps her focus on the stove whilst he goes into the kitchen and makes them both a cup of coffee. "Do you have a lot of work to do today?" she asks him as she prepares their plates. Her voice is too polite, more formal than he has ever heard it before. Her words are clipped, her tone professional.

Tobias doesn't stifle his disgruntled groan. The last thing he wants to think about is work, again. Just the mention of it makes his insides shift uncomfortably. Suddenly that bacon looks less appealing. "How about you and I just hang out for a bit?"

Again she says nothing. Her whole attitude is off; all of her vibes are wrong as she attempts to exude cheer, but instead only coldness emanates from her. "Tobias," she sighs, as they both take their seats at the island. She poises her fork to take a bite but he doesn't feel much like eating right now. With every passing moment his stomach feels more upset, only he doesn't think it's work-related this time.

"Yeah?" he asks, trying his best to sound nonchalant. His attempt at normalcy is even worse than hers.

This is it, he thinks. It's finally all been royally screwed up by what happened last night. Although, what happened last night was technically nothing. Cuddling, that's all it was. Cuddling is innocent. People cuddle with puppies and babies. Nothing is more innocent than puppies and babies. Somehow he feels that defence will not be good enough against whatever may happen to come out of Tris's mouth next.

She clears her throat and puts down her fork. He can feel the gravity of the conversation just from that small gesture. The weight presses in on him, reminding him of the feeling of claustrophobia he so hates. "We should talk."

His heart plummets. "Look, if this is about last night, I don't know what happened any more than you do and-"

Her hand is enough to silence him. He remembers the moment when she was rambling and he pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. That was an intimate moment.

This is not intimate, however. He has never felt as clinical with Tris as he does right now.

The tone of her voice expresses heavy defeat. No other emotions surface as she says, "I like you, Tobias." Immediately he knows what she means. More importantly, he also knows what she does not. She is not confessing attraction, but admitting to a tolerance. A but is heavily implied for wherever this is going next. "This can only last so much longer, though."

There it is. He doesn't know what he might have been expecting before this moment. For her to stay here forever? Yes, he realises. A part of him had actually believed that this thing between them would turn into forever. Whether as friends or so much more. He hardly expected for her to opt to go back onto the streets rather than stay with him.

"The weather is getting warmer and I'm almost completely better. Today is my last day on antibiotics." Her argument must sound weak even to her ears. "This can't continue forever."

At first, he's confused. Even though he predicted what she was going to say, he still didn't think it would happen. When the realisation does hit him, that she's saying that she is leaving him, it hits him hard. A part of him knew this day would come, even though he'd ignored it. But he's not prepared for the moment to be now. "You're…leaving?" The idea is absurd. Two weeks. They had made this work just fine for two full weeks. And now all of a sudden it was going to come to an end? Why not two more weeks? Why not until all of the snow had actually melted? Was she really so desperate to get away from him?

"It's not…practical for me to continue to stay here."

When had practicality ever mattered to them? "I don't care about practical, Tris." He argues earnestly because he doesn't know what else he can do. "Am I so despicable you'd rather be on the streets than on my sofa?"

It surprises him that he's said those words aloud. The question is very real though, and very painful. Mainly because he feels like her choice screams the answer, with words unnecessary.

"This isn't about you," she disputes with a vigorous shake of her head. "You've been nothing but kind and caring and thoughtful and-"

"Then why are you so desperate to leave?!" he can't control his temper as his voice rises. He isn't prepared for her to leave him. Not this morning at least. Not after waking up like they had this morning. "No offence, Tris, but I don't think you have a whole lot going for you out there. Let me help you. I can get you a job even."

She waves away his offer. "That won't work."

"Why, because you don't want a job? Would that be too much work for you or something? Is it easier to live off of the sympathies of others and the horniness of the scumbags who pay for your body?" It's a terrible accusation. Not only is he essentially calling her lazy but he is taking something about her that surely she did not want known and throwing it back in her face. Hard. He's an asshole for doing it but all he can think right now is, why help someone who won't help themselves?

The hurt is instant; she knows exactly what he is saying. She swallows it down and continues on. "I'm doing the only thing that makes any logical sense here."

"Where the hell is the logic?" He holds his arms out as if searching for it, looking around as though it will jump out at him and announce itself. "All I see is someone who has too much damn pride to accept some help and who would rather get herself killed on the streets."

Again his words hit her and she just sits there for a minute, opening and closing her mouth. "I am not doing this because of pride, Tobias." She spits his name like venom. "There are factors I'm taking into consideration that you couldn't even begin to understand."

He can't help but wonder if that was her own dig to insinuate a lack of intelligence on his part. He chooses to ignore it. How much smarter can a girl who sleeps on the sidewalk really be? "Then why don't you tell me?"

Perhaps if he had softened his voice and been gentler with her she would have relented. Maybe if he'd been more of a friendly confidant instead of a red-faced, bumbling boy she would have just given in. But instead he has become too angry, his voice too resentful. "Why don't you just fuck off?" she retaliates, her hard shell encasing her yet again as she stands up from the island and scrapes her unfinished breakfast into the garbage disposal.

If she had her own room, Tobias is certain she would have stormed off and slammed the door.

"So is this it?" he asks, all his anger suddenly gone and replaced by an aching sadness. He sits, defeated, a plate full of food in front of him while she stands and fumes. The 180 that has occurred since this morning has left him feeling whiplashed. When he woke up this morning he was the happiest he had probably ever been. Everything about that moment seemed so right, and now nothing has ever been more wrong. And he can't figure out why. That's the worst part.

Tris stays facing the sink and he when he glances up to watch her again he sees her fingers tighten over the rim of the sink for a brief moment before letting go. Her shoulders slump and he hopes beyond hope that she'll just break down and let him in. "I don't understand," he whispers, desperate for her to see how confused he is. Had he done something? If so, how could he fix it?

"I'm sorry, okay?" he asks, getting up from the island and walking to where she stands. "I'm sorry about…everything I just said and then some. Just…please don't do this."

WHY plays over and over in his mind. He doesn't understand why she would do this. "What about the project? You and Christina need to finish it."

Tris shakes her head and when he takes another step towards her she takes one more back. He stops approaching her, reminded of the caged animal look she had in her eyes earlier this morning. "No, remember? I'm on the receiving end of that project."

Just a hug, surely he can convince her if she would just let him hug her. "It's time for me to go." Her voice is cold and he wonders if it's because of his earlier words or if she would have been this way regardless.

"I don't want you to," he says hoarsely, hating the way moisture grows in his eyes. The concern for her is paralyzing. But the idea that the only real friend he has in this world, the only person who knows anything about him, doesn't even want him enough to stick around for free food and a warm place to live is crushing him. Obviously, he isn't even worth the few things he can offer her.

Her weakness pushes its way through to the surface finally as she turns and reaches a hand out to his face and strokes it gently. "I know."

He has just enough time to press against her hand and savour her touch for half a second before she pulls it away and turns to walk down the hall, shutting herself in the bathroom.

This feels surreal. All he wants is a chance to do it over: to wake back up on that couch and slide out from under Tris before she can wake up. Maybe that would prevent whatever had just happened. He desperately wishes he could go back five minutes and not say those terrible things to her, calling her lazy and accusing her of prostituting herself. But he thinks of those freezing nights and her infected lungs and of course he can see why she would have chosen to do what she had to do to survive.

Why must he be such an atrocious human being? He isn't kind at all. He is selfish and cruel.

This would be a little easier if he understood it at all. But just last night everything was fine. There was no talk of leaving and no fear in her eyes as she sat next to him. He needs to figure out what has changed so he can somehow make it right again.

Her abrupt change of heart has left him reeling. What will he do now? What will happen to her?

He knows what comes next, of course. They've done this before. Right now she is packing a trash bag with some of the things she has obtained and then she will walk out of his front door and he'll be forced to watch the whole thing, helpless to stop it.

Despite everything he knows about her, he somehow hadn't expected it to happen again. The pain of it is too overwhelming.

He's experienced a lot of pain in his life. Beating after beating, along with hateful words that assaulted his ears and embedded in his brain. None of it compares to this pain, however. He just knows when she walks out his door this time around she'll be taking vital pieces of him with her. Ones he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to live without.