The next hour is like a game of hot pursuit. I've made up my mind to approach Dante and finally talk to him, but I can't seem to get him at the right time. As the dinner hour approaches, more and more people filter into the Pit and the last thing I want to do is risk a public scene when I finally do this. I trail far enough behind him that he won't notice me, and the crowd is thick enough that each time he turns or starts to look around I can easily slip behind a group of people to avoid being seen by him. Eventually he leaves the Pit and begins the ascent up one of the narrow walkways carved into the stone walls. This is when it gets harder to follow him, because there are fewer people on this walkway and I must drop farther back in order to maintain my stealth.
He walks for what seems like forever. Twice I think I've lost him, only to discover that he had crossed a landing to take a different walkway. I eventually reach a landing that leads to a housing block that looks vaguely familiar, although I can't recall exactly when I was here before. Maybe it just looks like somewhere else that I've been in the compound. It is at this landing that Dante has halted his ascent. The entire block is a flurry of activity: a good number of the doors stand open as people move constantly in and out, carrying everything from transport containers to floor lamps to gun cases. Dante walks toward one of the open doors and disappears inside. He reemerges a moment later with his brother Dameon behind him. I dodge behind the corner of the walkway, afraid for a moment that they have seen me. After enough time has elapsed that they could have reached my hiding place and they have not appeared, I poke my head slowly around the corner. They both stand not ten feet away with their backs to me, facing the door from which they just emerged. Dameon is speaking.
"Right beside each other. Are you sure you still want this one?" He is asking Dante.
Dante waits a moment before replying, "Yeah, I'm sure. I don't really have time to look for another one."
It occurs to me what is happening: these are the apartments that are being vacated for the use of the initiates- the ones who pass the final stage of training- after tomorrow night. Dameon is one of the people relocating, and it seems that Dante is taking up residence in his old place. He has chosen that specific flat for a reason, but I didn't catch enough of the conversation for me to learn why.
"Understandable. Well, it'll be all yours in two days," he pauses, turning to regard Dante with a look of admiration. "I can't believe my baby brother is about to become full-blown Dauntless." He shakes his head and gives Dante a light punch in the arm.
"Don't call me that," Dante replies, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm bigger than you, anyway."
Dameon laughs, "Yeah, I guess I'll need to watch myself from now on, won't I?"
"Maybe," the smile is still in his voice. "Listen, I'll let you get back to it. I just wanted to see if you needed any help."
"Nah, I'm good," Dameon says. "Besides, you shouldn't be doing strenuous work right now."
"Oh, I didn't tell you: I was cleared this morning. About 99% healed, so I can pretty much go back to my usual stuff."
My heart does a backflip. Dante is going to be okay!
"Wow, that is great news!" Dameon exclaims. "Congrats, Dante."
"Thanks, man," Dante says. "It feels pretty good, let me tell you. Anyway, I'm off. Catch you later tonight."
I duck back around the corner as Dameon starts to move away and Dante is turning back. I consider making a run for it, getting as far down the walkway as I can to keep Dante from seeing me. But why did I go through all the trouble of following him up here? I press my back against the wall and wait. A few seconds later, he enters my field of vision, heading back down the walkway. He nearly walks right past me.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual as he draws level with me. His head snaps around with a start and he halts abruptly, eyes growing intense as they find mine.
"Hey," he says quietly, sounding nowhere near as confident as I did. "What are you doing here?"
I shrug. "I followed you."
He frowns slightly. "Why?"
Here goes.
I move away from the wall, and take one step toward him.
"Because I want to talk to you," I say firmly.
"Okay," he replies slowly, still looking unsure.
"Can we go somewhere more private?"
"Sure. Where?"
"That's my question. You still know this compound a lot better than I do," I admit. I take another step toward him. I am less than three feet away from him now, the closest I've been to him since I ran out of the infirmary the night before Stage Two began. I can almost feel the heat of his skin. That old familiar energy is back; the charge between us that's almost electrical. But now it seems to have intensified thanks to the elephant in the room: the looming tension between us.
He hesitates, thinking. Then something strange happens to his face. For a second he closes his eyes, clenching his jaw as though fighting some fleeting, unseen pain. When he opens his eyes, he glances briefly back over his shoulder. I try to follow his gaze, but he stands between whatever he's looking for and me. A split second later, his eyes are back on mine.
I see so many things in his eyes. There is what I always saw before: their unusual color, the undeniable intensity of his gaze, the way they burn right into mine as though they were looking right into my heart and mind. But there is also something new there that was never there before. I can't quite define it, but it is something dark; something haunted. At first I expect it to vanish the moment he blinks like so many other emotions I have seen forming within his eyes, but this one remains. I tear my gaze from his before it engulfs me.
"Okay," he says at last. "Follow me."
I follow him, aching the entire time to walk beside him, to lace my fingers into his, to feel the familiar warmth of his palm pressed to mine. But he makes no move to take my hand, never positioning himself in a way that invites me to walk at his side. I begin to wonder if I've made a mistake, and fear, again, that I have damaged this thing beyond repair.
He leads me to the simulation room that the initiates have recently abandoned in favor of the fear landscape room. I am surprised to learn that the door is not locked, but when Dante pulls it open, I see why: all of the equipment has been removed save for the chair in which we sat as we underwent the simulations. While Dante is turning on the lights and closing the door behind us, I walk to the chair and stare at it. I run my fingertips over the headrest and remember all the times that I sat reclined in it, catching whiffs of Dante's scent on that headrest, feeling his fading body heat in the cushions. I close my eyes and my heart rate picks up. I feel nervous and unstable, aware that much of this has a lot to do with what happened the last time I was alone in a room with a guy. I turn back to Dante.
He is facing me, watching me, with his back against the door. That haunted, dark look is more prevalent now than it was before. I feel my pulse quicken, and an old familiar heat in my ears. I swallow hard, trying to push these reactions back down inside of me. I drop my gaze and take a seat on the edge of the chair. Neither of us speaks.
I am keenly aware of every sound in the room. I hear my own breathing and can hear the pressure of my pulse in my ears. I hear the scuff of fabric on plastic as I shift in my seat. I can also hear the whispers of Dante's breathing, wishing at the same time that it were closer to me so I could feel it and farther away so I couldn't hear it. I close my eyes, recalling with a twinge that travels from my chest to the pit of my stomach the dream that I had of him asleep beside me with his arms around me, so vivid that as I slowly woke I swore I could feel the pressure of each place where our bodies touched.
"I dreamed about you one night a while back," I say at last, at a loss for where else to start. "I dreamed that I could feel you close to me, like I could… I don't know. It was so real. I woke up and I thought you were there, in the room with me."
"Some dream," he replies quietly. He seems like he wants to say more, but doesn't.
"Look, I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't even know where I should start. I owe you a huge apology and an even bigger explanation. I've owed you these things since we started Stage Two. But I'm just scared that I'm going to mess everything up."
"Oh, I don't think it could get any more messed up," he says. I almost lash out at him, but I catch myself. His words bear no malice. They sounded… sad, longing. I nod.
"My fault," I say, raising a hand. I let it flop into my lap a second later. Dante doesn't argue. "I have my reasons for doing what I did," I continue, "and they probably aren't what you think."
"Care to elaborate?" He asks. I can feel his eyes burning into me, even though I haven't looked directly into them since I sat down.
I sigh heavily, and let the words spill out of me.
"I want to, I do. In fact, there's nothing I want more right now. But I can't. Not yet; not until I know everything is going to be okay. I wish I could say more than that, Dante, I really do. But there's just too much at stake right now, and if I say too much something horrible could happen. I really don't mean to be so cryptic, but I want you to know that I never betrayed what you told me and I never will. Please, I just need you to trust me…"
The sudden physical impact of his body against mine makes me gasp audibly. His arms are around my shoulders, but this isn't what I thought it would be like. I feel panic grip my heart and I throw my hands out to brace against him. An image of Jack flashes in my mind and I shove Dante away. He releases my shoulders and takes a step back. I scramble backwards into the seat of the chair.
"Oh God, Rain…" he starts, staring at me in horror. "I didn't even think. Oh God, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay," I say, even though it's not. I wanted to touch Dante, I really did. And he is not Jack. So why did I react like that?
"No, it's not okay," he shakes his head. "I should have known better. It's just… oh, you have no idea. Or maybe you do, I don't know. The last few weeks, I have had so many questions about why you did what you did. But just now, right then, I don't know. It didn't matter to me anymore, just because you said you have a reason. And that I can trust you."
I feel my jaw drop. "You don't doubt me? You don't think what I did was out of selfishness? Or weakness?" This is not what I expected.
He shakes his head again and very slowly moves to the side of the chair.
"Give me your hand, Rain."
I hesitate, looking up into the impossible depths of his eyes.
"You said I have to trust you. Now, how about returning the favor?" Dante opens his palm to receive my hand. I close my eyes and give him my hand. Gently he folds his fingers around mine and pulls it toward him. My fingertips eventually come into contact with the rough fabric of his shirt.
"Do you feel that?" He asks quietly. My eyes are still closed. I concentrate for a moment and then feel the rhythmic thumping.
"I feel your heartbeat," I tell him.
"Exactly," he says. "Now, think about why you can feel it at this moment."
"Because you put my hand on your chest?"
"There's more to it than that." His voice is low and very serious. I pause for a moment and concentrate on the thud, thud, thud in his chest. "Here, this will help."
He takes my hand away for a moment and a soft rustling sound, then he pulls my hand toward him again, gently pressing it to his chest again. My eyes fly open in surprise.
I am touching bare skin.
His hand holds mine gently but steadily. My fingertips glide against his skin until they touch a small depression where the skin is rougher: the scar from the bullet's entry wound.
I feel the crease form between my eyebrows, as I realize what he means. He sees this.
"Tell me." He says. I open my mouth but no words come out.
"Tell me," he repeats a moment later. "I want to hear you say it."
When it comes, my voice is a whisper. "You are alive because of me."
He nods. "Your blood is in my veins, Rain. How could I ever believe you would betray me or hurt me for some petty reason, when I know you made the choice that kept me alive? Part of you is in me, always. And for that, I will always trust you. But knowing what it's like to be without you, that is the worst thing I could imagine."
And that is when I know that it has all worked, and that everything will be okay. But I still can't tell him everything I want to say.
"You deserve so much better," I whisper. I don't know if he knows to what I am referring, but he squeezes my hand in response. That's when I realize that I'm crying again. Tears are streaming down my face unchecked as I weep silently for everything that has happened, everything that is happening, and for everything that is yet to come. As I swipe at them with my free hand, Dante takes a seat on the edge of the chair beside me. He releases my hand, but I keep it pressed to his chest. He brushes the stray hairs away from my forehead with one hand. His other hand he brings to his lips, pressing his fingertips against them. Those fingertips gently touch my forehead a moment later, and I see a tear slide from the corner of Dante's left eye.