Tris

Matthew looked different from the last time I'd seen him. Like his voice, the last sixteen years had weathered his face. There were creases in his brow and around the sides of his mouth and in the corners of his eyes eyes, and he'd allowed his facial hair to grow a little, so that a short beard covered his jaw. His eyes still held the life that I remembered from him, but I noticed that the cord that he'd always worn around his neck when I'd first met him at the Bureau was gone.

"Beatrice Prior," Matthew said, smiling as he rested back against the chair. I noticed that he didn't look particularly surprised to see me. "I heard you were back."

Before I could answer, Christina cut in. "Bullshit. You knew she was back, you bastard. You organised it."

Matthew didn't answer, instead turning his eyes from Christina to me. I stared at him for a few moments before I said, quietly, "Is it true? Did you organise for my death to be faked?"

Matthew's expression softened into something I couldn't quite read and he nodded once.

"Why?" I asked. Christina gave me a look, clearly wondering how I was so calm, but I ignored her. I needed the answers to my questions, and I had the feeling that I wouldn't get them through shoving Matthew against the wall and threatening him.

"I knew what would happen," Matthew said. "I knew what David would do and I knew that no matter what you said, what we'd planned, in the end, you wouldn't let Caleb die. You'd go in his place, because you at least had a chance of surviving. Although he'd never admit it, your boyfriend knew that too. I – "

"We don't care how you did it. They got most of that from Cara," Christina interrupted. "She asked why."

"I'm getting to why!" Matthew snapped. "Let me talk, will you?"

"Why?" I repeated, sitting on the table. "Why fake my death? Why not just let David kill me?"

Matthew looked calm again, although how easily he'd transitioned from calm to angry and back again made me uneasy. "Because the one thing I didn't know was whether or not Clara would live or not if you died in there. And I didn't want anyone to die, if I could help it. Especially not an unborn child."

Christina leaned against the table beside me, crossing her arms over her chest. "But why did you have to take her memories?"

"Why did you send me away?" I added.

"Because you killed David – " Matthew started.

"I didn't kill anyone!" I snapped, ignoring the memory of Will's body falling to the ground. I didn't kill anyone at the Bureau.

"That's not the way his superiors saw it," Matthew replied calmly. "David as they knew him was dead. You killed him. You needed to disappear, or you would have to be imprisoned for murdering him in 'cold blood'." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he said 'cold blood' and I exchanged a glance with Christina.

"So you made me disappear," I said. "Did it occur to you that maybe I could handle it myself? That I'm – "

"Would you have wanted to risk it?" Matthew interrupted. "They could have found a way to take Clara from you, Tris. Is that what you want?"

"I'd never even met Clara until two months ago!" I shouted, rage suddenly rearing its ugly head and filling every part of me. "Because of you, I barely know my own daughter!"

"Because of me?" Matthew asked, his eyes flashing. "What would you rather, Tris? Would you rather be dead for real? Would you rather Clara not know you at all?"

"No," I muttered. "No, of course not, but . . . Why wait sixteen years?"

Matthew shrugged. "I figured it would take sixteen years for them to give up and leave you alone."

The unsaid word hung in the air between the three of us, and it was Christina who broke the silence with a sharp, "but?"

Matthew ran a hand through his hair and when it dropped into his lap, I could see that his black hair was standing up at odd angles as he admitted, "But I screwed up."

I threw him an incredulous look. "How did you screw up, exactly?"

"I slacked off with the serums," Matthew explained. "Marcus got caught with them, so they started to keep an eye on him and they saw him when he found you again and injected you with the serum that counteracts the memory serum."

"So they knew where I am." I said. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "That I'm alive."

Matthew nodded solemnly. "That driver that was on the wrong side of the road, the day of the crash . . ."

I stared at him. "That was one of their people?"

Matthew nodded and I suddenly felt tears in my eyes. Clara. Clara, my own flesh and blood, my own daughter, was lying in a coma, because I erased David's memories. I felt sick.

I placed my hands on either sides of my thighs, bowing my head and taking deep breaths to steady my breathing and to keep the tears at bay. "You asked me if I would rather die."

Matthew made a small noise of comprehension. "Yeah?"

"Maybe I should have," I said, looking at him. "If it saved Clara from a coma."

Matthew looked away. "I know it's not much, but they won't be coming after you now."

Christina, anger and disgust painted across her expression, narrowed her eyes at him. "How are you so sure?"

"Everyone has a price," Matthew replied. "The guy who ran you off the road's going to tell them you're dead."

"You bought him off?!" I cried. "How do you know he hasn't gone and told them where I am?"

"They would have come before Tobias woke up," Matthew replied. "And besides, I saved him from a massive lawsuit, getting him out of Chicago when I did. I may have also mentioned that I have lots of friends who know how to shoot guns and throw knives."

I started to say something, but then my phone rang. I answered and pressed it to my ear, looking away from Matthew. "Hello?"

"Tris," Tobias said. "How fast can you get here?"

"Why?"

"You said to call you if there was any change with Clara," he paused, "well, there's been a change."

"What's happening? Is she alright?" I asked, my conversation with Matthew making my emotions run high.

"She's mumbling in her sleep," Tobias replied. "The doctors think she's going to wake up soon. How fast can you get here?"

"Five minutes," I replied.

"Five minutes? Are you back?"

"Yeah, I had something to sort out before I went there. We'll be there soon," I told him, and then hung up. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I turned to Matthew. "You are coming with us."

Matthew stood. "Why? Where are we going?"

"The hospital," I replied, jumping off the table. "You're going to tell what you just told me to Clara's father."