TRIS POV
The fear simulations pass slowly, with Tobias calling the oblivious initiates in one at a time. After ten minutes or so, they each exit with petrified expressions and unstable legs, trying to grasp the fact that what they just witnessed was not, in fact, reality.
I sit next to Christina and Dez in the sterile hallway outside the door where we will meet our greatest fears head-on. We pass the time by quietly chattering about anything that could possibly be of interest to take our minds off of the impending doom that awaits us.
"I am not excited for this," Dez admits eventually. At least she has had time to mentally prepare for the simulations, whereas the other new initiates—and the group I was in last year—weren't given the luxury.
"This isn't even the worst part," Christina remarks. "Just wait until you get the nightmares."
Fortunately enough, I haven't had nightmares for the past few days. Tobias helped to fight them off the first night, and then I went to bed without negativity after zip lining the next night. After that, I was finally awarded an actual bed in the dormitory since I successfully passed the first stage of training while others didn't—well, I'll be honest, it doesn't quite fit the requirements of a bed, seeing as this is Dauntless.
But now, with three days of total rest, I am worried that I won't be as equipped to counter my nightmares as I usually am; I hardly can in the first place, but controlling my screaming is better than letting it loose.
Just then, a nauseous Bryce leaves the room, passing us in a hurry. Christina follows him with her eyes pityingly, and Tobias steps out to call, "Dez."
Dez casts a desperate glance at us from over her shoulder and disappears into the back room with Tobias.
"If I didn't have to do my own sim, I would go comfort him or something. That would be a good way to start conversation with him," says Christina, referring to her crush, Bryce.
"Well, you should talk to him anyways," I suggest. "If you really like him, don't wait for an opportunity. Use that Candor instinct and go up and tell him you like him."
She mocks me. "Ha-ha. Making fun of my former faction again, are we?"
"I'm serious!" I exclaim quietly, so the others in the room won't hear us over their own conversations. "You've just been talking about him for over a week. I'm just saying you should go for it."
Christina hums in acknowledgement, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. After a moment, she asks, "Any boy drama going on with you?"
Remembering what happened a couple days ago, I scoff. "Unfortunately."
"What? You don't like him or something?" She stops. "Wait, who are we talking about?"
I lean over and whisper, "Justin seemed like he was flirting with me the other night."
Being the Candor she is, her eyes flit over to Justin, who sits a few feet across from us with Uriah.
"Don't make it obvious!" I hiss. Then I give both of the boys a friendly smile when we catch their eyes.
"Okay, I don't understand. Is there something wrong with him liking you though?"
"Yes, there's something wrong with it. He's my friend, and I don't like him that way."
She picks at her cuticles, acting nonchalant. "Come on, Tris. He's good-looking. He's funny. He's excelling at initiation—"
"And I still don't like him."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize why I couldn't ever fall for a guy like Justin, or any other guy. I suppress the thought immediately, because it fills me with the uneasy feeling that I have been wrong all along. And maybe I have been, but I am too stubborn to admit it. I would like to think that I could score a relationship with someone else—someone besides him—despite my low self-esteem, so I'll let myself believe it for a little while longer.
Time flies as the simulations bleed together. Eventually I am one of few initiates left, and Tobias escorts Uriah out before calling for me.
"Come on, Tris."
Standing on my tightened legs that desperately need to be stretched out from sitting for so long, I walk over to the simulation room. Tobias holds the door open for me as I enter and then closes it behind us.
The room is the same as I remember: the lights brighter than any other place in the compound, the reclined chair in the center of the room, a table with a computer next to it. This is the place where I experience hell for three minutes at a time and proceed to move on like nothing happened.
"Did you do what I asked?" he says vaguely when I sit.
I stare at his strong back as he shuffles around, preparing the serum. "Yes," I reply. It is obvious that he is referring to his order to find a white shirt, and Christina was happy to let me take hers this morning, not without a string of unanswered questions, of course. "This plan is really stupid, by the way."
The strategy to break into Candor that he proposed last night is asinine. In fact, it is to the point of suicidal. We just have to hope that we get lucky tonight.
"Any other ideas?" He turns around and flicks the syringe full of the orange liquid that will torment my brain. "The longer we wait, the more people die. We don't exactly have much time to come up with anything else."
"No. But if we get caught—"
Not even entertaining the idea, he interrupts me. "We won't get caught," he corrects. "But if we did, then I would make sure that you got out at least. So don't worry about it."
His certainty is enough to reassure me for now; it alleviates the churning in my abdomen. Tobias brushes a stray lock of hair away from my neck, and I tilt my head to allow him access, goosebumps rising on my arms when his breath washes over my skin.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Let's get this over with," I say.
He presses the thick needle into my neck, and I wince. The ache is quick and sharp as he injects the serum into me and removes the needle.
My surroundings start blurring. I blink several times in an attempt to resist it and stay awake.
"I would tell you to be brave," says Tobias, "but I don't think that's necessary. Just try not to outsmart the sim, okay?"
I try to remember that, since it really is still unwise to show signs of being Divergent. Then I succumb to the simulation, preparing to be swarmed by the crows.
TOBIAS POV
Tris meets me at the train tracks at midnight, just as I instructed. This back alley is unlit, so what she is wearing should be negligible, but that doesn't stop me from gawking at her when I see her clothed in a white, buttoned shirt.
I suppose it is because I have only ever seen her in black, and briefly in gray and bright Amity colors. Don't get me wrong, I like the way she looks in any outfit. But the way the sleeves are rolled up on her arms and how the front is casually and partially tucked into the front of her tight pants does something to me. It is a different side of her, a crisp side, that I am not accustomed to.
And I don't know where the thought comes from—maybe the Divergent part of me—but I entertain the idea of seeing her in other colors besides black, in a world without factions. I can't explain why it is exciting.
"What?" she asks, glancing down at herself. "It doesn't look ridiculous, does it?"
I clear my throat. "No, not at all."
She shrugs the exchange off. "Can we run through the plan again?"
"Yeah," I say. "Let's just get on the train first."
When the words leave my mouth, the train hurtles around the corner in the distance, traveling toward us at a swift pace. We run alongside it once it reaches us, and I haul myself in skillfully before helping her inside.
"Thanks," she breathes, and I yearn to keep my hand in hers, though I decide that now is not the time.
Instead I reiterate the plan. "So we're both going to walk in one of the back doors, to be less obvious. I know exactly where we're going, and we will take the stairs to get there. Hopefully we won't run into any trouble, but if we do, then you'll pretend to be a Candor representative showing me, a Dauntless representative, around," I explain.
"They'll recognize our faces if they see us on the cameras," she points out.
"I'll be wearing a mask unless we run into someone. And you..." I reach out for her and cautiously remove the band from her ponytail, making sure her hair doesn't get caught. "You'll just keep your face down and hidden behind your hair, and you should be fine."
"Okay," she relents. "Then what?"
I turn my head to watch the city pass out the window. "The records room won't be unguarded, so I'll disable him and take his keys. They are there in case Jack Kang or any other leaders need to get into the room after hours for any reason. It won't trigger an alarm system right away because the type of system that is armed will not sound for five minutes, since that is a decent amount of time for it to be reported that a leader entered the room, so it can be disabled."
Tris presses a hand to her forehead. "Stop for a second. How do you know all this?" she questions skeptically.
I sigh at being interrupted again. "We get this information in the control room because we're in charge of security as Dauntless," I clarify.
She narrows her eyes. "I can't imagine that information that in-depth would be left in the hands of some reckless Dauntless that happen to work in the control room."
Sometimes her perceptiveness can be too much. "Okay, fine, I may have tapped into their system."
"Is that going to get traced back to you?"
"No," I grunt. "It's not. And besides, I also found out the password to the computer in that office by hacking into their control room feed. So as soon as I enter the passcode, I can plug in the hard drive and download all the files so that my computer will mirror theirs. Then we will clear out of there as fast as we can before the alarm goes off. If we get lucky, we won't encounter any guards on the way out."
"And if we do?"
I reach back and pull my gun out from the waistband of my pants, displaying it to her. She is still not completely comfortable with guns since Will, even though I got her to shoot during training, and I see her flinch almost unnoticeably. I return the pistol back to its place, the cool metal pressing against my lower back.
"Just in case," I assure her.
We stand in silence for the remaining minutes it takes to arrive at the Merciless Mart. The impending danger is too overbearing for us to discuss rather trivial topics at the moment.
"We're here," I eventually declare as the massive building slides into view. "Ready?"
She watches me put on a black mask that only has a long hole for my eyes, biting her lip. "Yes," she confirms, energy evident in her silver eyes.
We jump off onto the platform together, sticking the landing. Then we climb down the supports without effort. I make sure to go first so that I can assist her in stepping down afterwards, since she is shorter and likely to be more impacted if she were to fall from the height than I would be.
Once on solid ground, I lead her around to the back side of the main section of the Candor compound. There are no lights outside of the building, so we walk in the shadows without the worry of being spotted by anyone who might happen to be out at this time of night.
The back entrance is where I expected it to be, ingrained in my mind thanks to the map I took the time to memorize. There is a short, tiled hallway that looks as clean as the rest of the building, and it is lined by doors that likely hide janitors' closets. But at the end of the hallway there is an opening that leads to the main lobby, and just before it lies the doorway of the staircase.
Tris and I keep our footsteps light until we make it to the stairs. Then we begin climbing, flight after flight until we no longer care about the noise level. It doesn't matter anyway because we don't run into anyone. I lose track of how many stairs we step up, but by the end, when we arrive at the 35th floor, we are both panting.
"Please don't tell me we have to go back down on our way out," she whispers, her breathing labored.
"I was planning on taking the elevator," I huff back. This mask is extremely stuffy. "We honestly should have, but this way was more careful."
Once we catch our breath, I push the door open.
The wall on our right is made of glass, and it stretches far down the hallway before hitting a corner and continuing to the right. At that corner leans a Candor guard dressed in black and white, with a gun tucked into the holster at his side.
With as much stealth as possible, I inch forward one step at a time, trying to keep my steps silent on the tiled floor. It seems that every move I make is thunderous, but the guard stays in his exact spot. His lack of vigilance probably has something to do with the way his head bobs when I get close to him.
When I am only a few feet away, I abandon all attempts at being noiseless.
"Hey," I say to get his attention. The guard stands straight and turns to look at me from around the glass corner, his eyes widening when he briefly catches the sight of a gun coming down at him. I slam the butt of the gun into his temple and watch him crumple to the ground, unconscious.
Turning to make sure that Tris stands behind me, I bend down and rifle through the guard's pockets for his keys. Then I try each one in the door until I find the exact one that fits.
"We have to hurry," I remind Tris before I turn the door handle. "We only have five minutes."
She nods, her expression determined. And we step into the records room of Candor, where everything between birth certificates and indictments are stored in both paper and electronic form. There are books and binders filling every shelf, but we did not come for those, so I pay them no mind.
Sliding down onto my knees into the space behind the desk, I quickly type in the numbered code that I watched Jack Kang type in only a few days ago. The computer opens up for me, and I immediately stick the hard drive into the side and let it collect all the data.
"So we will seriously have all the files?" Tris whispers, amazement in her voice.
"Yes. Not only that, but with the program I put on it, we will have access to the files that are updated, and even have access to edit them, although we likely won't need that," I explain.
We watch the download process, as hundreds of thousands of records are stored on the chip, indicated by the bar that slides slowly but surely across the screen. I check the time again and notice that it has been four minutes since we entered the room.
"How much longer?" Tris anxiously rushes out, peeking over the desk to see if anyone is in the hallway.
"Not much," I say. At least, I hope so. "I didn't expect it to take this long."
Fortunately for us, it finishes up within the next minute. I extract the hard drive with an accomplished, "Done," just as the alarm goes off.
"Shit, go, go, go," I urge, dragging her behind me as we spring up from the floor and rush toward the stairs again. I fly down a couple flights with Tris right behind me, my heart pounding in my ears. I am surprised she can keep up at this rate.
"We won't make it if we try to go down the stairs the whole way!" she reminds me.
Taking that into account, I stop at the next landing and sprint for the elevator bank. We both frantically tap the down buttons on each wall, praying that an elevator will make it here fast enough.
But none of them do.
So we stand on the Candor symbol built into the floor, the scales, where we are spotted and about to be cornered by several guards on their way up to stop us from robbing them of information.
"Time for Plan B," I state, reaching for my gun.
Tris panics, "What's Plan B?!" I never explained it to her because I had hoped it wouldn't come down to this, but I suppose there is no choice now.
I restrain her in a headlock, securing her against my chest and pressing my gun to the side of her head. Shocked by my sudden actions, she gasps and clutches onto my bicep with one hand and my forearm with the other.
In this position, she is an innocent, nondescript Candor woman, whose hair disguises her face. And I am the culprit who is using her as a hostage so that I can escape.
"Hey!" I shout when the guards approach with their weapons aimed and ready. "Come any closer and I'll shoot!"
Obviously finding the choice of antagonizing me fatal for the girl in my arms, they stay back, rocking on their feet. They strain to do something, but their only option is to stand down unless they want a death tonight—though they don't know that I would never pull the trigger.
The elevator to my left dings before the doors slide open. I keep the pistol aimed at Tris's temple as she whimpers to keep up the act. We back up into the elevator, and I press the button that will take us to the third floor, effectively shutting the doors and then putting floors between us and them.
Tris extracts herself from my arm. "You're insane," she mutters, a smile creeping up on her face. It goes without saying that she is impressed by my quick thinking.
I pant as we watch the numbers above the elevator drop one at a time. "I didn't scare you, did I?" I check. She seems unscathed and unaffected, but it doesn't hurt to be sure.
"I'm fine," she says firmly. She wipes away the sweat that has gathered on her forehead. "I trust you."
Without any time to soak the words in, the doors open, signaling our arrival. The third floor is empty, but we keep quiet as we jog over to the stairwell.
"I think we lost them. They have no idea what floor we're on, and although they're probably watching the bottom floor, I don't think they'll bother to check the stairs," I breathe out.
Once we hit the first floor, I check my watch. There should be a train here any minute; in fact, it could be here right this second. I tell Tris this, and we both sprint down the janitor hall and outside with everything we have left in us.
"There!" Tris cries, locating the train in the gloomy night and aiming at it with her finger.
"Hurry, take the stairs at the next platform!" I clasp my hand onto hers and run, not bothering to make sure that she can keep up with me.
She stumbles a few times because of my speed but doesn't mention it. Before we make it to the stairs, several bullets whip past us. I hold my breath, and thankfully, all of them miss and hit the concrete.
The train is now right above us. We fly up the steps at an alarming pace and chase the train down the tracks, now that we are trailing behind. For a moment I don't believe that we will make it, but another bullet ricochets off of the metal tracks and gives us the boost we need. I board the train, the action now a feat because I am breathless from exertion. I can't rest yet though because Tris is still running.
She has fallen behind even more, and her arms pump harder while her legs struggle to catch up. An exasperated groan escapes her, like she is fatigued. I don't think she will make it.
"Tris!" I yell over the cry of the wind. I hold out my hand to her, though it is still a far distance from her. "Come on!" I encourage her, because it is the only thing I can think of to say with my brain low on oxygen.
"I—" She strains and presses a hand to her chest. "I can't," she says, but I read the words on her lips rather than hear them.
If she doesn't make it on, then I will be forced to jump off and join her, and we will be caught as soon as the guards have that chance to gain on us. So I try a different approach, morphing into the instructor that might get through to her.
"This is pathetic," I spit. Her eyes meet mine, furious at my method of pushing her. "Get on the damn train, Stiff! Have you really come this far to not be able to jump on a train?"
Her whole body heaves and works double-time until her fingertips graze mine. With one more lurch, I am able to grasp her wrist and pull as hard as I can, sending us flying back into the train with her on top of me.
For what seems like a long while, we lie collapsed on the floor of the train car, supplying our needy lungs with oxygen. Out of nowhere, Tris starts shaking, and I prop myself up on my elbows frantically, expecting to see her having a seizure or something.
She rolls onto her back, the lower half of her body still slung over mine, and laughs out loud.
After a moment of gawking, I join her. This is what I meant by needing the fast-paced action in life; this is the adrenaline I don't get anymore. War may have been many things, but it gave me the motion that I constantly desire today. I like the unpredictability. I like the threat of peril. I am a young adult, and if I don't experience that energy, then I will feel half dead.
And right now, I am alive.
"That was fun," I say as we walk down a sloped path near the Pire. I decided that it would be much safer to take the route through a labyrinth of hallways as opposed to sauntering straight through the Pit for all of Dauntless to see. Besides, I still have Hunter hanging over my head.
"Sure," Tris agrees half-heartedly. "Let's just not do it again, okay?" We have finally worked our way up to friendly again, and our banter and gestures come easier now.
My cheeks have been hurting from laughing and smiling so much ever since we boarded the train on the way back, but it doesn't stop me from grinning again. I lead her down another passage with my arm draped over her shoulder, and I eye the Abnegation tattoo below my palm—she had ditched the white shirt on our way here by tossing it into the wind, claiming that Christina didn't care what she did with it. Now she is back in a black Dauntless tank top.
"So what now?" she asks.
"Nothing, yet. I'm going to search the names in the database tomorrow and check the death certificates and see if these people have any connections to each other—"
"Wait, stop," she hisses, pressing a hand to my abdomen. I let go of her when I hear voices approaching. They will turn the corner up ahead very soon, and the other exit from this hall is a ways back.
"Oh, shit," I panic, glancing around frantically for a way out of this situation. But my brain has been overworked tonight with plans and improvisations. "We can't be seen like this, us together, let alone at this time of night and while Candor is searching for us—"
Tris yanks me toward her, where she is pressed against the stone wall. "Catch me," she demands.
"What?"
Without another warning, she jumps, and I react quickly by catching her by her thighs. Before I can ask her what the hell she is thinking, she kisses me.
Any kind of escape flies right out of my mind as her lips move against mine. Every part of me is consumed and yearning for the one word that I can think of right this second: Tris.
The kiss is heated, and even when we were together, I don't remember it being this passionate. Her mouth claims mine and her hands keep my face completely in her control and oh I haven't had this in about a year and I am desperate. Keeping her here is my main priority—I have been dreaming about this, with her, for too long—so I try to do my job right by reciprocating the intensity.
The voices grow closer, but they are a jumbled mess to me with my heart throbbing in my ears. By the tone alone, though, I can tell that one of the men is Hunter.
And then, the world around me is a haze of nonsense again once her tongue brushes mine. A soft moan rises from my throat, and I am sort of embarrassed but keep my mouth locked on Tris's.
"Get a room," Hunter sneers as they pass. He doesn't give us a second glance because we are nobodies; we are an unimportant Dauntless couple, making out in a usually abandoned hallway. Plus, it's not like he can see our faces in the dim light when they're this close together, anyway.
We don't stop. Tris slides her hand into my hair while I readjust my grip on her legs. This is natural between us, and we let ourselves take all of our pent-up frustration and secret longing out on each other. It is the excuse we needed to finally act.
Soon enough, the two men are probably out of sight, so I slow it down. Moving my lips down to her neck, I savor the sigh that she can't help.
"Tobias," she whispers, as a finality. I miss the sound of her saying my name; nobody else calls me that anymore.
I bring my face back up and lean my forehead against hers. We share the same charged air until I cautiously drop her back onto her feet.
I watch as she smooths down her clothes, and the only thing that comes to mind to say is, "You're brilliant, you know that?"
It is such a lame thing to say after what we just did, but she just smiles and shrugs and starts continuing down the hall, her golden hair swishing back and forth across her back. When she notices that I'm not following her, she turns back. "What are you gawking at? It was just a kiss, don't be a baby," she teases.
She can try to brush this off like it was nothing to her, but I know she is unsteady like I am.
"I-I need a minute," I breathe, pressing a hand to the wall for some extra support.
"What's your problem? You can't walk?"
It is meant to be a joke, but I really am in a predicament, a humiliating one at that. I give her a hinting look, and she finally catches on and blushes.
"Oh," she says sheepishly. "Um, sorry."
"It's fine," I assure her awkwardly. It is strange that we still can't talk openly about things like this, when we have been together intimately, and when we have also been through much more uncomfortable circumstances, though those are not the same. I suppose Abnegation modesty will always be a part of us.
Still, I don't want that with her. I want to be open and honest without feeling ashamed; it is what I have wanted with her all along.
If we can find our way back to each other, then maybe we can learn from our mistakes. Or maybe I'm just being too optimistic.
"Come on," I say. "I'll walk you back to the dormitory."
