TRIS POV
"Okay, why in the world are you smiling?"
Christina casually drops the question over breakfast, referring to how I have to constantly fight to keep my lips from turning upwards. It is severely uncharacteristic for me, but my elation stems from the events of last night, so none of my friends can know the reason.
"I am?" I ask, puzzled. "I didn't notice. I guess I'm just lost in thought."
Dez catches on to my fib. "Ooh, is it about a boy?" she teases. I am glad to see her in better, more lively spirits today as opposed to her closed-off behavior yesterday.
I shake my head and am about to vehemently deny her accusation when Christina smacks the table and blurts out, "Oh my God! The last time you were like this was when—"
Knowing exactly what she is going to say—that the last time I smiled this much was when I started secretly dating Tobias last initiation—I reach over the table and cup my hand over her mouth before she can get the words out. She rolls her eyes but lets it slide, for now.
"So it is about a boy," Dez states knowingly, curling her brunette hair around her finger.
"Oh, would you look at the time," I say, pushing myself up from the table and taking one last bite of my muffin. "Training starts in a few."
Crumpling up the muffin wrapper in my hand and tossing it in a nearby garbage, I walk toward the dining hall doors. I catch Tobias's eye on the way where he is sitting across from Zeke and give him a sly grin. He returns it by discreetly hiding his expression behind his cup. I like how at ease everything is between us now, like the tension dissipated and we fell right back into rhythm.
"Tris, wait up!" Dez calls as she chases after me in the hallway.
I stop until she falls into stride with me. "Where's Christina?"
"She said she'll meet us there. I wanted to talk to you about something..." She hesitates and anxiously tugs on the hem of her shirt. "Something private."
Oblivious to her reasoning but sensing the importance, I veer off into another hallway. "Is something wrong?" I inquire.
"Yeah, I..." She suddenly blurts out, "I'm Divergent—"
"Shhh!" I hiss at her with urgency, glancing around to make sure we are alone. "Don't ever say that out loud."
Dez looks petrified at my warning. "Sorry, I just figured that it wasn't so dangerous anymore. I mean, I remember hearing that you announced that you were one at Candor."
My idiocy is unmatchable at times, although everyone in the city would have known about my Divergence when I turned myself in to Erudite anyway. "That was unwise of me," I tell her honestly. "It is still dangerous. People are still wary of people like us because they don't fully understand what it means."
"I don't even know what it means," she mumbles.
"It—" I pause to think of an answer. I have been given so many different definitions and explanations of the word Divergent that I am not sure how to put it. "Specifically, it means that you can resist serums and simulations, or you can tell that they are fake in fear sims. In broader terms, it means you don't conform to society and to the factions. And in a world like ours, you don't want the wrong people to find out what you are unless, at the very least, you want to be considered treasonous."
I don't mention that Erudite is the heart of the problem. With Jeanine released, and with the past habits of Erudite being involved in the deaths of Divergents, I will never cease my wariness of that faction.
Shaking my head, I add, "You don't really need to know about it. What you do need to know is that you need to keep it hidden; don't tell anyone about it, and don't reveal it in the simulations." When I notice her stifled expression, I sigh. "Who else knows about this?"
"Four does."
Clearly, because who else would have told her that in the first place? I was just worried that she told someone who could potentially turn on her.
"That's fine. Just ask him how to hide your Divergence in the sims, and he will help you."
Dez nods before folding me in a hug. "Thank you, Tris," she says sincerely. "I was so scared when I found out. I didn't know who to go to, but I knew I could trust you."
After I squeeze her back, we start walking toward the simulation room. "Of course. And you know, that actually makes a lot of sense now," I comment with a friendly smile. "Dauntless and Amity."
That is Dez: an equal blend of kindness and optimism with fierceness and courage. It seems strange how two opposite factions could be blended into one girl.
We arrive at the waiting room where we greet our friends and ignore their suspicious questions about where we were and why we split up from them. All of us pass the time with cordial banter as initiates are called in to face their terrors one at a time. We talk about topics ranging from Dez's old pets to tales of Zeke's inane drunk behavior.
Out of nowhere, Uriah brings up, "Did you guys hear about the break-in at Candor?"
I stiffen, as if everyone knows that I was involved. I didn't exactly know this would be city-wide news.
"No, what happened?" Christina leans forward, interested in the subject because it involves her former faction.
"A guy and a girl broke in and stole literally everything off of a records computer."
Justin's jaw drops. "Everything?"
"Yeah, seriously. And get this, the guy was dressed in black, but the girl was in Candor clothes. So they have no idea what faction they're from if at all."
"It sounds like they would have to have been Dauntless to make that escape," Dez states. I stare down at my hands as I wind a stray thread from my shirt around my finger, determined to stay innocent and uninvolved in this conversation.
Justin disagrees. "I don't think some average Dauntless would know how to pull something like that off."
"Tris, you're smart. Who do you think it was?" Christina asks encouragingly.
I shrug and try to remain uninterested. "Probably just factionless causing trouble," I offer.
The conversation is steered away once I give my input. Silent with relief, I lean back against the wall behind me and hope that I can escape the company of my friends soon. I haven't had the opportunity to be alone with Tobias since the prior night, and I find myself jittery as I wait for him to beckon to me.
Eventually, it happens. He steps out and calls out my name with a neutral face, and I follow him inside the room, wondering when I became eager to head straight into my worst fears.
When he shuts the door behind us, I finally feel like I can relax. With all of the prying eyes of the other initiates, I feel like they somehow know about us by the slight bounce in my step or in the casualty in which we interact with each other.
Tobias steps over to the computer and preps the serum while I take a seat. "You should come over tonight," he suggests. I catch the sight of his tattoo peeking out from the top of his shirt and realize that it has been much too long since I have seen the full piece. "You know, to go over those files."
"Go over files, huh?" I tease. "Is that all we'll be doing?"
He casts me an easy grin over his taut shoulder. "Maybe, maybe not."
I imagine how straightforward tonight will be, since I don't have to play guessing games or avoid him anymore. The idea of having a relaxing night where I can kiss him all I want and fall asleep next to him has me suddenly motivated to get through this day.
He turns as I brush my hair away from my neck. The needle is in and out fast, not long enough for me to dwell on the sharp pain, and it is replaced by his lips right after. A desire to hold him right there burns through me, but he is gone before I can stop him.
"Good luck," he says, his eyes alight. And like we both can't help ourselves, we meet in the middle for an actual kiss this time. I suppose we are desperate for affection now after receiving none for nearly a year.
"I'll be back in three minutes," I promise, my eyes drooping. "Then we can continue."
He laughs briefly and retreats to the computer. "Try to beat that time."
TOBIAS POV
It is strange how monotonous and inherently unenjoyable life is when you are alone. I have been alone for almost my whole life, since my childhood was spent surrounded by parents who don't deserve that title, so I normally tell myself that I don't need anybody, but that is false. Friends can help fill the hole of emptiness I feel in my day-to-day life, but there is nobody in particular who can make me somewhat excited to conquer each day than Tris herself.
As soon as I invite her into my apartment, it suddenly seems as though the whole room just got brighter somehow. I grin and pull her into my arms, placing a demanding hand on the back of her neck to keep her there.
"Is it clingy to say that I missed you today?" Tris mumbles into my shoulder. I get a whiff of her naturally clean scent and decide that being alone is unbearable.
"No," I say. "We've been apart for much longer than that."
She slides out of my grasp and links her fingers with mine before leading me over to my computer desk across the room. Printed pages of all the records of the recent suicide victims are strewn across the table.
"Show me?" she asks, sinking down into the chair behind it.
Leaning over her, I organize the haphazardly-set papers into eight piles, each one for each suicide. "I didn't get time to go through each and every page," I say. "Just the list of relatives, factions they lived in, jobs they had..."
Tris studies the papers with extreme concentration, her eyebrows pulling together. I missed that look of her using her partially Erudite-wired brain to her advantage.
After a few minutes of standing there while she is busy, I feel out of place, so I ask her if she wants some water to give myself something to do. She responds in the affirmative, and I head over to my kitchenette.
"Wait," she says out loud, but I assume she is talking to herself. I reach for a glass in the cupboard and begin filling it with water from the tap.
"I found something!" she shouts out of nowhere, and it startles me to the point where I nearly drop the glass into the sink. Catching it just in time, I set it aside on the counter and head back over to where she is enthusiastically flipping and scanning pages.
"What is it?" I ask, looking over her shoulder.
"I checked the death certificates. And so far, four out of five have something in common," she replies.
On one of the pages, she points to the section that describes the cause of death and lists anything else that was discovered during the body examination. The line she is indicating says, "Puncture in neck." On another page, she points to the same phrase.
We both quickly work to make sure that each suicide victim has the same puncture. The only one that is not listed as having it is Rebecca Jacobs, who assumedly did have the same wound except it was concealed by the damage done to her neck when she hanged herself.
"So your assumption was right," Tris concludes, rising from the chair. "They were all injected with a serum before they died. Although wouldn't the coroner for each person have tested their blood? It would have come back positive, right?"
"Not necessarily. Take the fear simulation serum, for example. That only lasts until you work your way out," I explain.
She nods and stares down at the table again. "Makes sense." After slight hesitation, she says, "Have we decided for sure that an Erudite is behind this?"
"I believe so. It is odd that none of the victims are Erudite. Besides, who else would have developed the serum in the first place?" But there is still nothing that indicates the motive. I may not trust the Erudite in general, but I am not going to mentally accuse them all of murder unless they have actually done this. And so far, I don't know why they would want to kill random citizens.
"Yes, but now what? We can't prove anything yet without concrete evidence," she points out.
I sigh, my mind drowning in knowledge. "I don't know, Tris. The next step would probably be to break into Erudite, see if we can get information on their development of the serum and who is using it."
Coming to the same conclusion that I have, she rubs her eyes and states, "I don't want to embark on another escapade for a while. Candor was enough to wear me out."
"I agree." Then we abruptly drop the topic because today has been long, and neither of us wants to spend the rest of it strenuously mulling over future plans to steal from another faction. Noticing her yawn, I suggest, "You should get some rest."
She smiles sleepily and slings her arms around my neck. "Only if I get to sleep here tonight," she bargains.
How could I say no? I close the distance between us and kiss her momentarily in response. Even that slight fraction of a second of her lips on mine is enough to leave me longing for more.
"Can I borrow a shirt?" she murmurs when we pull back.
I release a heavy breath like I am begrudgingly handing off my clothes to her. In reality though, the picture of her clad in one of my oversized, black shirts would be a sight for sore eyes. "I suppose."
We retire soon after, and I turn out the light and crawl under the covers with my mind still pulsing. Even with Tris pressed up against me, back in her old place in my bed, I cannot seem to temporarily obliterate the fact that a serum that was developed to give people suicidal urges is in the hands of people who are using it consistently.
What if they are targeting Divergents? But if so, wouldn't Divergents be able to resist the serum? If it really is just random, then why are the suicides not happening in Erudite? And now that it occurs to me, Abnegation?
My thoughts are focused elsewhere when Tris shifts slightly before rolling over to face me. I can barely make out the contours of her face with the absence of light. It is bizarre to think that after all of the caustic things we have said to each other, after all of the deceit, after how we both abandoned each other in our own ways, we somehow wound up back here, sharing the same bed.
"Are we ever going to live in a world where we don't have to worry about the city collapsing?" Her thoughts are right on track with mine.
"Probably not," I answer truthfully, brushing her cheek. At least, I don't see that happening in the near future.
"When I said I was scared, I meant it." Her fingers reach up to close over mine, and she whispers, "I'm afraid that as soon as there is another conflict, both of us will snap, and we will be right back to where we started."
I understand her fear. From the beginning of the war, neither of us was willing to rely on the other. That lack of faith drove a crack between us, a crack that widened and splintered us as the pressure grew.
"Tris. I said I wouldn't let that happen."
She lowers our hands to the empty space between us. "Until it comes down to it."
I counter her obstinance with my own. "This time, there won't be secrets between us," I stress. "This time, we will put us as our priority before we make any decisions."
"And what if that isn't enough?"
Eventually finding an appropriate response, I tell her, "We broke up, loathed each other, yet here we are. If we are strong enough to survive that and come back together, then we don't have anything to worry about."
Panicked gibberish and a shaking mattress drag me out of my deep slumber.
Perplexed, I open my eyes and squint until I see Tris lying next to me, her back toward me, though I didn't need to glance over to know she was there. She has warned me that this would happen, but now that it is, I don't know how to handle it.
Reaching out for her, I murmur her name groggily to pull her from her nightmare. If the way she continues hysterically breathing is any indication, she isn't hearing me.
I press a hand to her shoulder and shake her with more power, calling out, "Tris." This seems to be the incorrect way to handle this because I am met with an elbow jabbing into my eye.
"Ow!" I cry out.
Before I can do anything more than cover my eye socket with a frustrated groan, she lets out a disturbed scream that shocks me to my core. Desperate to put an end to this and prevent any further damage to myself, I position myself on top of her and pin her wrists to the bed. She struggles in between sobs and nearly kicks me in a sensitive place, but once I have her legs restrained, she begins to settle down.
"Tris, wake up," I say.
Her eyes fly open at my words, wildly glancing around to make sure that the horrors she has just witnessed are gone. I watch as her breathing gradually slows, her chest rising and falling at a steady rate beneath me.
"Tobias," she croaks. "Why are you sitting on me?"
At the reminder, I collapse back onto my side of the bed. "You hit me in your sleep," I explain, rubbing the eye that isn't currently throbbing. It is too early in the morning for me to really process what just occurred. "I didn't want you to hurt me, or yourself. Are your nightmares always like this?"
This wasn't even a nightmare; this was fear alone, pure and raw. Her chilling scream reminded me of the time when Jeanine injected her with some type of fear serum so that I would give up information about the factionless safe houses. I have never witnessed her to be as petrified as she was then at any other point in time.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the sleeves of my shirt that she is wearing, she replies, "They used to be like this. I thought I had them under control, since I couldn't exactly let this happen in the dormitory. In fact, I haven't had a nightmare in a few days, which is odd for me."
"Nightmares aren't supposed to be this bad." I frown. "Nightmares aren't supposed to make you scream yourself awake, or make you wail in your sleep."
No, this is something else. It is not normal for her to suffer through countless horrid images night after night. This recurring problem suggests that something else is the root.
I don't have to be a doctor to know that Tris is perturbed and has been since the war.
Which gives me an idea. "Maybe you should see someone. I could help you find a good doctor in the infirmary, or even in Erudite if you need—"
"I'm fine," she growls defensively.
I scoff. "Clearly, you aren't."
"Yes, I am."
I tighten my jaw, unwilling to continue with this childish banter. I don't know why she is opposed to being diagnosed and maybe even treated for her apparent mental illness, but I am half asleep and currently don't want to deal with this right now.
"Could you just..." She sighs and curls up into my chest, requesting innocently, "Could you fight them off for me?"
Wrapping a protective arm around her, I shut my eyes. Her body is warm from her frightened state but softer than I remember. It molds right to mine, and I let our synchronized breathing lull me back to sleep.
TRIS POV
Justin winks at me as he passes, his rifle casually swinging in his hand while he walks his way over to a bench for his break from patrolling. My back aches when I realize that I won't get my break for another hour.
"Is he still acting flirty?" Christina asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand pressed to her forehead.
"No, he's fine." I wouldn't want her to accidentally—or deliberately—spill the secret that he kissed me, so I don't mention it. I deflect, "How's it going with Bryce?"
She breaks out into an effervescent grin. "Oh! I forgot to tell you. We talked for a while the other night, and I really think he likes me. He's just shy."
I am genuinely happy for her, that she has found someone and that she is able to carry on dating now after I stole her chances with Will.
I have trouble swallowing. But maybe if Christina can move on from his death, then so can I.
Hopefully this Bryce will treat her well. From what I hear though, he is nerdy and quiet, so I don't think he will be any trouble.
"So the exact opposite of you?"
I receive a playful shove in response. Checking my watch, I realize that it is again the top of the hour.
"I better go make my rounds," I say. "I'll talk to you later."
"Okay. But don't think we're not having a certain conversation about a certain someone! Don't think I didn't notice that you didn't sleep in the dormitory last night!" she calls after me as I walk away.
Shaking my head at her antics, I pass a cluster of factionless and head through an alley, planning to cut around a building and go through another alley to reach the street I am supposed to patrol next. The gravel crunches under my combat boots when I step into the alley. Up ahead, I hear movement, but when I stare down at the end, nobody is there. Frowning distrustfully, I lift my rifle slightly as I continue. There really is nothing to worry about though, considering I don't believe that anyone would be stupid enough to attack me in broad daylight with my fellow initiates nearby.
At the end of the narrow street, I bump into someone who rounds the corner in a flash of gray. I am about to apologize and continue on, until I realize exactly who I ran into.
"Beatrice, what a surprise."
I thought I wouldn't have to see him after I left Abnegation again.
"What do you want, Marcus?" I sneer, not at all fooled by the fact that he conveniently happened to be in my path.
His aging eyes narrow in on me, and I am surprised yet again at how similar they are to Tobias's, yet so much more frigid. I tighten my hands around my gun just in case. He is not to be trusted.
"Why, nothing of course. I just happened to be helping out the factionless—"
"What do you want?" I snap again.
He drops the act completely at my hostile attitude. "I know it was you. And I want you to change my status in the system, clear me of my false child abuse crimes."
"Excuse me?" I pretend to be puzzled by his demand.
"I'm not stupid. I know it was you," he repeats. "You and that deranged son of mine broke into Candor. A short, blonde woman, and a tall man dressed in all black?"
I let my gun hang from its strap against my side, crossing my arms defensively. "I have no idea what you think—"
Suddenly, he slams me back into the brick wall behind me. Too stunned to defend myself, I stare up at his infuriated expression while I wheeze out a breath. It is so bizarre how quickly he can switch personalities, though I suppose they are predictable to Tobias.
"Now listen closely. If you don't clear my crimes out of the Candor files, then I will go directly to Candor headquarters and tell them exactly who it was that broke into their records."
I roll my eyes and scoff, despite the fact that he has me pinned up against the wall and has a good half a foot on me. "You're insane if you think I'm going to—"
A white hot stinging surges through my face, and I gasp, pressing my hand to my cheek where he just slapped me startlingly hard.
"You're going to do it, or there is going to be hell to pay, Beatrice Prior. You don't know what I'm capable of."
Even as he leaves the alley with an aura of casualness, I don't glance up, too humiliated to meet his eyes. I clench my teeth together as my face burns bright for more than one reason.
Unbelievable, that I just stood there and let that happen. Do I have any bravery left in me at all? Why did I just take it, why didn't I fight back?
What was with his threat anyway? I figure that he wants his name cleared of child abuse so that he will be allowed back on the council again after a supposed trial that never took place. But he expects to intimidate me, and it is not going to work.
I lean back against the building with an angry huff. Who am I kidding, acting flippant about this? As soon as he mentions our names, Candor guards will arrive at Dauntless promptly to haul us away, and despite the Dauntless obstinance that prohibits other factions from getting involved in our affairs, nobody will stop them from rightfully arresting us.
Before I leave the alleyway, I remember that my cheek is probably still flushed on one side. A new anxiousness washes over me when I think about what I will say when Tobias sees this. He isn't stupid; he will know that somebody hit me, and I already promised that we would never lie to each other again. What kind of a hypocrite would that make me if I kept this from him? What is to stop me from letting the truth pour out anyway, when he knows me better than I know myself sometimes?
At the same time, if I do tell him that his father laid a hand on me...well, let's just say that Marcus won't be around to blackmail or taunt me anymore. And I can't let him do that.
Maybe he doesn't have to know. If I am fortunate, tomorrow there will be no mark on my face, and he will never find out. And besides, considering this is Marcus's only chance to get back in the government's good graces, maybe he won't go through with his ultimatum.
Is this really the best way to handle this, when our relationship has just been glued back into shape and is still fragile?
Quickly coming to a conclusion, I pray that my face has returned to its normal, pale coloring, and step out from the shadows.
Some things are better left unsaid.
