TOBIAS POV

Today is the long awaited day.

Yawning, I enter the dormitory, planning on finding Tris in case she needs assistance in moving her items to my apartment. I figure that she has bare necessities only—like clothes, since Abnegation teachings are so engraved into us—but it wouldn't hurt to offer some help.

Most of the initiates have cleared out of this cavern that they have lived in for a month. Most of them, except for Christina and Dez, who apparently have yet to settle in their apartment. They are the only people in the dorms.

"Where's Tris?" I ask, not offering any greetings. To me and to them, I will always be their instructor. Maybe it won't be that way forever, but for now treating them as anything more than subordinates is out of the ordinary for me, despite their relationship to my girlfriend.

"Oh, 'hi' to you too, Four," Christina snarks.

I fold my arms, not in the mood for her smart-ass remarks. In any other circumstance I would just walk away, but I don't know where Tris is; after being trapped in the control room all day for my official first day back at work, I got off at dinnertime and didn't happen to run into her.

Christina rolls her eyes. "She said she was going to move in with you today. She took all of her stuff with her."

My apartment would have been an obvious choice, though I didn't want to take any chances and end up having to leave the apartment wing to search for her.

"Thanks," I say stiffly and leave.

Upon arriving at my flat, I turn the doorknob and find that it is unlocked. Tris must be here in that case. When I see her figure standing next to my bed in my peripheral vision, I start talking.

"Hey," I greet her, bending over to untie and remove my shoes. "Did you get all of your stuff? I didn't see anything else down in the dorms..."

I trail off when I actually look at her. Beneath her lengthy hair, her shoulders are sagged, indicating a downturn in her mood. Strange, since she seemed fine this morning.

"Tris, is something wrong?"

With a sniffle, she turns to face me, though she keeps her eyes trained down. In her hands is my handgun that I keep inside my nightstand drawer.

"Tris, what are you doing with my gun?" I ask carefully. How did she even know where to find it?

Stoically, she answers, "I...need it."

"For what?"

This is the wrong reply, because she wraps her fingers around it and raises it to her temple with determination.

My breath catches in my throat, and I decide to wisely not make any sudden movements that might trigger her. Instead of figuring out why in the world she is attempting suicide, I quickly narrow down my options.

She is too far away for me to lunge at her; I wouldn't get there in time. There is no real other way to disarm her, except...

Discreetly, I reach down into my pocket for my pocketknife, fully prepared to throw it at her wrist. I don't want to hurt her, but it is a better alternative than letting her die.

Her face is pale and her hair is dull, stuck to her cheeks because of the tears. Desolation flashes back at me in her expression, but that is not the part about it that catches my attention. More importantly, I notice that her eyes are glossed over, almost like she is under a simulation.

That is when it hits me: she has been injected by the suicide serum.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispers, her voice cracking.

"Tris," I mutter calmly, making a stopping gesture with my hand. "Put the gun down, and we can talk about this."

She shakes her head. "I've made my decision. I've wanted this for a long time."

Obviously I don't want to give her a push off the edge, but I need to be frank with her. "No, you don't. Someone injected you with the serum, and it is warping your mind so you think you want that."

"No it isn't!" she cries out. For a split second I am sure that she is going to pull the trigger, and my heart throbs unbelievably fast, but my fingers hesitate as she continues. "This is me talking. I have had to live this life for too long, and it's time that I left this world."

"Tris..." My eyes plead with her not to make this asinine mistake. If I lose her to some serum...

No, I won't. She is Divergent. I have seen her shatter glass with her palm and avoid becoming a mindless soldier like the rest of the faction with her strong willpower. If she can make those miracles happen, she can resist this powerful urge to take her life.

But then again, she has had thoughts like this before, so that could affect her ability to use logic.

"All I do is hurt the people around me. I've even hurt you, the person I love the most."

I say gently, "And I've hurt you. But that doesn't mean either of us deserves to die."

She whimpers, her resolve failing as the hand that holds the gun trembles, and I know that I have broken through her barrier of angst. All it will take to take the gun from her is some simple coaxing from here.

"I love you," I remind her, and she chokes on another sob. "Don't do this. Just give me the gun, and we can talk about this."

When I hold out my hand for the weapon, she gives in to my demand. Just as she trusted me last time—after pointing a gun at my chest during training a few weeks ago—she places the pistol into my outstretched palm.

My fingers relax their grip on the knife, letting it drop back into my pocket. With a heavy, relieved breath, I toss the gun onto the bed next to us and pull her into my arms in an unyielding embrace. Tris clutches onto me and wails into my shoulder, the crushing emotions stirring inside her too much to bear alone.

Now that I can dwell on my own emotions, I realize that I could have permanently lost her in this moment. Our time together flashes through my mind, and it is the shock I need to frame her face in my hands and kiss her. Uncharacteristically, heat swells beneath my eyelids, but I reel myself in and resist the temptation to cry. She is in serious need of support, and I can't give it to her if I am a wreck myself.

"Shhh, you're okay," I reassure her, burying a hand in her hair. My gaze lands on the gun that almost claimed her life and decide that for the time being, it should be in a place that she is unable to get to, just as a precaution.

After persuading her to lie down and take some deep breaths, I deposit the gun on top of the refrigerator, standing on my toes to slide it to the very back. This way, she won't be able to reach it unless she goes to the trouble of grabbing a chair, which would definitely get my attention and let me stop her in time. I have a silent debate with myself before I set my pocketknife there too.

Tris is clearly miserable, tucked up on my bed and hugging herself. I'm not sure how long the serum is supposed to last, but it sends pangs through me, helplessly watching her suffer for an unknown timespan.

"I'm so depressed," she chokes out. "I've never felt like this, not even when I cut myself."

I sigh sympathetically and crouch in front of her. "What can I do to help?" I ask. There is no real way to fix this though.

And she agrees. She shrugs and buries her face in a pillow, hiccups escaping her as I rub her back.

"You could try to sleep it off," I suggest. It isn't totally nighttime yet, but the evening sun is already painting the sky a brilliant orange. I can imagine how drained she is from this catharsis. And if I am being honest, this has been a trying day for me too. Still, the idea of her sneaking away while I sleep is enough to convince me that I should keep an eye on her all night.

She shakes her head. "No," is her answer. "I don't think I can right now. Too much is running through my head."

"Well, at least try to get comfortable." Maybe it will wind her down if she relaxes.

Without waiting for her reply, I unbutton her tight training pants and pull them off her legs with some effort. She acts like nothing happened, not acknowledging me or assisting me in undressing her.

"Do you want my shirt?" I ask, knowing how much she likes to steal them.

At her weak nod, I remove my jacket and then my black t-shirt. I give her some privacy to change into it, opting for switching my pants out for some sweatpants in the meantime. Then I settle down in the bed next to her. Despite her lazy struggling, I trap her in my arms and tangle my legs with hers so she has no hope of extricating herself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Tris tenses again and mumbles, "Not really."

"Okay." There is no point in pushing her. However, it is necessary to get other information out of her. "Did you see who injected you?"

"I don't know. If I'm being honest, I don't remember it happening at all."

I suppose that makes sense. The other suicide victims had not doubted their reasons for taking their own lives—not even recalling the fact that they were injected by an assailant—instead committing the act without hesitation or regret. It is strange to see the situation through their eyes now, whereas before I hadn't thought twice about how gut-wrenching it must have felt. With someone so close to me dealing with this, I am seeing it in another light.

"The same group who made sure you got attacked at the chasm, who wanted vengeance for you getting involved in their affairs, must have injected you," I deduce. It is all falling into place. Now we just need to figure out who it is in the first place.

Tris doesn't care for my words. She finds stability by holding onto the arms that are binding her, and I suddenly notice how frigid her stark pale skin is to the touch.

"You're cold," I point out.

"Does it matter?" she croaks out past the grief.

Instead of retorting, I reach down and cover us both up with the quilt at the bottom of the bed. With that taken care of, some tension seems to dissipate from her body as she fits against me, more pliable now.

"I can barely breathe," she admits, "and every mistake I have ever made is returning and being exaggerated to the point where it feels like I have killed everybody but myself."

This whole circumstance is out of the ordinary, and at this point I am powerless to lift her spirits up. What am I supposed to do, say sorry? Say that she is wrong? She isn't herself, so how do I handle this when a practical stranger needs my consolation?

Maybe that is my problem: I am holding her at arms' length instead of treating her like a lover.

Forcing her to turn over, I place my lips on her forehead and listen to her expel her pain.

"It feels like I am utterly alone and bearing a weight that is ten times my capacity to handle."

"You're not alone," I contradict her. "I'm right here."

I kiss the tears off her blotchy cheeks as she focuses on simply breathing. Her lips brush against mine when she whispers, "I want to die."

The statement regrettably reminds me of her suicidal tendencies after her parents died. It thrusts the knowledge that she once had these thoughts—that they aren't just appearing out of thin air—upon me. I won't let her succumb to them again, either.

She retreats before I can kiss her. "Too bad. I'm keeping you around anyway."

Tris half-heartedly shoves my chest in a pathetic effort to put distance between us. I just pull her right back into my embrace.

"Life isn't so bad, you know," I try to convince her.

Her eyes that were filled with melancholy not a second ago harden into that defiance I love. "Really? Then what is worth living for? Because other than death and destruction, I have yet to see what else life has to offer."

It is difficult to disagree with her in some ways. I had the same mindset not too long ago. But then she fell—literally—back into my life, and now each agonizing day doesn't mindlessly blur into the next.

"I can think of some things," I say vaguely.

"Like what?" she challenges.

"Love. Family." But those seem too broad, and I never had a family anyway. I narrow them down for her. "For me specifically, you. Would you really want to lose me?" I am not at all fearful for her response.

"No. But that doesn't mean I still wouldn't kill myself. Sometimes one reason isn't enough to stay alive."

I understand that this last year has taken its toll on her, but she shouldn't view her whole life as tarnished. I ponder my next words to figure out how I want to say what I want to say.

"I think we have taught ourselves to scrutinize life because then when it is taken from someone we know, we are already defended in some way; we can cast it aside as meaningless. But if we don't see any good, then we don't have the ability to appreciate anyone or anything around us in general."

Although the statement is meant for her sake now, it also applies on a normal day. In addition, I believe that both Abnegation and Dauntless have taught us not to see beauty in their own ways. Sometimes, in instances like this, I wish we didn't have factions so that we could embrace all virtues in order to capture that beauty that we might usually miss.

Tris's silence lasts for a while as she fights her inner conflict, her mind battling as both sides. Eventually she recognizes failure in her methods and pleads, "Show me something good. I can't go on like this, with no alleviation. Prove to me that there is still good that I'm not seeing."

With a mischievous smile, I pin her underneath me, lowering my mouth to her neck. Beneath my lips, a low hum vibrates through her throat.

"This is a good thing," I insist, losing myself in my ministrations as I kiss across her collarbone.

"Tobias..."

I chuckle at how her obstinance is challenged by her breathy voice. Bowing my head into her shoulder, I say, "I'm kidding. I wouldn't take advantage of you." Considering I am afraid to let her out of my sight, I would guess that she's not in the right state of mind for that right now.

"Actually, I didn't say no," she clarifies with a glint in her eyes, indicating that she is slowly but surely coming back.

"Tris," I warn.

She slides her hand up into my hair. "I need a distraction before I lose my mind." Before I can retreat, she locks her lips onto mine, and I can't deny her at least this. She hasn't broken my resolve yet though.

"Tris, we can't do this right now," I try to explain. What is it with her finding it necessary to kiss me whenever she is under the influence of a serum? At least last time on the peace serum it was laughable, but now...

"Please?" she begs. "Distract me?"

With a mock-begrudging sigh, I comply, running my hand up the back of her shirt—my shirt—as I lower my lips to hers again. I grasp her thigh for more leverage. Her skin is smooth despite the goosebumps that have arisen or were already there before I touched her, I'm not sure, and that decadent touch is the last straw that makes me commit.

Our mouths move together sensually as the air around us shifts from solemn to charged. With confident hands, she reaches to slide my pants down past my hips, and I help her by kicking them off so that they are lost in the sheets. As soon as we manage to remove her shirt, I kiss across her ravens and revel in the moan that escapes her.

And then I proceed to distract her from the angst very well.


TRIS POV

The train rushes over the tracks, causing air to circulate through the humid car that has been exposed to the sun all day. Tobias, who was just leaning out to let the wind whip at his clothes, closes the door. I frown at the sudden loss of fresh air.

"I thought we should talk, since you're obviously not too enthused about this," he says, sitting down on the dusty floor across from me.

"Well, I've warmed up to the idea," I deadpan. "You know, having that suicidal feeling stuck in my gut for half a night wasn't very pleasant. I want to find out who did it to me."

And breaking in to Erudite is the only way to discover the truth about who is using this suicide serum. However, we cannot do this without extra help from the inside, and I am ironically more worried about that part than the actual action.

"Understandable."

Tobias casually slings his arm across his knee and gives me a sympathetic grin. I have thanked him several times for the way he handled my injection a couple nights ago. Not only was he smart enough to talk me out of taking my own life in the first place, but how he helped me recover was what can only be described as sweet. He stayed up with me until the early hours of dawn, draining the poison from my mind with merely his words. I ended up crying again after we made love, and he didn't judge me, rather folding me back into his comforting arms.

I continue, "But that still doesn't mean I trust Cara."

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

I roll my eyes at his deflection. "Of course I do, but this—"

"I've talked to her. I've read into the situation and her attitude. I really don't think we have any reason to worry."

A concerned breath escapes me. "Okay," I utter, his reassurance doing nothing to stop me from fiddling with my fingers.

He blinks at me in the dark for a moment and bites his lip. At this late hour in the day, I can't help but remember the time we kissed heatedly as the train slid into the night, toward Erudite headquarters where he pointed out their lights. With things going so good between us lately since I moved in with him, I find myself always wanting to be this close to him.

Knocking his leg against mine, he inquires, "Any more ideas on who could be behind this?"

I purse my lips. "Well, where have none of the victims originated from? That's a good place to start, right?"

"Erudite," he states, "Abnegation, factionless..."

Erudite is already a decided culprit. It is bizarre that nobody would attack the Abnegation since so many people seem to have grievances with the government—though maybe a self-rejecting person would be more likely to resist the suicide serum. Nevertheless, it doesn't make sense to me that an Abnegation member would commit murder, especially one of this nature. The factionless are known to cause trouble, but I just don't have an iota of a clue of how all of these groups would connect.

When I notice how Tobias trailed off, I glance at him again to see that his eyebrows are tightened in concentration. "What is it?" I say.

"Something my mother told me."

This floors me. "You talked to your mother?" Why would he willingly converse with someone as deceitful and harmful as his mother? The last time they worked together, she turned on Dauntless, surrounding them with their own guns that they foolishly handed over in Erudite.

He shakes his head vehemently. "No, it wasn't like that," he clarifies. "Over the last year, she has sent me messages through her factionless lackeys to convince me to join her in leading the factionless. I have denied her countless times, but the last time she sent me a note was on the night before the Choosing."

"What did it say?" I ask slowly.

"Something about how the next few weeks would make me reconsider whose side I was on." He pauses to let this sink in. "I don't know if this is related to the suicides, but if it is..."

I don't know what I expect him to say, and I don't think he does either. All I know is that he doesn't deserve the pain written on his unbelieving face. Evelyn has been hurting him ever since she came back into his life, and if she is sending people out to do her dirty work, if she is the reason I was almost killed—twice—then there really is no chance of her salvaging her relationship with her son. I am not sure that relationship is worth saving, or wise for Tobias to accept.

They are mother and son by blood only, certainly not choices. Unless she completely turns over a new leaf, their chances of reconciliation are hopeless. This is coming from someone who has had to find out the rough way how priceless that bond is.

"Maybe not," I suggest optimistically. "That's why we're going to find out, right?"

He nods noncommittally and looks out the back window to see where we are in the city. Rising, he announces, "Time to jump."

Only after we hop off the train do I realize where we are. "We're near the Erudite sector," I say out loud. "Is that a smart idea to be so close?"

"It's safe. There shouldn't be any cameras nearby, and if there are, then they wouldn't be able to catch anything from high up and this late. Besides, I didn't want Cara to have to walk too far, especially since she has to carry some things to our meeting spot."

Pulling his hood up over his head, he walks briskly, and I struggle to keep up on my short legs. We pass cracked roads and old, former school buildings before we see a woman's figure up ahead. In the moonlight, I recognize her perfectly-combed blonde hair that is pinned back. Cara.

I trail behind, unwilling to face her first. Almost exactly a year ago, I took her brother's life without thinking through the jeopardizing situation logically. And considering she values logic, I can't imagine that she has found it in her to absolve me of blame. I don't mind—I don't absolve myself of fault for killing Will—but I don't want it to affect Tobias's wellbeing. She could easily turn us over to the authorities upon hearing of our treasonous plot.

"Thanks for meeting us," Tobias begins.

Cara nods, darting her eyes around the alley before letting them land on me briefly. "You weren't followed?" she checks.

"No."

Clearing her throat, she says, "Hi, Tris." At least she seems to be approaching this diplomatically.

"Hi," I respond in a tight voice, burying my hands in my pockets.

Tobias cuts to the chase. "So, what is the easiest way to get in?"

"I have a way, but it's not easy," Cara admits. "Although I won't ask what you are after, I'm assuming you'll want to gain access to Jeanine's lab? That's where the computer with the most information will be."

We nod simultaneously, and then when I actually think about her words I blurt out, "Wait a minute. Jeanine still has a personal lab?"

Her eyes harden with distaste. "Erudite embraced her with open arms after she was disgraced and sent back. She now practically functions as a leader, pulling the strings from behind the scenes. Everyone still bows down to that despicable woman. So yes, her office is up and running again."

"Where is it?" Tobias questions. "I know the general area, but I'm not sure I would be able to find it again."

Me neither. My relationship ended in that room, and I still wouldn't have faith in myself to locate it in that mammoth building.

"Second to the top floor. But you're not going in the building like that, through the front door and up the elevator. That's imbecilic." When we both stare at her, lost, she sighs. "Look, if you really want to get in without being detected then one of you will have to scale the building and break in the window."

"What?!" Tobias exclaims.

I don't blame him. Considering how tall Erudite is, I don't think even I am keen on the idea of climbing up that building. I don't even know how it would be possible.

"With rope, of course." She rolls her eyes at our lack of intelligence and swings her backpack over her shoulder, setting it at her feet. She removes some kind of gun-looking tool with a hook on the end. "Inside the backpack there is more rope that you'll need to take out before you fire it. Just aim it up at the roof, shoot, and then test your weight on it before you climb. There's a harness in here that you'll obviously want to wear too."

Tobias seems conflicted as he watches her stuff it back in the bag. Without asking him, I can already tell that he doesn't want to be the one scaling Erudite because of his fear of heights, but on the other hand, he doesn't want to trust my life with the equipment.

"But as soon as someone breaks the window, an alarm will be set off, right?"

"Correct." Cara tucks her stray hair behind her ears. "That is why the other person will have to crawl in from the air duct outside the building. The vent at the south side next to the generators will take you to the control room if you continue straight through it. Then you can disable the guards with a smoke bomb that will release a serum that will knock them unconscious; I packed a couple in there."

"God, Cara, you didn't have to formulate the whole plan," Tobias says with a nervous laugh. She really has thought of everything. I thought we were only meeting with her for useful gadgets or basic information.

She shrugs. "Well, I have my own grievances with Erudite, more specifically with Jeanine. So whatever you're doing, I'm glad to help." After a brief pause to gather her thoughts, she says, "Anyway, considering the small size of the air shaft, I believe that only Tris would be able to fit."

That means Tobias will unfortunately have to face his fear, although the alternative would be another. He keeps a poker face at the news, but I see the apprehension underneath it.

"Tris, once you're in the control room, you only need to shut down the security in Jeanine's office. There is another control room, and shutting off any others would alert guards."

Mulling over the plan, I find a loophole. "Wait, I've been to Jeanine's lab before," I say. "It releases a serum that makes you fight yourself until poison kicks in. How will Four get past that?"

Killing my own shadow was a struggle I will never forget. It is the first time I had fired a gun—however fake—in a long while, because I was so desperate to stay alive. I don't want to risk Tobias's life with those mind tricks. He is stronger than I am, but I was lucky to make it out.

"I also packed gas masks," Cara states matter-of-factly, patting the backpack before handing it to Tobias. He slides his arms into the straps. "Both of you will need to wear one because of that serum, and also because you'll be exposed to the knockout gas, Tris."

Tobias and I take a shared, deep breath. That is a lot to process, and we only have another day to prepare for it.

"Any questions?" Cara quips.

With blank stares, we shake our heads. She bids us goodbye, but before she can turn to leave, I say, "You don't owe us anything. So thank you, for helping us."

"We're indebted to you," Tobias tacks on.

"Maybe Erudite will learn this time around, when you expose whatever it is you're trying to find out," Cara nods. "I'm not just doing it for the good of my faction, rather because I do consider us friends."

And here I was stressing about her loathing me and sending us into a trap.

"Good luck to you both."

We part ways, checking each and every direction for bystanders observing us. Tobias slides his hand into mine, but I still feel unsettled as he leads me through the alley and to the platform where the trains run, as if something is approaching. Not like immediate danger, but like impending doom. Something clicks in my state of worry, and I don't understand it until a vague phrase appears in my mind, though I know that it means destruction is coming.

Here we go again.