I am pretty late once again. I am so sorry! My laptop was out of order for a while, and on top of that, writing this chapter was a struggle. I hope I have done justice to it. Thank you to everyone for your patience, and for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following this story. You are amazing. Also, to 3venfl0w, thank you for the review, and hope this chapter fulfills your wish. ;)

Disclaimer: Any lines you recognize belong to Veronica Roth.

Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts. For those who wish to avoid that section, I suggest you stop at "That's where my father is." I will put up a summary of the section in the end.

Previously:

I don't know how long into the night it is when I hear a slight sound outside the door. I would have never heard it if I were asleep, it's too low. I strain my ears, slowly edging out of the bed. It is the sound of footsteps. Slow, measured. Regular. It would not be unusual anywhere, only, Tobias's apartment is on the far end of the corridor. Nobody would come this far unless they were headed right here.

The hair on the back of my neck rising, I climb out of bed. Fear god alone stares at me dimly from the opposite wall. I manage to steady myself on my crutches when the footsteps are here; without warning, the door is thrown open. I forgot to lock it. Shit. Shit.

I blink in the darkness at the person at the door. Shauna?

The light outside renders her pale blue. There is a gun in her outstretched hands. The second stretches between us, lightning-fast and infinitely slow.

Then she shoots.

-o0o-

Pain thunders through my body as I crash into Tobias's bed just in time to avoid Shauna's bullet, which hits the plaster-white wall with a loud report.

"Shauna, what are you doing?" I cry, trying to right myself. My gun is in the bedside drawer. I curse internally at not having the time to bring it out. But she does not reply; the pale light from the hallway reveals her eyes as blank, expressionless. Oh. Oh no. The prickle in her neck. How could I have missed it?

Missing her mark the first time, Shauna aims her gun on me again. It will take a lot make her miss this time. I do the only think I can in this position. I throw one of my two crutches straight at her.

It is likely that the serum, however improved, can only issue a fixed string of instructions, making Shauna less sentient and wary than would be if she were awake. The long metal rod hits her hard; she falls to floor. I know I have only seconds' worth of time. I have to get my gun, move out of this room – because no matter how much I try, in this physical state she will eventually have me cornered, which is never a good sign against a person with a gun – and render Shauna weaponless. I have a sick feeling that Jeanine's serum is more improved than the one during the attack, and I am not eager to see how advanced it is.

Leaning on my remaining support, I quickly manage to pull out my gun. Even as I turn, Shauna is mechanically getting up and clutching her gun in position. I shoot at the opposite wall, hoping to use the same tactic I had during the simulation attack on the Abnegation. She shoots at me.

"Damn," I curse, ducking only in time. Shauna's aim seems to have been well-calibrated. Me.

Fortunately for me, even as I take steps further back into the room, she comes in, leaving the doorway open for escape. I tense, taking a deep breath even as I hear the next bullet being cocked in her gun. I need to get out – get out in three – two – one –

I take two quick running-limping steps forward and then, clutching my crutch and my gun tight, dive straight across the room. I almost make it. But Shauna is ready for me. She grabs my wounded shoulder and wrenches me to the side, throwing me across with surprising strength. I scream so loud it scrapes my throat; I feel like knives are stabbing deeper and deeper into my left side. As I begin to sink to my knees, she kicks me in the stomach and I sprawl across the floor, inhaling dust.

On the plus side, I am out in the hallway; Shauna facilitated that with her attack. On the minus side, I am too hurt to do anything – I can't even catch my breath, my senses are washed over with pain – and Shauna towers over me, her gun pointed at my head. Her finger moves against the trigger within a fraction of a second, allowing me to just move my head by a centimeter – and the sound of thunder fills my head.

I cannot hear anything. My ears are ringing too loud; I can feel the bullet lodged into the ground a centimeter from my face. My cheeks have been pierced by stone chips from the cracked ground. I lick my dry lips, my throat raw from the scream that must have been drawn out from me – although I couldn't hear it. There is nothing more I can do. This is the end.

Which is why it comes as a surprise when my dulled eyes see Shauna look up, distracted; her blank eyes gain conflict just for a few seconds. I cannot wait to see what caused this change, I grab the lone crutch that lies at my side, and hit her leg – hard. As expected, it takes her by surprise; she crumples to the ground. Mustering all my strength, I jump up, pain singing in every nerve, bone and muscle, and bring down the crutch on her head. I try to be careful not to crack her skull, but I need not have worried – my strength is already so little, I manage to hit her just hard enough so that the light leaves her eyes, and she falls face first, unconscious.

With that, I my legs give away. I can feel my entire body trembling violently. Then, from very, very far away, I hear, "Tris!"

I turn with difficulty, only to stare at shock at Lynn, standing only a few steps away. Oh. So it was she whose sight made Shauna stumble, even for a moment. The simulation must have struggled for a moment with her love for her sister.

"Hey," I try to say, but the word sounds strange in my still-ringing ears.

For the first time that I can remember, Lynn is rendered speechless. She looks strangely small and helpless as she looks from Shauna's unconscious form to me, unsure.

"What happened?"

"I – I don't know." And really, I don't. This is something I had not foreseen. "They must have hit her with a simulation dart while she was on her way to Candor." My brain starts working again as I speak, and talking seems to distract me from the overwhelming pain. "The attack on Four – it was a ruse. A distraction. So that we would not notice her injuries." A bitter taste fills my mouth, and it's not just the blood. They succeeded. We fell for it so easily. How could I of all people be so stupid? I let myself be blindsided by Tobias's injuries. And that is exactly what they must have hoped, I realize. Tobias's going to Candor was as much of a mistake as my going would have been; if they hurt one of us, they hurt both of us equally.

With surprising gentleness, Lynn wordlessly helps me into a sitting position. Then she offers me her shoulder.

"Lean." I hesitate for a second. "Don't waste my time." I comply. We both stagger into a standing position. Having me lean against the wall, Lynn retrieves my crutches and hands them back.

"You are quite a sight," she says, looking up and down my body. Realizing that I can't support myself properly even with the crutches, unless helped, she adjusts them for me, and pushes me upright. I laugh ruefully, feeling slightly better now that I can actually stand. My body hurts in places I didn't think it could; I know I'd crumble the second the crutches leave my hands.

"We need to go to the infirmary," I say, each breath wheezing painfully out. Lynn nods.

"Give me a second. I'll just – TRIS!"

I turn so fast I crick my neck, adding to the rest of my injuries, only to see Lynn diving towards her sister. Who is lunging towards the gun – my gun – on the floor. Lynn almost grabs the gun – almost – as her body hits the floor with a whoosh of breath. But she doesn't manage to get her fingers around the gun. It skitters to the side, within a centimeter of Shauna's reach. I know Lynn can't move as fast anymore. She won't be in time. I don't think. Pushing all my weight on my crutches, I jump.

My body collides heavily with Shauna's just as she manages to wrap her fingers around the gun. Time stretches around us as we roll on the floor, struggling to take control of the gun. She kicks and headbutts me, but somehow or the other, I manage to hold on to the gun in her hand, trying my best to drag it out of her grasp. I can feel her hand, I can feel the erratic thudding of her heart, and the rest is a mad blend of sensations. The cold touch of the gun and Shauna's warm hand contrast jarringly. I can hear Lynn yelling, but I could not pull myself out of Shauna's grip even if I'd tried. I don't know who is holding whom, who is taking possession of the gun, who is winning, who is who, even, in our tangled bodies –

– I don't know who pulls the trigger.

The gunshot roars in my ears and thrums through my body like thunder, and a sudden force rings through every part of my body, jarring me to the bones. I would have been thrown off if Shauna and I were not caught up limb to limb. Three voices mix in, Shauna's scream and mine, and Lynn's "No!" And then silence.

The pain in every part of my body is so much that each nerve screams for me to simply sink into oblivion. But I manage to disentangle myself from Shauna and look.

I am covered in blood. Large splashes of red everywhere. But it's not mine.

Lynn and I stare at each other, Lynn on her feet, I on the floor. And in between, Shauna, horrifyingly still, face down. Lying in a pool of blood.

-o0o-

I don't remember the walk to the infirmary. I don't remember when I crawled to my crutches and stood up. I just remember Lynn, screaming and screaming like she has never screamed before.

As I stare up at the bland white ceiling of the infirmary, I can hear whispers outside the curtain that some nurse has mercifully put up around my bed. Snatches of a low-spoken conversation.

"She is not responding to anything." The voice is trying for a whisper, but is still too loud. Christina.

"She must have gone into shock." Will. His voice is ever calm and collected. He must have returned, then.

"What happened at all? Lynn didn't tell me anything."

"Well, seeing as she punched you by way of waking you up, I wouldn't expect anything if I were you." Any other time, the wry humor in Will's voice would have made me smile, but now my lips stay firmly down. The light on the ceiling flickers.

"Where is she?"

"I saw Uriah and Marlene take her away. I heard that they took Shauna into emergency, and would let only one person wait there. Zeke would have killed anyone who tried to stop him."

"Is she – she's not going to die, is she, Will? They were saying she's been shot…"

I don't want to listen to anything. But I am listening. At this point, I am hanging on to the words that need to come out of Will's mouth… they must – they must –

They don't. Will says nothing.

I'd cry if I could.

I hear a new voice join in, shooing them away. The curtain around me parts a little, revealing Helena's face. She looks at me sympathetically.

"You'll want some sleep before all else, Tris," she says quietly. "You've had it rough again, and much sooner than I'd liked." I don't say anything. I can't. My mouth is dry.

"I'll inject you with a mild sedative," she adds. "Rest."

I see the glint of the needle, and feel the tiny prick that, despite everything, sends a tremor inside me.

"No," I whisper. The serum killed my parents. The serum killed Will. The serum killed Shauna. No, I killed Shauna. No. "NO!" My voice is shrill and grating to my own ears.

The last thing I hear is Helena trying to soothe my shaking body, whispering, "It's okay! It's okay, just a sedative! Not a serum!"

And then, blessed darkness.

-o0o-

The room slowly spins back into focus as I regain consciousness. There are voices beyond the curtain, again.

"Can I go in yet? Is she awake?" The voice is impatient and oddly familiar, but I still feel too groggy to recognize it.

"I understand that you are busy," the other voice, a woman's, clucks impatiently. "But she needs this. She has been through hell." A little pause. "But I guess the sedative will be wearing off now. Let me check." Helena's face suddenly peeks through the curtain and brightens up.

"Oh, you are awake! You have a visitor." And before I can ask who, the curtains are drawn back on one end, and standing next to her is my father.

I stare.

"Well, have a good time, you two!" Helena says faux-cheerily. I can see that she doesn't approve. But then she leaves.

My father and I stare at each other awkwardly. I want to ask him too many questions, but everything sounds rude in my head.

He clears his throat. "I – am not going to ask you what happened this time." His eyes take me in from top to toe, and he looks more and more sickened with each second. How bad do I look?

"How did they let you in?" It still sounds rude, but it is a valid question.

Dad smiles ruefully. "They didn't want to. Kicked up a right fuss about it. I was willing to give it over and go on my way to work, in the end, but Hana insisted to all of them that I be let in." He looks a little uncomfortable. My father has never talked to me about anything beyond Abnegation. "Hana and Natalie were friends. She knows that she – that I married her." He suddenly looks very nervous, and starts talking very fast. "Before we moved to Abnegation where we could be initiated, court each other and marry, Natalie and I had a little Dauntless marriage of sorts, for the sake of her friends, not a marriage, more of a party. Hana was Natalie's maid of honor. I – hear she has two sons now."

"She does," I say quietly. Both of us flinch at the rough, grating voice that issues from my throat. Any other time, this conversation would be a treasure to me. But now, I cannot add a word to it, let alone ask questions. My father's face falls; he hands me a glass of water from the bedside table.

"What is 'it' that you were talking about giving?"

He smiles a little. "Caught on, have you?"

He pulls out a package from the folds of his loose gray coat. "Here's a little something for you. Your mother had a – premonition of sorts – a feeling really, that you would need it." His mouth puckers up like he has tasted something foul. "I am sorry to see she was right."

"I don't understand –"

"There's a letter from her. You will understand." Dad hesitates, then walks over close to my head. He drops the package wrapped in gray paper beside me, and places his hand on my forehead. My eyes close as he strokes my hair. I don't remember the last time this happened.

"The letter will tell you everything you need to know," he says, still caressing. "And – I am sorry, Beatrice."

My eyes fly open. "What – why –"

"I failed you. The Amity – they did not agree. I talked to Johanna, I did. But…" My heart suddenly feels heavier, if it were possible. "You will hear more from your faction members." He looks genuinely ashamed. But then his jaw hardens. "But I will help you in whatever way possible. I – have one good news – Marcus has lost his position. The council has rejected him and those who supported him." In spite of myself, that makes me smile.

"Thank you, Dad. That means so much – to both Tobias and me."

He smiles then, a real, proper smile. "I need to leave. I will have to reach the Hub by eleven, and besides, I do believe I have overstepped my welcome here." He nods a little at the door, where I see Helena standing with a small frown.

"Thanks, Dad." I manage to hold his hand resting on the bed. "For everything."

"Stay well, Be- Tris," he smiles. "And open the package as soon as I leave. You will need it."

Frowning a little in confusion, I watch my father leave with a last little wave of farewell. Helena visibly relaxes once he is nowhere in sight.

"Well then," she says, "You can rest, hun." And the curtains are around me again.

-o0o-

Dear Tris,

I hope this letter doesn't come too late. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something is wrong with you ever since I went to bed last night. Andrew and I agreed that it is time you have this gift from us.

In the package is a serum that I began developing on my own, away from David's eyes, when I was at the Bureau. It is nowhere as potent as the serums that the Bureau stores, or those given to the factions, but it is something that can help you in dire need. Andrew helped me finish and perfect it while we were at school; it was what helped in bringing us together initially. This serum accelerates healing – unfortunately it does not make it instantaneous, or complete; it just stimulates your body into doing a much quicker job, hence often reducing damage that could increase if the body were left to fight it out alone for longer. I am sending you my entire batch – not much to begin with, since my work stopped in Abnegation, save a little that I am keeping so that I can try and make more in the future, should it be needed. I have heard from Andrew how hurt you were, the time you visited him – and somehow, call it a mother's feeling, I cannot shake away the thought that something worse has happened. I can only hope that I am wrong. And if I am indeed wrong, you can use a little of it to heal what would normally take many months – in around a few days. One dose is sufficient for one person, but in particularly life-threatening cases, two or three may be needed. If your injuries have grown worse since what Andrew has told me, but if you are in a position to read and comprehend this, you will need two. If you are not in a state to read this letter (mum's handwriting, so neat, has trembled here; the strikes of the t's are shaky), Andrew will tell the nurses what to do.

I hope Tobias is doing well. Andrew must have told you that Marcus has been sacked from all his positions of power; a small victory to us. Get better, Tris. I love you.

Mom.

P.S. I hope seeing your father cheered you up a little. It would have been easier for all of us, perhaps, if I had gone (it had once been my home, after all; some of them know me). But your father insisted. The guilt of not being able to sway Johanna is eating into him. Don't judge him too harshly, dear. He tried his best.

I drop the letter from my trembling hands onto the bedside table and turn to the package. The paper falls apart under my unsteady fingers to reveal five small syringes containing a liquid that glints a pale gold. I don't feel like I have the strength to face this, but it will be too late if I wait to find my confidence. It may already be too late.

"Helena!" I call. "Helena!"

She comes at the second call. I take a deep breath. "How is Shauna?"

A beat of silence passes. "Still in the emergency," Helena murmurs, unusually downcast. "They are trying their best."

"O-okay. I – might have something to help." I explain the workings of the serum to her, and the dosage. She listens, wide-eyed. "I want this to be administered to Four and Shauna," I say when I am done.

"But it is for you, girl!" Helena protests.

"Shauna needs this more. You will know better than me, so I am leaving this up to you. Please." I try to express all that I cannot say. That I don't want to be a murderer. I came to save lives, not to destroy them. I can't take this anymore.

Helena nods after a pause, and then gathering the syringes, leaves.

Left alone, I lie in bed with my dark thoughts. Is Shauna dead? No, no, she can't be. Where is Lynn? How far from my bed is Tobias? How is he? With every thought I feel a little heavier, a little more guilty, until the weight presses on my chest like a car crushing me on the road; I cry then, and once I start crying, the tears refuse to stop. I cry and cry until I feel lightheaded, and eventually, the world darkens around me.

-o0o-

I wake up with significantly less pain than I am supposed to be feeling. My left side, which has felt like hell for more than a week, is almost painless. Stunned, I try to get down from the bed. I can actually take two proper steps without my crutches before my legs give away.

"Tris!" Helena suddenly materializes near me and helps me up. "Now who gave you permission to leave your bed, young lady?" she says in a matronly way.

"You gave me the serum," I say accusingly.

"It was for you," she says without missing a beat. "And look at how fast you are healing! I really reckon there's something special about you; no serum could possibly work that fast on anyone"

"But I –"

"I have sent it to Shauna," she says somberly, "The medics have used as much as they thought she could take." Quietly, she guides me to the other side of the room. On the bed by the wall, Tobias is still asleep.

"I just administered the serum to him," Helena says. "He should be awake within an hour, judging by your progress."

I nod. "Thanks Helena. May I leave?" I can't bear to look at Tobias, not when I am thinking of how he would feel when he finds out that I have shot down his best friend.

She looks conflicted for a second, but then nods.

The Pit is not quite as empty as I'd like it; I hear people talking, jostling playfully in a manner typical to Dauntless. I don't know where Will and Christina are. I don't have the ability to feel happy at the fact that Will and Harrison came back safe. I don't think I can feel anything anymore, except the yawning emptiness that seems to be eating me up inside, swallowing my organs whole and leaving hollow blackness. I stand at the railing overlooking the chasm. Water hits the wall beneath me, but it doesn't come high enough to splash my shoes. For an absurd moment I think of going towards Tobias's apartment and see if Shauna's blood still stains the floor. I kick the railing. It hurts.

"Hey, Tris," Zeke says, joining me at the railing. My heart thuds so loud that it is a surprise it doesn't come out of my ribcage. I look at him with difficulty. His eyes are red and swollen. He looks haggard.

"Hey," I whisper. I don't know what to say anymore.

"Lynn told me what happened."

"Oh. I – I am sorry, Zeke." It sounds horrible to my own ears.

I don't know if I want him to tell me not to blame myself. He doesn't.

"I waited inside till Shauna was stable, and then they kicked me out so she could rest. Turns out she is actually going to live." His mouth curls into a smile, but it looks painful and twisted. He rubs one of his eyes with his thumb. "That drug that Helena brought in – she said you sent it for Shauna – it did well. Before – they weren't –" He takes a long, shuddering breath, and once he starts talking, he can't seem to stop. "There was so much blood. Her heart was fading – there were injuries in many organs in the abdomen they said – so much blood and she wouldn't wake – but that serum started a healing process that bought her just enough time…"

I don't want to listen, but I do listen, feeling sick. A large wave rises in the chasm, wetting my shoes. They no longer have blood on them. Someone washed them when they changed my clothes.

Zeke keeps going. "Yeah, she's gonna survive it, but the nurse thinks she might be paralyzed from the waist down. Bullet grazed the spinal cord. And that wouldn't bother me, but …" He lifts a shoulder. "How can she be Dauntless if she can't walk?"

I stare across the Pit, where some Dauntless children chase each other up the path, laughing. In my previous life I had the strength and the conscience to give him positive advice. But now I have neither. Nevertheless, I have to try, for Shauna's sake. I made her like this. I need to ensure that she is not thrown out.

"She can," I say.

Zeke looks at me like he wants to say something particularly poisonous, or hit me. I can see it in his eyes. Finally, though, he does neither; the venom in his chocolate brown eyes go out, and he looks much older all of a sudden. I find myself wishing he had hit me.

"Tris." He sounds terse, but tired. "She won't even be able to move around."

I have to keep talking, keep going, though my mouth tastes more and more bitter with each word. "It can… be managed. She can get a wheelchair, and someone can push her up the paths in the Pit, and there's an elevator in the building up there." I point above our heads. "She doesn't need to be able to walk to slide down the zip line or fire a gun."

Zeke bites his lip. "She won't want me to push her." His voice cracks a little. "She won't want me to lift her, or carry her."

I remember what I said next last time. I no longer have the bravado to say it again.

"I'll help," is what comes out instead in a broken voice. Something wet roles down my cheek. "I'll make sure she feels like she belongs." If she ever wants to see me again. "We can't let her drop out because she can't walk."

Zeke is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shift over my face, and he squints, as if weighing and measuring me. The moment drags around for a long, long time. I wonder what he is thinking.

Then he turns and bends and wraps his arms around me. It is such an unexpected gesture that I stiffen; tremors start running down my body. Zeke's warmth seems to crack something inside me, and before I can comprehend it, hot tears are running in thick streams down my cheeks, and I find myself stammering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again. Zeke seems to be crying too, his larger body shaking against mine. Once we pull apart, neither of us seems to know what to say, and we stare at the Chasm awkwardly, side by side.

There's the sound of pattering footsteps behind us, and I turn around to see Lynn. Her face is oddly pale, like she has been crying for too long, and it has drained her. She doesn't look at me.

"Four's awake," she tells Zeke. I might as well have been invisible.

I feel the little comfort I had felt with Zeke's acceptance drain out. I suddenly can't bear to stay here another moment. I can't face Lynn. I can't face Tobias.

"I have to go," I choke out, and move in the opposite direction as fast as possible, my crutches clattering against the rock floor as I walk.

"Tris!" I hear Zeke calling. "Tris!" But I can't go back. I can't.

I find myself going up and up the path that leads into the Pire. The sunlight glints onto the floor as I climb, throwing dancing shadows on the ground. I move higher and higher, past the floor of the fear room, past everything, until I am almost seven stories high. The glass walls stand guard against a glass ledge that looks down upon the pavement below. A section of the glass is broken. I wonder who fell through it. Or jumped.

Walking to the very edge of the break in the glass wall, I look down at the pavement below. Everything looks so small. The wind rushes through my hair. I drop the crutches inside. I grab the wall, and push myself out onto the ledge, my arms shaking. When I'm there, I sit down, almost cross-legged, sucking in air and heaving it back out again. The buildings rise one after the other; somewhere behind them, the train track snakes away. The Hub reflects the sunlight in the distance. That's where my father is.

I sit on the edge, and allow myself to think of Shauna's blank eyes, her hot blood all over my body, her lying limply on the ground, bleeding out. Lynn's screams, how she was so careful to act like I wasn't there. This is Will all over again. His green eyes, blank. Shauna's blue ones, blank. Marlene. Caleb, blood spreading from his pristine grey robes.

My hands reach for one of my two crutches. A faint cry escapes me. It grows into a yell, which transforms into a scream, and then I'm standing on the ledge of the Dauntless quarters, screaming as the crutch sails toward the ground, screaming until my throat burns. It hits the opposite pavement, and shatters like a brittle skeleton. Just like Marlene's body, broken, a faint outline. Just like Rita's sister. I sit down painfully on the ledge, leaning into the side of the glass frame, its jagged edges digging into my side. I think it draws blood, a little. I close my eyes.

And then I think of Al.

I wonder how long Al stood at the ledge before I found him, before he let go of my hand, before he pitched himself over it, into the Dauntless Pit.

He must have stood there for a long time, making a list of all the terrible things he had done—almost killing me was one of those things—and another list of all the good, heroic, brave things he had not done, and then decided that he was tired. Tired, not just of living, but of existing. Tired of being Al.

It's like a loop, then, a loop of desolate thoughts. Me thinking of Al at the Merciless Mart. Me holding Al and thinking of his thoughts resonating with what I had felt back in my last life. Me sitting now, thinking of it all over again, thinking of how I am tired of being Tris too, tired of being Tris twice. Tired of knowing everything that a mistake on my part would cost me and making more mistakes, new mistakes. I cannot take them back even if I tried to; they are a part of me now.

Leaning forward a little, so that I am overlooking the pavement so far below, I try to remember the feeling of dying, of slowly fading away. I wish I had not taken the choice to rebuild everything. I don't feel like I have the power to, any more.

Holding the glass wall, I stand up unsteadily. Beads of my blood litter the glass ledge. Another few inches forward and my weight would pull me to the ground. I would not be able to stop it.

Move forward, and I stop what I have started.

Stop any more mistakes.

No more chances.

Just the end. Sleep.

Summarizing the end bit for those who may not have read it: Tris feels guilty and defeated for making repeated and new mistakes, and the task of saving everyone feels too heavy on her shoulders. The chapter ends with her contemplating if she should jump, standing on the edge of the Pire.

The bit about the broken glass I took from Amar's 'death'; his body was said to have been found on the pavement, fallen from the building in all likelihood. I know the whole thing was staged, but I liked to think they did it thoroughly; hence the hole in the glass.