The Encounter

by ClubLulu333

Weeks into her initiation, Everly is struggling with her decision to stay in Amity. Pressured to stay by her family and friends, things become even more complicated when her chance encounter with a certain Dauntless leader puts her right on his radar. Will he be the one to change her life, or is she just another trophy on his hunt? This is an Eric meets Everly in Amity story!

27. Chapter 27

Thank you so much to Bamberlee for editing!

Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter. I know some people flat out hated it, and I totally understand. Thank you for allowing me to write something that was not expected and trusting me. I read every comment, and I appreciate everyone who took the time to tell me their thoughts.

Like my commitment to giving up coffee, I have failed to wrap up everything in a single chapter. We are nearing the end, but there will be another one, or maybe two, after this one. I did not feel it was fair to cram everything into one extra long chapter, so I have made the decision to extend it.

Thank you all for following along, and for the very kind messages about writing. I am not sure what's next, (if only I can convince Amber to edit Eric: The Bachelor) but I do know there is an epilogue to Eva and the final chapter of Committed in the near future.

Have a great weekend everyone and stay safe!

---

The moon shifts.

It hangs just overhead, pouring moonlight over the treetops.

It bathes the figure in a pearly light, illuminating his face enough for me to observe angelic features matched with an evil sneer, and highlights his dark clothes. Black shirt, black pants, black boots. There is no doubt he's from Dauntless, and the gun in his hand is all the more confirmation of this theory.

He exudes not total fearlessness as he steps closer, but phony arrogance.

His eyes move from me to Eric, and he swallows with the barest hint of uncertainty.

"Is he dead?"

I stare up at his face while pressing my fingers harder against Eric's side. The blood is sticky and wet. I feel Eric moving, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths. His breathing is labored, more likely from shock or perhaps hitting his head, and shallow.

He struggles to fight it.

I can feel the determination, buried deep inside him, as he tries to wake up. I feel it as my palms press flat over his shirt and he groans.

After all, somewhere in Dauntless, on a jagged wall lit up by faint lighting, someone had etched their motto into the walls, reminding everyone that Dauntless never gave up.

"I said, is he dead?"

The man moves closer, further into the moonlight, and his gaze is fixed on Eric. He knows him. I can see it in the way his mouth turns down and his eyebrows knit inward. His hair is messy, wet with rain and violence, and the gun in his hand is the same one all the soldiers carried.

The same one I'd fired.

"Why did you shoot him?" I sink against Eric before I can stop myself, and the guilt of what's happened is so immense I can't stand up.

Not too long ago, I'd stood in the woods talking to him. He'd asked if I'd missed him, and I hadn't been honest.

I did miss him.

I missed every single thing about him.

I missed the slow way he'd let me get to know him, and the fast way he'd pulled me down into his world. I missed the few nights we'd spent in his apartment, the brief drop into Dauntless, and the feeling of being with just him. He had been safe, but not safe, and he was a danger I wanted.

"Why?" I shift again, doing my best to stop him from bleeding. I have some medical knowledge from listening to my mother, but this is far beyond her scope of expertise. It might be beyond Arlene's scope of expertise.

I refuse to let him die here.

"Why? Tell me why you did it!"

My tone turns hysteric. I press my palm harder against Eric's side, screwing my eyes shut at the feeling of damp fabric. Not that long ago, I'd pressed my hands to his chest for other reasons. I'd curled against him to go to sleep, and I'd touched him while he dressed or undressed. This is far different, and I'd give anything to go back in time, even for just a moment.

"I don't owe you an explanation," the next villain in my life pauses. He's far more confident now, and he shrugs casually, but his posture tells me he's worried. "Tell me if he's dead or if I need to shoot him again."

"Did he attack you?" I peer up at his face, and his expression suddenly mirrors one of Eric's most arrogant sneers.

I wait for him to answer.

He doesn't.

He glares at me, dark and annoyed.

"I said, IS. HE. DEAD?"

"Yes." I lie without hesitation, knowing it was half the truth. Eric certainly isn't doing great, but he's still breathing. He's still moving, his fingers tensing or his head moving slightly, and it's enough hope for me to hold onto.

"Good. He had it coming. He's been fucking around for long enough. I've been waiting for the opportunity to move up and every time I thought it was happening, someone else stepped in. Jeremy. Tris. Four. You." He points at me, and his hatred is quick. "I went through the Dauntless initiation. I did everything right. And he just brought you there without a care in the world. Ashley was right about you."

"Ashley?" I stare up at his face, still confused as ever. I haven't met him before, nor do I have any idea what he's talking about. "You know Ashley?"

"Of course, I know her. She was in Dauntless enough. She told me about Eric screwing her over. She told me how Erudite is struggling and it's all your fault. If you had never started anything with him, things would be fine. But this is fine, too. Once it's announced Eric is dead, Dauntless will need a new leader, and trust me when I say no one is gunning for the job right now. His own friends aren't even interested in running the place."

"So you decided you'd kill him? What is that gonna do? They'll trace it back to you," I keep talking, stalling for time.

Moments ago, I'd willingly accepted I was going to die. There was no kind way to put it, and no rosy view to look at. I was in the middle of the woods, with a man who'd shot Eric, and I was alone. My emotions swung from being fine with everything ending, to the strange kick in my stomach, subtly telling me it wasn't going to end like this.

"Why not…why not get him kicked out?" I ask the man in front of me. He's still a careful distance away, and I hope he doesn't come any closer. I need more than a few minutes. My phone had died seconds ago, and while it is unlikely anyone will ever get here before this man kills me, I have to try. "Was killing him the best option?"

"Yeah, and unfortunately, it looks like I have to kill you, too." He keeps talking, but he doesn't make any move to shoot me. He stands there as the rain picks up slightly, and his lips press together. His gaze skirts over me, and his eyes widen. "Fuck, she didn't tell me you were pregnant."

"Who are you?" I ask without looking away, and Eric moves again. It's so slight it would be impossible to see unless you were holding onto him, but I am. He turns his head slightly, and his eyes try to open. "You don't have to kill me. I won't tell anyone what you did. Eric already tried to kill me. I won't say anything, I promise."

"That's a fun story. Really," he answers shortly. "Did he just move? I swear he just moved."

"No, I think he hit his head when he fell. He hasn't moved since I found him." I rise up on my knees, ignoring the sick feeling of the damp ground and the sharp rocks. The pain is immediate, but I cling onto the realness of it. "We could just leave. No one will find him. I swear, no one comes out here."

"Look, even if Eric did try to kill you, I can't trust you any farther than I can throw you. You run home and tell everyone I was out here, and suddenly I've got the entire faction hunting me down. You'll have to come with me." He's stressed now. I can see it on his face, and the way his brow wrinkles as he stomps over. He pauses only to throw a quick look at Eric, and his scowl intensifies. "Hurry up. Leave him here. I'll come back later."

"Where are we going?" I move slowly, and Eric's eyes open again. They lock on mine, and for a second, there's a moment of comprehension. My hopes soars, then crashes down when he shuts them and slides back into nothingness.

"I don't know yet. Just get up!" The man grows frantic, and eventually he grabs me by the arm. "I have a truck stored not far away from here. I followed his dumb ass all the way from Dauntless. Maybe…maybe Max can deal with you."

"Sounds like a great plan," I retort, pulling my arm away from his. "And what are you going to tell him? That I shot Eric?"

"Yeah, why not? Scorned lover, taken to another faction and forced to stay there. I'll say I followed Eric to see you, and you shot him after you guys got in some argument. He won't question it."

"Oh no, it sounds like a fool proof alibi. Everyone in Amity has a gun." I would roll my eyes, but he pulls me away, and I shove him back. "Don't touch me. I'll go with you, but don't touch me."

He eyes me up and down. I can see him trying to size up the situation, and given my damp nightgown and sweater, he ultimately decides the risk of me killing him is minimal at best.

"You run, I kill you. Got it?" he threatens, and I shrug. "Come on."

"Fine." At this point, death isn't the threat he thinks it is. I don't think my life could get much worse than this. "What's your name?" I glare at him, and I glance back at Eric. He's still in the same spot, and his chest is still. "At least tell me so I know what to call you."

The man's groan of impatience isn't that I'm not going with him, but that his plans have been interrupted, and me witnessing him out here is an inconvenience he doesn't need.

"I said, come on. We have to get back up there." He points to the top of the ravine, and when he's sure I'm walking with him, he relaxes. "Your name is Everly. I know that much."

"Yeah, nice to meet you," I answer him rudely, and he throws me a condescending glare. "Are you ever going to tell me your name?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. My name's Peter. Now move. The faster we get out of here, the faster I can tell Max you killed Eric. Because you did. You should have just accepted him back into your life. It was killing him you weren't in Dauntless and it would kill him to go to Amity to be with you."

"I don't think he wanted either of those options," I throw him a quick glance, meaning not a single thing I'm saying. I want him to keep talking, since the more he talked, the more he told me. But the more he told me, the more I was panicking. My hands felt odd, weightless almost, and it was hard to look right at him.

I try and calm myself down by breathing slowly, and I blurt out the next question that pops into my mind.

"Hey, do you know Four? Are you guys friends?"

Peter laughs.

He snickers beside me, like I've told him the most hilarious joke in the world.

"Oh, we're great friends. Such good friends that I had him turn off the cameras for me when I left Dauntless." Peter shoves me forward, and I pause as the incline begins. "You and he were friends, weren't you? I heard he was part of some undercover mission. He said…"

His pause makes me turn to look at him.

Behind him, the forest spans dark and wide, endless and impossible. The wind scrapes through, between the branches and over the leaves, and hits my skin. I solemnly realize there is absolutely no way anyone will find us out here, let alone save me.

The remaining minutes of my life tick away, one by one.

"He said he warned you about Eric. More than once. I guess you should have listened."

I nod, and behind Peter, the forest falls silent.

---

By the time I reach the flattest part of the incline, I'm so tired I can't think straight.

It is steep in a lot of parts, slippery if you should fall down it, but not impossible to climb up. It would have been easier were I not exhausted but Peter doesn't care. He keeps pushing me on, refusing to stop for anything, not even when his foot slips and he stumbles.

We reach the top after ages. The rain lets up momentarily, but I'm freezing. My fingers hurt, my teeth are chattering, and the sweater feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I pause to collect my thoughts, thinking maybe I could make a run for it and potentially lose Peter in the thick maze of trees.

Then I remember he has a gun and I do not.

"Why are you stopping? We're almost there. Keep moving."

"Why are you hurrying? He's dead," I point out, thinking if he hadn't been before, he probably is now. "You won. You can wait a few minutes. I'm tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot we were operating on your schedule," Peter snaps. "Keep walking."

Behind him, the sky seems to be lightening. I don't know what time it is, and it's still plenty dark, but it feels like hours have passed since Eric announced it was two.

"I just…I need…"

"You need what? A break? I thought you wanted to live in Dauntless? I thought you were strong. I thought you picked the wrong faction and Eric brought you to the right one?" He taunts me in a sing-song voice, and his mockery makes me dislike him all the more. I have the sudden feeling that had I stayed in Dauntless, he surely would have come for me there. "I thought you were married to the biggest, baddest, scariest man in all of Dauntless. I thought he –"

I turn slightly, and when we lock eyes, I push him backward.

I have no clue where the idea comes from, but I shove him as hard as I possibly can with the little energy I have left. It's not much, but it's enough to force him to stumble, and his foot catches on something I can't see.

"Fuck!"

He falls backward gracelessly. I don't move from the edge, but I watch him tumble down the hill we'd climbed up, and his head smacks into almost everything. He hits rocks, tree stumps, branches, pinecones. When he stops, somewhere in the middle, I see him land at an odd angle. There's a snap of something that sounds an awful lot like his neck or his leg, then silence.

Total deafening silence.

"Oh fuck." I blurt out to no one, and I wait to see if he moves.

He doesn't.

I peer down over the edge, going as close as I dare. The darkness is like a black hole, and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust. Peter lies on the ground, slumped to the side and quiet. I hold my breath while I stare down at him, and when I'm sure he's not getting back up, I take a few steps back. I hit the ground before I can catch myself. My hands sink into wet earth, and when I try to breathe normally, it's impossible.

The panic is overwhelming.

It roots itself deeply, so deeply it's hard to move, and I can't stop the tears. I let myself have this moment of grief, of pure and total terror, of total and all-consuming desperation at murdering someone. I think of all the things that have happened, all the attempts on my life, all the times I had made choices I believed were right, all of that leading up until now. I never thought in a million years it would come to this: Eric, the only person I'd ever loved, dead in the middle of the woods while I walked away with the man who shot him.

But it did.

I still struggle to accept it. I had willingly welcomed my impending death, but I was being selfish. I was thinking only of me, and not my child. He or she had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve being murdered by a psycho hell-bent on revenge, and I have to change this. I have to pull myself up, gather my thoughts, and get the fuck out of the woods.

It's harder than it sounds.

I think of Eric, still at the bottom of the ravine, unmoving.

Of our child, a thought so painful it hurts.

Of the man I'd just pushed to his death, willing to kill me to cover up what he did to Eric.

I'm not so sure I can get up. I wipe at my eyes, wondering if this is why I wouldn't have made it in Dauntless. Were the soldiers trained for this? Was death just a routine, everyday occurrence holding no real meaning? How did they make the snap decision to save themselves or someone else? Did they ever go home and reel over their actions, thinking they'd made a mistake or worse, did they enjoy their mistake?

The other thoughts follow, faster and more important. There is a chance Eric could make it. There is a chance he's not dead, or he won't bleed to death before I can get help. The memory of him splayed out on the ground is paralyzing, but so is the thought of never seeing him again.

Never slipping my hand through his.

Never hearing him confess anything else, even if it was the truth about what had happened in Erudite.

I shake my head in a vain attempt to clear my thoughts. I feel crazy, but it works. When the fear subsides, the panic sucks back like one of the small waves at the lakeshore. I wipe my eyes and realize I have to move on. I have to get back to Amity. I need to wake up Harrison and tell him what happened. If there is a chance at all Eric is alive, it's probably gone now, but at the very least, maybe Harrison can go try to find him. He'll have to tell Dauntless what happened. I feel ill thinking about Eric in such a way, but I'm so tired, I can barely see straight.

Which is why I miss the grunt coming from a few feet away.

I realize all too late that sitting down might have just cost me my life. By the time I scramble to my feet, Peter stands before me, barely alive.

He looks horrific. He's grimy and bloody, covered with the forest and mud and the visible proof of his fall. He ambles slowly, disoriented but determined, and his mouth is bleeding. He must have mustered up enough energy to come up the hill looking for me, and now he's going to make sure I don't tell anyone about him.

"You fucking bitch. You really thought you could kill me?"

He fumbles for the gun, dark and metallic, and I take off before he can shoot me.

"No, no, no."

I run as fast as I can. I have the advantage of having grown up here. It might be hard to see in the dark, and the forest is full of obstacles, but I'm more adept than he is. Peter swears, loud and furious as he drags himself through the woods, and he chants my name over and over. The agony is just as exhausting, maybe more so than the running. My feet slip over slick mud, I catch my elbow on the finger like spread of a branch, and I gasp when the cold air of sloping ground hits my face.

After a few minutes, a gunshot explodes in the air, and it's expected. Even still, my heart speeds up at the sound, beating so fast it feels like it might explode, especially when I come to a dead end.

In the darkness, I have taken a wrong turn.

I might have been better at running through the woods, but I was turned around. I'd led him right to the base of a cliff, one ascending so high there's no way I can climb it. In the distance, there is the low groan of a train passing through, and the whistle to alert anyone near the tracks to clear out. If I could get to it, there was a chance I could jump on and get away.

Unfortunately for me, the cliff is too sharp. It's mostly rocks and dirt, and it would prove impossible to climb. My other option is trying to get across the river, dark and deep, rushing violently past, and no doubt freezing. My heart sinks when I realize I have no choice but to go back in the direction I came.

"You dumb ass. I thought you lived here," Peter wheezes, and he comes at me like something from my nightmares. He's a reanimated corpse, dripping with every step he takes. He aims the gun at me, swaying on his feet, and he laughs darkly. "You are so stupid. You don't even know how to get back home. The Dome is like, five minutes from here. There's no way you would have lasted in any faction, let alone Dauntless."

I watch him move to pull the trigger, and I shut my eyes.

I welcome whatever is about to happen because I absolutely have nothing left to give and no way to escape.

Death doesn't come.

The seconds stretch on endlessly, until his scream of fury is so loud my eyes fly open. I'm greeted with the sight of Peter collapsing and the gun flying out of his grasp. It lands just to the side, and there behind him, looking absolutely no better, is Eric.

He stares at me with parted lips, and his hands are bloody. It takes me a few seconds to realize he's hit Peter in the head with a branch, hard enough to knock him out. He and I stare at each other wordlessly, and he reaches for the gun when I blink.

"I never liked you."

He shoots Peter once, right through the temple, then tosses the gun to the side. He heads right toward me, his hair slick and wet, his skin a ghostly shade of white, and his walk is off. He's clearly in pain, and he stumbles when his bloodied hands find my face.

"Everly, are you…are you alright? Did he shoot you?"

His voice is strained. It's quiet and woozy, and my hands fly up to press to his cheeks. He's freezing, and I slide my hands behind his neck to pull him closer. His thumb touches my cheek, and he swallows thickly, visibly struggling to stay upright.

"No! Eric, are you okay? Say you're okay. We can walk back. It's not much farther. My mom…my mom can help you. She can fix this. Eric!"

His eyes start to close. His fingers move, skimming away like an anguished goodbye, and he shakes his head.

"Everly…"

It's the last thing I hear.

He collapses gracelessly as the very last bit of energy he has dies out. He takes me down with him, and having no strength to move, I stay there. His fingers dig into my skin. His head stays on my chest, and I thread my fingers into his hair as tightly as I can. The heartbreak is excruciating when he doesn't say my name again, nor does he lift up his head. I cling to him tighter, begging him to hang on. If he can rest for a minute, maybe we can walk out of here. Maybe I can get him upright and make it to the Dome before he collapses again.

Eventually, his breathing turns slow and uneven, and his grip loosens. I say his name over and over, refusing to let go.

Even when everyone shows up.

The woods come alive as a multitude rushes forward. Members of Amity, members of Erudite, members of Dauntless. I see Daniel sprinting our way, his scrubs dark and covered in rain drops, and his face white with panic. I see Jason, screaming my name, followed by a patrol squad, including Karl and Jake and Tori, yelling that I'm over here. I see Daniel's staff, Camille and several others, carrying bags of medical equipment, hurrying toward me with determined stares. I see May, with Jerry hot on her heels, instructing everyone to follow her. There is chaos as they all try to reach us first, competing only with each other.

The sky changes quickly.

It lightens as Daniel and Hank and Harrison reach me first. They yell my name, over and over, and I can't answer anyone. Their words are fuzzy, drifting over me, and I'm dimly aware of Daniel grasping onto my hands, desperately coaxing me to let go. His hands are warm, and he pries me away from Eric, touching my face and cheeks, trying to get me to answer him.

I can't.

I watch over his shoulder as the sky turns pink, then a brighter pink, and the sun very slowly begins to rise as the moon falls right out of the sky.

---

"He's almost out of surgery."

Camille waits while I wash my hair.

There might be nothing more mortifying than having a grown woman sit in the bathroom while you take a shower, but she insisted it was a standard procedure. She is very patient but strict with her instructions. I was to wash the dirt and blood out of my hair, wash the rest of the dirt off me, and then she'd help me brush my hair. I refused at first. I didn't even remember the ride over here, or what happened after Daniel pried me away from Eric. All I knew is there were a lot of people upset, and none more so than Daniel.

Hank and Harrison looked distraught as they busied themselves by trying to get me to my feet.

Daniel had nearly collapsed at the sight of his son. Well, actually, he did collapse. He dropped down to make sure I was okay, then stayed to move Eric off me. When I couldn't respond to him saying my name, he forced himself into the clinical doctor he was, and I had to say, he and Camille worked fast. Their staff took up most of the space, while Hank and Harrison made sure I was alive. I finally worked up enough strength to tell them I was okay. To announce Eric had been shot and he wasn't moving.

To please, please, please save him, or at least make him wake up.

My plea to go home fell on deaf ears as they checked for a pulse. Read vitals to each other in clipped, flat voices. I insisted my mother could help, but they all refused. May and Jerry refused. Even Camille refused. She leapt up the minute she could, looked at me like I was insane, and hotly informed everyone I would be seen in Erudite and no one was going to tell her otherwise.

No one tried to fight her on this.

I was taken to Erudite, along with Eric.

Back to the towers of glass panels and high ceilings. Back to the clean, sterile hallways and elegant lighting.

I was whisked through white doors and past a staff looking appropriately stunned at my arrival, and once there, I was quickly examined. Camille did a lot of the talking, and the nurses I saw were nameless, but very friendly. It only took a few minutes for them to decide I needed to stay, though I doubted anyone was going to suggest otherwise. I was given a diagnosis of exhaustion, of something that sounded like hypothermia, though I was no longer cold, and it was hinted I was headed for a possible nervous breakdown.

There was also a suggestion to see someone from their OBGYN department. Right when I was sure I couldn't take much more, I was taken to a room by Camille. She promised she had warm clothes and a soft bed, and I couldn't argue with anything she was saying.

I could barely keep my eyes open. Even now, I sway on my feet as I rinse my hair, sighing at the hot water.

"Is he okay?" I turn the water off, and I squeeze my hair out while I wait for Camille's answer. The bathroom is nice; it's large and spacious, and much more upscale than I would imagine for a hospital bathroom. I open the door to reach for a towel, and Camille is right there, waiting for me.

In my haze of shock, I felt like I imagined a standoff between her and Daniel. Harrison and Hank were still in Amity. They'd agreed to take care of Peter, and Jason refused to leave them. The feud between Dauntless and Amity was temporarily on hold as Jason begged to help, and his patrol quickly followed orders from the Amity army. May and Jerry directed everyone to fan out into the woods, just to make sure no one was out there. In a moment of defeat, Harrison lowly agreed to put the cameras back up and the look on his face told me he felt responsible.

He wasn't.

Not one bit.

I tried to tell him this, but I didn't get the chance. Camille and Daniel were insistent we not spend another second in Amity, and it seemed like everyone agreed this was for the best.

In Erudite, I was out of my element. Daniel was called into surgery for his own son, and Camille was assigned to me. I remember a blur of people rushing by me dressed in different scrubs, and when I asked where they were going, I was gently told everything would be fine.

Now, Camille stands before me, towel drying my hair and eyeing me intently.

"Have you had a physical exam in Amity? A check up? Any sort of prenatal care?"

"I had a check up with a nurse from here. She was with my mom," I volunteer, and the lights in the bathroom are too bright. I shut my eyes, trying to remember the disdain of the woman who'd looked shocked I didn't know how far along I am. "Um, that's it. Where's Eric?"

"Have you had an ultrasound? Bloodwork? Anything?" Camille moves to the front of me, and she steps outside the room. I hear her fumble for something, and I stand still, trying to avoid my own reflection. "Everly?"

"I had bloodwork in Dauntless."

She returns with clothes. I take them from her without question, and she wasn't lying about how soft they are. My answer must have been unsatisfactory to her because she doesn't look very happy.

"I'll help you get dressed and then we'll brush out your hair. Eric is in surgery right now. We had no visual confirmation of the bullet exiting his body. While not fatal, the x-ray showed it lodged near his spine. He is currently undergoing surgery to remove it. If not, there was a chance it would migrate and cause paralysis." She pauses, and her eyes find mine. "He'll be absolutely fine. As soon as Eric is out, he'll go to recovery, then be taken to his own room."

"No one will be there when he wakes up," I point out, woozy at the thought of a bullet having gone right through his skin. "I should go wait. I'm…"

"His mother has been called." Camille's answer is sharp. Her expression tells me she doesn't like this and so does her posture. "I'm sure she's here now."

I blanche at the thought of Blythe being the first person he sees. Even with everything that's happened, he doesn't deserve to open his eyes to her hovering over him.

"I don't think he wants Blythe there when he wakes up," I point out, and I try to think fast. "I should be there. I'm still married to him. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Well, as his wife, if you go down there, you'll be the only one allowed back in recovery." Camille sighs. "I have to be honest with you, Everly. You've been through a lot. My suggestion is you get in bed and sleep. You are both lucky to be alive. Especially, considering God knows how long you sat there with him in the cold."

"It doesn't matter," I stare up at her, and she isn't surprised at all by my protest. "I want to make sure he's okay. Things haven't been good between us. At the very least, let me make sure he's alright."

Camille's expression tenses.

Her eyes flit over to the room, where the bed waits for me to crawl into it and pass out, then back to me.

"Camille…"

"I know what happened. Eric showed up in the middle of one of our surgeries and demanded his father come talk to him. He told Daniel about Erudite and how he never planned to bring you in. He was upset. I …." Camille pauses, and her phone beeps loudly. "He's been here a few times since you were taken back to Amity. As much as I dislike Eric, I believe he was telling the truth. So does his father. They've been talking more than I've ever heard them talk."

"That's good," I clutch the clothes tighter, and Camille steps back. "Is Daniel calling you?"

"You get dressed. I'll answer it."

Camille leaves. She shuts the door behind her, and I'm left with stark white walls and slick marble floors. I stare at myself for a second in the mirror above the sink, noticing I, too, look like the living dead. I immediately look away, and I pull on the clothes Camille brought. I figure I have enough energy left to convince her to take me to Eric and once I'm sure he's okay, I'll lie down.

The thought of his mother being the first person he sees when he wakes up doesn't sit well with me.

It doesn't sit well with Camille, either.

Thirty minutes later, with carefully brushed hair and pajama pants that are too long, I'm taken to Eric's room.

---

He stays cold for a while.

The clock on the phone Camille pressed into my hands reads seven thirty. I eye it blearily, then set it on the table beside the bed. The room is large and expansive, more like some sort of master bedroom than a hospital room, and cold. It's dark in here, thanks to heavy curtains, and lit up only by the machines beside the bed. The atmosphere isn't as tense as before, but different than anything I'm used to.

Sort of unsure, like Eric might not open his eyes again.

He would.

Daniel promised me.

Not too long ago, I walked into the room where all family members are required to wait, and Blythe was there. She leapt to her feet so fast you would have thought she was waiting for me. The look on her face told me she knew exactly what was going on. Since I was married to Eric, I had a higher precedence over everyone, and I would be the only one allowed to see him in recovery. Blythe clearly knew this, but she was banking on me not showing up. My presence set her off, and she came for me with her eyes flashing as she screamed at me to get lost. She was stopped by security, a faint ghost of the Dauntless soldiers, and they reminded her she needed to behave.

While she stood there loudly hissing I didn't have any right to be here, I was escorted through large swinging doors. One swipe of Camille's badge, several turns and a few rooms later, I got to see Eric.

It wasn't a terrifying sight.

He was asleep, with an IV in his hand and a blanket pulled up over him. He looked oddly vulnerable in this state, having been taken down by someone half his size. I walked over and sat on the side of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall, and I hoped he'd wake up and look at me.

He didn't.

Every so often, one of the nurses checked on him. They checked his vitals, checked his temperature, and said his name to see if he'd respond. There was a white wristband on his wrist, and Camille quietly told me it also had a security alert on it.

Not so much because someone might come for him, but that he'd get up and walk out.

She put a matching one on my wrist. The paper scraped against my skin, but I kept quiet, and focused on Eric.

In the blur of things, while I learned it might take Eric some time to wake up, I also learned Peter was dead. I learned Jason and Rylan were here, in the hospital, but would be returning to Dauntless to announce what was going on. I was told Harrison had been here, briefly, and Hank and my mother would be here at some point during the day.

It felt like chaos.

The attempted murder of the leader of Dauntless wasn't something that could go unnoticed. Even if Dauntless kept quiet about it, too many people were now involved. Amity surely wouldn't feel as secure as it once did, and Candor would realize without any sort of army or protection, they were sitting ducks for the time someone decided to act out their revenge.

Only Abnegation might stay out of it, but when pressed, they might give in to the pressure of needing to know they were safe.

All this swirled around me, flitting around in tiny bits of information, whispered while I waited for Eric to move.

When he still didn't, except for the tensing of his hands and the turning of his head, there were mentions of paperwork, someone asking me to sign something, and a pen shoved into my hands. It felt surreal, like it was happening around me, so I mostly just nodded and said nothing.

I signed everything, not even reading the papers.

When the person from administration left, I sat on the edge of Eric's bed, and one male nurse came by to introduce himself. He smiled, asked my name, then handed me a bag of Eric's things. In it was his shirt, his pants, the heavy boots he had, and a few other belongings. I took it slowly, not sure what I was supposed to do with it, and Camille pried it from my hands and snapped at the nurse to move Eric upstairs.

It felt like it took hours to reach the fourth floor, where I now sit, waiting for Eric to wake up.

He doesn't.

Just like in the woods, he occasionally mumbles something. His eyes fight to open, but the lingering anesthesia is strong. He winces, shoves the covers away from him, then goes right back to sleep.

I finally succumb to my own exhaustion by moving to sit by his side. I sit down carefully, far more comfortable than sitting and staring at him, and I lean over his chest to examine the bandage. The gauze is larger than I expect. It's white but dotted with blood, and the skin above it is slightly red. I gently press my fingers there, noticing it's warm, and only then does Eric mutter my name. I've never been shot before, and I imagine it would be incredibly painful.

I keep my fingers there, and I nearly fall off the bed when he speaks.

"What happened?"

I look up at Eric from my awkward position. His voice is groggy and slow. It's thick with sleep, just like his stare. He blinks a few times, then very carefully reaches up to swat at me. His actions are drunk from the sedation; he misses completely, and winds up settling for grasping onto the ends of my hair.

"Everly…"

"You got shot," I half whisper, afraid to startle him. He eyes me with some major disbelief, and I resist telling him I also thought he was invincible. "We were talking in the woods and you left. I went to find you and someone named Peter shot you. You fell and I found you at the bottom of the ravine. I thought…I thought you were dead. But you weren't. You wound up shooting Peter in the head, then you collapsed."

He squints at me.

He's a strange sight. His hair is a mess, not as straight as he wanted everyone to believe, nor is it at all combed. It falls in his eyes, making him look like someone else entirely.

"Are you drunk, Everly?" He drawls out my name with zero elegance. "Or is this from being in Amity? No one shot me."

"Yes, they did!" I insist, and he throws me a pathetically attempted smirk. "I'm serious. Peter shot you!"

"He wouldn't shoot me," Eric snickers, and he sits up slightly. His eyes widen, and his head tilts. "Wait." He glances down at his chest, and his hand flies to his side. "Fuck!"

"You had surgery. They had to remove the bullet. It was stuck by your spine," I tell him, and his gaze whips back to me. "He was going to kill me and you stopped him."

"How? When? Are you alright?" Eric sits up further, wincing at the sudden movement, and he tries to pull me closer. It's useless given how close I am, and how little strength he has. "Aren't you…you're…"

"I pushed him down the cliff. He somehow got back up and he came back to make sure I didn't tell anyone what he did. You stopped him in time and then you collapsed." I pause when Eric's face darkens, and it makes me smile that he looks annoyed. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. I was more…cold than anything. I stayed with you until everyone got there."

He stares.

Grey eyes hold mine until he looks down. There's nothing to see, given Camille had given me pajamas twice my size, but that doesn't stop him.

"And the baby?"

Hearing him say the word baby makes my chest tighten. It also makes everything in me tense up, and not in a good way. For the past month, I've carried the baby like a secret. Not only did I think of him, or her, as being mine, but I felt a strange protectiveness over whoever they were. I wouldn't let anyone hurt me, or them, and Eric's stare tells me he's not drugged enough to have forgotten.

And oh, how I wish it hadn't come to this.

I never wanted to be in a place where I'd like him to forget for both our sanity.

"Fine, I think. Camille said I have to see one of the doctors here in the morning. She said they're all really nice." I answer carefully, watching his expression slip.

"Oh, well that's good. That's what you should be looking for in a doctor," he retorts, but he softens when I reach for his hand. "You should be checked out. It was freezing out there. You were wandering around in the rain for who knows how long. You said you were going home and –"

He falls silent when I press his hand to my stomach. It's easy to miss in the oversized shirt, but impossible to miss with his hand on me. My negative feelings about being pregnant slowly fade away when he looks up, and his expression is completely unreadable.

"I was going home. I went to find you."

He stays silent.

The room, large and elegant and sterile, suddenly feels claustrophobic. The walls press inward and the ceiling lowers, and it hits me I'm about to fall asleep, or die from pure exhaustion.

"Come here."

He knows it.

It's why Eric moves, not caring that his side has been neatly sliced open, invaded with precise surgical equipment, and stitched back together. I catch the second flash of pain as he lies back, and the third one when his teeth grit together. He's warmer now, and I know this because he pulls me against the safe part of his chest and yanks the blankets up.

There is nothing more.

No deep discussion about what happened. No apologetic tale of why he acted like he did in Erudite, and if it truly was the only way he thought he could get me out of there. There is no rehashing of our meeting in the woods, no forced story about how I should have let him go, and no lecture on how I could have died. I almost miss the threatening messages, like the time he thought I would fall to my death, and the dark looks he threw as I walked through Dauntless.

There is nothing but quiet, his heart beating, and the safety of this place.

Erudite is safe.

This room is safe.

Eric, my brain warmly reminds me, is not safe.

But he is.

When he turns to lie more on his side, one arm slides around me. His fingers find my stomach again, seeking out the physical proof of our child. It's slight, but there, important and telling as ever as he keeps his hand there. He holds onto both of us, me and the baby, and I hear him mumble my name as his nose finds my hair.

I close my eyes, thinking of the cold night in the woods and how soft and warm this bed is, and I fall asleep before I can answer him.

---

At some point, Blythe returns like a demon from the underworld.

I hear her shrieking a scathing rant about how Eric is her son and she has every right to see him. I find a moment of awareness to open my eyes, and it's a mistake; she hovers near the end of the bed, seething like a banshee to have someone move me.

They don't.

What they do is call Daniel. He returns looking oddly alert for someone who hasn't slept, and professionally dressed. He stops her right as she heads for me, and were she to make it all the way around the bed, I would imagine she'd have dragged me out by my hair.

Instead, there is screaming and shouting, and I hear the words do not come back hissed at her. I open my eyes to see her being forced out of the room, and for a brief second, she looks right at me.

Were she anyone else, this moment would change her.

She would have collapsed from her own grief, not just at the death of her sister, but at the anger and heartache of knowing she'd caused so much turmoil. She would have pleaded to stay, recanted her words from the dinner, or even mere hours ago, and begged to talk. She would have apologized, tearfully or even in faux regret, just to be able to make sure he was okay.

I can see it on her face, somewhere deep down inside her, she does care if Eric is alright.

But she's not anyone else.

She's Blythe.

Her face turns to pure rage, and she yells my name so loud someone calls security.

I close my eyes.

Eric's fingers press me back toward him, insistent, and it's clear he's always chosen me.

---

The onslaught of visitors is almost too much for me.

They show up in swarms, descending upon Eric and myself with a vivacity I have never seen before. My mother and Harrison are first. I have yet to leave Eric's room, and no one seems to mind. My things are brought here, and the two of them only bring more. Soft pajamas, but not as soft as Camille's, a few dresses, some sweaters, slippers, my hairbrush, hair ties, and the pink blanket from my bed.

They both hug me at the same time, and I drown in the smell and feeling of being home. The homesickness rushes right back; the smell of thyme and rosemary overtakes me, and I would bet they'd cooked something for lunch before they came here. I give in to them without a fight. I let them hold onto me, and I ignore Harrison's repeated apology for Peter. I promise him I'm fine, and I don't blame him for a single second.

He eventually believes me.

Hank and Kerrie are next.

They arrive in a slow flurry of excitement and wide-eyed horror. Kerrie brings all sorts of things for me, but also for Eric. He manages one wry, tight suspicious smile as she presses shirts into his arms, and he stares at her like she's from outer space when she peeks out the curtains to admire the view. She's careful, but oh so kind, and she even informs him she's made him some blueberry muffins and left them on the table for when he feels better.

Her generosity is foreign to him, and he grudgingly accepts it despite having no clue who she is.

He has no choice.

His father is in and out, never fully filling him in on what happened, but constantly making sure he's alright. Camille shows up vigilantly, enough so that I believe she has no other patients.

May and Jerry come by. Jerry pokes at all the equipment in the room, muttering how it seems a bit too much, a sentiment my mother echoed, and May cheerfully tells Eric not to be a moron and stay in bed. She smacks him on the arm before she leaves, smugly informing him he is a moron, and if he hurts me again, she'll kill him herself.

It's the first time I see him visibly flinch.

Max and Tori come by, apologetically informing me Jason and Rylan have been in and out, but very busy tying everything up. Turns out, Jack wasn't so thrilled to hear about Eric getting shot, and neither was anyone from Abnegation. Jason and Rylan had the best relationships with the other factions, so they were sent to keep the peace. Jack eventually agreed to a truce, but Abnegation flat out refused, even with Harrison promising them it was the right thing to do.

Max smiled when he told me they sent Four to see if he could help.

He refused. He eventually went because he wanted to see Tris' father, and Tori rolled her eyes when Max snickered their engagement is likely to follow since Tris had announced she was pregnant.

It wasn't Jeremy's baby, either.

The news won over Andrew Prior agreeing to whatever terms Dauntless was asking for, though there was some pushback from Marcus.

I listened to all of them.

I sat on the bed with Eric, my feet pulled beneath me, and I listened to each one spill every last detail. Tori touched my shoulder affectionately, and she quietly told me she hoped I'd come back.

"It was nice having another girl around. The balance of power is incredibly unfair around the office," she said with a wink, and I found myself smiling up at her.

I hadn't given much thought to what would happen once we left the hospital. It seemed like it would never happen. Like days and months would pass and we'd still be here, safe and hidden in the large room.

When the next wave of visitors showed up, all friends of Daniel's and all wearing the same white coats he has, Eric's sigh of annoyance tells me he feels the exact same way, just not so cheerful.

He kicks them out with a snarl, and the two of us go back to bed, not willing to talk to anyone else but each other.

---

"Did you forgive him?"

My mother sinks into the seat across from me, and she smiles brightly at the server who drops off our waters. He waits to see if she wants anything else, then politely steps away to fetch some forks and knives.

"Should I not forgive him?"

I look back at her, feeling like everyone in here is staring at us.

They aren't.

The hospital cafeteria is pretty quiet. The room is so large I can barely see where it ends, and everything is sparkling and pristine. It's formal, far more formal than I would imagine a cafeteria could be, and it has a full wait staff. There is no line to pick out food yourself, and plenty of workers waiting for us to place an order. One waves as we glance around, and everyone smiles as they walk by.

They all know who I am.

Camille made this very clear when I told her my mother and I were going to get lunch. She didn't approve of me wandering about the hospital, but she couldn't stop me from eating with my own mother. In a few ways, it felt like Camille was stepping in as a maternal figure when my mother couldn't be here. It had been two days since Eric had surgery, and despite a quick recovery, neither of us had been discharged.

If anything, Daniel seemed just fine having us stay without any sort of estimated release date in mind.

The struggle was clear when everyone was together. My mother and Harrison frowned when Daniel insisted he had to make sure he was confident in our recovery, and Camille and Daniel stood with their arms crossed when Harrison snapped I could recover at home.

My mother even offered to have Eric come with us, and that led to Eric pressing his fingers to his temples like his head might explode, and Daniel gently insisting Eric was in no shape to leave.

Which was a lie.

I'd watched him pull his shirt on over his head this morning. He stared at me while he did it, and he scowled when a nurse told him to be careful and tried to push him back into bed.

He was fine.

He reminded me of one of the wild animals Forrest liked to catch. Caged in the most elegant of all traps, with fine dining and rich sheets, totally unable to break free.

"I think he's very sorry. I don't…I don't expect you to do anything you don't want to. If forgiving him doesn't feel right, then don't." My mother glances at the menu in front of her, and she sighs when nothing is less than an extravagant display of how luxurious Erudite is. "Have you eaten here before? What are these salads?"

"I'm sure they're all good," I glance at the menu myself, and I pick one that sounds simple. "I already forgave him. I believe what he said. I don't think he meant to hurt me."

"But you look miserable," my mother pauses, and she has a point. "You don't know where to go, do you? The look on your face tells me you want to go back to Dauntless, but you don't think it's right?"

I sink into the booth, hating her ability to see right through me.

I'd love for things to go back to normal, but I no longer know what normal is.

"I never even got the chance to hear his explanation. How do I trust him? How do I know that just because Jeanine is dead, that someone else won't start over? I've never even met Cara."

"From what Harrison said, she's nice, but very young. She's got a lot of responsibility on her plate, including trying to fix their reputation. The whole faction is very on edge after learning what Jeanine was doing. I don't think Cara will be too focused on some percentage anymore."

We both stop when the server returns, and he politely takes our order. I order something other than water, and his eyes light up in delight at being sent to fetch a lemonade.

"They must be awfully bored around here. Daniel is insisting on two more weeks."

I look up in surprise when Harrison slides into the seat beside my mother. His presence isn't shocking, but I'd assumed he was back in Amity.

"I didn't know you were here!"

"I just got here. Ran into the famous Dr. Coulter when I was walking in. He went on and on about physical therapy and making sure you were okay. If you ask me, he's using his power to keep you here. I told him one more day. I'll take you back myself if he doesn't start your paperwork. If he refuses, I'll arrest him for kidnapping." Harrison is annoyed, and he roughly takes a glass of water from a different server. "Thank you."

"Would that work? Does this count as kidnapping?" I wonder aloud, and my mother laughs.

"Harrison, he's not kidnapping her. He just wants to make sure she's not sick. She was in the cold and the rain. I want her to leave, too, but I don't mind him looking out for her. Though two weeks is a bit much."

"Eric is losing it. He just kicked out two of the nurses who were sent to help him take a shower. His father is going to have his hands full," Harrison points out. "Don't blame him. He's a strong guy. Says he feels fine. Doesn't excuse his behavior, but I can't fault him for wanting out."

"Will he go back to Dauntless?" I look up when the server drops off our salads at lightning speed. He drops off a hamburger for Harrison, and we both look at him in confusion.

"I ordered on the walk in. Coulter said they have mobile ordering. I thought I'd try it. You guys can have some."

"I'm good, thanks," I reach for my fork, heavy and shiny, and I wonder what they would do if they had to eat with normal silverware. "So, do you think he'll go back? Does he return as a leader? Is he in trouble?"

"He's in trouble with a lot of people, especially now that there's been another death," Harrison shrugs. "The issue at hand is those were his orders. They came from Jeanine, and even with her shitty instructions, he had to follow them. He and I talked, and I don't believe he'd been helping her the way she wanted. The paper trail on him shows he hadn't been responding to her like he once was. He missed meetings, wouldn't turn over data, didn't tell her he'd married you. The issue is Peter had been working to take him down, and Eric's actions came to light. Jeanine's old assistant originally blamed it all on Eric, and once she got wind he was injured, she started gunning for him. She asked he be prosecuted before the Candor courts. She thinks he should be held responsible for the loss of their leader. Jack and I looked at everything. It's favorable if you take all that into consideration, but you were the one who was there. If you say otherwise, he could be prosecuted for attempted murder."

I take a slow bite of lettuce, and when I try to swallow, it sticks in my throat.

I know who Jeanine's assistant was.

Ashley.

I finally swallow and I reach for my drink. "Who would prosecute him?"

"Who will? Everly?" My mother and I both look at him, and she glances back at me. "Harrison, is Eric in trouble? Does the Dauntless faction want him prosecuted?"

"It's up to Everly. Max won't push the issue. Jason and Rylan want both Eric and Everly back in Dauntless. They want Eric back as a leader as soon as he's released. The others, Jack and even Andrew, all agree they're fine with whatever direction Eric takes. Ultimately, his fate rests in Everly's hands."

"It's up to me?" I stare across the table, stunned. "If I decide I want to push this, he'd be arrested?"

Harrison is silent.

He toys with his fork, examining it like he's never seen one before, until he finally sighs. I watch him stab at a french fry, clearly wasting time.

The tattoo on his arm peeks out from beneath his sleeve. It's dark, the same inky maze that's on Eric's skin, and the sight of it makes my stomach turn over.

"Yes."

---

"Are you going to do it?"

The room is thick with uneasiness, and for once, it's not from me.

Eric sits on the edge of the bed, lacing up a pair of boots and ignoring the squawking protest from the nurse behind him. He has no orders to go home, but he's made it very clear he's not staying.

"Everly?"

His eyes raise to mine, grey and lovely but burning with fear. His role is reversed right now; he's used to being the hunter, the one who pulled fear right up from the throats of his victims. I was not the first person with any divergence he'd discovered, and while I believe otherwise, I might not be the last.

There would be more.

Some girl.

Some boy.

Maybe our own child.

A sliver of a percentage, enough to warrant death on the orders of someone else.

I didn't truly believe any of this mattered anymore, but I couldn't be certain. I couldn't be certain of anything, other than what I felt for him was heavy with betrayal and even heavier with a desperation to fix this. He wasn't broken in a way that needed my saving.

He needed his own saving.

He might have found it, but for now, he wavers on the brink of his own breakdown, knowing if I said the words, he'd be hauled away.

He isn't used to this. He doesn't know what to do, or how to handle it.

Neither do I.

"I don't know," I answer softly, so quietly it sounds like nothing, but it's the truth.

There is not a chance in hell I'd make him go before a trial, especially with Ashley pushing for it. My guess is she wanted me to punish him for taking me to Erudite, and in turn, he'd fall right back into her arms.

He and I hadn't had a lot of time together. After leaving Erudite, Harrison brought me to Amity where he was certain I'd stay alive. He kept Eric and me apart for his own reasons, and now I wondered if he'd caught wind of Ashley's attempt to win Eric back by having me admit he'd tried to murder me.

Maybe Harrison's logic was with enough time and space, I'd willingly forgive Eric, and everything would finally calm down.

Forgiving him came naturally. There was truth and honor in his words. He meant them, for had he not, he would have let Peter kill me. The end game of the Erudite testing was death; no one won, and no one lived. My death at the hands of someone else shouldn't bother him if I meant nothing, and his fall from grace proved this. He still had his title, he still had his job in Dauntless, but he would have nothing if I decided otherwise.

The rush of power should make me feel drunk.

Instead, it makes my eyes burn.

"Just…do it already. Call Harrison. There's no point in dragging it out." Eric's words are rough, hopeless and tight, and they don't match him at all. He finishes lacing up his boots and stands up, pulling himself to his full height. "Tell him I know it's over."

I watch him. I watch him bite down on the inside of his cheek, then wince as he moves too fast. The pain should be subsiding, but I'd also watched him throw away the painkillers the minute the nurse turned her back.

"Did you ever love me?" I watch his eyes widen, and he stares. "I need to know."

I press the issue this time.

Forgiving him will mean a lot of things. It will be like taking my own hurt and choosing not to use it against him. It will mean moving on. Returning to Amity, or Dauntless, whichever I choose, and trying to forget every single moment I'd spent with him. It will mean letting go of what happened, trauma after trauma, and starting my life over on my terms. Or maybe, in the strangest move of all, it would mean returning to Dauntless with him. Starting over there, getting to know him all over again, right down to finding out if what he felt was real.

For some reason, everything hinges on knowing this.

I want him to answer me.

I want the same quietness Hank and Kerrie have, and the same unending, unbreakable bond my mother and Harrison have. I want Andy and Andrea's stupid love of arts and crafts, and Forrest's ambition to better the life of someone else without question.

I also want the moon to fall right out of the sky, and maybe right onto Eric, to make the stunned look fall off his face.

I want it all, but it'll take me a second to get there.

"I told you," Eric answers quickly, reaching for his jacket. The clothes he has on are his, but different. The black shirt and black pants are so new they still have creases in them, and the jacket is not the one he'd been shot in. He's a vision of darkness, cloaked in his own demise. "Everly, I told you…I never meant to take you to her. I married you to keep you away from her. I don't know why you have to hear me say –"

"Because I want you to say it. If I'm going to forgive you, I want to hear you say you loved me. Even if you don't now," I move closer, crossing my arms over my chest, and ignoring the wave of anger I feel. My emotions are a shipwreck; cracked apart, strewn everywhere and washed away just when I think I've gained control. "Did you love me? Or was this really just a game to you? Was it really all because of the stupid test?"

He swallows.

The nurses slink out of the room, grasping each other by their elbows and trying to stall so they can overhear him. Their stares are concerned, at me, not him, and knowing. A declaration of love would win them over, but they know it's not theirs to hear.

"Say it. Tell me the truth. Even if the answer is no." I stop in front of him, and I have to look up at his face. His jaw is tensed, tight and clenched down, and his eyes lock on mine. "Eric?"

He reaches out.

His fingers catch me by the arm, pulling me closer and closer, until I'm right in front of his chest. His lips part, lush and cracked from the cold, and his cheeks are sharper than they were. He hadn't really eaten since being brought here, and the most he'd done was accept a cup of coffee and some toast so they'd leave him alone.

His fingers curl in, beckoning me to press myself against him, and I resist on principle.

He moves one hand to touch my neck. His fingers still when they find the lingering bruise, a lovely shade of yellow that just won't go away, and he exhales heavily.

"Yes."

He answers evenly, without hesitation.

"I loved you. I still do."

I expect him to kiss me. In Zander's books, the ones he'd shoved in the corner and declared too gross, this is the part where the prince would have leaned in and kissed the princess and the spell would be broken. Unfortunately for me, I don't have a fairy godmother, except for maybe Kerrie, there are no frogs or talking animals or wizards, and Eric is no prince.

He presses his lips to my forehead, and after a moment, he lets go.

He drops his hands away from me.

I start to say his name, the letters right on the tip of my tongue, when he leaves.

He heads out the door, past a group of waiting nurses, and right out an emergency exit. It sets off an alarm so loud everyone comes running, but not a single person realizes what's going on until Camille comes running around a corner.

She swears so loudly my ears hurt, and she only stops when Daniel finds her, and woefully informs her she can't fire anyone over this.

---

"I brought this for you."

Kerrie stands beside me, handing me a cup of hot cocoa. She's wrapped in another one of Hank's sweaters, now claimed as her own, and all I can think is he must be freezing. He probably has nothing warm to wear, since she and I seemed to have claimed everything for our own. She waits patiently while I take the cup, and her smile is encouraging.

"I think you'll like it. I added peppermint to it."

She had to be from outer space.

Zander and I thought of this theory when I returned to Amity.

After Eric left, storming out of the hospital and into the streets of Erudite, Harrison showed up to take me home. He asked if I wanted to take further action regarding being taken to Erudite. The look on his face told me he didn't believe Eric was truly at fault, and neither did I. I shook my head no, graciously accepted Camille's help with packing up my things, and left with my father before Daniel could demand I stay for more bloodwork, another x-ray of my elbow where I'd hit it, or dinner.

I came home to Zander waiting for me, wide-eyed and brave, and he lunged for me. He whispered he loved me the most, but also the least, because he'd lost one of his toy trucks and he blamed me.

Together, we unpacked my things. Zander helped, throwing the expensive pajamas on the floor and dumping out the clean clothes so he could use the bag as a cape, and then he ran out the door. He returned to tell me Dad and Kerrie had come for dinner, and then he lowered his voice and informed me she'd brought him moon bubbles.

I smiled at him, his expression absolutely overjoyed at such an exciting gift, and I knew Kerrie was the person our family was missing. I quickly learned her quietness belied how creative and crafty she was, and her personality was nothing short of gentle. She was never rattled, always willing to help, and very concerned over where I would be living.

A house we were currently standing in front of, staring up at the rambling porch.

"Thank you," I take a sip of the hot cocoa, and it is good. I gesture to the large windows, the oversized door, and the mostly empty areas that will be filled by no one but myself. "Do you think it's too much?"

"I think it's beautiful."

It is beautiful.

In the way where it was likely to be haunted and I'd probably never sleep since no one would be here but me.

It was a gift from my father, or fathers. They both agreed if I was going to stay in Amity, then I needed my own space. It wasn't far from their houses, and it was close enough to May's that I knew I was being watched. The home was set back, old and creaking, but welcoming.

I had the sneaking suspicion it was Harrison's idea, and there might have been some lingering guilt going on.

"Do you think anyone has died in it?" I look up at the window on the second floor, convincing myself there's someone up there. Next to me, I expect Kerrie to look at me like I'm crazy, but she nods her head and pulls her sweater closer to her.

"Probably."

She and I both laugh, and for the first time in days, I feel somewhat normal.

It's fleeting.

The porch stairs are the same color as the ones at my mother's, and I'm reminded of when I stood on them, looking up at Eric, and he told me out of everything in Amity, he wanted me.

I make the snap decision to paint them a lovely shade of black.

---

Rylan shows up two days after I move in.

The first night was awful. I'd moved on from feeling like I might throw up in whatever direction I looked to being a complete insomniac. The night became my friend and foe, torturing me while I lie in a bed much too large, thinking this would be so much better if Eric were here.

I liked the idea.

It was torturous, but it felt good. I'd long wished for privacy with him, and I'd long wished to be alone with just him and me. I'd been gifted an entire house on the hopes I would stay here and raise my child, but all I could think of was how nice his things would look here. His jacket, slung over one of the kitchen chairs. His boots, next to my shoes. His shirts, hung up beside my dresses.

My insomnia gave me plenty of time to think about this, and my delirium gave me plenty of time to contemplate calling him.

I did.

Both nights.

I went as far as pulling out the phone he'd given me and clicking on his name. My finger hovered over the screen, and I chickened out before I could do it.

He'd left Erudite and I hadn't seen him since.

Harrison had.

He told me he went to Dauntless to see the exact location they wanted the cameras, and he found him in his bar. Drunk, sloppily tipping his chair back and crowing how he was just fucking fine and he didn't need anyone. When I asked, Harrison grudgingly admitted both Jason and Rylan were there, and their plan had been to cheer him up. Eric saw Harrison, raised his glass, loudly announced he'd never divorce me, then slammed his drink down so hard it shattered.

I took it he wasn't doing so well.

I wasn't, either.

I'd gone back and forth over my next step, but my real focus was trying to make the house look less like a family of ghosts lived here, and more like I did.

Which is exactly what Rylan is thinking. I watch his eyes sweep over everything with casual horror, and his mind whirls. He looks up at the black staircase, the black beams running across the living room, and the large, glass windows and his eyes twinkle.

"Your wardrobe fits in here. You know that, right? That's why you moved here."

He lunges for me, hugging me with enough enthusiasm to knock me over, and he doesn't let go. I'd opened the door to him standing there, dressed not in his uniform, but a dark blue shirt and black pants, and he'd practically leapt inside. He made his way past before I could greet him, and he looked around before announcing he'd help me.

"I miss you. Christina misses you. Even Arlene is worried. Everyone is just waiting for you to come back, but…" Rylan trails off, his hair pulled on top of his head, and he sighs. "You're still way too short. I thought maybe you'd be taller. I've spent a lot of nights wondering how it worked. Eric is so tall and you are so not tall. The physics don't add up."

"It worked just fine," I roll my eyes, but I lean into his hug, wishing desperately he'd brought Eric along with him. "How is…how is Eric doing? Harrison said he was drunk at Clyde's and he got kicked out."

"Eric?" Rylan repeats, pretending he's never heard of him. "Oh, he's great. Absolutely fantastic. Someone has to be around him at all times to make sure he doesn't kill anyone, and someone else has to make sure he doesn't drink enough that he falls into the chasm. His paperwork is late, Max has a headache anytime anyone says Eric's name, and Arlene said she'd unban me from the infirmary if I could bring you back to Dauntless and stop his raging tantrums. So um, let's not unpack these boxes and you can come back with me."

"I don't have any boxes. It's just my clothes," I point out, and I untangle myself from him. "Why hasn't he come here? I almost called him the other night."

"Oh, because he's really angsty. His ego is bruised that you thought he was going to kill you. I mean, the theory wasn't far off and you had every reason to assume he was, but still." Rylan heads into the kitchen, examining the sink for a second before he shakes his head. "You can't live here. The plumbing doesn't even work. The electrical is wired all wrong. The faucet could explode at any time."

I sigh, and I cross my arms over my chest. "My sink isn't going to explode. I appreciate the effort, but…I don't think I can go back to Dauntless. Eric left me in the hospital. I wanted to make sure he was alive, and he left me. Again. So, I think that's a pretty clear indicator of how he feels."

"He's not good with his feelings. I told you that a while ago," Rylan moves to the toaster, and he holds it up. "Is this a gift from Wesley? How can he afford such a fine toaster at such a young age?"

"No," I laugh, and it's a painful punch of how much I've missed Rylan. "I don't know where it came from. But hey, can you stay for dinner? I'll make you something. Something other than toast. You can tell me about Eric while I cook."

Rylan turns, and for a second, he's so serious, he looks like something else altogether.

"Oh Everly. You have no idea what's going on with Eric. I don't think I have enough hours in the day to explain everything. But of course I will stay. Feel free to make anything with peace serum in it. I've had a rough week."

I smile at him, walking over to take the toaster from his hands, and I carefully move it away from the sink, and plug it back in.

"Okay, then, I'll start cooking and you start talking."

The stars must align or the planets return to retrograde or whatever other cosmic event could happen, because he agrees.

Rylan jumps up to sit on the counter while I rummage through the cabinet for something to make, and he shares the very low tale of Eric Coulter, Prince of Dauntless, currently hell bent on destroying everything around him just to feel alive.

---

I say goodbye as the stars fall.

This house has a lovely view of the night sky, even better than Hank's, and I try to figure out if I can get Zander to come over. I dismiss the thought when my phone rings, and Rylan's grin is all knowing.

"Just know, if you come back, I'll be the best friend ever. I won't even tell anyone you only own clothes that make you look like you're about to conjure spirits from another world."

"Goodbye, Rylan." I swat him away halfheartedly, wishing I had half his energy. "I'll see you soon."

"Tomorrow," he promises, bouncing down black steps. "I'm off for the next few weeks. I have years of vacation time so jokes on anyone who thinks I'm going back to work anytime soon."

Rylan waves, then shoves his hands in his pockets and heads toward the main part of the faction. He looks back once, to see if I'm going to answer my phone, then throws me a thumbs up.

I shake my head at him, but I do answer the call as I slip back into the house.

---

The house is cold, but he is warm.

Oh so tall and striking, even in his disheveled state. His hair is soft beneath my fingers, longer on top and shorter on the sides, and he smells good. I press my nose into his skin, against the dark blocks which lie hidden beneath his collar, and I close my eyes as his arms slip around my waist. I speak first, having the upper hand given he's in my house.

"It's really good to see you again."

He snorts.

I feel the laugh spread through him, sort of reluctant and unamused. I keep my eyes closed as he walks us back a step, into the haunted house, and I loathe the space between us. I wiggle closer, and he holds on tighter.

He'd shown up a second ago. I'd opened the door to him standing before me, dressed all in black with his jacket collar sharp and severe and his expression indescribable, and I'd reached for him before I could stop myself. My plan had been to demand answers. To make him tell me why he'd left me alone, why he'd never told me he'd been asked to test me, and why he'd thought all of this was fine.

It fell apart the minute we locked eyes, and I lunged for him like I was drowning.

"You live here? Alone?"

"For now," I lift my head up to look at him, and he doesn't look much better than he did in the hospital. His eyes are tired, his jaw is tight, but he's alive. He's alive and in front of me, and only moves his stare to look around.

"This is uh, bigger than it looks from the outside."

"I hate it. It's freezing." I loop my arms around his neck, and I pull him down with all the strength I have. He bends easily, and his forehead touches mine. "I thought you couldn't come here."

"I paid off the guards. They were surprisingly easy to bribe." I can't tell if he's being serious or not, but I don't care. "And there's another way in. I took the train from Dauntless. Walked down the hill where Peter cornered you and right into Amity. Told someone my name was Four, and wouldn't you know, people actually like him here? They pointed out your house without any questions at all."

"You did not tell them your name is Four," I shake my head, and my hand presses to his cheek.

To my relief, he's warm.

Not as warm as I remember, but warm enough to remind me he's alive and mostly well.

"It ranks up there as one of the lowest moments of my life, but at this point, who's keeping track?" Eric pulls away to look at me, and his concern is quick. "Are you alright? You look…different."

I stare up at him incredulously, wondering what he was trying to say. "Well, I did nearly die. Twice. Oh, and you, the pregnancy and all."

He cocks an eyebrow at me, and his next words are tense. "I didn't mean any of those things. I meant you look…sad."

"I'm not," I tell the truth, mostly. I wasn't wallowing in self pity or sinking under the weight of my own cruel, endless thoughts about what life could have been like if I had just picked Dauntless to begin with. "Not all the time. I just keeping wondering –"

"Wondering what?"

"Why did you leave me? Why did you leave the hospital? Why didn't you stay and leave with me?" Our reunion changes with my questioning. "I made sure you woke up after the surgery. I just thought…I thought you were staying.

His lips part, and he stares at me, fingers curling in tighter so I don't move.

"I thought you would –"

"I would what? Take you back to Dauntless? Everyone in the hospital was acting like I was about to murder you while you slept. How would I have taken you from there?" Eric has a point, and he looks to the side of me for a quick second. "I left because it was the right thing to do. I thought you needed space. I was asked to bring you to Jeanine a dozen times. She asked and when I didn't do it, she turned around and demanded I bring you to her. She threatened to take away everything, including you. I did everything I could to keep you safe, but I made a mistake with Jeremy. I made the mistake of showing him the list and explaining the divergence."

He exhales heavily, the memory millions of years ago, and he shakes his head. "The divergence doesn't mean anything now. None of her test subjects ever gave her the answer she wanted. I felt like I failed, and failure is not an option for me. It's never been. I couldn't fix it. This is the only thing I've ever not had control over."

"But you left me. You let me–"

"I didn't know what else to do. I had been looking for you for weeks. I knew you were in Amity, and I couldn't get to you. I tried to bargain with Harrison. I tried to call you, and he warned me not to. I tried to reason with him, but no matter what I said or did, he was the one who showed up when you were in the simulation. All I can do is hope you forgive me, and…and…"

I forgive him.

I forgive him when his lips touch mine, finally warm and no longer cracked from hours in the rain. I forgive him when I pull him toward the stairs, not giving him the chance to notice I didn't really live here. I existed here, and this was where people could find me, but I certainly wasn't doing any real living inside these walls.

I forgive him when he pulls away to look at me, and the piercing above his eye pulls taught.

"You want this? You want me to stay? Because your father, actually, both your fathers, told me if I ever came near you again, I wouldn't walk away so easily."

I nod, rising up on my toes to kiss him again, until his hands are back where I want them, and I try not to laugh. Hank wouldn't hurt him, but Harrison undoubtedly would.

"I'll tell them to stop. Promise me you won't leave again. Because if you do, if you walk out of here, or you decide you think you know what I want, I won't ever answer your phone calls. And I'll have Jack Kang file my divorce papers and I'll let May train her ducks to bite your ankles. Got it?"

He nods back.

His teeth catch my lip, and a second later, he mumbles my name.

"I promise, Everly."

He uses my name like a loaded weapon, reminding me I'd signed off on some secret agreement to be his wife and it was unlikely I could even get to Candor.

I could.

I'd make Carole drive me if it came down to it.

"Good." I smile against his mouth, lingering for a moment, and his hesitation is only because he doesn't know where he's going. "My room is upstairs. On the right. You can hang up your jacket in the closet. And put your boots in there. There's plenty of space."

He smirks, and the roles are reversed. "Is there room between all the dresses?"

"If you ask nicely, I'll even let you have a single drawer in the dresser. It's where I keep all my important documents and emails."

"Funny," he snorts. I break away to lead him up the dark steps, a faint memento of my time in Dauntless, to a dark hallway. He's quiet as he follows me up to the second floor, and he tilts his head up to look at the stairway leading to the third floor.

He pauses, his eyes trained on the wooden beams and the ornate stair rail, before he turns to me.

"What's up there?"

I pause, taking his hand in mine, and I shake my head.

I'm too impatient to tell him the only thing on the third floor is empty rooms, an attic space so terrifying I had no desire to go in it,a single lone suite Rylan had claimed for himself.

I do tell him to follow me, and once he does, he's not so quiet anymore.

---

In the latest hour, Eric groans my name.

I listen to him as his hands grab onto me, nails digging into my skin, and his head tilts back. His skin is lit up by warm, low candlelight, and he's a sight before me on pink sheets. His throat is exposed; the blocks bending as they are pulled taught, and his arms are tense. The bandage from his side is gone, and in its place is the faintest reminder of Peter's attempt on his life. The scar from his surgery is neat, but hard to miss. There is all the agony in the world at seeing him like this, but it slowly falls away as my eyes start to shut.

The stars aren't falling this time, they're seconds away from exploding.

"Ever…"

Eric doesn't finish saying the last part of my name. I gasp his, liking how everything felt far better in this moment. Every single touch was intensified, and every single moment went on forever. It was our time apart, self-inflicted but obviously warranted, and the fact that were anyone to know he was here, buried deep inside me and about to come, someone would surely shoot him for the second time.

It is a risk we're both willing to take.

"I love you," I tell him, grinning as his eyes fly open and straight to mine. He pushes himself up on his elbows, and his mouth finds mine.

"I know. Not get off me," he grunts, groaning when I shake my head.

There was zero chance I was moving, and zero reason to move.

"I just wanted you to know. I've been thinking about it. And I think your dad loves you, too." I stop talking when he breaks away to glare at me, and I like his furious expression as he screws his eyes shut.

"Stop talking about my father right now," Eric hisses. "I never imagined our reunion to involve you bringing him up."

I can't help but laugh, though I stop laughing when he takes hold of my hips and pulls me closer.

"Say it, Eric Coulter. Tell me you love me," I parrot his own words back to him, spoken ages ago in his cold bed while I tried to get him to admit his feelings were real.

He stares up mockingly, but it's fleeting.

He takes my face in his hands, now sitting all the way up, and he smiles. It's a real smile, not smirky or smug, but one of genuine happiness.

"I do love you. I already told you."

The stars do fall.

At some point, we are up so late that the night turns to morning, and I only fall asleep because Eric is warm, his chest is warm, and his legs are pushed through mine. He twirls my hair around his finger, over and over, and above us, the floor creaks.

"Is that Rylan or a ghost?" Eric mutters, already half asleep. "Actually, you don't have to answer. Neither option is any better."

I fall asleep without another thought, and I most certainly do not dream of Rylan haunting my attic.

---

Things don't fall into place exactly like I imagined they would.

They fall into place easier, but only because it seems that for once, luck is on my side.

I wake up to someone banging on the door, and I lift my head from Eric's chest with extreme annoyance. I immediately lie back down, shoving my head closer to his throat, and I lowly inform him he can get the door.

"I can't," he mumbles. "I got shot. You get the door. I don't even live here. If I go down there, I might get shot again."

"No," I groan, but he has a point. Despite me being thrilled he is back, and being still slightly drunk off our night together and the first good night's sleep I've had in forever, the rest of Amity might not be so welcoming if he were to wander downstairs and snarl at whoever it is to get lost. "No one knocked on the door in Dauntless."

"They knew better," he throws his arm over his eyes, and he waits until I sit up.

The banging grows louder. It intensifies as whoever it is refuses to give up, and I shove my hair out of my face and try to figure out where my dress went.

"That's it. I'm moving," I announce, and I push the covers away. I scramble to grab the dress off the floor where Eric had tossed it, and I throw him a withering glare.

He's ignoring me.

He's smirking into my pillow, already almost back to sleep.

"I'll be back," I warn him, sounding far more threatening that I could have imagined, and he smirks even harder.

"Good. Go tell Jasper you're busy."

"There's no one here named Jasper," I mutter, leaving him sleeping. I try to fix my hair while I walk, and I wince as I walk down the stairs, carefully, trying not to fall and break my neck.

It's silent when I reach the front door, and I fling it open in pure exasperation. "What!"

There is no one.

No one on the porch, no one on the pathway, and no one at either of the neighbor's. I swear loudly, and I return in a huff, figuring it was someone playing a prank on me.

It's not.

Exactly ten seconds later, Rylan bounces back over with a duck in his hands and a look of pure joy.

"I caught one but May said I can't keep him. I already named him Indiana Duck, though." He looks at me like I should be more excited, and his head tilts. "You aren't laughing. You don't think my duck hunting is entertaining at all."

"I don't," I agree, grouchy that I've been pulled away from Eric to look at a duck. "It's early. Do you ever sleep?"

"Sometimes," Rylan answers suspiciously, and his eyes look over my head. "He's here, isn't he?"

"Who?" I feign all the innocence I can muster, because who knows what Eric told anyone. Or if he told anyone anything. Rylan is one of his best friends, but he might not have told him he was coming here for his own safety.

"Who? Really? You think I don't know that Eric would eventually make his way to you? Do you really think I don't know what my best friend is doing? Do you really think…"

"Are you here for breakfast?" I squint up at him, and I try to remember if I invited him back here. Or if he'd even really left. "I'm not really awake and –"

"Can I see him?" Rylan asks, and he does his best not to laugh. "Is he in your room? He is, isn't he?"

He looks up at the staircase, and my expression is all the confirmation he needs.

"I knew it! Admit it! You think he's handsome!"

"I'm married to him," I point out dryly, and I gesture for him to come inside. "But, hey, I'll make you some coffee if you stop yelling."

"Fine."

Rylan agrees quickly.

He also agrees to keep quiet on everything; the house, how far along I am, what's going on in the Amity faction, and Eric's presence here. His smile is wide on that one, happy and pleased as ever, even when he insists we both return to Dauntless together.

He doesn't like my answer, and neither does Eric.

---

By the time the sun warms up, Eric has less patience than ever.

I fully understand, because I, myself, loathe the slow, unhurried pace of Amity in a time when I should be enjoying it. I have no real worries here, other than the occasional practice contractions that force my eyes to water. I ignore them. I focus on how lucky I am, and how in theory, I am very happy to be here.

I owe no one anything in regard to the house, and I'm not asked to work anywhere. Harrison stops by daily to have coffee and breakfast, and my mother spends her mornings trying to brighten up the lofty rooms and empty spaces.

Flowers bloom and blossom in every free inch she can find.

The plants don't do as well. Hank tries his best to save them, cheerfully moving flowers around to make space for the foliage desperate for sunlight or my general attention, and he looks disappointed when I refuse to tell them good morning or good night. Kerrie laughs as she trails behind him, offering baked goods and sweet desserts. She brings me things she's made or purchased, the softest of all sweaters for a tiny child, and knitted booties so small I would think they'd fit a squirrel.

My brothers and sisters flit in and out of another house where they feel comfortable crashing. Wesley and Leif spend a lot of time on the third floor, daring each other to go farther and farther into the dark and informing me I look better pregnant than not. Paisley and Holly resume trying on my clothes, borrowing my shoes, and slyly informing me they saw Eric's shirts while demanding to know if I was still sleeping with him.

Zander is the one who finds his boots. I'd pushed them back into the corner of the closet, not wanting to minimize the proof he was here, but fully aware some might not understand it. After all, from the stories they'd heard, he wasn't the hero of my dreams in any version. His good deeds from earlier were dashed by what happened in Erudite, and while a very forgiving faction, suspicions still ran high.

Forrest was wary of even the idea of him, and he told me so, while holding his teething son and asking if I had any ice.

"I know you think he's all, dark and mysterious. But dark and mysterious isn't what you need. Maybe…maybe you should start hanging out with Dale. He's really freaking boring. The most exciting thing that's happened to him is he fell off a tractor the other day."

I threw Forrest the dirtiest look I could muster, and I went back to folding the tiny clothes that had appeared on my porch. The boxes were delivered by someone from the fields. They knocked, vanished before I could thank them, and I was left with several large packages containing anything and everything my child might need.

The first was from Daniel and Camille. It held all kinds of soft, but oddly formal clothing. Books. Blankets. A few stuffed animals. A children's book of medical terminology. I could imagine their delight upon finding it, and it paired well with my delight upon discovering it was sent from Daniel and his assistant, not Daniel and his wife.

The second box was from his wife, or ex-wife if Camille's name attached to Daniel was proof enough, and it contained all sorts of items I dumped directly into the garbage. Clothes meant to look like I was sending a newborn to work in a laboratory –not from Blythe, of course, but from her associates who heard she was having a grandchild. A stack of blank notecards, already pre-addressed so I could thank them. A book on raising a child as a single mother and the struggles I should expect. I rolled my eyes at that one, for she must have forgotten I was still married to Eric, and last and most insulting, a DNA kit with a letter stating she expected both the baby and me to take it as soon as he or she was born.

I hated her.

I hated her so much it felt unreal. I wished I could write Return to sender on the box, but I took greater joy in throwing everything except the thank you cards away. I figured I could at least thank her friends, or forced work acquaintances, and call it a day.

Other gifts followed, and each one made my eyes widen.

Dark black clothing and small black boots.

A onesie, with the words Greatest Godfather Alive printed in white.

Another onesie, with the words RYLAN RULES printed in blue.

Toys, all sharp and dangerous looking.

A bag of things from Tris and Four, both apologetic at not coming to see me, but very happy for me. There was an extra note from Four, pressed in between layers of clothes for winter, tucked away just for me to see. It was surprisingly nice, and duly informative.

It stated all charges had been dropped against him, something which he believed was my work, and that he'd taken a position with the leaders as a defense specialist. Since he knew the ins and outs of the factionless, it would be helpful to have him watching to make sure nothing else went on behind the scenes. He hinted, in sloppy writing and what appeared to be a rush to finish this note before anyone saw it, Max insisted eventually, Four would take on a leadership position.

He also informed me he was expecting a child, and under no circumstances did he expect our children to be friends or was I obligated to invite them over.

That was a little strange, but I chalked it up to Tris not really liking me, or maybe Christina declaring our children would be friends and there was no other option even if Tris thought otherwise.

Today's gift is from Arlene, and Eric watches me open it with a scowl.

"Don't. She probably put a tracker in the packaging," he sneers, looking up from the dinner he's making. It smells good, something Italian I've never had before, and complicated.

Last night, I'd made scrambled eggs. He raised an eyebrow at me, but I was so tired he was lucky I didn't just throw some toast at his head and call it a night. If the baby wasn't keeping me up at night by kicking at my ribs and demanding I turn over, Eric was. My sleep was interrupted every night he showed up, and I spent more of my nights just being with him, listening to the sound of his heart beating or feeling his chest rise and fall, than I did actually sleeping.

Him splitting his time is the lousiest solution to this dilemma ever.

It was the best he could come up with. He finished whatever he needed to in Dauntless, then came here. Every time I saw him, it was like we had been apart for ages. When he left, I felt like someone was stabbing me, though that could have been the baby kicking my internal organs.

I could easily ask Eric to take me back to Dauntless, but every so often, I panicked at the thought. I panicked thinking perhaps he didn't really want to be a father, for he rarely spoke of our child past pressing his hand to my stomach or asking if I felt okay, and he was fairly aloof. Lost in his own thoughts, or quiet, reading a book beside me or trying to convince me he could bring a TV here for me to watch.

But mostly quiet. He'd always been quiet, but this was a different kind of quiet.

Like he was stuck agonizing over his mistakes, and sometimes being with me was a visible reminder of them.

Still, he showed up almost nightly, and left in the mornings. He stayed longer when he chose not to go in to work, and it spread through the Amity community very slowly that he was trying to make amends. The Leader of Dauntless living here half the time raised a few eyebrows, but with our own leader being from Dauntless, it wasn't completely unheard of.

At least, not unheard of enough for someone to say anything to me.

"She sent me…a bunch of thermometers? How do I use these? It's just a button?" I hold the box up in the air, and Eric looks at me from the stove. His eyes flash with disbelief, then he returns to cooking the noodles.

"It's digital. Do you have any medical care here? Are you planning on having the baby in a barn?"

"No, I thought I'd have him in the lake. I read water births are a relaxing way to welcome a child into the world. Very peaceful, according to some lady named Serena." I set the package down, grinning as Eric counts to a very high number in his head. "Is that not what you pictured?"

"No, it's not close to what I pictured at all. None of this is."

I ignore his sulky glare, and I resume unpacking all the things Arlene thought I would need. More blankets, information packets on all the doctors in Erudite and their contact numbers, with almost every single one highlighted, and a suggestion note to go tour the Erudite hospital. There are socks, diapers, information on the Dauntless daycare center, and a final envelope which makes my chest tighten.

"Everly, do you want salad? I can make one if you want. May said she dropped off some vegetables for you."

I can't answer him. His words are insane, spoken so casually like Eric Coulter lived here, and routinely cooked a dinner while I watched. He keeps talking, asking if I want tomatoes or if I knew Forrest was on my front porch, and oh good, so was Rylan, and Jason, and Four.

And who the fuck invited Four, and even better, why does he have Tris with him.

Christina.

His father.

I look up when he goes to open the door, and my fingers touch the letters on the heavy black card, pressing against numbers below one very important title.

Arlene's note said she and Max wanted to make sure I was compensated for my time in Dauntless, as well as my time in Erudite, and everyone in the faction eagerly awaited my return.

I blink as Daniel heads through the doorway, and his eyes find mine. They move straight to my stomach and his jaw drops slightly, as I shove the card back in the envelope to look at later. Daniel looks stunned to find I'm much farther along than anyone thought, and I wonder if he'd be proud of the title I'd just been assigned.

Everly Coulter, Dauntless Ambassador to the Factions.