Sabre's wound is the third worst I've seen.

It's a decently deep gash, and I'm surprised it didn't hit any main blood vessels. The nurse didn't do much, as I still found bits of gravel between flesh. I don't blame her. She must've been frightened after she saw what's left of Cole – not that I have, yet.

Sabre glared at me during his shower and shave, and kicked up a fuss as I patched him up. Gunner helped by intimidating him into submission, having grown sick of his whines and struggles. And while I appreciate his gesture, the sharp bark caught me by surprise.

I was less than pleased.

Both dogs received an earful.

Hawk was less than helpful, his wet nose hovered over every equipment I picked to use. It came to a point where I snapped at him too. Everything was just too congested with their presence and body heat. He recoiled and moped away, settling a few feet behind to watch quietly.

"Was I gone that long?"

I dump the medical supplies by the door and begin the paw cleaning. My back hurts from being hunched over a prolonged period. It took way longer to treat my dog alone. I would've asked Four for help, but he's in a pickle. Squatting once more, I see the black dots forming again. Sabre limps in last, having falling behind the rush of the other two.

I had done the dressing outside as the medicated aerosol would've stunk up the apartment. It's a herbal formula used in Pre-Great War. The ingredients were found in a book I read. One of the Amity medics helped with the proportions. Since then, it's been the most widely used medication for open wounds. Had I not know the components myself, I would suspect there's voodoo magic in it.

The wound is set to close within three days.

"Just an hour. Why?" Eric speaks from the sink. He's been busy this past hour. The apartment smells familiar.

"Huh." I stand and stretch, grimacing at the ickiness of my shirt. There's a layer of sweat from my earlier taxing struggle to hold the powerful animal still. I'll need to take another shower. "Nothing. I thought I would've been faster."

On the counter are two plates of the wrap things. If it weren't for the fact Eric showered, I would've just screw cleaning and dig in. Unfortunately, Eric's as clean as the sheets I changed yesterday. And I can't have him sit near someone who reeks of sweat and the pungent smell of medication. Stupid Cole. Stupid Four. Stupid everyone.

Good Sabre though, he was a good boy.


"What is this?" I wave my second warm tube of food around, too hungry to ask during my first.

He glances down at me, peeling his eyes from End Game. "It's a fajita, but I wrapped it like a burrito so it's less messy to eat." He's still halfway on his first tube. Complete opposite from me who eats like it's my last. To my dismay, he's yet to comment on my rapacious eating habits. I can't wait for the day he does, for I'm ready to hit back with his monstrous cookie gobbles.

"Burrito," I say, testing the name of the food. "Cheesesteak? Burrito."

"Yes, burrito," he replies distractedly.

"Burrito," I say again and straighten, stifling a smile.

His attention shifts to me and his face begins scrunch. "What?"

"Burrito," I repeat. He stares for a moment longer before shaking his head, too unbothered to question me further. He returns to the movie.

I settle back against him contently, hooking an arm around his. The maze patterns are stark against his skin. A pretty design I didn't see displayed in the tattoo shop. It must've been custom made. I angle the arm around until it's directly above the three paws on my waist. Eric isn't aware of the tattoos yet, neither is anyone else except my dogs who often see me topless in the apartment. I trace the Dauntless logo in the middle of the maze with my pinky. The three paws are currently blank, outlines left to be filled in later.

He's given me an idea.


My phone pings in the halfway through the movie.

It wakes Sabre beside me, who throws a groggy glance my way. Unlike the rest of us, he's indifferent to End Game, slipping into a nap the second after the intro ended. He's been grumpy ever since losing the high from reuniting with me and his siblings. Our walk from the holding cell to the apartment was full of stink eyes from Sabre to everyone. His growls towards his captors had his siblings on high alert, which in turn led to a series of apologies from Eric and I. Neither of us felt apologetic at all. I knew this because Eric suggested we let dogs go a round or two with the men the second we left the floor. He'd even promise to have the weapons confiscated to make the match fair.

The dressing on Sabre's thigh is sleek and clean. A large waterproof band-aid slapped on his furless thigh with the center of the pad stained purple. I'll have to order more of the size tomorrow, as well as consult the vet in Amity on antibiotics. I doubt Sabre will be thrilled to visit his most hated place. Even as a puppy he threatened people ten times his size.

The injured animal reaches for the wound, only to be reminded of the cone around his neck. The cone stops him from stretching further, and he futilely tries to reach the band-aid. This goes one for a few seconds before he gives up and glares at me. I chuckle and scratch his snout as he disgruntledly settles back into sleep.

"Who's that?" Eric asks distractedly. My first guess is Skylar demanding answers, but it's not.

I frown at the number. "Not sure. It's not saved."

Eric turns to me, peeking into my locked phone. "Wait. Don't open it." He grabs the mobile and stares at the unrevealing notification. "I know who it is." The mobile is still in his grasp, held away from me. "Anna, trust me?"

I blink. Well, that went from zero to a hundred quick. He appears stressed. Odd, considering not many things unnerve Eric, not even the trial. Heck, he was more concerned over my health if I were to attend than himself. Granted, he did look shaken up earlier, but that could be from my confrontation with Max. Eric didn't share much about how his day went. "Should I be worried?"

He hesitates. "Hope not." I bite my lip. "Can I read it first?" I nod and inform him of my password. His lips flatten as he rereads the message, and I suppress the urge to lean over. Just when I thought he was going to hand it over, he begins fiddling, thumb pressing on the screen and tapping. "I'm deleting it," he says.

"What? Why?" His phone pings - he must've forwarded the message to himself. "Why can't I read it?" I frown. The text was sent to me, I of all people should know what's written.

"I have to go. Don't come looking for me. I'll be back soon."

In a flash, he's no longer beside me. My head spins at his sudden urgency. He's heading to the door and I dart out to snatch his wrist. "Eric, wait. What's going on?" My words come out breathless, worried. My heart rate starts to pick up.

He pauses, turning back to face me. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched; it screams leader than partner. I almost let go. It takes a second for his features to soften, and once it does, he bends to cup my cheek. "Tomorrow. I'll tell you tomorrow," he says softly. I don't want you to panic, his eyes continue. Sadly for him, I'm already starting to. "I just need time to figure it out first. Will you trust me until then?"

The way he's staring... I can't do anything except comply. "Okay," I agree meekly.

He presses his lips to me briefly and smiles. For a moment, everything feels right and perfect. My heart warms; I smile back. "Thank you." With a kiss on the forehead, he leaves.

Once the door shuts, I slump onto the couch. "Wow." My mind has not caught up with everything. I idly sift my hand through Sabre's ruff, thoughts quiet.

He was staggeringly gentle. Shocking considering he'd received alarming news. I bask in the brief moment we shared, feeling contented. This must be what it feels to be truly cared by someone beyond my family. It's nice.

I want him back.

"I think I should visit Four now," I mumble distractedly, "or... figure out who texted me."

I pull up the list of my texts. The unknown number is nowhere to be found, neither is the message he forwarded. He made sure to delete all traces. Damn him for being smart.

Lucky for me, I'm smart too.

I pull my thoughts together, placing down the facts I have. Eric recognized the number; Eric was troubled by the contents. It can't be Max, his contact is saved on my phone. Also, his phone was likely confiscated earlier. Now, unless he has someone else working on his cause, I doubt the message came from him.

Which only leads to one other person.

At the lightbulb moment, I search through every saved number Eric had keyed in, coming up short when none are hers.

It has to be.

Does Jeanine have Dad?

If she does have him, then she must know-

My heart skips a beat. Hawk rests his head on my thigh. I didn't notice when he had gotten up from the couch.

I fist my shirt as my breathing picks up. Shitty shit. My vision is starting to blur. I'm such an idiot. There was a reason why Eric decided to keep it from me tonight.

Hawk nuzzles into my lap - a sign I need a distraction. I concede to his unvoiced suggestion quickly, clamping down my train of thought.


"You look like shit."

The honey-skinned man is unnaturally pale. He stares at me bleakly. "Thanks." There's an IV on his wrist and an unflattering gown to match. White bandages weave on both his arms, giving the impression of a half-wrapped mummy. "I appreciate being woken up at 10 pm." Never took him as one for sarcasm.

"You're welcome," I reply chirpily. "I figured now was the best time to check on you."

He glares in irritation. "Where are the dogs?"

My hand flies to my chest and I gape. "Ouch."

He holds my gaze with hard eyes, unfazed. "I'm still mad at you."

I tsk. "But it worked though. Max's arrested and soon will Jeanine." Walking to the door, I open and call in Sabre first. It wouldn't be wise to invite all in, as they will feed off each other's excitation and hence will further harm the injured man. The silver protector hops into the room, his wounded leg held above ground. His grumpiness had lessened when he realized where we were heading. I felt offended as his tail starting wagging in anticipation. Four was the one who gave him the wound, Sabre should be thanking me for patching it up.

The dog's hops grow more frantic as he sees his friend. I'm surprised he didn't topple over with how high his hips would bounce up. Four greets and thanks him, bending to the side as the dog fails to prop onto the bed.

I slowly invite the other two in ten-second intervals. Once everyone is in, I settle onto the only lounge chair available. My dogs greet their trainer curiously, sniffing the sheets and the bandages around his arm. They respectfully don't prop onto the bed, keeping it clean from dirty paws. Four holds onto Sabre's head and mumbles something. His expression is serious, and I'm tempted to inform him the dog won't understand.

"How was he?" I ask.

Four lifts his gaze to me. He slumps back onto the bed, wincing in pain. "Did you know that he could take out the muzzle on his own?" he asks distantly, staring at the ceiling.

"No, but I'm not surprised he did." The muzzles are easy to remove. All Sabre needed to do was lower his head and scrape it off. It was always more for show than a preventive piece of equipment. I'm proud my dog figured that out in time; Gunner wasn't as bright.

"Yeah. He pulled Cole off me. I stopped him once I realized what was happening. He's insane…" he trails off distantly. "It sounded and probably looked worse than getting shot, and I couldn't even see anything; the lights were off."

I don't know how else to reply except with, "That's good."

"Yeah. And after beating Cole up, he wouldn't let me rest. That bugger was shouting his head off. Couldn't shut him up. Cole slept fine though. If it weren't for his heavy breathing I would've thought he was dead."

"He howled to attract attention. The dogs aren't strong enough to open the apartment doors themselves." That or Sabre was sad about his injured friend and was performing a self-invented, pre-funeral ritual. I refrain from mentioning the more probable possibility. "Was Cole in your apartment or something?"

"Yeah, he was. I had gotten a text to retrieve something at the apartment where he was waiting. He placed a knife to my neck and demanded answers. He tried slamming the door shut as Sabre was coming in. I guess the dog managed." Four sighs, clasping his hands on his lap. "Then I tried disabling him, but he knocked me down and stabbed me. My arms got all sliced up as I tried blocking. It was hard to see; the curtains were drawn."

I hum in acknowledgment. Other than Sabre being literally showered, I had also showered him with praises and awkward hugs – the cone was in the way. It didn't matter the outcome, no way will I discourage the dog who needs assurance the most. "And Cole? How is he?"

"Tentatively dead. Even though his wounds were mostly superficial, he will at least be made factionless for attempted murder. On the rare occasion he isn't convicted, he still won't be able to stay. Zeke told me Sabre had maimed his right hand. I doubt it'll heal in time, nor correctly. People with injuries such as these are often made factionless."

"Is that a Cole-thing or a faction-thing?" I ask suspiciously. Kicking out a member for an injury? Sounds ludicrous. These are the people who fought teeth and bone to protect the city, surely their repayment couldn't be this. They are people, not goods with expiry dates.

"Faction-thing. If they are no longer fit to protect the city, then there's no point in keeping them here. The same goes for when people hit the age of sixty-five, they are either asked to jump or leave. Dauntless does not have enough space to accommodate their retirements, especially when they've started physically deteriorating," Four's tone is resigned, an indication he's accepted the fact and moved on.

Me on the other hand...

I frown, realizing I haven't seen anyone as old as the people in Amity. The oldest I've seen is Jessica, and she looks to be in her fifties. To hell if I were to exterminate my dogs once they grow old and slow. All they're allowed to do is to live out their lives in comfort. This includes watching movies to their heart content.

The reasoning of the faction's laws...is a stupid excuse.

There are hundreds of abandoned buildings in Chicago. It shouldn't take much to refurbish a couple of them. And with the increase crop and meat production, food is no longer an issue.

I shall speak with Eric.


I decide to tell him on another day, when people aren't looking at me funny.

Veronica and Kyle sit side-by-side in the meeting room, staring like I don't belong here. It's as if I'm someone who sneaked into the faction and stands out like a sore thumb, impossible to miss. It came to a point where I had to discreetly check my reflection on the phone.

There is nothing on me. My hair is tied – courtesy of Eric leaving my neck alone – and my attire is fresh. I've not worn anything different. Well… I suppose I do look blearier than deemed acceptable, but Kyle does too.

Nevertheless, it bothers me.

A lot.

I don't recall doing anything to offend them. Last time I checked, they were happy to take down Max – Eric told me they were. Sabre has been a good boy. He limped into the office and slipped into a nap. Hawk resumed his free daycare services and Gunner is helping unload cargo.

It's a perfectly normal morning; minus the events yesterday.

Jessica is staring at me funny too – in an oddly good way. For once, she hasn't glared or scowled like one would when they stepped on turd. Someone must've had filled her in on yesterday's events.

I try my longest to hold it in, but paranoia has set in too deep. "What?" There's not much I can do to politely distract myself from their scrutiny; my dogs aren't here and Eric had left. He whizzed off in sudden remembrance of something I have no idea on.

It feels like everyone knows exactly what's going on except yours truly. And I have a strong feeling that whatever it is, it revolves around me.

Kyle is the only one who speaks up, and when he does, it isn't entirely helpful. "Did Eric tell you about his… hearing in Candor?" he asks uncomfortably.

I blink. Eric never mentioned anything about it. All we did last night was slip in bed and discuss why I would never date Four. Eric had brought it up, not me.

I had also decided against bringing up my suspicion on the text, refusing to dwell on the thought. I gave my father's safety the benefit of doubt. He doesn't owe me a report on his whereabouts. Dad could've just been busy yesterday. For all I know, this is only a new common occurrence. There's no need to jump to conclusions.

Whatever it is, I'll deal with it today, as Eric promised.

"No…? Is he supposed to?" I ask, confused. I trust Eric will tell me if it's something important. However, it does seem important, especially with how the leaders are acting.

Perhaps he had admitted our divergence?

It isn't a big deal to me, but it may be for them. Divergence isn't a widely discussed topic. Perhaps it's their first time see one up close. I scratch my neck awkwardly. This is what my dogs must've felt when they first arrived - a walking exhibition.

Kyle holds up a palm as one would when calming an animal. "No. It's nothing important. That being said... you could ask him sometime if he's willing to share."

I want to dryly point out they shared it with Jessica - someone who is only a fraction as involved as me. I doubt Eric was the one who explained everything to her, if at all. "Right…" I say instead. "Hey, um, do you know why we are here?" It's a ridiculous question, considering I'd slept next to the man who called for this meeting. However, I am desperate to change the subject.

"Oh, we're planning Jeanine's arrest," Veronica replies rather lightly. I blink.

She notices my stupefaction and elaborates. "The original plan was next week, but due to the unforeseen circumstances yesterday, we have to act now." I grimace.

Figures.


"They have your father."

The plan is simple. Jeanine arrives at Dauntless under the guise of visiting Cole and gets arrested. And for someone who's seemingly the smartest in the city, she fell into the trap with relatively little fanfare.

The last I checked, she and her minion are locked in a cell, waiting to be carted off Candor. There wasn't much she could've done for she realized a second too late. Being in heels and pencil skirts, there was only so much she could do to resist.

I was there when it had happened, and I didn't miss her malicious words directed to me. The only thing I was surprise on is how quickly she and Max turned against me. Their attitudes flipped like a switch, teeth-baring without a demand for an explanation. Were they playing me all along?

"I suspected it last night," I reply simply. Eric extends his phone to me, on the screen is what I assume was last night's text.

Hello Anna,

There is something I wish to discuss, regarding your father. It would be wise to come alone, and preferably at 5 pm tomorrow. There'll be someone waiting for you when arrive at Erudite.

I trust you'll follow through?

I pass his phone back, kicking out my legs to a swing. We're currently traveling to Erudite. Eric's driving just the two of us. Backup will only arrive later, once we're well inside. The aim is to arrest anyone else who's associated with the project, as quickly as possible. And Eric has a long list.

But first, we need to get to my father.

"How did you know they have him?" I ask curiously. The text had been phrased studiously, giving nothing away.

"I called Johanna. She confirmed that he's been missing since yesterday," he replies.

"She told me that too." He lifts an eyebrow in question, attention still miraculously on the road. "I went to Amity yesterday, remember?"

"Oh. So you knew?"

I shrug, petting Hawk's shoulder haphazardly. He has muscles, though not as thick as Gunner's. I feel around the dips and curves, appreciating his hard work. "I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure."

Eric had decreed Hawk should come along, something along the lines of versatile and friendly. I didn't object, for I planned to pick him too, but for entirely different reasons.

I need him as a warning light before I fall apart.

So far so good.


"Jeanine isn't here... She had headed to Dauntless an hour earlier. Did she not arrive?" The receptionist looks between the three of us, genuinely confused. Her face pinches and she scratches her head, messing up her tight bun.

Eric shrugs, pulling out his phone. "That's what she told us too, but we haven't heard from her. Where's Stacy? She should know where Jeanine had gone." he asks casually. Stacy must be lackey dous.

The young woman nods, her expression relaxing at the suggestion. She agrees readily, picking up the landline telephone and dialing her number. Passing the landline to Eric, I gesture at her with my eyes. Eric shakes his head slightly – innocent.

Quiet words are exchanged. The answers from him are crisped and impossible to understand. He speaks vaguely, and the receptionist grows more confused by the minute. With the last question on her location, Eric ends the call. We leave quickly, and Eric informs me Stacy has my father.

He assures me not to worry, for we can save him. I nod wordlessly.

I am not optimistic.

So when the bang goes, I don't feel anything.

Stacy shrieks, dropping the weapon in her hand like it had burned her. She then proceeds to burst into a sobbing fit, wailing something I don't bother to catch. Hawk is in distress. He had yelped at the loud noise and is currently thrashing against the leash. I release him, and he beelines for the heap of a man.

Eric is yelling, but it's dulled by the din of the gunshot. He yells something at her and she nods jerkily, stumbling over to a wall. Through my glazed vision, I see him rushing to the man, nudging the panicking dog, and checking for vitals.

The bullet had gone through the head, so when Eric's figure stilled, it was only a confirmation.

It makes sense why Jeanine left my father at the mercy of Stacy. The leader was hinging on Stacy's crumbling mental state from Cole's condition, knowing fully well she'll pull the trigger no matter the costs.

I don't bother to approach, for I wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. These past two days have been exhausting. I'm ready to go home.

I sigh and head for the lift. Hawk doesn't reply to my call, so I decide to leave him there. Taking a few floors down, I informed the earlier receptionist to call for medical help. Her face is pale, no doubt having heard the gun gone off. I stare at her. She stares back, her mouth gaping like a fish.

Finally, she jumps into action, nodding vigorously. She speaks in quick succession, and I hardly react. When I'm affirmative that everything spewing out is gobbledegook, I leave.


Eric finds me in my apartment.

I glance over my shoulder as the door opens, peeling my attention from a land of blue people with their queer hair connectors. "Why-" he stops himself and shakes his head. He appears worn out and stressed; I'm not sure why. Everything except my father's death had gone as planned. "He was looking for you, you know?" Sabre stirs from an adjacent couch. He slips back into sleep when he doesn't find anything interesting.

My gaze flicks down to the dog beside him. Hawk is limp. His normal attentive form is dull, his ears are flat and tail is low. "Oh. Thanks for taking care of him." I return to the movie. I had left both of them in Erudite, taking the nearest train back to Dauntless. No one knew of my departure, except for Hawk who probably snuffed me out.

Hawk appears before me, looking like he aged a few years. He whines and climb onto the couch, settling by my side. His head is on my lap, a request for comfort and pets. I absentmindedly pull off his muzzle and unbuckle his vest. The blue alien-human dude had discovered a world of winged monsters. I picture myself with one, soaring through the skies of worn-down Chicago. The sight wouldn't be pleasing.

I forget about Eric's presence until a throat clears. "Johanna has approved our stay. She said we can remain as long as you'd like," Eric says evenly.

"Why?" I decide I don't like the winged reptiles, preferring to have the giant dog with the petals around its head. The big boy would do handsomely around Dauntless. He's a fearless bugger with both brawn and brain. Feeding and lodging would be a problem though. I sigh in dismay. If only Erudite could concoct his genome from the movie.

There's no reply, and I forget about his presence again.

"For the funeral. Your dad just passed," Eric replies almost coldly.

I sigh. "Yeah, I know. I was there when it happened." I pout when I miss the conversation between the dude and pretty girl. Grabbing the remote, I pause the movie. "There's no reason to go back to Amity. Let the dead bury the dead." I rewind the scene.

Eric blocks my view. He stands with his hands on his hips, frowning. "Your father died, do you not want to attend? If you won't do it for yourself, at least go back to comfort your mom."

I hum, nodding airly. "My mother is dead." His eyes flare and I hold up the remote to stop him. It's clear he's balancing on a precipice of snapping - a reasonable reaction. Regardless, I don't want to deal with it. "And before you explode, get Johanna to send someone to check on her now. She's probably in the bathroom."

Forgive me.

Two wobbly words written on a torn piece of paper. I should've seen it coming. Of course, she wouldn't want to carry on. I'm no longer in Amity; the dogs are no longer in Amity. There's nothing left for her.

But despite being fully aware, I can't.

"Now, if you'll be so kind as to move, I'd like to resume the movie."


A/N

Been stuck on a future scene. I think I'll have to scrap and rewrite.