There's a numbness that took over as soon as Eric accepted the perpetual boredom that is prison. He stares at the walls — sometimes out the one plated glass window they've allowed him — wondering when someone is going to go against the voting to spare him and come put a bullet in the back of his head. Then again, some would think that was merciful in a way. Killing him. He knows there has to be people out there thankful that he's sitting in a cell, holding on to a notion that he thinks about the things he's done for every moment of every day.
And he doesn't. He actively tries not to. Not because he thinks he doesn't deserve that kind of self punishment but because he knows that after a while, there's nothing left to say to himself. He's covered all the bullet points. He's stolen life and aided in crushing it. He has to live with that. But he'd like to keep a semblance of sanity — which that too, he knows he doesn't deserve — and again he realizes how boring this whole thing is. The repetitive nature of self loathing is boring.
He's used to the cycle now, gone through it over and over again that he can't really identify where it ends or starts; where the self hatred began, what it feels like to recognize unhealthy thoughts about oneself. He lives with it, carries it like a badge of his time in Dauntless. That history is a part of him, and by proxy, a part of the people who've known him. Whether they like it or not, people stood by and watched the status quo disintegrate right in front of them. He tells himself that nothing happens overnight. And when he lets himself be, he reminds himself he wasn't in it alone.
But Max would have let him take the fall. And Jeanine was definitely prepared to throw him to the wolves.
The truth is simple. Eric is glad they're dead. He's glad he's sitting in prison. There's not much surprises when he's alone. He knows how the day is going to go. Sleep, eat, exercise to keep him from losing his mind, more sleep, eat, repeat. Somewhere in there, Tris comes to visit.
He's going to admit it to her at some point, he's decided. Tris is the one light in this mess of a situation. And he's always known it, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He always knew she was going to figure it out and pull the plug. He didn't think it would be literal and figurative at the same time. But he supposes that's fine too.
He rubs the scar at the back of his calf, where Tris had shot him. He remembers that it was then he realized she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Before then, she was just Four's girlfriend — someone with so much untapped potential, someone hiding from who she was — that Eric pitied her. Of course, she turned everything on its head. She is subsequently the reason he was locked up in hell, but he didn't blame her for it. She's ultimately Chicago's liberator. They just don't know it yet.
Doug's knuckles rap on the glass, "Shower time."
Eric takes his time to stand while the glass door locking him in opens. Doug enters, with reinforcements, and they surround him. Shackling his hands and feet, Doug pushes him forward. The second wall is opened and they head down the hall.
Eric always drags his feet, they don't taunt him anymore. The first time, he fought, broke a few bones — before he accepted his fate — and took a club to the back of his head for his troubles. Tris got him out of that mess. He's not sure how. But as a leader, no one asks her questions. That much, he knows from experience. In this new convoluted mess everyone is pretending will work out as the new government, everyone is just hoping the new leaders know what to do. Everyone is afraid of the dangers that lurk around the corner. But they all hope Eric is the last of it. And for some reason he can only pinpoint as intuition, he knows he's not, there's always more because when it rains, it pours.
"So we're not going to talk about it?" Tobias asks, looking out the window of the truck Tris has been using. For some reason, she let him drive — she always accepts that he's willing to pull rank — even though they are equals and for all intents and purposes, it's her truck.
"Nope." Four hates that she can speak with so much finality, and not even realize. He wants to talk about the meeting, but like with everything else, he wants it on his terms. She's just recently decided she can say no. It all started with Eric and her inability to leave well enough alone. "If you're going to yell at me about the voting, about me going to see him, then no. I don't want to talk about it."
Tris doesn't understand why he's suddenly going to bring it up. Eric is a subject that causes problems for them. They're both unrelenting. But it's only now that Four has decided he's going to address it. Tris isn't impressed. Then she recalls that they're going to see Evelyn. Tris is sure the woman can detect the level of humidity in the air, so of course she could sense if her only son is upset, even if she did leave him when he was young.
Tris is the enemy who sympathizes with people convicted of high treason.
"I don't like it."
Tris snorts, pressing her elbow to the open window and her face to her palm. She looks at him skeptically for a moment before she goes back to staring at her reflection in the side mirror. She looks tired. She is tired. War will do that to a person. It's a tried and true fact. But she is also tired of she and Four acting as if they're fine. He treats her like a project, and she resents him. It was bound to happen.
"You don't like it?" She asks with a scoff.
She's gotten more abrasive, years worth of time in Dauntless will also do that. It happened right under his nose and he denied it because people from Abnegation don't ever really change. They don't come into their own. The problem with that sort of thinking is forgetting that Tris only ever pretended to be a good abnegation girl. She's always been Dauntless — a little bit of Erudite mixed in — and he's simply ignored it.
She regards him with anger he's not sure how he stirs up, "You know what I don't like?" It's obviously rhetorical, but he rolls his eyes nonetheless because he can't believe she's getting emotional about Eric. "I don't like that you pick a fight with me about this every time. I don't like that you argue with me right before we have to see your mother…"
"What are you talking about?" He sputters, nearly pulling to a stop because he really cannot drive and refute her properly at the same time.
Tris presses her hands to her face because this isn't something she wants to do. But she takes a breath, drops her hands and continues, "You argue with me before we're around your mom. You know she doesn't like me, she can sense when something is off. And of course it's never your doing."
"My mother doesn't like anyone." Four argues, shaking his head. "She doesn't trust." They both know why, the last person she trusted was her husband. That didn't turn out well for her.
Tris groans, exclaiming with her annoyance because of course he missed the point. "Whatever, ignore my point…"
"Fine." Four shrugs, "You want to talk about things we don't like…" he starts. They always end up talking about what he originally wanted to get to anyway. "I don't like that you're sneaking off to see Eric."
"I know." She challenges him, looking him dead in the eye. "He talks to me… looks at me with respect."
Four scoffs, unable to hold back. "You go talk to a prisoner almost everyday simply because he pretends to respect you? He's manipulating you."
"And why would he do that?" Tris asked, growing tired of the conversation. "I clearly can't get him out."
"But you want to." Four says, and it's like time slows when Tris looks up at him. It's out in the open now. Four adjusts how he's sitting in the front seat, turning toward her. He points at her, the accusations themself apparent in his expression alone. "If someone brought it up at the leaders meeting, you'd show no objections."
Tris opens and closes her mouth, trying to come up with a claim that didn't make her sound like a liar. The truth is however, not that simple. She knew she didn't want Eric to die, she didn't know much else. She's been too wrapped up in trying to keep him executed. "That's not fair."
Four laughs, shaking his head as he looks away. He'd wanted her to deny it — to tell him that it isn't true — but she couldn't do it. "Not fair?" His brows furrow and he has a really hard time composing himself. "What's not fair is you parading around here, heart on your sleeve… sympathizing with a murderer while the families of his victims are forced to see and hear about it. You've never even thought about them— "
"Stop." Tris yells, slamming her hand on the dashboard. "How dare you try and turn this around on me!" Her hands shake with her anger. He's effectively made her look like the bad guy. He knew her intentions weren't to spit in the face of the survivors of the war. He knew that. Hell, she was very much a part of that specific group that was being targeted. "It's not black and white."
"But it is." Four argued, "Can't you see? It is. It's that simple. People are angry and hurt. They don't need the extra information."
"Extra information?" Tris laughs bitterly. "You know I've never agreed with keeping any of this a secret. For what? We've started wars over people being different and that's not need to know?"
Four stay quiet, staring at the road head. This doesn't feel like a victory to her, not even a small one.
"I have at least a hundred like this one." Evelyn tells her son, ignoring Tris as if she isn't even there. They wear scarves wrapped around their necks, lifted to cover their mouths, shielding their faces from germs. "Don't know what it is that's causing them to get sick… but it's getting out of hand. They're starting to think it's a ploy to dwindle factionless numbers."
"Mom, I told you…" Four starts, looking down at the little bow they're standing over. He wants to squat next to him and push his hair from his sweaty forehead. He looks at his mother, "You aren't factionless, you're all welcome to go back to your factions of origin."
"You think the sentiment alone will work?" She asks, ushering them from the makeshift hospital in a building that is months from collapsing on itself. Factionless line the streets, all with varying degrees of anger in their eyes for the two young leaders. "I have to tell you son, I'm having a hard time believing you when you say it."
"It's true. You were all given a choice." Tris musters up enough courage to speak. Evelyn makes her nervous. And she really wishes she knew why.
Evelyn's eyes cut to her, her jaw tense. "The first decision given to them is whether or not they want to go back to factions they do not trust."
"There are no true factions." Tris argues. It's the truth though, the factions are in shambles. Everyone is only pretending nothing happened. The people of the city have all learned to ignore things, to hold on to peace. "You can go back."
"To abnegation?" Evelyn sputters, offended and hurt. "Where my husband maintains his innocence…" she shakes her head, as if talking to herself. Four gives Tris a look, and she feels like a young child being chided for bringing up a buried topic. "Abnegation was never my home."
Tris's stomach sinks, "Sorry. I didn't mean-"
"These people are sick and dying. They're growing wearier by the second, and I'm not sure I disagree with them." Evelyn stares them in their faces, as if daring them to call her out on her sentiments. Tris regards her with her jaw slack in shock.
"Well, be sure to bring up your concerns at the next meeting, Mother.." Four's tone presents a challenge, one asking Evelyn if she really wants to go down the road of questioning the new regime — if inciting more unrest is such a bright idea when people are already prepared to react without any real thought. More death is something no one should want to see.
Tris looks between mother and son, wondering if they'll ever really repair anything. Four sees Evelyn as a victim and as someone who abandoned him. Evelyn is unapologetic in her new stance as a cold and confident leader who is strong for her people among the factionless. She speaks for them, people who see themselves as weak when she has grown to be strong and unrelenting. They gave her power where Marcus took hers away. She and Four dance around the fact that they have addressed nothing.