AN: Schmello!
Shout out to those of you who consistently review—You keep me going!
Warning for bad words and the mildest of lemony...ness. Lol. I'm debating if I should change the rating. But I'm so bad about determining what warrants an M rating.
The room spins as she does, dancing to the music pulsing throughout all of Dauntless tonight. Tris doesn't have a care in the world tonight. The pulsing of her neck where her new tattoo sits is down to a dull throb, alcohol providing adequate distraction. Tomorrow it's back to work, but tonight she's going to allow herself the happiness of the moment.
Christina's laugh is contagious, both women gigging like two girls at their first party. They've danced with everyone to offer by now, Uriah and Christina put on quite a show.
Tris spots Four standing at the bar, holding it up as he talks to Lauren and Zeke. He looks back at her, offering her a small smile and a salute before downing his shot. She raises her beer by the neck of the bottle, returning the nod of acknowledgment. Does it look as awkward as it feels? She wonders.
"I'm going to the bathroom!" Christina yells over the music and Tris barely nods before her friend is disappearing into the hoards of people.
Tris extends her arms over her head, stretching whilst simultaneously swaying to the music. She can feel the beat in her veins, pulsing around, taking away any care she has for the eyes on her. Slowly, people have realized she's not the same girl who used to care about what anyone thinks. She's Tris, a Dauntless leader, third chair in the New Council… and slightly tipsy at the moment.
And that's how she finds herself walking towards where Four stands with their friends. Lauren is more his friend than she is Tris's and everyone who cares to look, knows that. The rumor mill hasn't quite started back up, they're lucky.
The bartender nods at Tris, already swapping her empty beer bottle for a fresh one.
"Congratulations Tris!" Zeke says, clinking his bottle to hers. He's always the first to speak in awkward situations. Usually she's grateful for it.
"Thank you." She's full of pride in herself today, and it's a good feeling, allowing herself to be happy for something she's earned. Finally it feels like she can enjoy making it into Dauntless. Ha, two whole years later.
Four stiffens when she wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder. Zeke doesn't miss the look of confusion in his eyes nor the burning rage in Lauren's.
"Got some moves, you and Christina." Zeke sticks his tongue out at her teasingly as her face become flushed.
"Gotta dance with someone since Four, doesn't dance," she says, her voice deepening to mock his stern tone. He snorts. It's the first time in a long while, he's laughed at something she's says.
"You just have to get him really drunk." Zeke jokes, knocking back a large portion of his beer. Beer and the Dauntless is a match no one will ever be able to break. Drinking is like breathing in this faction. Tris never thought she'd enjoy it but…
Lauren snorts bitterly, catching all their eyes. Four looks away taking a drink. "We were just talking about you," Lauren says.
"I'm sure you were." Tris comments flippantly, voice airy. Four and Zeke nearly choke, taken aback by her attitude. Tris is almost never rude. Firm, but never rude. And it only took three years to get her there.
"Girl gets her tattoo and becomes a hardass," Lauren jokes, smiling. She doesn't care if Tris is the only one to react, that's the point. Four is staring straight ahead, Zeke turning away, elbows on the counter. "Congrats." She salutes, fake smile etched onto her untraditionally beautiful features.
Tris hums sarcastically, unbothered. Lauren isn't going to ruin her good mood. She shakes Four's shoulders, "I'm ready to go." She hopes he understands her meaning because she really doesn't want to repeat herself.
She's never been good about accepting this new silent craving of sexual gratification. But he found the space for it when they were hiding out in Amity and then nothing. The well went dry.
She just wants to forget everything tonight.
He looks at her, ready to throw a deadly glare at Zeke if he comments. "Okay." He searches her face, trying to gauge if she's drunk or not. She's not, only a beer and a half deep, she's good about pacing herself.
"Okay." She kisses him quickly, catching him off guard. "I'm going to say goodbye to Christina."
"I'll see you guys later," Four says, heading towards where Tris has disappeared too.
"In a better mood, I hope!" Zeke shouts, hands cupping his mouth.
Tris says her goodbyes, Four simply nodding at everyone. They hook fingers together as they walk down the hallways, towards the bridge where they'll cross onto the pire. The path feels familiar, in the year they've spent together, it's forever burned into her mind. She looks at him, reminded of how handsome he is, his eyes so dark they could be black.
Her heart is thumping in her chest, and her head is unclear but she's frustrated and she can't pinpoint why. Tonight, she doesn't want to think. She knows what she's running from—deep down. Maybe she's always known and has actively forced it away. And it's unfair just how much it hurts. Today of all days. Four knows what's happening but he can't will himself to say it yet.
They have no business being together, not anymore. But like a glutton for self punishment, he can't find it in himself to let go of her hand. He kisses her on the temple as they walk together. The last few weeks have been challenging to say the least. Their frustrations with each other overgrown and apparent. But today is supposed to be about celebrating. So maybe they'll finally get through it.
For whatever reason, Tris has latched on to an idea she has of Eric. It grates on his nerves that she doesn't see him the way everyone else does—worst of all, she thinks she's hiding it well. And he's done his fair share of stupid things to get over it. But he can't push her away, not yet, not now. She'll see Eric for what he is, when she pulls herself from the fantasy she's living in.
Tris crashes into him when they get into the stairwell, arms wrapped around his shoulders, pressing herself close to him as she kisses him. Frantic, bruising, rough and angry. He mumbles something about the cameras but she doesn't care. Not right now. Not tonight. God, not tonight—let me just be...
She loved this man at one point—and part of her still wants to. Maybe she's overthinking. Maybe they'll be okay. Things are looking up, this can be better. It can be better—she chants the same sentence in her head like it's a prayer. Hoping, begging the universe to make it so.
Eric doesn't love her, she's his only friend. And she's projecting. This is real. Four is real.
please, she begs.
She gasps as Four's presses her against the wall, his thigh between her legs. Her head is swimming, unclear from the sudden rush of arousal. She hasn't felt this way in a while.
He pulls away, brushing the hairs that have stuck to her sweaty forehead back, "Not here." He gives her one more bruising kiss, taking her hand and rushing them up the stairs.
They're entangled as he rushes to open his apartment door, her giggles as he struggles echo in his ears. "Give me the key, or we'll be out here all night." She opens the door and tosses his keys to his kitchen counter, and they nearly fly out the ceramic, burnt orange bowl. He wraps her up in his arms whilst kicking his apartment door shut behind himself. There's a million reasons they should stop, but they don't.
Leaving a path of clothing towards his bed, Tris allows his touch to clear her mind and his kiss fools her brain into thinking that any others don't matter. But another name tumbles from her lips in the end, and the last remainders of love between her and Four breaks in her hands.
It wasn't a dream, Tris realizes, when she wakes up in Four's bed. She clutches the sheets closer to her naked body and feels sick with herself, while smacking her hand to her forehead. Her skin is damp from the warmth of his body, wrapped around her like she'd disappear in the night. He wanders towards her in his sleep—her memory isn't foggy enough for her to have forgotten her blunder.
Four is asleep, his striking features muted. She wonders if when he wakes up, he'll know what she does; they can't continue on any longer, not until she can get a handle on the feelings for Eric that she's denied herself for so long. There's no way Four doesn't know. He always seems to understand things before she does.
Without thought, she presses soft kisses to his shoulder. The familiarity of waking up beside him, it softens the hardness of her heart. Doesn't change that this is the end, but she'll always be fond of the quiet, pure beginnings they come from. But this is the end.
She slips out of bed and picks up her clothes off the floor, cursing to herself when she can't find her bra. But that's because it's in the hallway, comically hanging off the bathroom door.
Tris looks into the mirror. And she's a mess. Her eyeliner is smeared, and her eyes are red and puffy. She needs sleep. A voice in her head screams that she should hurry up and leave, write a note and run but she's been avoiding this day like a coward. And it's time to stop. Splashing water on her face, she brushes her teeth with the toothbrush she's had here for the longest, tossing it into the garbage bin when she's done.
She looks somewhat presentable in her clothes from the night before. Her tank top and black pants. She wasn't feeling very dressy yesterday, as she'd been tattooed for hours. Who needs to be dressy to drink and dance?
Christina wasn't so happy about it.
Christina definitely won't be happy about this.
She hears Four before she sees him, putting on a pot of coffee in the kitchen. She flushes the toilet to prolong the inevitable—hiding in the bathroom for the rest of the day is impractical. After all, there's work to be done today anyways.
"Hey," she says when she seems him. His hair is going in every which way, golden under the light in the kitchen.
"Good morning," his voice is especially deep in the morning.
They're silent, the coffee maker being the consistent noise in the background.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"I thought you left," Four begins, opening up the floor for her to speak. He's not wondering about what she said in the heat of the moment last night—he doesn't need an explanation, it's pretty clear. The breathiness of her voice is forever etched into his brain. He clenches his teeth. He's spurned by her wanting a man she can't have—that isn't even a deterrent apparently.
Tris bites her lip, "I'm sorry." The only thing she thinks to say in the moment. Her thoughts are jumbled and there's nothing to excuse. What can she say? Sorry, didn't realize how much I love someone who's not you?
Four nods, "How long?"
Her voice catches in her throat and she hates how easily he reduces her down to some wide eyed teenage girl. Sometimes even she forgets that she is in fact still only eighteen years old.
"I don't know," Tris enters the kitchen and presses her hands to her face, elbows on the counter while she sits. Four gives a noncommittal sound, sounding bitter.
"Convenient," he says, grabbing a coffee mug.
"You think I wanted this to happen?" Tris doesn't sound half as angry as she intends. Four sips his coffee. "You think that. That's what you think?" She exhales hard when she realizes her voice is raised and she's always the one to lose it instead of him.
Four shrugs, his cool demeanor only making her eye threaten to twitch. But he doesn't care. "You sure didn't run from it."
She wonders how he somehow always manages to make her feel inferior. She hates it. He's not who she once knew. He's not the same man who made butterflies rise from the pit of her stomach, or makes her hands sweat. The War has made him someone she doesn't recognize. They've both changed. And they're no longer pieces that fit together the same.
Having worked so hard to get here today and now, he can still shatter all of it with his furrowed brows and intense stare.
"And Lauren," Tris questions, unsure where the sudden suspicion comes from. But she feels it in her gut, knowing that she's right. The look on Lauren's face when Tris simply wrapped her arms around him was indication enough—and the woman's ever apparent envious tone. Tris would be an idiot not to see it. "How long?"
And it doesn't help him that Four looks as if she's just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. "It was just—"
Tris laughs, shaking her head. She puts her face in her hands, groaning. "Oh, god." Looking up at him, Tris feels like a confused child,"Who are we?"
She used to be so in love with him. And he's surely the reason she didn't get exposed during phase two of her training. But even then, Eric knew what she is.
The hell she and Four have been through as a couple, connected by former faction dependence, current standing, and tragedy. It's too much now. And she doesn't know what to do. But it's not this. "I can't do this," Tris says, waving him off before he can retort. "I've been avoiding the inevitable and I'm done. This is over."
He doesn't even respond verbally. They've both known. She wishes she didn't want him to try and convince her that this is wrong, that she can avoid her feelings for Eric, but he doesn't. And tomorrow she'll appreciate that he didn't attempt the lie.
"So that's it? You're just running?" Four catches her arm as she attempts to leave. "It didn't mean anything, just like Eric doesn't mean anything. We can fix this."
Never mind.
She pushes him back, as firmly as she can. "Don't. Don't talk about him. This isn't about him, it's about me and you." she says.
"Isn't it?" Four questions hotly, "It's always about him when it comes to you."
"We've grown apart," Tris says, ignoring the bait. "I can't talk to you." That's the truth of the matter. He just looks at her with his wiser than his years eyes and reduces her to a child.
"Don't say that," Four says, as if begging—begging for her to stay, for a second chance. "You don't mean that."
And usually, she's open to second chances, but he's given him chances. In the last year, they've both had the opportunity to overcome this strain between them, and it can't be done.
"Don't tell me what I mean," she laughs, though nothing is at all funny. "I said what I meant to say. I tell you something and you attempt to tell me what I mean."
"And Eric is so easy to talk to?" Four jeers. The judgement is so evident, she's surprised she hasn't started to melt under his stare. "It's time to stop Beatrice. I let you look for whatever you're trying to find. And now look, you're in love with him. What am I supposed to say to that?"
She looks at him, eyes collecting tears.
"You can't even deny it." He shakes his head, turning away from her, "I slept with Lauren. There. I can admit it. But at least-"
She snorts, the shock of hearing it out loud is only over casted by his audacity. "You cheated on me, whatever logic you want to use to justify it, save it. We are far from perfect together, but you slept with someone else. You're the only person I've ever been with. I didn't do that to you."
"And you're somehow better? Fantasizing about Eric while you're with me?" Four never yells at her but he's dangerously close right now. But she's not intimidated. "You know what? Go. He's gonna hurt you. But don't come back to me when it's too late."
"I'll never come back to you!" She dares to shout, not caring if all of Dauntless can hear, "You're free to fuck whoever you want now." She turns on her heel and heads for the front door.
He growls, throwing the nearby coffee pot against the wall. It goes flying past her head, crashing into the foyer wall. She looks back at him, shaking her head at him before she walks out the door. Tris tries not to cry, to not feel so embarrassed by her own shameful emotions. But here she is, tears clouding her eyes. Four can be so cruel without even opening his mouth, ten times worse when he does.
The truth of the matter is that Eric has never hidden his worse traits. This new Four, the judgemental, angry person he's become, she wants no part. Ending the relationship before it makes her someone she can't look at in the mirror is the right thing to do. Let whoever say whatever. She doesn't care. No matter the confusing emotions she feels, at least she can still live with herself.
They were truly horrible to each other leading up to this point. His fling with Lauren is evidence to that fact. And if she truly loved Four, how can she even be confused about her feelings for his enemy? She hopes they can live with themselves. Because no matter what Four says, she's had enough self control to keep her mouth shut about what she feels for Eric, and she's definitely kept it in her pants.
Tris squares her shoulders, wipes her eyes, and steps off the elevator. She nods at the approaching Dauntless as they walk by.
She's not going to let this break her stride.
She commandeers a Dauntless truck, not feeling the trains today. She's expected to have the truck back—one thing Amity doesn't really do—and so she's on a time constraint. Finding herself in the Erudite Apartment district—a couple blocks from the train Station—she takes the lift up to the third floor and fixes herself without a mirror.
(Her new tattoos itch but she wills herself not to scratch. It's been a couple of days and they're beginning to peel. Christina will kill her if she scratches and ruins them.)
The elevator dings and the doors open leaving her staring at the pale blue walls of the hallway. The hardwood floors creak as she steps off the lift. Counting the numbers on the walls, she heads to apartment 3c and knocks.
She hears the pitter-patter of tiny feet and laughter coming from the inside before the door swings open. Immediately she smells food.
"Tris!" The little girl screams, throwing her arms around her legs. "Mommy, Tris is here!"
"Stephie, what did I tell you about answering the front door by yourself?"
"But it's just Tris, Mommy!" Little four year old Stephanie is quite independent for her young age, and precocious. Her mother did her best to raise her on her own. She was nearing two years old when her father was murdered.
"Hi Elizabeth," Tris doesn't laugh like she wants to, the look on the older woman's face is quite stern and Stephie looks like she knows she's in trouble.
"We'll discuss this later, young lady." Elizabeth squats in front of her daughter, bopping her on the nose. "Go pick up your toys before supper please."
"How are you?" Tris asks, accepting the hug she receives as soon as the single mother stands and offers it.
"I'm well." Elizabeth sighs, holding Tris by the shoulders to push her back and get a good look at her. She hums at the new leadership tattoo, a knowing smirk on her face. "Right on time for supper." She says, giving a smile that crinkles her eyes. "Come on." She waves Tris forward, stepping into the moderately sized kitchen.
Tris straightens a picture on the wall, a family portrait. She smiles at the picture of Eric in a blue button down and slacks. His late father, Shawn, and his mother standing behind him, all their smiles wide. It was of course before Stephanie was born. But it's the only picture Elizabeth has kept up of just the three of them. Tris laughed the first time she saw it—unused to the image of a smiling, piercing and tattoo free Eric Coulter.
She gets a brief look into the living room; There are boxes of things littered about, Tris wonders what's going on, "Moving?"
"Mm, no," Elizabeth says, licking some mashed potatoes from the outside of her pinky finger. She wipes her hand on a sheet of paper towel before placing the bowl on the table. "Just packing up some things from the office. I don't use a lot of it anymore."
Tris washes her hands and dries them quickly. Her mouth waters at the sight of the roasted chicken on the counter, waiting to be cut into. But Elizabeth will tell her when she'd like them to sit and eat. She looks at the sink and starts washing the few dishes—a habit she's not going to shake from her childhood. Only back then, it was a chore. Now she welcomes the memories.
Elizabeth turns and stops, "You don't have to do that, Tris."
"I want to," Tris says. "How are things at school?" Elizabeth has been a lower levels math teacher since she was in her mid twenties. She's nearing 42 and still hasn't lost her passion for educating the city's children. It's proving to be a difficult time as the kids are still adjusting.
"The kids are struggling. But that's to be expected." Elizabeth replies. "Stephanie Elaine Coulter, you'd better be done picking up after yourself missy!"
"Yes!" Stephie's exasperated cry returns and Tris can't help but snort. "I'm done!"
"I don't know what I'm going to do with her," Elizabeth sighs heavily, sitting at the already set table. "Just like her brother was." She adds, muttering to herself more than she's speaking to their dinner guest.
Tris watches with a wide smile as Stephanie avoids where her mother is standing all together and comes through the archway of the foyer, "All done."
"Wash your hands please."
"Okay!" The child rushes to the sink, stepping up onto the stool to reach the knobs. She drops the soap bottle in the sink but quickly grabs it and puts it back. She washes her hands and climbs down, totally uncaring if she falls.
She reminds Tris of the young boys and girls that run around Dauntless. They keep the place full of life now when all the older people need their innocence.
Stephanie looks like her mother mostly, but both Coulter children have their father's nose and square jawline. Stephanie has her mother's pert nose and full lips. They're however, a family of natural blondes.
She beams at Tris, "Thank you," she says as Tris pulls out her chair and waits for her to climb up onto the chair before pushing her in.
"Sit on your bottom," Elizabeth instructs, coming around to make her plate of chicken, potatoes, and green beans which she hates but will eat if she wants her ice cream after dinner.
Tris says thank you as she's served her plate and watches Elizabeth's thinly veiling sadness as she makes her own. They sit in silence for a moment, two more chairs empty during the meal. Tris kills the time by eating, appreciating the flavors and the quiet.
She hasn't been feeling all that great the last two days since she and Four have broken up, time going by so slow. She feels like a part of her is missing. It hard to reconcile that even if they ended horribly, she misses Four's constancy.
Dauntless rules have been reviewed, interactions between factions as well. They're slowly preparing for next years initiation—should it come to be that choosing day indeed arrives, they're ready. Considering many people have left Erudite, there's concern that maybe some have returned to Dauntless. But no one has defected from Dauntless to Erudite in about three years. Uriah and Tris will take the Dauntless-Born as before. And Lauren and Four, the transfers. All of this decided by no face-to-face communication between Tris and Four.
They have discussed how to make initiations more difficult for dauntless members who are also divergent. It's a heated debate—is a more difficult training regimen warranted, does it become a kind of punishment for them? Is it unfair to treat them all the same? Knowing she had some advantages when it came to simulations, but that it didn't necessarily help her face her fears, she's unsure.
She's split her time between sitting in front of her office computer, corresponding with Caleb here in Erudite, and reviewing every possible file relating to Eric. And that's how she ended up here today. Some things aren't quite sitting well with her. Elizabeth wasn't called to the stand and she wants to know why. She'd avoided to the trial when it was happening and that plagues her conscience.
"I wanted to ask you a few things, if possible?" Tris begins, stabbing a green bean casually and biting into it.
"I figured as much," Elizabeth gives an easy smile, to display she's not offended by the idea Tris simply came for some answers. "I'd prefer it if—" she gestures to her daughter "—weren't forced to listen."
"Of course," Tris says, nodding as she reaches for her carbonated water. Erudite love making every possible drink fizzy. It's an addiction Tris thinks. She smiles to herself.
"Are you staying with us, Tris?" Stephie asks, awkwardly fighting a string bean into her mouth. Her expression scrunched and Tris can't help her snort.
"I would love to, but I have to go home," Tris answers. The little girl is beyond cute, her brows furrowed as she tries to rationalize the answer.
"You have to work like Mommy?"
Tris hums in the affirmative, setting down her fork. She hasn't gotten a chance to eat today and she's moments from just shoving her face. "I'm a leader like your brother Eric was, remember?"
Stephanie lights up at the mention of her brother. He of course had been going through his initiation when she was born. But becoming leader has its perks. And considering Dauntless-Erudite relations are so close, he often snuck over to meet with them. He's very fond of his little sister and she loves him too. She saddens, huffing. "I haven't seen him in a long time!"
Elizabeth rests her elbows on the table, pressing her hands to her eyes momentarily as the awful memory rushes to her head. As she drops her hands, Tris reaches to where she sits at the end of the table and gives her hand a squeeze. Elizabeth covers her hand and thanks her with an appreciative look.
"I'll tell you what," Tris inhales a calming breath, "The next time I go visit him, I'll tell him you said hello."
"And that I love him… tell him that too!" Stephie says, nearly bursting from her excitement. She has no idea how close Tris and Elizabeth are to bursting into tears. "Oh, I know! I can draw him a picture and you'll take it to him."
"I can do that." Tris says. Of course, she wonders if it will be allowed, knowing she's had trouble doing just about anything else. But she won't crush the child's hope.
They finish dinner and Tris helps clear the table and does dishes as Elizabeth puts away leftovers. Stephanie gets her markers and starts on her picture for Eric—dessert forgotten. She asks her mother how to write I miss you, Eric and Elizabeth writes it on a separate sheet of paper for her.
Tris sighs heavily as she and Elizabeth sit in the living room. The cream colored couches are comfortable. There's a TV set and bookshelves. She wiggles her toes on the light blue rug under the sturdy wooden coffee table. From where she sits, she can see down the hallway that leads to the bathroom and three bedrooms. She's been in Eric's room, Elizabeth leaves it mostly untouched save for when she does her dusting. Tris has slept in there, before the fateful day none of them want to relive.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but it's about Eric's trial." Tris begins softly. There's a lot Stephanie doesn't know about the whole ordeal, and Elizabeth explained it in a way she could understand. Tris doesn't want to make it all for naught. "You didn't speak at his trial."
"I did not," Elizabeth parrots, exhaling heavily. "I assume you'd want to know why."
Tris nods, "I would."
"Come with me," she stands and beckons. "Stephie?"
"Yes, Mommy?"
"Tris and I will be in the office, please stay at the table and don't draw on Mommy's table."
"Okay!"
Elizabeth leads her to the office door. It's right off the foyer. Tris walks in the room; the glass-top desk is the centerpiece. One wall is covered in another book shelf, encyclopedias and textbooks she's sure every Erudite family collects. There's a few boxes about, filed with various things ready to be put in storage. There's a single chair in the corner, like this is a room someone can come hide in to read. The window facing the street has a bench in it. She can see a grown up Stephie sitting there and reading or doing her homework. She walks over to it and looks out. The street is dead, cars parked on the side, the street lights on illuminating everywhere. She can't see her vehicle, as she parked in a garage and came right up.
She's pulled from her own thoughts at the sound of Elizabeth pulling out her rolling chair and powering on the laptop.
With a few keystrokes and moments, Elizabeth calls her over, "I know my son hasn't been in the best of situations since he became a leader. And leading up to my husband's death, it hadn't been so bad."
"What do you mean?" Tris knows the story. Shawn Coulter was a neurologist—with a special interest in behavior after surgery—at Northwestern Memorial, one of the few hospitals left standing that offers that kind of care. His work was important. And he often worked closely with Erudite researchers responsible for perfecting serums.
"You know, sometimes he would complain that he felt he was being watched," Elizabeth says, skimming through her emails to find what she's looking for. "You know the story. I guess Eric made a mistake and the next thing I knew, I was being informed that there had been an accident and Shawn fell down an elevator shaft in the parking garage at work.
"I didn't know at the time," Elizabeth explains, "And Eric wasn't allowed to explain to me, or of course, I would be next and Stephanie would be left alone." Both her and Shawn's parents have passed on, and didn't have any other children. "But I would notice people following me around, on the train, or when I'd walk to the bus from work. Once when I was picking Stephie up from daycare. I just thought I was crazy."
"And then the War," Tris concludes. "And Jeanine and Max were dead. A handful of people arrested."
"Eric explained everything the night he was arrested. He came here knowing he wouldn't have much time. He told me how like many others, Jeanine had convinced him divergence was a danger to society and what not. You know the spiel.
"Dauntless was given priority on serum research and technological advances based on the partnership and promise of carrying out Jeanine's murders." Elizabeth's eyes sparkle with tears as she thinks of the things her son must have seen or been forced to do just to keep the family he has left, alive. "Anyway…He'd threatened to out Jeanine as a murderer to the other factions after he grew tired of her holding us above his head. It took a lot out of him, the whole ordeal. He hadn't thought she'd actually follow through on her threat."
"And she killed your husband because of it." Tris sighs, shaking her head as she listens to the story.
"During the trial, I offered to tell the jury what I know… anyone really. But then I received this email," she points to the screen.
It's come to our attention that you're thinking of speaking in your son, Eric's trial.
Our plan of forcing Abnegation into extinction may have reached a bit of a speed bump, but we are not through. Considering your son cannot offer you any kind of protection from where he sits in a prison cell, you're being asked to reconsider helping him through this trial. We would hate to imagine all the accidents that could befall you if you choose to ignore this warning Elizabeth. A fall from down an elevator shaft is quite messy.
Think of your daughter and don't speak for your son, and you will be spared.
Tris feels her blood run cold. Closing the email, she doesn't even want to look at it. "Did you show this to anyone else?"
"Eric's lawyer," Elizabeth's brows scrunch. Of course she didn't keep this to herself. And she asked for discretion on Mr. Benning's part. "He said it was irrelevant to the case. Considering I've admitted myself that I've never been in a room with Jeanine as she threatened my son, and I wasn't there the day my husband was murdered, my truth on the matter is biased."
The truth serum only makes it difficult to lie. And what Elizabeth knows of the situation is hearsay.
Tris's head is spinning.
"Imagine that," Elizabeth finally allows herself to cry, wiping her eyes as Tris looks at her. "Even in death, my family is still under her thumb."
"I'm sorry this has all happened," Tris hugs her, feeling tears soak into the shoulder of her shirt. Her neck is sore at this angle but she can't be bothered.
"They killed my husband, and pinned years of wrong doing on my only son," Elizabeth cries, shaking her head. She knows Eric is not a saint, but she can't imagine he wants this. And she can't even go see him. "It's not right."
Tris pulls away and smooths the older woman's hair down, brushing it behind her shoulders, "No, it's not. But I'm gonna fix this."
Elizabeth allows a soft laugh, "How?"
"Well, I'm going to find out who sent this, and put it to bed." Tris says, "and then I'm getting Eric a retrial where this can be discussed. There was no mention of Jeanine's blackmail in the original case."
"I've spoken to the Candor, Joshua Benning, and he's said there's no point in reopening."
"Do you know where I can find him?" Tris asks, she doesn't like what she's hearing.
"I have his direct line to his office. I'll get it for you before you go." Elizabeth inhales, wiping her eyes.
"We may have to get Eric another lawyer," Tris comments, biting her lip, feeling fueled by this new information.
"I can't—"
There's a knock on the door, before it swings open. "Mommy, I finished my picture."
Elizabeth draws in a deep breath before looking up, "That's great baby," she opens her arms and Stephie comes running, "Can I see it?"
"Here," Stephanie offers the picture and Tris inconspicuously closes the laptop. She slides it back as Elizabeth sets the picture on the table.
"Oh, it's so nice," Elizabeth pulls her daughter into her lap. "You drew a heart and colored it so nicely."
"I made an oopsie so I started over." Stephanie says, looking back at her mother. Thankfully she doesn't register Elizabeth's puffy, red eyes. "You can have that one, Mommy."
Tris and Elizabeth laugh.
Tris looks at the drawing and clutches her hand to her chest. It's a big heart, the words I miss you, Eric in big bold letters on the bottom of the page. They're lopsided and the heart is uneven. But she was careful to keep the colors inside her black lines of the heart and the words are separated properly.
"He's going to love it, Sweets."
Tris backs away and sits in the window; looks at the mother and daughter, and smiles. It's unusual to hear the Erudite use nicknames. But Elizabeth doesn't seem to heed that very much. And Tris finds her heart swells watching how much she cares for her only child left here at home.
"It's bedtime," Elizabeth says, rocking side to side, her arms around Stephanie. She kisses her cheeks and Stephanie giggles.
"Okay." Stephie huffs.
"Say goodnight to Tris," Elizabeth lets her down and the toddler runs towards their Dauntless guest.
"Oooh!" Tris playfully groans as she lifts the little girl into her arms and accepts the hug.
"Goodnight!"
"Goodnight kiddo." Tris squeezes her tight before putting her down and watching her run out the room.
"Go brush your teeth!" Elizabeth yells after her.
"I'll make this as painless for you as possible," Tris says, going back to the topic they'd been discussing. "Now, I can have two dauntless patrol men with you at all times…so I need to know, has anyone else tried reaching out to you? Anything feel wrong?"
"You can do that?"
"Yes," Tris says without hesitation. There's no one that she'd let stop her, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"I believe you'll try to keep us safe." Elizabeth says, offering a smile in good faith. She hums, "But no. No, now that you mention it, I've felt safer after the trials. I've just been thinking about this—knowing I have it and Benning thought is was irrelevant."
Tris nods in understanding. "It's late," she sighs, standing. She moves to the desk, picking up the laptop. "Can I take this? I'll have it back to you as soon as I have someone look at it."
"Sure, I don't use it. I have a desktop at work that I use. This was Shawn's." Elizabeth says. "Analyzing the email I'm assuming?"
"Yeah… I'm sure everyone's been caught. But I'd just feel better confirming that." They leave the office and Tris makes sure to grab the picture Stephanie drew. Elizabeth gets her the number she needs. She hugs Elizabeth, the two women holding tight. Tris pulls away. "Don't talk to anyone, Elizabeth. Anyone shows any interest suddenly, tell me." Elizabeth nods and Tris hugs her again, smiling as the mother of two kisses her cheek.
"Get home safe."
"I will." She lifts the laptop and waves it. "I'll bring this back. Promise."
Elizabeth laughs and opens the door for her. "Tell him I love him," she inhales deeply.
"I will."