A/N: I'm going to finish this story, if it's the last thing I do. I'm not even sure anyone cares but I need to finish it for me—ultimately this was a very self-indulgent endeavor, that I have a soft spot for. So, I'm going to finish it. This chapter concludes a part one of the great love story I'm telling here.
It's not easy to settle into this new feeling of freedom, not even when the ankle monitor is removed, as sleek and unimposing as it had been—there's nothing like sitting in that room of the justice building, as bland as it is, with Tris there, his freedom returned now. He's not quite sure how they managed it—whether it was the unbelievable feeling of needing to move on hanging over all of the jurors heads, or thinking him actually justified in his killing Jeanine, it's over.
Tris leans in the doorway, the happiness in her demeanor is hard to miss even if she's trying not to let it come out of her every pore, she can't help but to smile at him. "Feel like celebrating?"
Eric snorts, knowing that's what he should want to do. But he's not in a celebratory mood. "No. I can't explain it, but I'm…celebrate what? I still did those things, and I'm going to have to find a way to live with it—I don't want to celebrate that this is my life."
"It's not like that," Tris says gently. "I get it."
"No you don't," Eric shakes his head. He sighs heavily, "I love that you're trying."
"You're not the only one who has done things they regret," Tris argues.
He relents, head lulling to the side, "Fine, let's celebrate."
"We don't have to," Tris sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. She's not sure how to take his sudden change in demeanor towards her, she can feel his push and pull. She wants nothing to do with that, not when it comes to him. She's not going to put herself in a place, with another guy, where what she wants just melts away. "We can talk about it later, I don't want to do this—" she shakes her head, "you didn't want me here…"
Eric stops her, standing from his chair to take her hand. She stares at him, brows furrowed. She can see the cogs turning in his head.
"I didn't think this would happen with us," she says then, eyes searching his to gauge if she's wrong. "Was I supposed to?" She asks bitterly, thinking of what Tori had said to her—was he manipulating her? "Did I just do all of this for you only so we can go back to being enemies?"
Eric let go of her hand, brows furrowed. "What?"
"Were you using me to—"
"I was ready to die!" Eric snaps, making her jump. She looks at him with wide, startled eyes. She'd always known as much, but to hear him say it out loud broke her heart. "I don't know where I fit right now. And I..I don't feel like pretending that I do."
Tris has the decency to just stay quiet. She knows offering to help him won't crush those feelings he has, she doesn't want to be a salve to soothe his emotions, he needs to feel them. She knows better than anyone how complicated it can be to feel alone; to feel lost.
"I don't want to drag you down. You have so much going on and instead you're with me."
"I want to be with you," Tris replies. She doesn't flinch at the double meaning, she meant it anyway. "You're not going to just push me away."
"I should. I want to be selfish," Eric glances at her, voices in the hallway passing as they hid away, "and keep this..whatever it is, but you know…it's not going to be okay. Everyone looks at me like I'm a bomb."
"People are happy," Tris retorts, "you heard it." She says, referring to the chorus of cheers his verdict received.
"For now," Eric responds, "that's not about me. It's about getting a win for Dauntless while everyone hates the faction. Jeanine had her team, we were the force behind the plan, without us, it wouldn't have happened. Sooner or later, people will realize it. You know it'll come up."
"So quit." Tris finally says. "If you think anything you just said is inevitable, let's not waste our time right?" The words were like knives to her heart. "Why try if everyone's going to hate you forever anyway?"
His expression flattens. He hates the defeatist tone of her voice, and he chuckles because he knows she's had a way of simplifying things recently—making him see reason without even realizing it.
"Don't you want to prove them wrong?" Tris wonders, "I know you—this isn't you."
Truthfully, he hasn't known anything but anger for so long. It's hard to cycle through much else. Failure, defeat, fear bred his anger for so long he doesn't know what it's like to actually feel those things without going into revenge mode. It's why he killed Jeanine. He didn't do it to save the lives in the city. He wanted his tormentor to suffer, to feel fear, failure, and defeat. He was protecting his family, unable to handle another loss. He'd never cared about what happened to him, not when it was all falling apart. He'd already known: I'm going to die. At some point I will die for this. And he had been ready. This new opportunity to be better is terrifying; even worse because Tris seems determined to see him through.
"I will," he says. "For you."
"Do it for yourself," Tris replies, almost begging him to see her point. He pulls her in her a hug, her chin settling comfortably on his shoulder. She turns her nose into his neck, rubbing the skin gently, making him smile.
His arms are strong around her, one around her shoulders, across her back, and the other down at her waist. "Thank you," he whispers into her hair, "I don't say it enough."
"I know," Tris pulls away, looking up at him. She wants to tell him that she loves him, with all her heart. But he can't hear that right now when clearly this is not the conversation for it.
In a way, she feels more selfish than she's ever felt. If she pulls back all the layers, she'd realize how much she fears that he won't feel the same. Deep down, it's hard to navigate through even the possibility of being seen .
They spent the evening with his mother and sister, catching up, and enjoying his company before he would inevitably have to return home—just because the city had felt so unstable recently did it mean things would not eventually return to some semblance of normalcy.
People would cling to the ideals proposed by their factions in this time of confusion and uncertainty. The leaders of course were doing their best to right the ship, but they were all far from being fine again, as a city. For the most part, those who could, had returned to their faction of origin—factionless numbers taking a hit because of it. It was a display of kindness Tris hadn't actually thought they were capable of. Save for his trial, things had grown really quiet. But that did little to ease her mind.
There would be the thought: could we find ourselves here again?
"What are you thinking about?" Eric asks, the pair walking down the road in Erudite territory.
The streets were empty, save for the scattered people about leaving work late. Those who still lived there kept their heads down in shame. It was illogical, they all knew, to share such blame. But who could forget their passivity when Erudite would release their negative articles about Abnegation? They'd been faced with what such rivalries could do. The system with which they lived could not survive with such nasty pettiness. It had been proven.
"All this feels just…weird. Everything is weird." Tris answers. "Everything and nothing is the same. I'm not sure if this is all better."
"I think it will be," Eric comments pensively. "The alternative is what? Another overhaul? We're nothing like what we were before." He shrugs. "What's the alternative to all this awkwardness? The memory serum? I think that would be worse."
"And completely impossible to impose." Tris replies.
Eric didn't see the harm in at least talking about how things could be infinitely less awkward and more criminal. Though, it wouldn't be that hard really. "Turn the serum into an aerosol and take to the streets. Dauntless could do it. Isn't that fucking crazy?"
"That wouldn't really fix anything would it? Wiping the memories and then moving on."
Eric shrugs, "memories would come back."
"Best to just ride this out and give factions the support they need," Tris nods, "no more Dauntless doing anyone's bidding."
"Who do you think Erudite will elect as their rep?" Eric wonders aloud as they near a train station. They're just in time to greet the last of the trains.
"As of now, Caleb seems to have taken over the role." Tris says, warily. "Truthfully, I'm not sure he's meant for it." Her brother was weak, corruptible. She knew it, as did Eric. "As my brother, their logic was that he could persuade me to vote in their interest."
"It's not completely stupid," Eric shrugs again. "Unsustainable in the long run. As are many things, I think." He considers her, and the still hopefulness of her energy.
He's thought about it all day—what has happened between them, and his every changing emotions are hard to navigate, along with his self deprecation and guilt. He goes from feeling justified, though accepting of this uncertainty he feels, to hating himself. It's an endless draining loop. In another life, he would be too selfish to care about her well being over it.
"We really don't have to talk about it." Tris says, as they wait for an approaching train near the tracks.
"I think we should," Eric replies, resolved to the fact that they can't keep running from the truth—things are going to be different now that he's not going to be hidden in a cage. After all, just because he's free does not mean his choices aren't going to come back and bite him.
The train approaches from the appropriate direction, heading south through the common areas and into Dauntless, Eric gains his foot in a car first, standing at the entrance as Tris runs alongside. She takes his arm, clasping him near the elbow as he braces and pulls her into the car.
He lets her settle in the corner, knowing they have a bit of a journey back to the net. He doesn't want to upset her. But not having this conversation, not knowing her intentions will only set his already frayed nerves on end. He hates this feeling of uncertainty; unsure of where they stand when he already knows he has no idea what life holds for him now.
He leans on a pole, arms crossed as she looks out the window across from them. "Tris…"
She looks at him, blues gleaning with emotion she only lets him see these days. "I love you." She finally says, with a heavy sigh—she can't contain the truth any longer.
His heart nearly stops, as no one has said that to him the way she just did, ever. He just stares at her, unsure of how to answer. She stands, keeping her balance in the rickety car.
"Please say it back." She whispers softly. She needs this one thing to be certain. She has blown up her life for him, expecting nothing but this one thing in return—hoping for it more than she's ever demanded it.
He stares at her with wide eyes, tearful even, a vulnerability he's never dared to show with anyone else. She'd come around in a time he had nothing but his life to lose, in an undoubtedly turbulent time, keeping him buoyant when all he'd begged for was to drown.
Eric surges forward desperately, knocking the wind out of her momentarily as her back hit another pole behind them. He holds her upright with one arm, the other free hand deftly grabbing the pole behind her. His mouth finds hers urgently, kissing her with a passion that had threatened to burst out of him if he didn't give in at all.
Tris wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands finding purchase at the back of his head as she presses herself nearer, chasing his lips in his urgency to taste every bit of her. She feels tears watering in her eyes, months of emotion forcing their way out of her heart, through her eyes.
Kissing him is better than she imagined, truthfully, as nothing can compare to the reality of it. But this holds weight, truth, and she could burst from this manifestation of her devotion to him.
He leaves her breathless, simultaneously sated and anticipating—he holds her in the palm of his hand. The Eric of old would revel in such power. Now he understands the severity of such a moment. Her eyes twinkle with a still unbroken spirit; he is fascinated by her capacity of grace and compassion for him. He's known nothing like this before.
The words he wants to say are stuck in his throat. She beams at him, laughing as she wipes her eyes. She laughs, and he laughs at the sound of it.
"Say it again," Eric pleads.
"I love you," Tris smiles, cupping his cheek as he stands close to her, mere inches from her face because of her height. "And you love me." She says a matter-of-factly.
He snorts, unable to feign his usual derision. "What gave me away?"
"You're actually terrible at hiding it," she smirks. She had her doubts in the past, but of course that feels silly now.