Oh, shit! This is not good. Not. Good. Tobias is staring at the line of pale purple bruises on my upper right arm with wide eyes and an agonized expression. Although he's no longer buried deeply inside me, I'm still straddling his naked hips, and I can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. I know better than to make light of this situation but I don't know what to say to make things better so instead of saying anything, I sit mute staring into his handsome face, holding my breath and … waiting. After a full two minutes, he roughly moves me off his lap and gets up. I blow out the breath I'm still holding and gasp in lungful's of much-needed oxygen to appease my screaming lungs. As I watch him pulling on his jeans, panic blooms deep in my chest.

"What are you doing?" My voice is soft, uncertain. His wide, wild eyes meet mine for a split second. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Baby, we can work this out. Just talk to me."

"I hurt you." Oh, God! I was afraid that's what he would think. So not good. What do I say to that? I can't deny the bruises. I finally drag myself up off the floor, and as I watch him pull his shirt on over his head, the anxiety in my chest raises to a new level.

"You didn't hurt me, Tobias," I adamantly say.

"Don't patronize me, Tris," he angrily says, raising his voice, although he's not quite yelling at me. "I have eyes. I can see the bruises." His eyes dart to my arm and agony flashes on his face. "I'm no better than my piece of shit father." I gasp. That couldn't be farther from the truth but the minute I saw what he saw, I knew where his thoughts would take him. Becoming Marcus Eaton has always been one of his greatest fears. I grab my basic black tee off the floor and slide it on over my head and am immediately thankful that it covers the burgeoning bruises. Oh, God! What are they going to look like tomorrow? I shake off the worrisome thought as he starts pacing back and forth, his eyes on the floor. It's hard to believe he's the same man that not five minutes ago brought me to multiple delicious orgasms. He's running his hand through his tousled hair then he abruptly stops. He brings his eyes to mine and for the first time in a very long time I can't see through his Four mask to decipher what exactly it is he's thinking. "I need some time to think, Tris. Can you give me that time?" His cold, distant voice is worse than a hard punch to the gut. Can I give him what he wants right now? Can I give him space? I don't think I can.

"Please don't leave me," I say, my voice panicky and needy. "Just talk to me, Tobias … please." He hangs his head low, shaking it slowly back and forth.

"I've got to go, Tris," he says. "I need to think and I can't do that here." I'm suddenly transported back to the morning shortly after he rescued me from Peter, the only time he's ever walked out on me. I can't breathe. And for the second time in my life he turns his back on me to walk away.

"No! Don't leave me!" I scream at the top of my lungs, feeling a vulnerability I've never felt before. What if he doesn't come back? Tears roll down my face uncontrollably. He stops in his tracks, his body stiff with tension but he doesn't turn my way. "You don't get to walk away from me. You didn't do anything wrong, Tobias. Please don't go. Talk to me, baby."

"I. Need. Time," he says, each word clipped and unfeeling. I follow him as he heads toward the door.

"You don't have to do this," I plead, hoping something I say gets through to him. His hand stills on the doorknob. "Right now, we don't have a problem. I know you think we do but we really don't but, baby, if you walk out that door, things may never be the same again." He turns his head to the side like he's going to look at me but he doesn't. "If you won't think about me, think about the kids," comes out barely above a whisper. I think I've finally broken through when he puts his hands on his hips but instead he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Tris. I need some time."

Tobias opens the door and walks out, shutting it behind him softly. I start to run after him but two things occur to me at once: Firstly, I have three sleeping kids upstairs I can't just leave alone to chase their father all around the compound and, secondly, I'm still naked from the waist down. I don't need to give Zeke and the control room workers another peep show.

I slide down the smooth wall just inside my front door and wrap my arms tightly around myself and rest my forehead on my knees. I rock back and forth as unrelenting sobs wrack my body, longing for Tobias' strong arms to comfort me. This has been the absolute day from hell. What else could possibly go wrong? I try to catch my breath but it's only coming in short, shallow pants. Is this what dying feels like? After a few minutes, the uncontrollable panic diminishes, the tears stop, and I pull myself together. I go back to the kitchen, trying not to think of our earlier extracurricular activities, and hurriedly pull my jeans back up my body, forgoing the scattered undergarments, which I pick up and put in the laundry.

My mind races trying to figure out what to do. Should I find someone to watch the kids and go after him, or should I give him the time and space he asked for? I nearly pace a rut in the dining room floor as I weigh the pros and cons of each idea for what seems like hours but in reality, only about five minutes pass. I decide the best thing to do for now is to honor his wishes and give him a couple hours to think things through. If he's not home then, I'll go after him.

My heavy legs trudge up the stairs so I can check on the kids because I got quite loud begging him not to go but they're sound asleep in the middle of their beds. I kiss each one, fighting back tears the entire time, and tuck them in for the second time in a matter of hours. When I'm satisfied they're all right, I go back down to our living room and lower myself into the club chair and stare at the taunting, closed front door and think.

How do I make him see that this is nothing to get so riled up over? Yes, he grabbed me during our argument, which is not right but his touch has been rougher than that when we make love. I'm really surprised he left bruises. I get up and go into the little powder room tucked under the stairs to inspect what my arm looks like in brighter light. Maybe he's blowing this whole think out of proportion. I lift the sleeve of my shirt and study the bruise and I gasp. It's worse than I thought. It's not just four fingerprint bruises, it's his whole damn hand wrapped around my arm.

"Shit!" I mutter, tears streaming down my face once again. No wonder he reacted the way he did. He lived with a father who beat his mother, who beat him. I don't know what putting bruises on me is doing to him. No wonder he thought he needed to leave. I switch off the light and shuffle back into the living room then plop down in my chair. I guess I think that if I will him to come home hard enough that he will. After about half an hour of staring at the unmoving door, I get my phone off the charger but find no messages. Where are you, Tobias? Part of me thinks I should go to bed but I would just lie there tossing and turning without him beside me. I can never sleep unless he's there. The other part of me wants to go find him and bring him home. I sigh as I get up and nervously pace.

I don't know how long I've been standing here staring out the wall of windows at the dark, sleeping city when I hear the front door open and close. I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer that he's made it home safe and sound. I see him come into the living room through the reflection in the window. When he sees me standing here, he stops and runs a hand roughly through his hair. I guess he thought I would have went to bed. I turn around and gaze at him. God, he's such a sight for sore eyes. I want nothing more than to run and thrust myself into his arms and pick up right where we left off earlier but neither one of us is ready for that right now.

"I'm glad you're home," I say, my voice soft but guarded. He doesn't move, and he doesn't say anything. What are you thinking, my love? Our eyes don't deviate from each other's. We stand staring, tension and pain palpable all around us then he finally groans and comes my way. He stops just out of arm's length though and runs his fingers through his hair again.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks and I smell alcohol on his breath. I take in a sharp breath, and he looks at me sheepishly. This development doesn't make me happy but he's in control. He's not drunk. So, I think, am I mad?

"I'm not exactly happy, Tobias, but I'm not mad," I say as I shake my head and the fact that I'm telling the truth is evident in the conviction of my voice. "I don't like that you walked away when I begged you not to but I understand why you did it. You needed some time to think. I hope everything's all right now." I don't mention the drinking. He doesn't need me to berate him right now. He turns on his heels and looks towards the ceiling as he paces back and forth. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. After a couple minutes, he turns his head slightly and looks at me out of the corner of his eyes.

"I'm truly sorry, love," he says, obviously pained. "I'm sorry I wouldn't … couldn't talk to you. I'm sorry I walked out on you, especially after we had just made love. That had to hurt. I'm sorry I disregarded your feelings. But what I'm sorriest for is for leaving bruises on you. I promised I would never hurt you."

"Oh, Tobias. You didn't hurt me," I sigh, stepping closer to him. I still want to touch him but when my hand moves his direction, he flinches away from me. We have a lot of work to do to move past this. "You shouldn't have grabbed me the way you did. You were angry, and you could have really hurt me." He groans at my comment.

"I should never leave marks on your beautiful body," he mutters.

"No, you shouldn't," I softly say. He inhales sharply then his soft eyes go cold and I gasp. How can he be looking at me like this? I didn't do anything wrong. Not about this.

"Why aren't you pissed at me, Tris? You should be mad as hell. I've done the one thing I swore I would never do, I laid my hands on you in anger and you have bruises to prove it," he angrily says. I get it now. He's pissed at himself, not me. "I've ruined everything. I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room with me. I should make you sick. I'm nothing but a piece of shit just like my worthless father." Okay. Now I'm angry.

"Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest and his eyes fly to mine. I am expecting anger, maybe confusion but instead I see agony filling them, and I immediately regret my words. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting my arms fall to my side. I slowly open them and shake my finger at him. "Don't you ever … ever put yourself down like that in front of me ever again, Tobias Eaton. You are not nothing. You are not shit. You are the sweetest, sexiest, most loving, compassionate, caring, considerate, kind, hard-working man I know. God, don't you know you are everything to me." He stands looking at me, not saying a word. "Nothing," I mutter disgustedly, shaking my head. "Did you mean to bruise my arm tonight?" He says nothing. "Did you?"

"Of course not."

"You were rightfully upset with me for walking away from you during a disagreement and making a mockery out of our lovemaking. You made a mistake, Tobias. It happens to the best of us. Don't dwell on it. Learn from it and move on." My chest is heaving from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I feel tears start to fill my eyes again. Damn it! I'm supposed to be angry not crying. I turn and walk back over by the wall of windows, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. It's the only thing holding me together right now.

"I thought you said you weren't mad," he says from right behind me. I see him reach out to comfort me but then drop his hands to his side and I sigh.

"I wasn't until you put yourself down," I say. This time he sighs. "I was scared. I still am."

"God! You should never fear me," he says, self-loathing pouring out of him. My eyes focus on his reflection. He looks like he's just gone 10 rounds in the training room. I turn and throw my arms around his waist and press my ear over his racing heart. He tenses momentarily then finally relaxes and wraps his arms around me, one low at my waist, tightly holding me to him and the other high in my hair, caressing me gently.

"I'm not scared of you, Tobias. I never have been," I say. How do I express what it is I fear when I don't quite understand myself? I tilt my head back and look him in the eye. "I'm afraid that whatever this is is going to be too much for us to overcome."

"I won't lose you," he softly says.

"I won't lose you." We gaze into each other's eyes for what seems like eternity. He slowly lowers his lips to mine and when they softly touch, passion explodes. We're all tongues, hands, lips, and hunger.

"Mommy, Daddy, I thirsty," Tyler softly says from right behind us. Tobias and I jump away from each other, startled by the sound of our son's voice. He cocks his head to the side and frowns when he looks up at me. "Why you cryin', Mommy?" I reach up and wipe away tears that I didn't know were still flowing.

"Mommy and I were just talking," Tobias softly says.

"Did you make her cry?" he asks, frowning at his father. Tyler is very protective of me. I couldn't have asked for a better son. I love him so much. Tobias scoops him up and starts towards the stairs. I follow behind them, making a detour to turn off the kitchen light.

"I did and I hate myself for it," he quietly says. Although we make sure we protect our kids, we promised never to outright lie to them so I'm not surprised by his answer.

"That not nice," Tyler pouts.

"I know, buddy," he says.

"Did you say you is sorry to her?" Wow. He's wise beyond his years. Just outside Tyler's room, Tobias stops and turns around.

"Tris, love, I am so sorry," he sincerely says, his free hand resting over his heart. I reach up and glide my fingers down his face and he leans into my palm.

"I know," I softly say. "I'm sorry, too … for everything." I slide my eyes to Tyler's. "Let's get you some more water. You must be really thirsty tonight if your cup is empty."

"I spilled it. On my bed," he says around a wide yawn.

"I'll get him another drink if you change his sheets," Tobias says.

"Okay." Tobias carries Tyler into his bathroom as I strip the sheets off his bed. Thankfully, just the corner of his mattress is wet. The rest of the water pooled on the hardwood floor beneath his bed. I clean it up and just as I smooth out the fresh sheets, Tobias carries him back into the room and deposits him in the middle of the bed. I notice he's wearing fire truck PJs instead of dinosaurs.

"His jammies were wet, too," Tobias says, noticing my gaze. I pull his covers up and tuck him in nice and snug as Tobias puts a half glass of water on his night stand.

"Go back to sleep," I say as I kiss his forehead. "Mommy and Daddy love you."

"Don't cry no more," he pouts. "Okay?" He looks so serious. I think it upset him that I was crying.

"No more crying," I say.

"Promise," he says.

"Tyler, buddy, are you okay?" Tobias asks. He frowns at his father then looks at me.

"You was fightin'," he sadly says. Damn it! "Mia said her mommy and daddy fighted all the time and now they gettin' a vorce. She has to live two places." When I see tears well up in his eyes and his bottom lip start to quiver, it's like someone rips out my beating heart. "I no wanna you get a vorce." Vorce? What the hell's a vorce? I think about it for a moment then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Mia's parents must be getting a divorce. I pull Tyler out from under his covers and straight into my arms. I hold him closely while he cries softly against my chest. I investigate Tobias' face while I'm comforting our son, and he's just as torn up as I am. I can count on one hand the number of times Tyler has heard us argue but tonight is by far the worst.

"We will never get a divorce, my sweet boy," I say when I finally find my voice, my lips in his hair. "Your father and I love each other very very much. Neither one of us could imagine life without the other but sometimes we don't agree on things so we argue. It doesn't mean we would get a divorce."

"I'm sorry you heard us fighting," Tobias says, emotion thick in his voice. "Your mommy and I don't fight very much. Please don't think we do." Tyler sniffs and looks up at us.

"Was you fightin' 'cause I want a brother?" he asks.

"No, buddy, we weren't," I say. "We're thinking about having a baby. We may have one but we might not."

"So, it not my fault?" he quietly asks. I was wrong earlier, this night just officially got worse. A new set of tears flood my eyes, and try as I might, they won't be blinked away.

"Of course, it's not your fault," I say. I hug him tightly, silent tears streaming down my face as my heart twists, and sway back and forth. This must comfort him because he passes out in my arms after a few minutes. Tobias helps me get him back in bed without waking him then we go into our bedroom.

"We should go to bed," he says. I look at the clock and am surprised that it's not quite 2 a.m. Maybe it only seemed like he was gone for hours.

"Where did you go?" I quietly ask, not tired. I feel the intense desire to make this right, especially since my actions are what started everything.

"I grabbed a drink at the bar but it was too crowded so I went to the chasm," he says. "I do some of my best thinking there." His look is thoughtful and far away.

"Did you come up with any answers?" I ask. He takes a deep breath then blows it out.

"Right now, I hate myself, Tris," he says. He takes my hand and leads me to the bed. He sits down, and I sit beside him then he removes his hand from mine. "I'm having a really hard time with the fact that I grabbed you when I was angry, love. I don't know what made me do it. I think I just wanted to look in your eyes, to see what you were really feeling. But when I saw my hand print on your arm, I thought I was going to be sick." He rakes his hands up and down his face roughly. He's obviously deeply disturbed by his actions. "All I could think is that one of my worst fears had come true. Marcus' influence has finally rubbed off on me. I could cut my hand off." I pick his hand up off his lap and lightly trace each finger with the very tip of mine.

"I like your hands," I mutter.

"I don't understand," he says. I look up at him. "Why aren't you upset about this?" I stare into his eyes. Why aren't I upset? He put his hands on me in anger and left marks on me. He shouldn't have done that but I know he didn't mean to.

"I could dwell on it but it's not worth it," I say.

"I left bruises on you," he hisses as he yanks his hand out of mine. "How could that not matter?"

"I didn't say it didn't matter. I said I don't want to dwell on it."

"How can you let me off the hook?" he asks. "I don't deserve it."

"What would you like me to say?" I exasperatedly ask. "Tell me."

"Tell me you hate me. Tell me I'm a horrible human being. Tell me you never want my hands on you again." Oh, Tobias! Always so full of self-loathing. I stand up and close our bedroom door then stand before my husband. I reach out and run my fingers though his hair and ignore it when he flinches.

"Those are your words, Tobias Eaton, not mine. That's not how I feel, not one bit," I sigh. "I. Love. You. I would never tell you I hate you. And you are not horrible. You're the kindest, most loving, giving, considerate, compassionate man I know. I don't know why you insist on putting yourself down. If the roles were reversed and I was the one calling myself nothing, worthless, or worse, you would be so angry with me." I pick up his hands and lace our fingers together as we stare into each other's eyes. "And right now, I'd love nothing more than to feel your hands on every inch of my body." His eyes glaze over with lust but he shakes his head no.

"I'm not ready for that," he says.

"Okay. I understand," I say. "Will you at least hold me please? We've hurt each other so much tonight." Tears sting the back of my eyes and my bottom lip quivers. "I need your arms around me."

"All right," he says. "Pajamas please."

"Of course," I say. I turn to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed then stop and turn around. I'm surprised to see him standing right behind me. "I love you, Tobias. I'm sorry I got so angry that I walked away from you. I'm sorry I was rude and sarcastic and you felt the need to put your hands on me. I'm sorry that a single bruise can make you feel so bad about yourself. You're a better man than you give yourself credit for." I go to turn back around but he catches my wrist loosely in his hand.

"Don't go," he says, his eyes … sad. He grazes the back of his fingers down my face and stares into my tear-filled eyes. He sighs then gathers me up in his arms, his lips moving softly with mine. "Please don't cry, love." I have my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, sobbing softly into his shoulder. I don't know why I'm so damn emotional. He gently lifts me and lies me down in the middle of our bed then he lies down beside me, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. I tangle my legs with his and rest my head on his chest. He runs the very tips of his fingers up and down my left arm. I have my right one tucked safely underneath me.

"Are you awake?" I quietly ask after we've both been still for quite some time.

"Yeah," he says.

"Thank you for holding me," I say. "Touching me. You don't know what that means to me." I tilt my chin back and his lips find mine but he pulls away before the kiss can deepen.

"It's my job," he says. "I meant what I said earlier. I will not lose you." I roll so I'm looking deeply into his eyes.

"I want to make love, Tobias."

"I would like that, too, love," he says, caressing my cheek lovingly, "but now isn't the right time. We're both exhausted." I can't argue with that. He's right. I'm emotionally wrung out, and I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

"Later?" I ask.

"Later," he promises.