Tris woke up in semi darkness, unsure of what had woken her or where she was.
"Glad to see you're awake."
"Eric," she gasped, standing up in surprise. It came back to her in a rush. Eric had been shot. They were in the infirmary.
No longer drugged on sedatives, his icy cold demeanor was back and when he opened his mouth next it was to make a demand.
"Get these restraints off of me."
Tris didn't even consider arguing, though she wondered if the nurses would give her hell when they realized what she had done.
Her fingers worked at the buckles, loosening the straps until Eric was free.
He sat up slowly, not betraying a hint of pain on his face.
This was not the same man who had made her promise to stay while in a haze of drugs. He stared at her, eyes cold and unfeeling.
"What are you doing here, Tris?"
"I- You were shot."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. Did you stay all night?"
"Yes," she answered, suddenly embarrassed. She hadn't even considered leaving, not after promising that she would stay with him.
She felt stupid- she should have realized that he wouldn't want her around once he was sober. She could have left once he had passed out and he never would have known the difference. She should have.
He stood slowly, gingerly, unable to hide his wounds.
"You should take it easy," Tris suggested, not believing for one minute that he would listen to her.
"I'm leaving," was his reply. "I'm going home."
He slipped his boots on, but paused when he bent to tie them, his hand hovering over his bandages.
His wounds wouldn't allow him to reach, Tris realized. After a moment's hesitation, Tris kneeled in front of Eric and began tying his laces with nimble fingers.
"Do you like being on your knees, Stiff?" He asked quietly, sounding amused.
She blushed and tugged the laces of his boot tighter, avoiding eye contact. She didn't need him to point out that his groin was right in front of her face.
"I'm just trying to help. Since you're determined to leave against doctors' orders."
He smirked then and Tris felt her heart flutter. She simultaneously loved and hated how he affected her with such a simple gesture.
"I can think of another way you can help me from down there."
Moving on to his other boot, Tris mustered the courage to look him in the eye as she pulled the laces tight.
"You made it quite clear that you don't want me."
"That doesn't seem to be stopping you," Eric said. "Why are you really here, Tris?"
She stood then, toe to toe with him, staring up into his beautiful, steely blue eyes. For a few long moments, she was lost.
"I wanted to make sure you would be okay. That's all."
"And why, out of everyone here at Dauntless, are you the one in my hospital room?"
"Well obviously, no one else cares if you live or die," she snapped defensively. She regretted her harsh words at once, but it didn't seem to affect him the way she would have expected.
The smirk on his face only grew wider. It was disconcerting to Tris, who found herself taking a half step back before she realized what she was doing.
"How lucky for me that I have you."
"You don't," she muttered.
"What's that?"
"You don't. Have me," she said, louder with false bravado.
"Yet here you are."
"I obviously made a mistake."
When she turned to leave, Eric grabbed her arm with a speed that startled her.
"You shouldn't have come," he told her. Then he kissed her.
She got over the initial shock quickly and Tris responded enthusiastically, her hands flying to the back of his head to tangle in his hair.
He took her breath away.
This was what she dreamed of, what she craved during those long hours of training at his side. His mouth was hot and demanding, coaxing hers into action. It was easy, far too easy, to lose herself in him.
Eric's hands slid down her body from her arms to her waist, her waist to her butt.
Tris didn't want to stop him, even as he squeezed her ass roughly.
She couldn't get enough, couldn't feel enough. He set a furious pace and she could only try her hardest to keep up because her head was starting to spin from a lack of air.
He let out a breathless moan into her mouth and Tris swooned. She could taste him, so sweet and heady against her tongue.
She responded by pulling on his hair, forcing his face down to hers while standing on her tip toes where she could reach his lips easier.
Eric hissed in pain, pulling away from her.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, letting go of his hair quickly.
"No," he panted breathlessly. "It's not you, it's..."
His wounds, Tris realized. She had pressed herself directly against the gunshot wounds on his torso.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry!"
Peeling her body from his, Tris stared in horror at the bloody bandages.
"It's fine," he told her, still slightly breathless. His face was pale and pinched, though she suspected he was doing his best to hide the pain.
"Are you okay?" Tris asked, unsure. "I'll get the doctor-"
He grabbed her arm again as she turned and Tris found herself staring into the depths of his gaze, frozen in her tracks.
"I don't need a doctor. Calm down, Tris."
She let out the breath she had been holding with a noisy exhale.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered, wishing that his eyes weren't so intense. She couldn't look away. Even with his hair a mess and a day's worth of stubble on his face he was so devestatingly handsome in that moment that Tris could barely breathe.
"You're such a Stiff," he chuckled, though not without a hint of tension in his voice. He was hurting, Tris could tell.
"You don't have to pretend. I know you're in pain." She took her hand and placed her palm lightly on his chest over his heart. His pulse was racing. She could feel every heartbeat pounding under her fingertips, far too fast to be normal.
He grabbed her hand with his, holding it tightly in his grip. It bordered on painful, but Tris didn't flinch.
"What are you doing?" He asked, a definite edge to his voice.
"So you can touch me, but I can't touch you? That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," he snapped, letting go of her hand. It tingled pleasantly as the blood came rushing back to her fingertips. Far more troubling was the loss of his touch.
"No," she agreed. "It isn't."