TOBIAS POV
In, out. In, out.
I match my breaths to my painful steps. My pace escalates from a jog to a sprint as I grit my teeth.
In, out. In, out.
Sweat drips down my forehead, and a groan leaves my mouth under the strain. The back of my leg feels as if it is being torn in half, indicating that it hasn't been healing accordingly. That probably has something to do with my reluctance to stay off my injured leg for as long as the doctor suggested.
It doesn't exactly help that I'm confined to the training room. It isn't an option to even go outside anymore, as I live in an underground compound that is guarded at all edges. So here I am, breathing musty, packed air and running laps around the training room. As the days go by and I gain my agility back, it seems to shrink further and further in on me.
Slowing back to a jog and then a walk, I find myself limping from the exertion. But I shake it off when I notice that people have gathered in the room, getting in their own early workouts on punching bags or each other. I refuse to let anyone see me as weak.
Unfortunately, that is how people view me recently, with my injury. And I can't afford to have that reputation ever since my secret life of abuse was spilled in Candor; that ordeal was enough to prove to me that I could excel in Dauntless and still never be good enough for my faction.
I spend a few minutes stretching out my leg to ease the pain. Then I grab my jacket off the table where I left it and begin walking back home.
On the way, I am met with the usual whispers and laughter. That is another reputation I don't enjoy being mocked for: the one where I am a wuss because my crazy, fugitive girlfriend shot me. The rumor managed to leak out from Hunter's henchmen somehow and has been following me around for the last couple weeks.
Whatever, let them think what they want. As long as it keeps her safe, I will fall victim to public humiliation.
Once I arrive at my apartment, I immediately head toward the fridge to quench my thirst. I drain one water bottle, and then two, before my throat is satisfied enough that I can shower.
I make sure to turn the water to cold because my body is still overheated. Letting the drops roll down my back, I sigh and wonder how I managed to get so out of shape with a simple injury. It worries me at times; if something were to happen—as it is bound to, with the current state of this city—would I be able to survive? What if I have to run? What if I have to jump on and off trains? These are the questions that coerce me out of bed in the morning and straight into the training room.
When I feel clean and cool enough, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist. I run through my daily routine of dressing, brushing my teeth, injecting myself with medication, etcetera. And just when I think that I can leave without stalling, my normal longing sets in.
I pause and stare at my bed. If things were different, I can picture what would be happening at this moment. Tris would be rolling over in a grumpy, blonde heap, curled up in my clothes and barely waking up. I would try to coax her out of bed, and she would resist me, and we would both end up back in bed, either dozing or kissing.
I could have had that every morning.
My eyes close in defeat at the reminder that I may never see her again. I have to remind myself that Tris isn't stupid, that she won't do something to get her killed at a time like this. I have to play my cards right, and if I do, things could work out for us.
But then again, I don't even know where she is. If I wanted to find her, I wouldn't have that option.
Waiting is beginning to be agonizing. I could handle a shorter timeframe, but three months is excessive.
That is why I rely heavily on my friends and my job to keep me occupied. I avoid my apartment, rushing in and out of it as quick as I can. At nights I don't have much of a choice, and I find myself so depressed living alone. As the only Abnegation transfer in my class, as the only one who requested a separate apartment, I never thought I would think this way.
I hate this clingy part of me, but after knowing what it is like to feel whole and with purpose, I can't let go.
With a deep breath, I force myself to tear my eyes away and leave.
Zeke, Shauna, and Uriah are in their usual spots, and I slide into my own as soon as I go through the breakfast line. Considering I don't wince anymore when I sit, I call that progress.
"Hi, Four," Shauna yawns over her cereal.
"Hey," I offer shortly.
"Why the sour puss?" Zeke's mouth forms a mock pout, and I reach across the table to startle him, retracting my arm when I receive his satisfying flinch.
"Why not?" I retort.
Shauna rolls her eyes at us. "Well, you should perk up because Zeke and I have some news."
Without ceasing to eat my breakfast, I raise my eyebrows expectantly.
She holds out her hand, one of her fingers wrapped in a ring, and says, "We're getting married. He asked me last night."
My reaction is delayed. I stop chewing without thinking, and then when I realize what is happening, I swallow.
"That's..." So sudden. So unexpected. They did begin dating three years ago, but somehow that timeframe feels smaller in my mind; I swear Zeke was jumping from girl to girl just recently. I don't know why I'm denying this internally, but maybe I just don't want to feel left out, which is inevitable if they're getting married.
Or maybe I am still strangely opposed to the idea of marriage. Growing up, I promised myself that I would never marry. Watching my father hit my mother was enough to solidify that fact. In Abnegation, they also taught us that affection was intense enough to be scandalous, so as a child I wasn't surrounded by many couples that seemed to be in a happy relationship. Marriage was stressed to the point that it became more of a duty than anything to those people.
In Dauntless, marriage is unheard of and unappealing for the most part. Don't get me wrong, many people do get married here, but most of the time it gets broken off. The Dauntless like their freedom to bounce around and have fun with whoever they want, regardless of the consequences.
Despite those ideals that have been implanted in my head, I have contemplated a possible future with Tris. I don't enjoy attaching the marriage label to it—marriage is something I shy away from and that won't change—but I could see myself with her for many years to come. It was far down the line and very unclear, but I also warmed up to the idea of having a family with her, something I never would have previously considered in fear of turning into my father. It doesn't sound so frightening when I think about how much of a family she is to me now.
Well, not now.
That, I conclude, is why I am having a difficult time letting this engagement sink in. Some twisted part of me is jealous, that they will be forever attached now and Tris is God knows where hiding from the authorities. She could easily be dead. She could die if she isn't already. If I wanted to delve deeper into my relationship with her, I couldn't. I will not get that chance to make that decision, and it makes me feel powerless in my own life.
"That's great," I eventually say. Forcing a smile, I add, "I'm happy for you. You guys deserve it."
Shauna and Zeke both beam at my approval, while something is eating me from the inside as I realize that my future is rotting away.
"All right, enough of the lovey-dovey crap," Uriah jokes. "Although speaking of lovey-dovey..."
I turn my head to see who he is staring at from across the cafeteria, and Jessica—the blonde transfer that I trained months ago—meets my eyes, blushing as she looks away. I think I can see how caked all of her makeup is from here.
Shaking my head in disgust, I say, "She's a disaster."
Now I understand why Tris butted heads with her during initiation. Ever since she left, Jessica has been pathetically trying to worm her way into my life with failed attempts at seeming appealing. She may be persistent, but she will not get through to someone who has pledged his life to only one particular girl.
"Tell me about it," Uriah snorts.
"Maybe she'll take the hint if you tell her you can't be with a clown," Zeke quips.
I shrug in response. "Maybe."
"Oh, come on, dude. You gotta lighten up. You don't find her little crush funny at all?"
"No," I say flatly.
The conversation drops. It occurs to me just how much of a perverse person I have become. Snapping at my friends, making things awkward and difficult when they don't have to be. It's as if my mood is permanently darkened.
At the same time, my friends have to give me a break. They may not know the truth about the suicides, but I do, and it is not an easy task to quietly sit back and bury my emotions while the city falls apart. I am the only person uninvolved in the plot who knows why we are in the lockdown we are in. Instead of telling them so someone can share my traitorous knowledge, I rely on my friends for comical relief. Not to chastise me for stressing over another war.
It is constantly in the back of my mind. Pulling, gnawing. And I decide then to let them off the hook for treating me like all I am is uptight. Zeke was right to ask Shauna to marry him—
How much time do we all have left?
Three months ago, days after Tris sought refuge in another faction, I finally made sense of the information that we stole from Erudite.
The files I dissected and connected were proof of who was behind the suicides. And the answer was not simple because it wasn't one culprit.
It was Erudite, the factionless, and astonishingly, Abnegation.
Erudite manufactured the suicide serum in the first place, of course. It was created years ago, the records immediately wiped from the servers once they realized what it was. That didn't stop Jeanine from storing the recipe in her own laboratory.
The factionless came in next, forming a somewhat rocky alliance with the Erudite for the time being. They commiserated with one another for the reparations they had to pay and the strict regulations they were placed under after the war. Seeking revenge and to stir up chaos, the factionless approached Erudite for ideas, and they had an idea that would strike the rest of the factions with tragedy but wouldn't trace back to them—or so they thought.
Soon after their secret meeting, the Erudite decided that it was impossible to sneak the production of this serum past the Council, who began regulating their serums ever since the war was resolved. To keep it silent and not stir public outrage, they approached top Abnegation leaders—including my father. I don't know what took place between them, threats, blackmail, bribery... All I know is that the Abnegation gave Erudite the all-clear to start mass-producing the suicide serum.
And they did. They regularly supplied the factionless with it, and the factionless targeted each faction aside from those involved. They wanted people to be confused, horrified, and heartbroken with nobody to blame. Simultaneously, they were killing off their enemies.
If I had to guess, the factionless are planning another uprising. I don't know how they plan to do it without weapons and a lack of supplies to this day, but I know it is coming. Wreaking havoc among communities is just the beginning of what they plan to do: overthrow the factions once and for all.
With all of this knowledge in mind, with the clear understanding of who is behind all of this, I become fully unhinged when I find a note slid under the door of my apartment.
It reads:
Tobias,
It's coming, and I don't want you to be on the other end of it. Make the right choice.
—Evelyn
My mind goes haywire, thinking about all the horrible ways I could tell her absolutely not again. But a note won't do my response justice. My mother has worn me down and ironically abused me in her own cynical ways, and I need to cut all ties with her once and for all.
Fuming and not very much pensive, I storm out of my apartment, down winding paths, and straight to the control room. Zeke is still working as he was promoted to a supervisor last month, the oversight giving him much more responsibility and work. And, the reason I came here: power.
He swivels around in his chair, ready to tease, but then he sees my face.
"Woah, man, what's wrong?"
"I need to go to the factionless," I state without room for argument.
Zeke sighs nervously, not at all eager to partially break the rules. He has the authority to grant me clearance out of the compound, but if someone were to look into this, it would not be beneficial for him. Suspicious behavior could cause him to be demoted.
"Come on," I beg, quietly enough that nobody else in the room will hear. "Just file it as a security check. I'll go investigate a fight I saw on the cameras. I'll owe you."
He wavers and chews on his cheek and eventually gives in. "Fine. But please don't cause any problems," he says. "I'll look bad enough as it is."
I nod. "Of course. And if it comes back on you, I'll take the blame as much as I can."
He scans the room, at the evening workers falling asleep at their computers. Beckoning me to follow him, he crosses the room to a desk and begins digging through it. I watch as he pulls out a white armband marked with the Dauntless symbol.
"Strap this around your upper arm," he instructs, and I do. "It'll glow in the dark, and it will let all the guards know that you're clear."
"Thank you, Zeke."
"Glad to help...but please be careful."
With a pat on his shoulder, I start off. Making my way up to the surface, I pass the Pire and take another flight until I am on level ground. I barely register the strain it puts on my leg as I recall my anger.
Once I am past the guards standing vigilant at the main entrance, I walk outside and breathe in the crisp, night air. Aside from occasionally stepping out onto my balcony, I have not been outside in three months. Sometimes I used to go a couple weeks without leaving the compound without thinking, but it is different knowing that I don't have the option now. It is refreshing to have some kind of freedom again in this strict world.
As soon as I remember my purpose though, I stare determinedly down the tracks. A few minutes pass until a train speeds through the narrow street, and that is when I remember that I haven't jumped on one since I was shot.
But if I did it then, I can do it now. I convince myself of it as I jog alongside the last car and use the handle to yank myself in. The back of my thigh throbs violently when I crash to the metal floor, not the victory I was hoping for. I remind myself to work on it if possible in the future.
My mind scrambles as I try to think of what I want to say to my mother. This will be the last time I see her in my life I hope, so I better make this count.
To start, I make a quick mental list of everything she has done to me:
1. Left me to be raised by my abusive father
2. Tried to manipulate me into joining her factionless groupies to overthrow the government
3. Used me as a pawn as soon as I became a Dauntless leader like she asked
4. Turned on my faction when they were of no use to her anymore
5. Dispersed people around the city to inject innocents with a suicide serum
6. Went after Tris to stop her (or us) from discovering the truth
I frown. How am I going to get her to even listen to me when half of these grievances relate to her values? I can already hear her factionless propaganda being spouted off as soon as I open my mouth to accuse her of anything.
This is the main problem with her in the first place. I do agree that people shouldn't be confined to one faction, or that families should be broken up, as a Divergent. I do agree that the factionless have been wronged, and maybe the reparations were a little harsh as well on a community that survives on scraps. But that gives them absolutely no right to murder people, and that is the way my mother has been going about changing the city all along. There isn't a diplomatic bone in her body unless you count the conspiratorial, duplicitous ones.
I tell myself that it doesn't matter what she believes. We may be blood, but I am my own person, and she has no right to walk over me anymore.
Having not made up my mind about what exactly I am going to say, I see the factionless sector pull up into view. I lean out the doorway and squint at dying fires so that I can try to make out the heart of it all. Spotting an alley that looks familiar, I jump off, only to be immediately cornered by Dauntless guards.
"State your name and business," one of them says, a gun aimed at my chest.
With the jump still rattling me, I brush the gravel off my pants and say coldly, "It's Four. I'm here to investigate a security threat. Take your guns off me."
My nonexistent authority seems to do the trick. They lower their guns without question when they recognize my name.
"Sorry for the mix up, Four. There's been a lot of wild things going on here. We're just trying to be cautious."
I look around, at the street that is losing light. For a moment I feel sympathy for all the guards standing out here at all hours of the day and night to keep a leash on factionless rebels. The government has been forceful with them, and while they do rotate, I know they don't get long breaks from patrolling. I don't envy them at all.
"Keep up the work," I say with a nod, bidding them a good night before I walk straight into the factionless sector.
It looks about the same as it did the last time I was here. People are gathered around fires between crumbling buildings and passing food around, some of them telling stories and the rest drinking. Funny, they claim to starve but somehow they manage to get their hands on alcohol.
It has occurred to me several times that maybe this is where Tris is hiding. That would be my choice, either here or Amity. Knowing how much she dislikes my mother, I would assume she wouldn't come here, but then again sometimes it is safer to be right under your enemy's nose.
As I pass through with my head down, I catch some unwanted attention from a few men. They throw an empty can at me, and I stop, scowling.
"Get the hell out of here, Dauntless," someone calls. "We can't have a moment alone without you assholes watching us?"
"If you didn't cause unnecessary disruptions," I deadpan, "then maybe you wouldn't need to be watched."
A bald one rises and approaches me, his clothes baggy and his attitude repulsive. "Oh yeah? Like this?"
He shoves me, and I barely lose my balance only because I only have one leg to support me fully. Snickers fill the smoky air around me, and because I do not like to be patronized, I slam him up against a nearby wall, my arm against his throat.
"I have a knife in my pocket," he sneers, his breath foul.
"Sure you want to risk that?" To make my point clear, I reach back to my waistband and click the safety off my gun.
"Woah, Sean, leave him alone," a woman wisely counsels him. "That's Tobias Eaton."
I was looking to avoid being recognized. As if I could ever escape that title.
I clench my jaw before letting Sean go. He steps away with a string of curse words while everyone else watches me.
"I'm assuming you're here to see Evelyn?" the girl who interjected asks. Reluctantly, I nod. "Go down that alley to the brick building, then turn right. She's at the house at the end."
"Thanks," I mutter before following those directions. I suddenly hope that Tris didn't choose to blend in here. She may know how to defend herself, but some of these people are too psychotic to be trusted.
When I reach the place I am looking for, I pound on the door uncaringly. My mother opens it seconds later, looking frazzled and surprised and slightly ghastly.
"Tobias?" she breathes. "You came?"
"Oh, please," I huff, pushing past her into the room. She shuts the door behind me and crosses her arms in her nightgown.
"Well?"
"No, I didn't come to run into your arms, mother. I came to say goodbye."
She rubs her eyes, seemingly disappointed in my answer, but I know better. It had nothing to do with the fact that I'm her son and everything to do with the fact that I refuse to rule this city with her.
"Tobias, it's late. Why don't we talk—"
I interrupt her. "No, I'm doing this now." With a deep breath, I begin, "I'm not going to be your pawn. I'm not going to join your little factionless scheme. You may think you have all the power right now, but the rest of the city is going to find out what your factionless lackeys have done, and you all will pay for the lives you've taken."
"What?" she exclaims, her eyes full of fake shock. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid, Evelyn. You've been having random people killed with suicide serum, and I am going to release the information I have to prove it to everyone."
In reality, I haven't completely decided on that, since it will just lead to more lives lost. But she doesn't call my bluff.
A gruff laugh escapes her, and I notice that she looks even older than she did last year. Under all of that, she looks worried. "Yeah, okay. Like anyone will believe that conspiracy," she says.
"With everyone dying for an answer, I'm sure they'll gladly accept it." I pace away from her before turning around and coming back even more animated. "And sorry that your sick attempt to throw me off track didn't work."
"What are you talking about?" she asks tiredly, like her son telling her off is inconvenient.
"You know, ordering someone to throw Tris into the chasm?" My hands ball into fists when I think it out loud. The fact that my own mother tried to take her away from me makes my blood boil until I feel like I'm going to burst. "You tried to have her killed. What, were you hoping it would stop me from looking when I was too grieved to think straight?! What the hell kind of mother are you? What kind of person are you?"
I don't recognize my mother as the same one who would play mindless games of pretend with me when I was a child and try to shield me from my father's wrath. I don't even know how the two were ever the same person. If anything, Marcus makes more sense to me than her because at least he was a monster all the way around. She is worse by being a caring parent, and then not, and then going out of her way to hurt me.
My mother doesn't even deny her involvement in Tris's attempted murder. She tried to take away the reason for my life and all she can say is, "I have been stepped on my whole life. Now I'm the bad guy for retaliating?"
I shake my head at her manipulation and hope that my disgust is written on my face. "You're evil and repulsive and a failure of a mother. I hope I never see you again."
Turning on my heel, I stomp out of the room and throw the door open so it hits the wall with a loud bang. She stands in the doorway and shouts, "Tobias!" after me, but I keep walking. I don't know how to feel. I don't feel anything.
My steps slow when I get far enough away that I think she has given up. I make a detour so I can go out onto the empty street, which is darker than the alleyways.
Once I have distanced myself from the cackling, drunk factionless, I stop with a sigh and enjoy the quiet. The wind whistles between the buildings, a train horn is carried with it. And it is all interrupted by a distinct voice I could never forget.
"Hi, stranger."