TOBIAS POV

It has been a week.

I used to think that when Tris came home—if she ever did—life would settle back into monotony. That must have been a dream world because life in Dauntless is the exact opposite, a constant whirlwind of chaos and hazards. Especially when it comes to Tris and I; we can never seem to cut a break.

Even now, tucked away in our apartment, there is an underlying tension that I wish wasn't present. But the course of the last few days has taken its toll on us, and I can't even meet her eyes sometimes in fear that something is missing.

The news that Dauntless was in jeopardy spread throughout the compound like wildfire. We didn't need to tell anybody about what was happening; as soon as extra guards were posted all around the compound, the faction went into a frenzy. For months this strain has stretched like elastic with a promise of snapping, and now that there is a direct threat, everyone is anxious. Tapping their feet in the dining hall, flinching every time there is a loud noise. I see it everywhere, and it is omnipresent because they know what is coming.

We have all seen war for what it really is.

There is one thing that has us all set closer to the edge though: the factionless haven't attacked yet.

The faction was bracing for impact, scrambling to prepare for an imminent battle. For days we waited. After all, it was supposed to happen within days of the factionless solidifying their deal with Erudite, whatever it was.

Except, they attacked the Erudite yesterday instead.

I was shocked. Nothing happened, and then suddenly the factionless attacked their ally instead of us. There was no explanation for it because in reality nobody knew what was happening behind the scenes, and we still don't. There has been no news of casualties, and I wonder how the factionless even attacked the Erudite without guns. All we are aware of is that the attack stirred enough trouble that Dauntless soldiers were sent to keep the peace, and they haven't returned yet.

And at first I couldn't help but be skeptical of what Tris claimed she overheard—it happened just minutes after we bickered about my mother, so I had to entertain the idea that she was trying to smear her image even more so since this information didn't line up.

While I didn't exactly accuse her of such a thing because I was almost completely sure that explanation was unreasonable, I did ask if she was positive about what she heard. That was answered by a concrete, vehement yes that wiped my doubts away immediately.

But what this means is that the factionless have strayed from their plan, and we don't even know if they are counting on their Dauntless attack. They may have had to regroup or rethink it completely, which could mean it would be unexpected and weeks down the road.

Hunter doesn't seem to take the threat seriously anymore. After sending Dauntless guards to Erudite, he hasn't pulled others back from other factions to keep us protected. At this point I have to assume he doesn't believe Tris, though he hasn't made any effort to track her down and toss her out.

The whole ordeal is affecting Tris more than anyone, it seems. Inside her mind there is a storm that stirs as time passes and her eavesdropped information is proven false. She is beginning to reflect back on herself, questioning her own hearing. I can tell that she is mulling over the repeated conversation in her spare time. That bone that she constantly gnaws, desperately searching for an answer, is starting to affect us.

We feel far apart. We are the same people we were a few months ago, but with war barreling towards us, we can't trust each other. The silent promise we made not to let war damage our relationship again is cracking.

Sometimes it feels better to keep my distance than hold her hand. Sometimes I don't feel real when I am pressed up against the back of her at night in bed. We haven't made love; in fact, we rarely kiss. And I keep asking myself why did I want this? Why did I want her home when it is only causing problems?

I don't want a wall between us, but it is a defensive strategy. I embrace it because right now that is all I can count on, and I have to believe that she will come around. Tris is an intelligent, conflicted person, and sometimes I need to just take a step back and let her mind work itself out.

My spacing out ceases when she stirs on the bed and shifts her eyes to me. Rather than looking back, I lock my gaze on my computer screen, worrying my lip as I scan the news.

"Anything?"

I shake my head. Nothing new worth reporting.

She sighs and sits up, too agitated to stay lying down. "I can't take this, not knowing anything at all. It makes me want to hit something," she says.

"All we can do for now is think it through," I reply calmly. "Maybe they attacked Erudite because they wouldn't hand over their weapon. Maybe Dauntless intercepted it, and they can't even use it anymore."

I watch her expression morph into disbelief. "You're really going to trust Hunter to have the situation under control?"

"No," I say, exhaustion in my voice. Her opposition is too much sometimes. "I'm just offering scenarios, Tris."

My computer screen is suddenly blocked by a pop-up. A message was sent to me, but the person who sent it is unknown.

"What's this?" I mumble. Rarely do I ever receive messages. When I do, they are work-related or sent by Zeke.

Clicking on the message, I skim over it without actually reading. My eyes can only narrow on the name at the bottom.

ME

Me. I toss it around, trying to figure out the name so that I don't have to trace the computer back. Is it short for something? Is it an acronym—

The answer comes easily. Marcus Eaton.

"You would not believe who just messaged me," I huff.

"Who?" Tris asks, the word muffled because she is chewing on her nails.

"Marcus."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, what does it say? What's he blackmailing us with this time?"

It reminds me that the last time she was in contact with him, he laid his hands on her. My blood boils, and I have to reign myself in to focus on the situation at hand.

I read the text aloud, "Abnegation is in dire need of Dauntless protection. Trade soldiers for name of BP's relative currently living in Dauntless."

At first I have the urge to scoff at the ludicrous words—how does he expect me, someone with no ties to the government except my former, temporary position, to send more soldiers? And how is a name worth nearly enough?

Then I examine his motive, which worsens my contempt. The blackmail scheme he used to try to force us to manipulate his file in the Candor system failed before it began. So his next idea to get his name cleared with the Abnegation is to become their savior. And what a better time to utilize that option when the factionless are working on infiltrating each faction?

I am awed by his insistence on gaining power again, and disgusted by the lengths to which he would go when lives are at stake. But Tris has the opposite reaction.

"What?" she blurts out. She springs off the bed and hurries over to look at the computer.

It takes me a second to figure this out, but then I am irritated. Marcus sent this knowing that I would see straight through it. He knew he would have to go through my weakest place, and that is Tris, and he knows that I can't help but give her what she wants. Even scarier, he knows that her weak spot is her family and that a possible connection to her mother would be just enough to win her over in some asinine deal. Or more importantly, win me over.

"I-I have a relative here?" I hear her voice crack, and I close my eyes.

"My mom never told me," she states, nodding. "Though she never told me anything. This makes sense, she could have a sibling or a parent—"

"Tris..." I say softly, at a loss for words.

How do you tell your girlfriend that her parents are really gone after she hears something like this? How do you convince her that this is a lie when it has already been spoken, when the idea is in her head?

She takes a step back and runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head disbelievingly. "You don't believe it."

I don't say anything.

"You know, for one second could you throw away your hatred for him and be on my side?"

I scowl at how shallow she paints me out to be. "It's not about my hatred for him—"

"Right, then it's about how impossible it is; you're not even willing to entertain the idea. Well, I don't really care. This is my family we're talking about, and if there's someone left, then I—"

She stops herself mid sentence and blinks back tears. Maybe she realizes how desperate it is to believe that she has a living relative. Now I don't even want to fight back on this subject because it is a part of something deeper. Tris will never recover from the loss of her parents. It was so pointless, so wrong, and it will be a part of her and morph with her as she grows every day.

"Tris, come here." I stand up from the chair and tuck her in my arms.

Her tears spill over as she buries her face into my chest. I hold her close as her body convulses in hiccups against mine, and I think about how many times she has lied to make me feel better. All those times I got angry and accusatory with her, but now I somewhat understand her side. I even decide to use her tactics against her.

"I'll look into it," I promise, though I don't plan to. "I'll see if I can drag something out of him."

She clings to me tighter in response. When I tilt her head up with my palm pressed to her cheek, she watches me with broken, gray eyes. For a moment she is that girl again, the orphan, the guilt-ridden teenager, the miserable casualty. And I can't stand to see her blotchy cheeks and her wet eyelashes.

"I'm your family too, remember?" I murmur. I know I could never replace her parents, but I can try to suppress that grief in her by being a constant reminder that she is not alone.

Her bottom lip wobbles, and she tucks her face in my shoulder, wetting my shirt. "I know," she whispers.

TRIS POV

The Pit is rather quiet today; I suppose everywhere has been recently. The impending attack—or rather, the one that didn't happen—is having a strange effect on the compound. I have never witnessed such a ubiquitous solemn mood in this place where there are constant parties and fights and drinking.

Christina, on the other hand, has remained unaffected by this whole ordeal. She functions as the same chatterbox that I left behind months ago and talks about everything and anything as we walk past shops imbedded in the stone walls. It is strikingly similar to the Amity, in a way. It is humorous to think that two factions that loathe each other share the same traits.

"Anyway, it hasn't been the same without you here," she says.

"I'm sure it wasn't much of a loss," I tease. "Besides, you had your boyfriend to keep you company."

She waves me off with a sheepish expression. "Yeah, but that's not the same. There are certain things that I can't tell him but that I can tell my friends."

I don't understand her meaning, since I can't think of much that I wouldn't tell Tobias but that I would consult with her about. But I don't say anything about it.

"Plus, you took Dez with you," she sighs sadly. "How is she anyway?"

I kick a pebble in my path. "Good. She's with her family." I hesitate before adding, "I like her, but it was hard being somewhere that she knew people. I was lonely a lot."

"Amity," Christina mocks.

I laugh in agreement. "Yes."

Briefly, I wonder if Dez will ever come back. It seems odd to me that she would be satisfied with passing initiation and making a home for herself before returning back to the place she ran from. Maybe she feels torn to be partly Dauntless but also to be with her mother and sister. I remember my own Choosing, when I was yearning for my family but too conflicted to stay.

This is yet another example of why the city should consider abolishing the factions, even though it is everything we've ever known. I have found myself warming up to the idea, though I don't want to make that decision for anybody, as a Divergent. I'm not the majority, just an exception.

I glance around the Pit as we walk, and my eyes land on a familiar face that I haven't conversed with in a long time. Justin.

"What has Justin been up to?" I ask.

"He found a new group of friends," Christina states. "Hasn't been around me much."

Figuring that it won't hurt him much anymore, I decide to spill the secret I have held back from her for a while. "He kissed me during initiation," I admit.

"Woah, what?" She stops walking and sets her hands on my shoulders. "You're kidding! Why didn't you tell me until now? What happened?"

"It wasn't a big deal," I remark, starting to walk again. "He had a crush on me, and I turned him down. He was embarrassed, but I said I wouldn't tell anyone and that we could stay friends. I don't think he wanted to just be friends though because I haven't spoken to him since."

Christina giggles, "Did Four find out?"

I'm unable to hold back my laugh, remembering how I chose to tell him while he was walking up the side of a building and about to faint. "I told him. He wasn't very happy, but he was over it when I said that I didn't kiss back. We weren't together yet when he kissed me, so."

"That's funny," she comments, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she does, I notice the shadow of a bruise on her cheek. And I connect the image to the night I was reunited with her, and how she winced when I patted her back.

Finding it out of the ordinary that she would have all these injuries, I ask, "Hey, where did you get that bruise from? It looks bad."

She freezes up, a frightened look on her face before she covers it up with nonchalance. "Oh, nothing. I decided that I should get back in shape and go over my fighting skills just in case, so I've been sparring with random girls in the training room lately," she explains.

I furrow my eyebrows, not buying her excuse for a second. Something is off here, and I think I know what is happening, but it isn't an accusation I can make to her, especially if it isn't true.

The fact is, I don't know Bryce. From what I have seen from him, he is shy and almost too gentle to be Dauntless. How can I take that character analysis and assume that he is an abuser? It is too risky; I could ruin both his and Christina's lives with a rumor like that.

But that idea is there, and as hard as I try store it away in my mind, warning signals keep flashing.

"Oh," I reply. After a pause to not seem obvious, I say, "So tell me more about Bryce. Have things been going well with you two?"

Christina shrugs, her mouth lifting into a noncommittal smile. "We're good."

Chewing my cheek, I quickly pick this out as another sign. One of her favorite things to do is gossip, and she can't find one thing to say about her relationship? Suddenly I feel like I might throw up. If my friend is really being abused, then I want to help her as soon as I can, but my hands are tied without solid evidence.

"Well I'm glad for you," I offer because I don't know what else to say.

I spot Tobias striding across the Pit past a milling crowd, tall and confident. The frightening fact is that I don't know who I would rather be spending time with right now; a part of me wants to run away from my friend and my boyfriend.

But that makes me angry at myself. I should not be hiding from Tobias. Our relationship is strained right now, and it is not going to get any better if I avoid him.

"I'm going to go catch up with Four," I say. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Christina nods. "Have fun! But not too much fun..." She winks, and I dramatically slap my palm to my forehead before I walk away.

Tobias slows down once he notices that I am on his tail. "I'm going to the training room," he tells me. "Do you want to come?"

I like the thought of blowing off steam. "Sure," I answer.

We turn the next corner and cross the chasm without speaking. As we walk, I recall how he held me this morning, warm and reliable, even though we were settling down from what could have been an explosive argument. I hate being at odds with him, and that drives me to shift closer and slip my hand into his.

His lips twitch at the corners. It may not appear to be much, but I know that I can relax for now.

"I was going to work on a punching bag," he says, "but since you're with me, we might as well spar."

A laugh bubbles up in my chest. "That's something I never saw us doing," I admit. Between our lack of free time and his knack for refraining from being anything but gentle with me, sparring is something we haven't done.

He leads me down the hallway and stops at the training room doors. Smiling in thanks as he holds the door open for me, I take a deep breath of the dusty air. That metallic smell of guns and sweat is something I will never tire of. It transports me back to the time where my life essentially began.

It is vacant, not a single person working out. I think I like the privacy better because I'm sure I am out of shape and very much out of practice—although not too much if I can manage to choke a man. I shake my head, determined to not let what I did back into my thoughts.

Tobias shrugs his jacket off and lets it fall to the cement floor. I copy him and step up into the ring across from him.

"No hitting for real," he declares, setting the already understood rules. "Although, I don't care if you hit me hard."

"Oh?" I settle into a simultaneous offensive and defensive position with my knees bent. "You don't think I can leave a mark?"

He quirks an eyebrow at me challengingly and gets into a similar stance.

We spend the next little bit circling each other, making sudden threatening movements, and dodging them before they come. I decide that while this does allow us to fall in sync with each other, we still aren't on the terms we would like to be on. Since he has been hesitant around me lately—not bringing up topics, discreetly avoiding me at times—I know that I have to take the initiative.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I say, though my proud nature is opposed to an apology. Using his concentration on the conversation to my advantage, I swing at his face and miss, grinning mischievously when he glares. "I wasn't thinking straight. I just...the idea that I had family left..."

Now it seems foolish that I would believe that my mother has living relatives, or even more ridiculous, that Marcus knew who they were. It doesn't seem to have truth in it. But if I do decide to listen to the side of me that has faith in it, then Tobias has a whole database of people on his hard drive where we could find that information.

"You don't have to explain it to me," he replies. "I know how much you miss your parents. It's only reasonable that you would cling to the idea."

We shuffle until he manages to land a soft blow to my shoulder. Or, it would be soft if he wasn't so powerful.

"Ow," I whine dramatically, rubbing the spot.

He grins sympathetically. "Sorry." When we set back up again, he asks, "What did you do today?"

I sigh, disappointed that we couldn't spend the day together—though I probably wouldn't have minded a couple hours ago. He had to work in the control room, and I was passed between friends all day.

"Not much. I mostly spent time with Christina," I answer. "Speaking of which, I want to ask you about something."

I land a punch to his solid abdomen. A labored breath leaves him, but I'm pretty sure it does more damage to my wrist than to him.

"What is it?"

I pause because I don't want to offend him or bring up dark memories. Maybe if I phrase it differently, he will answer what I want to ask in the first place.

"I'm worried about Christina," I state, massaging my knuckles. "She's had a lot of bruises lately, and I think it might have to do with Bryce and...I don't know."

Tobias catches on fast. He takes a break from sparring by standing straight. "You want to know the signs if someone is being abused," he assumes.

I nod, biting my lip. If anyone knows how to handle this, then it is him. I can only hope that he doesn't close up on the subject even though it is uncomfortable for him.

A long exhale leaves his lungs, and I watch his deep eyes with interest. "Does she talk about him a lot?" he asks.

"No. And I haven't even seen them together."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Did you ask her about the bruises?" I answer in the affirmative. "What did she say?"

"Some lame excuse about how she has been practicing her fighting skills with girls in the training room," I remark dryly. "I don't know, have you seen her doing that in here? Have you seen her with Bryce when I was gone?"

He shakes his head and watches the floor. "I was in here almost every morning when my leg healed enough that I could walk. I never saw her then, and I only noticed her sitting with us during meals a few times," he says.

After meeting my eyes, he mutters, "It sounds like she is being abused to me. But I'm not her friend, so I wouldn't know what's normal and what's not when it comes to her."

But I'm not satisfied with his answer. "I'm worried about her, Tobias," I stress. "She could be receiving a beating every night she goes home, and I can't let it happen when I have a feeling about it."

"Well, you're going to have to wait," he deadpans. "Watch for more signs, maybe approach her on it if you think it won't scare her off. Trust me, if it was bad enough, then you would know. But until then, you have time."

Swallowing hard, I try to let his words soothe me. "Okay," I mumble.

Tobias purses his lips before shifting into position again. "Come on," he urges me into action.

I set up and begin circling with him again. This time we clash at the same time and end up dangerously close to hitting faces. Panting from the struggle, I back up slightly and readjust.

"We should talk about what we're going to do," he suggests. "About the factionless, I mean."

I almost forgot about the crumbling city for a second. "Right. That," I say.

"They don't seem ready to attack Dauntless, but we should be on our guard more than Hunter is commanding us to be. I think we should think about releasing the information about the suicides to get Dauntless to attack first."

It isn't a horrible idea, but I shy away from being one of the people to instigate a war. I figured that we would share the truth farther down the road, and this is approaching quicker than I would like.

"I don't know, Tobias."

He huffs, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We have to do something about it," he says, and I miss another hit at him. "I know you're going as crazy as I am waiting for something. They're either going to attack when it is too late for us to prepare, or we can get ahead of this before they do it later."

"What if it all settles down?" I ask. "What if the Dauntless scared them off at Erudite and they aren't going to do anything? Then we will have started a war for nothing."

"Don't be naive," he chastises, narrowing his eyes. His fist skims my side. "This is going to end violently, one way or another. We can either rally people now or let the factionless get a head start."

I close my eyes for a moment. He has a point, and I think that I am fighting just to fight nowadays. It is exhausting.

"Whatever," I surrender.

"No, not whatever. I need to get your approval on this. I'm not going to do this if you don't have my back on it."

Stressed beyond comprehension and confused on where I stand, I say, "I'll follow you wherever you go and stand by whatever you do. I trust you, but I'm also so tired of fighting. It's more draining than war."

I can see that it is taking its toll on him too. The scattered lights above us make the shadows under his eyes a darker mauve. I know he isn't sleeping soundly either and that his frown is becoming more permanent as time passes.

We are stronger together. I don't know why we have to torture each other instead of building each other up in times like these.

Seeing a hole in his stance, I surge forward and lock my arms around his neck. Before I can turn, he traps me with his legs and arms and sends a fist towards my face. It halts a couple inches away, and his eyebrows raise.

I raise my own as I raise my knee that is conveniently between his legs.

But then it isn't funny or about showing each other up. Now we are just close and my chest is pressed against his and we are all alone in the training room.

My heart pounds as he ducks his head.

"I don't want it to be like this," he whispers against my lips.

"Me neither," I agree. And I close the gap.

It is tender at first, testing the waters and working our way back into things. We shift around to get more comfortable, with his rough hands framing my cheeks and my hands under his shirt.

Something inside of us snaps.

My mouth opens. His hands slide down to my hips. In a rush, we attack each other in a heated frenzy of passion. My leg raises to his waistline, prompting him, and he meets me there to catch me when I jump.

Our kisses are wet and needy. I tangle my fingers in his thick hair as I press even closer. It is like a contest now, and he tries to beat me by sliding his hands higher and higher up on my thighs until they're not on my thighs anymore. The bold move combined with the feel of his lips on my neck cause me to moan.

Eventually he can't handle supporting me anymore and lowers himself onto the ground. Kissing him again, I stay attached to his midline and relish in the hum I receive when I press downward.

Just when I thought the want couldn't consume me more, his hands wander under my shirt. Everywhere he touches is ignited by a flame that cannot be extinguished, and I feel dizzy. I can't believe how long it has been since we have been together, or maybe I will always feel this way about him and the timespan apart doesn't affect it.

Unfortunately it comes to an end when he lands at my bra. It occurs to me that we are in the training room, in public, and anyone could walk in to see us in a compromising position. So I stop him with a thumb on his lip.

"Tobias," I breathe. "We can't. Not here."

The lust in his eyes fades slowly, and he kisses me again as he removes his hands. It is gentle and regretful.

This is what I want: for everything to be about him and for the world around us to slip away into background noise. I want to get lost in him, not in trivial problems.

"I love you," he murmurs against my cheek.

And since neither of us wants to leave, we stay there, wrapped in a hug with our eyes closed, for a long time.

I really enjoyed writing the second half of this chapter ngl