TOBIAS POV
The awkward is so thick in the room that it is almost palpable.
Marcus sits in a chair by the window, hyper-vigilant as he watches for any movement outside that may indicate a factionless siege. I was more concerned with Tris's well-being than his presence earlier tonight, but now that I can acknowledge that he is here, I am uneasy.
Susan is on the couch across from Tris, silently observing the fire. She was told multiple times by Caleb to return home and sleep off the stressful night, but she refused. Either she wants to look out for Tris or she is too frightened by this experience to sleep, I don't know.
Tris slumbers peacefully, completely unaware of this odd combination of people in one house. Lucky her.
Caleb has tension rolling off of him in steady waves. His shoulders are tightened, and he is pacing as he mulls something over in his mind. I watch the repetitive steps until my tolerance is low.
"Caleb?" I finally say, because the constant movement is irritating. "What's the problem?"
He sets his mouth in a line and beckons to me. "I want to talk to you," he tells me.
Perplexed by his request, I raise my eyebrows at him and follow him into the kitchen. The single lightbulb above the dinner table casts shadows on his face, making him look much more sinister than he actually is. Or maybe the lack of sleep is catching up with me.
"I specifically told my sister that if she was ever in trouble again, she could come hide with me," he states. "If she couldn't, I demanded that she stay out of sight and out of mind."
He shifts on his feet and twists his mouth angrily. "And then I pay attention to the news in the weeks after and find out that she is a fugitive with a tall, male accomplice. It took me all of seconds to figure out who she was helping. Of course, how could you resist getting her into some sort of trouble again?"
I level a glare at him. "I am already beating myself up about it, Caleb," I deadpan. "No need to pile on."
"Yes, there is," he insists. I have never seen this side reveal itself, where he is genuinely passionate about something. I certainly have never seen him passionate about Tris. He outright helped send her to her death a year ago, and now he is worried about her safety with me? It is a bit insulting.
He turns around for a moment, presumably so he won't have to face me. "I sent for you last year because she was on the verge of..." With a troubled breath, he continues, "It was a last resort. I didn't invite you so that you could be in her life again."
I cross my arms defensively. "It is not your business who she has a relationship with."
"I am her brother. Our parents are dead, and it is my responsibility to look out for her—"
The hypocrisy is so rampant in this conversation that I have to laugh. "Oh, you're her brother now?" I snap. "Were you her brother when you watched her thrash and scream under simulations, or when you helped Jeanine administer the death serum?"
He grits his teeth at the reminder and points at me. "I was a different person. And she forgave me for my mistakes," he declares hotly.
Mistakes. As if that word can fully capture what he did to his own sister. Tris may have found a way to mercifully forgive him, but I could never give him the benefit of the doubt. You don't change where your allegiances lie. It makes me wonder if he always believed in faction before blood.
If he was ever trustworthy, he certainly isn't now.
"On the other hand, you turned your back on her for almost a year. She was downright miserable, and what did you do about it? Nothing."
Well, according to Tris, I saved her life the night I came to Abnegation to talk her out of harming herself. In addition, she was depressed because of the setting she was in, with him of all people. But I decide not to get into the petty details. This is lousy banter, and he is not going to get a rise out of me when I am running on fumes.
"We both had our own issues, Caleb," I sigh. "Are we done here? I don't need to try to explain something you won't understand. And once again, it certainly isn't any of your business."
He huffs with the same stubborn attitude as his sister. "We are not done here," he says. "It is your fault that she is in this mess. I didn't want this life for her after everything she has been through."
"And you think I do?" I scoff.
My patience is clearly wearing thin, but he does not catch on. He is like a dog worrying a bone. A very tired bone.
"Yes, I do. I don't know if getting a taste of that dangerous lifestyle hooked you, or if the violence of your childhood made war something you enjoy but—"
My hands close around the collar of his shirt. He gasps and stares up at me in horror, finally scared out of his wits. When his back hits the wall, I think I have managed to shake the bold attitude out of him. Why did he think he could tread on me suddenly?
I am not even livid over his comment. I am enraged that he did what he did, and that he got a free pass for it. Someone needs to teach him that what he did was unforgivable; he doesn't have the freedom of walking around and passing judgment as he pleases.
"If you weren't her brother," I growl, "I would beat the hell out of you."
I let him go because my threat seems to scare him back into his normal opinion of me. He straightens his shirt while catching his breath and doesn't meet my eyes.
For a moment we don't say anything. And nobody comes to check on us, despite the loud struggle. My mood simmers down until the last few minutes are forgotten, though guilt does not settle on me as usual. He deserves much worse than a little rattling.
Caleb swallows and passively says, "It is nearing midnight, so I should let my guests go."
Something clicks in my mind when I hear the time. My first reaction is to think already? But that doesn't explain my initial alarm.
"Oh, shit," I blurt out when it hits me.
At midnight, I am supposed to meet Uriah, Zeke, and Christina to hijack the shipment of gas masks in Erudite. Plus, I was planning on taking Cara with us. It is hardly a four-person job, definitely not a three-person job.
There is no way out of this. I have to help them. Even if I don't care about the city or my faction anymore, I do care about my friends.
"What?" Caleb cringes away from the obscene word.
"I have to go," I declare, grabbing my wet jacket off the hook. I am glad I had time to wash the blood out.
"Wh—now?" he exclaims. "You're just leaving?"
I shake my head and brush past him to pick up my gun from the table. I could really use a rifle going into this. "I have to. We promised someone that we would meet them at midnight, and Tris certainly isn't in shape to do it."
Checking in on Tris once more, I sigh. The last thing I want to do is let her out of my sight, but she should be safe here. Our friends are in much more danger going into Erudite without another partner.
On my way out, I turn to Caleb. "Don't let Marcus near her," I say quietly.
He chews his cheek. "I won't. But it's not like he is going to—"
"I'm serious."
I only walk out when I receive an agreeing nod.
The train is up and running again, albeit slowly. It powers through the winter night and displaces the powdery snow as it clicks along the rails. I blink against the headlights as my eyelids are struggling to stay open in the first place.
When it approaches, I jog lightly to avoid slipping. At the last car, I jump on with difficulty and yank myself in by the frigid handle. I let go at the burn and shut the door.
A shadow shifts in the back of the car. My gun is trained on it immediately before I realize who it is.
"God, Uriah."
He lowers his own gun and steps out of the corner. "Four?" he asks, astonished. "We didn't think you would come. With everything that has happened, I'm honestly surprised that you're still alive."
"Yeah, well, I made it work." I cross my arms and bury my hands under the thin fabric of my jacket that doesn't do much to protect them from the cold.
Christina, who was hidden in the other corner, makes herself known. "Where is Tris?" she asks.
Speaking of people who are somehow still alive. I shake my head. "It's a long story, but she got...held up."
It is best that I don't distract us all with the truth about what state Tris is currently in. The fact that I left her on that couch, stiff as a board and trying to remain asleep to keep the agony at bay... If I think about it any longer, my head may just burst with angst.
"Please tell me you two have extra ammo," I say as I remember my dilemma. Going into a possible gunfight is never a nice time to be empty-handed.
Uriah hisses between his teeth. "Nope. You should have told me that we were walking into that kind of stealth mission. Maybe I wouldn't have come," he jokes.
I blow out a breath that shows in the air. "I don't think it will come to that. At least, I hope so."
Someone slams into the train wall, making us all startle. The door slides open, and Zeke throws himself aboard the train before rushing to press the close button.
"Will someone tell me why the hell I am freezing to death in the middle of the night?" he says in between dramatic shivers.
"Gee, I don't know," Christina replies sarcastically. "I think it has something to do with the plan to protect our faction from being vulnerable to a serum that makes them kill themselves?"
"Right. That." Zeke pulls his hood up to cover his ears before he notices me. "Four, my man! I'm glad to see that you aren't dead."
He claps me on the back as I say, "Unfortunately for you, I am not."
"Don't act like I wouldn't miss your brooding face," he teases. "Okay, in all seriousness. What's the plan exactly?"
We really should have been paying attention. When I glance out the window, I see numerous lights through the foggy glass. I wipe it to give me a better view of what I thought was Erudite in the first place.
"Too late to discuss," I say. "Let's worry about disabling the guards first."
All four of us leap off the train and land unsteadily in the snow. Christina loses her balance because she didn't anticipate the jump correctly, and Zeke helps her up.
We trudge through the snow until we circle around to the less prominent Erudite buildings. Up ahead, I spot a lone garage open at the distribution center. From here, I can spot at least two guards packing up the truck.
"That has to be it," Uriah says.
I nod. "You come with me," I say to him. "We'll go around to the right side." And then to Zeke and Christina, "You two go to the left, and when we draw them out, we will take each guard at the same time."
Uriah and I make our way there around a hill, trusting it and the darkness to hide us. As soon as we settle against the side of the garage, I begin thinking of a way to get their attention discreetly.
"How many more?" one of the factionless men groans.
"Just a few more boxes, I think. We don't have to load all of them," another responds with a heavy breath.
I glance around for an idea. Then I see Uriah pack up snow into his hands. Before I can stop him, he hurls the snowball at the side of the truck. It is an unbelievably loud bang as the ice meets the metal.
It would not be wise to chastise him in this moment, so I straighten and hold my breath.
"What was that?"
A guard steps out into the snow with his gun raised, and I blindside him. With one slam of his head into the wall, he crumples to the ground. A similar noise is heard on the other side of the truck, and Zeke and Christina emerge in the garage unharmed.
"That worked out nicely, I must say," Uriah comments with a toothy grin.
Most of the truck is packed up to its top with boxes, but it can certainly fit more. I begin searching for the rest of the gas masks that haven't been loaded yet and find a connected room where they are stored. Crates marked "fragile" are stacked next to them, likely containing serums. There are also shelves that contain supplies, like duct tape. I grab a roll before I rejoin the others.
"Start loading the boxes on. We'll take as much as we can fit," I say as I drag one of the guards into the garage. Wrapping the duct tape securely around his hands and ankles, I add, "Zeke, help me with the other one."
After I take the gas mask off of the unconscious guard and finish sticking the tape to his mouth, I toss the roll to Zeke. Uriah and Christina have begun stacking more boxes into the spacious truck. Although I help them for a couple minutes, I realize that time is draining quickly. If I want to get Cara out, then I have to go search for her now.
"I have something I have to do," I state, my tone leaving no room for argument. The two rifles lying carelessly on the cement floor catch my eye, and I move to pick one up.
"Now?" Uriah exclaims. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I was going to, but we arrived right then."
"It's not a big deal," Zeke cuts in. "Just go, Four. Christina, go with him so it doesn't seem so suspicious. Uriah and I can handle this."
The trust that he has in me is something unbreakable. I don't have the opportunity to tell him my appreciation right this second though.
"We'll be back in a few minutes," I promise. Snapping on a gas mask, I motion for Christina to do the same. Once we are disguised and armed, we head inside Erudite.
"Where are we going?" she questions.
I shake my head. "I don't know. I have only been here a few times."
"Well, what are we looking for?"
Sighing at her inquiries, I explain, "Cara asked me for help. Apparently she isn't doing too well under factionless rule."
"Oh, why didn't you just say so?" Christina says understandingly. I suppose they must have some sort of friendship as Cara is Will's sister.
"I think we will have better luck finding her if we get someone who can help us," I tell her. "Come on."
Although I have only been here during my time as a prisoner, during the Dauntless-factionless raid, and to rob Jeanine's office—all horrible experiences—I vaguely remember where the main lobby is located. I lead her through the building until we arrive at a connecting hallway with a wall of glass.
"So where is Tr—"
I elbow her roughly when a factionless guard turns the corner up ahead. She silences, and I nod at him as we pass each other. That was close, considering Tris is widely known. That single slip-up could have gotten us caught.
"You don't have to spend every second talking, you know," I scold. The day Christina learns to keep her mouth shut is the day the factionless decide to make peace.
From then on, she doesn't speak up. We manage to locate the lobby soon enough, where someone is sitting at the front desk for their shift.
"Excuse me," I say.
The stout woman glances up. "Yes?"
"I need you to find someone's apartment number for me. A woman named Cara. She is either in her late teens or early twenties."
She purses her lips. "I will need some more information, like a surname—"
"That's all I have," I growl, worried about the other guards milling around hearing this conversation. "Get to work. Unless you want me to report this incident."
The threat seems to do the trick. I am unaware of the tight hold that the factionless have on the Erudite these days, but I have never seen someone type on a keyboard so fast.
I try to adopt a casual stance as we wait, and it isn't so hard to maintain when I consider how worn I am. The last time I slept was almost a day ago, and that was against a concrete wall and metal bars that made up a jail cell.
"It seems we only have a few with that name," the woman finally announces. "The one matching your description lives in apartment 225."
"Thanks," I reply shortly.
Christina follows me to the apartment wing of Erudite, where we begin searching for the number 225 on the walls. It takes me only a moment to figure out that the 200s are on the second floor, so I divert to a staircase.
"What happened to Tris?" she demands behind me.
I groan at the reminder and the nagging she cannot seem to stuff away, even on a mission. "She was shot," I admit. "She is in Abnegation now, and she may or may not be dying from infection. Did that satisfy your curiosity?"
Before she can gather the words to respond, we come upon Cara's door. I knock softly enough that it will not be heard by the neighbors but loudly enough that it will rouse her.
She cracks open the door a few seconds later looking the most disheveled I have ever seen her. I guess it is the middle of the night.
"Are you coming?" I ask.
Her eyes widen when she realizes what is happening. "Yes," she answers crisply. "Come in while I gather my stuff."
We slip into her clean apartment. I glance around curiously at the simple furniture and decor as she rushes to gather her bags.
As I am waiting, I realize that this trip can accomplish more than just rescuing Cara and most of the Dauntless faction.
"I also need something before we leave," I say. "But I'm not sure where we can get it."
She stops and tucks her hair behind her ears. "What is it?"
"Tris was shot," I explain. "Caleb thinks she will develop an infection. Do you know where we could get medicine? Or at least pain-killers?"
She pads over to a kitchen cabinet and rummages through it. Then she tosses me a couple of pill bottles, and my stomach settles a bit. Strange though, considering serums are much more common than oral medication these days.
"I had an infection myself a while ago, but it turns out I was allergic to those pills. And the pain-killers may be a bit old, but they should do the trick," Cara says, zipping up a bag. She swings both over her shoulder and stands straight. "I'm ready."
"Great, let's get out of here," Christina begs. "I'm starting to get nervous."
All three of us retrace our steps back to the distribution center, where Uriah and Zeke are waiting with a fully-stuffed truck. They snagged a few masks for each of us, but I grab one extra for Tris just in case.
"Cara? What are you doing here?" Uriah asks.
"I live here," she states. "Well, not anymore."
"She is coming with us," I say. "Although we are splitting up again. I have to go back to Abnegation."
Uriah scrunches his face up. "What's in Abnegation?"
"Tris was shot," I announce for the millionth time tonight. "And I think it is best if we lay low for a while until the factionless forget about the video she just appeared on."
Everyone glances around at each other until Christina speaks up. "I'm coming with you," she declares. "I'm not about to leave my best friend with less protection."
For once, I admire her.
"Me too," Uriah agrees. "I'm in."
I did not expect anyone to come along with me in the first place, but I am even more surprised when Zeke wavers.
"All right..." he gives in.
I put up my palm to stop him. "No, Shauna needs you," I remind him. His fiancé needs him with or without the title, because while she may get around easier these days, she is still paralyzed.
"Shauna is safe in Dauntless. My two brothers need me more than she does."
Begrudgingly, I accept his offer with a nod. After all, Uriah may need some extra attention considering his recent urge to run headfirst into trouble. And I am not one to turn down extra firepower.
Zeke turns to Cara. "I hope you know how to drive," he says.
I am not at all shocked when she confirms it. "Yes. I assume I am driving to Dauntless?"
"Yeah," I tell her. "And when you get there, the guards may give you trouble. Tell them that you were sent by Four."
"If you don't mind me asking...what is in the back?" she questions carefully.
"Gas masks."
She raises her eyebrows as she instantly figures out the reasoning. "Smart," she compliments.
"When you get there," Zeke adds, "tell Shauna that I will be back soon. You can stay with her if you want."
"Okay," she agrees, opening the truck door. "Thank you for getting me out."
We bid her goodbye before she maneuvers the truck onto the icy roads. All four of us share a sigh. Now, we must make the trip back to Abnegation.
TRIS POV
As consciousness seeps in, so does sensation.
A searing blast wounds my side, and I still and hold my breath to prevent any immediate pain from overwhelming the bursts. My first instinct is to call for Tobias, but I can't find it in me to lift a pinkie in case it travels down to my waist.
The voices in the room are garbled until I focus on them. Even then, I do not risk flicking my eyelids open.
"...I think it is best if I leave," a woman says shyly. Why does it sound like...Susan?
"At least allow me to walk you home," my brother pleads. "I know this night turned out horrible, and I'm sorry you had to deal with it. But I don't want you to hate me because of it."
"I don't hate you," she assures him. "I actually wouldn't mind some company walking home."
When the door shuts, the memories return in bright flashes. There is darkness and cold, and then there is a blazing light above me along with hazy, familiar faces. The unbelievable pain sticks in my mind, causing me to hiss out loud when I get a jolt at the reminder.
"Beatrice?"
It is difficult to believe that I am in an Abnegation house. It is impossible to believe that he of all people is here.
I crack my eyes open to be sure. And my suspicions are confirmed: that really is Marcus Eaton on the couch in front of me.
"Get away from me," I slur hopelessly. Another wince forces its way down my airway despite my reluctance to show any weakness in front of him. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hurting me again.
He levels a demeaning glare at me after my command. "I have no sympathy for you," he says.
"Like I care."
"None of this would have happened if you would have helped me clear my name. You would not have been shot, and there certainly would not be a suicide serum in existence, let alone mass-produced."
I try to ignore him and focus on my shallow breaths. "How does that make any sense?" I ask genuinely.
Marcus straightens even further at my confusion. "If you would have cleared my name with a simple click of a button in the Candor system, I would have been allowed back onto the Council," he explains harshly. When he glowers, he looks much older, if possible. "I would not have allowed any threat or bribery to put the city in danger."
Anyone with a brain knows that Marcus only cares about this city's wellbeing so that he can have someone to rule over.
I wheeze as the pain intensifies. "By that logic, none of this would be happening if you had not beat your son," I retort. That way, he never would have been off the Council in the first place.
He does not acknowledge the jab, instead continuing with his rant. "These spineless leaders," he says. "This is why I should be running the government; they don't have the will to not give in to Erudite's wishes or the eyes to see an ambush coming. It is these people that got us into war initially. People like your father."
Ah, now I understand the point of this conversation. Marcus never could go without preying on the weak.
The physical pain is overshadowed by emotional for a brief moment. I don't know which is worse until I settle on the memories of my father tucking me in at night and running his hand over my hair. No, that is definitely worse than the scorching flames in my side.
The hazy recollections of my other bullet wound return as well. My father removed that bullet; it wasn't until that moment that I realized I didn't really know him, similarly to my mother. Before I had the chance to ask anything, he was pelted with unforgiving bullets.
I suppose that is all I need to know about my father: he loved me, and he died for me to prove it.
Marcus sits across from me with a smug sneer. I cannot show that I am affected by his prodding words. He is searching for a reaction. Maybe he is even trying to pull the relative joke on me again to get me to influence Dauntless to send soldiers to Abnegation.
He may be cunning, but I am part Erudite. Nothing about him slips past me anymore.
"Your words are meaningless," I mumble nonchalantly, shutting my eyes at the next jolt of fire. "Therefore, you wouldn't mind if I spoke to Tobias about this conversation, would you?"
He does. As much as he would not admit it, he is afraid of his son now. Tobias's outburst is one of the only things I remember about my surgery, and after feeling a fraction of his anger in the Candor cafeteria, Marcus would not dare tread on that ground with him.
So Marcus rises with an irritated huff at my point. "Have it your way, Beatrice."
The blinding pain is the only thing left to focus on now that he has left the house. It overwhelms my small victory. It overwhelms all else.