TRIS POV
Energy hums throughout my body, and it is refreshing.
I pop open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, debating what time it is by the shadows casting on the wall. I must have spent the whole last day and night either sleeping or confined in the bathroom because I do not remember much. It must be early dawn now, and thanks to the antibiotics, the worst of the fever seems to have passed.
My eyes seek out Tobias, who is perched in a chair next to the window. His rifle leans on the wall next to him as he watches the street with a vigilant gaze. The natural glare on his face puts a slight smile on mine, and for a second I watch the icy rain patter against the glass with him.
I stretch my bedridden muscles, surprised to discover that there is a milder ache in my side. It does not last long though because a searing burst is there to replace it as I shift onto my side. A groan leaves my lungs, and Tobias's eyes snap over to me at the sudden sound.
"Hey," he says, standing up and moving toward the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," I hum. "I think my fever broke."
His rough hand brushes against my forehead when he checks my temperature. "I think you're right." He shakes his head, a weary smirk playing on his lips. "You gave us quite the scare."
I frown and run a hand through my tangled hair. "I barely remember any of it."
"Well, good. Because you looked miserable."
I roll my eyes and hold out my arms. "Help me up?" I ask.
He gently pulls me into an upright position. Curling in on myself causes the fire to return, and I hold my breath until I am sitting.
"Good?" Tobias watches my face for more signs of pain.
And I stare back. It amazes me how he can hold it together in any situation that requires it. In the last few days, he has helped protect the majority of the Dauntless faction, saved my life several times, and led us headfirst into a life-threatening circumstance and managed to get everyone out of it safely with quick thinking. Not once was he thinking of himself.
By the deep outlines under his eyes, I am willing to bet that he did not get sleep while taking watch this night. Every vivid memory I have from yesterday includes him waiting on me too.
That is another kind of bravery, I realize. Putting aside all worries about yourself and working for the betterment of others, even in scenarios where others are barely holding it together.
I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his middle. After a second, he returns the gesture and holds me close. It is peacefully silent for a moment, with a lull even in the mixed rain.
"Do you think I can walk?" I ask, my voice muffled by his shirt.
He sighs softly. "You can try. But don't exert yourself."
As I stand upright for the first time in days, he steadies me by letting me hold onto his forearms. This would not be so challenging if my legs weren't so weak from disuse. My teeth clench through the ache, but when I put most of my weight on my left leg, it is not unbearable. Or maybe, having dealt with much pain before, it is not registering to me.
Letting go, I find it is possible to handle it by myself. I grin at the accomplishment, and Tobias does too.
"I want to see everyone," I say. "Are they up?"
"They might be. It is pretty early," he points out. "How about I help you change your bandage first?"
While unwrapping the old bandage and switching it out for a clean one, we discover that the swelling surrounding the wound has decreased substantially. Based on the hazy glimpses I got of it in the last few days, I would say it is healing well. Tobias seems to agree, even suggesting that we could take out the stitches soon.
But irritating it with the dressings and practicing walking to the bathroom—yet again—does not sit well with my body. By the time I am sitting out on the couch, I need to ask for a pain pill.
"This is the last one," Tobias warns, handing it over with a water bottle and another antibiotic pill.
"Okay." I place them both in my mouth and swallow without hesitation.
Zeke and Uriah are roused by our speaking after a moment. They both pop up at the sound of my voice and turn to look.
"Tris!"
"Shh!" Zeke hisses at his brother. "You'll wake everyone else up, you idiot."
"Tris!" Uriah tries again, this time in a whisper. "You're alive!"
"Barely," I reply.
I glance over at Tobias to find that he is struggling to keep his eyes open, even swaying on his feet.
"Hey." I reach for his hand. "Go to bed."
If he was not so tired, I know that he would fight me on the matter. But he only says, "You sure?"
His heavy-lidded eyes and messy hair make me sympathetic. After days of this gunshot wound and the kidney infection, I don't know which of us has had to put up with worse. He has taken on double the load, while I have laid around.
"Sleep, Tobias," I tell him with a short laugh.
He bends down over the couch to kiss me. I have shed the Abnegation part of me that is embarrassed to show affection in front of others, so I return it and drag it out for a moment. It feels so nice, after days of agony and terror, to be distracted by something good.
Then he lets me go with one last touch of his lips to my cheek, disappearing into the bedroom.
"Ah, young love," Zeke teases.
Throwing him a glare, I settle into the couch. My eyes dart around the spacious room as I try to figure out where we are.
"We're in some sort of hotel, probably," Uriah tells me. "It's pretty nice, if you ask me."
It is. The modernized, white decor has a thin layer of dust, but it is nicer than Abnegation ever was. It makes me wonder why the factionless do not take up residence here, though that must have something to do with the distance from the center of the city.
Christina emerges from one of the bedrooms, clapping her hands together with excitement when she sees me. I brace myself as she rushes over and pulls me into a hug. It isn't quite gentle, but it does not hurt me. Though if Tobias were out here, he would likely toss her off.
"Feeling better?" she says, plopping down next to Uriah.
"Well, my fever is gone," I answer. "My side is still banged up."
"But we love her all the same," Uriah quips. I reach forward with a wince just to grab a pillow and toss it at him.
Breakfast is soon in full swing as we pass canned and unspoiled foods around. It isn't ideal, but it is something. And after days of eating next to nothing, I find myself chewing anything within my reach.
"Slow down, Beatrice," Caleb scolds as he steps out into the main room with his hair sticking up in several directions
I offer him a half-smile in response. Dreaming of my parents has made the last few days awful, since it was a constant pang whether I was awake or asleep. While I am glad to have my brother along with us, I would rather not have to stare at the traits he shares with our parents.
And I would never admit it to him, but his face does hold many negative memories for me.
"So, what have I missed?" I ask in between bites of bread.
Zeke, Uriah, and Christina glance amongst each other, leaving Caleb out. The atmosphere shifts from jocular to solemn. "Let's just say...that your video pissed a lot of people off," Zeke says slowly.
I frown. "What do you mean?" I expected some reaction from the factionless, and they did retaliate. They almost got what they wanted with me, anyway. But others?
"The factionless took over Candor," Christina states sadly. She must be thinking of her family. "After you and Four left, they had already stormed the entire building. And, well, the Candor don't have much means to resist."
I sigh, unsurprised. It was bound to happen sooner or later, with the factionless spreading like a plague throughout the city.
"The Dauntless are angry with the factionless first and foremost for the serum. I think they expected it from Erudite," Uriah explains. "Everyone thinks Abnegation was at fault but also that it was inevitable with a passive government. The Amity, of course, refuse to hold any stance. Because of the factionless taking over every block, if anyone has an opinion, their hands are tied."
I press my lips together. If every faction banded together with Dauntless's aid, it would not take much to overthrow the factionless. But I doubt Tori would want to take that route, based on her recent foolish deals.
Speaking of. "What are Tori and the other leaders doing about this?" I inquire.
Christina sighs, "The Dauntless are moving toward war, Tris. Tori suggested a demonstration to begin with, but I don't think their pent-up frustration will be solved with that."
I agree. The Dauntless have lost all three of their leaders to assassins, many members to the suicide serum, and a large amount of their guns, which were their main advantage. They will not go quietly, and Tori cannot quell them for long. A protest will do nothing.
"That's why there was a sniper," I comment with a nod. "They are watching the streets, waiting for the Dauntless to return fire."
The problem is that the Dauntless are in no position to. They may be proud, and they may know how to fight, but they are currently low on weapons and leadership. All I can picture them doing is charging headfirst into battle with nothing for the sake of revenge.
If Tori was smart, she would get them under control by giving them revenge in coordinated attacks; that is what they actually crave: victory.
Biting my lip anxiously, I meet Caleb's shifting eyes.
"What do you have to say about this?" I ask.
His expression is full of concern as he replies, "We are going to have another war. Nothing can solve it."
"Um, guys? You might want to see this."
A moment ago everybody was drowsy, but now heads rise up from the couches with renewed interest. Zeke beckons us to the window. The rest of the group rushes over to the floor-to-ceiling panes, and I am left to crane my neck to hopefully see something from my spot on the couch.
"This is bad," Christina remarks.
"What's going on?" I ask.
It takes until Tobias—who is hastily rubbing the sleep from his eyes—enters for someone to notice my predicament. Without even glancing their way to see what the disturbance is about, he walks over to the couch and lifts me onto my feet.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
He doesn't respond as he supports me on the way to the window. My hand grips onto his waist, and I take light steps until I am close enough to see.
A mass of Dauntless soldiers stands at the intersection of the street ahead. It is decently far from here, but close enough that I can see the black clothing and the distinct shape of rifles. This must have been the demonstration that Christina mentioned earlier.
"What are they doing?" Uriah asks incredulously. "Blocking the road?"
Caleb suggests, "Maybe it is some sort of warning."
"Doesn't look like it is working out too well," Tobias adds lowly.
A non-threatening amount of people in multicolored clothes emerge from the perpendicular streets, surrounding the Dauntless. They jump and run around and seemingly antagonize them.
"They're trying to get them to shoot," I remark with a shake of my head.
"The leaders knew this would happen." He scoffs next to me. "At least if Tori or someone else had declared war, then there would be some kind of military leadership."
Tobias is right. This is a mob, not an army. And they do deserve justice, but this is not the way to get it. This is them playing their cards early. This is how they lose a portion of their population before the war can even begin.
We can only hope that they have gas masks on. Or that they turn around and go home.
But the Dauntless are too proud.
There is rapid popping and simultaneous sparks not long after. The factionless in the street dart into nearby buildings for cover, and at least a hundred appear on the rooftops.
"Oh no," Uriah says.
We watch as they throw objects down on the Dauntless. The objects, of course, are not as innocent as they seemed, which is obvious when they start emitting a familiar light blue gas.
The suicide serum.
Gunshots pop through the city, and I try to time each silent period, wondering if they could be aimed at the people firing them. The cloud is too thick for us to see what is happening, but some Dauntless begin dispersing out of it. The ones that come our way are wearing gas masks.
"Thank God," I comment out loud. It looks like most of them will make it out all right.
I spoke too soon. A shot in the murky air misses wildly, shattering one of the windows below us. Everyone falters on their feet and backs up from the window.
"We should go down there," Tobias states. "Make sure nobody wanders into the building."
It is clear that he is talking to the other men in the room, leaving out Christina, Caleb, and I. My fingers tighten around Tobias's side, and I look up at him, distressed.
"You three should stay in Caleb's room. It is farthest from the windows."
"Tobias," I cut in.
He ignores me for a moment as he helps me walk to the bedroom. The wound in my side aches fiercely. I can't help but picture a bullet slashing through him like it did me, and when he sets me down against a wall, I clamp my hand around his wrist.
"We won't be gone long," he promises, holding mine.
Everything in me throbs to the same rhythm of no. Suddenly, I find myself nauseous at the idea of him taking a step away from me.
But his gaze is steady and so is his pulse against my fingertips. He is not afraid, and I need to have faith in him to defend us all.
"Be careful," I choke.
He slides out of my grip and steps out of the room. From the doorway, I can see him pick up a rifle before he leaves with the others.
Taking deep breaths, I pull the leg of my uninjured side up into my chest and rest my chin on my knee.
"They'll be back soon, Tris," Christina reassures me. The honesty in her voice is a bit comforting. "I'm sure nobody would have run clear over here, and if they did, then they are only Dauntless."
I nod along anxiously. Though the thoughts in my mind trample over each other, about how similar the scene outside looked to a war zone, about how it is not much different from when Jeanine enslaved people's minds with serums. About how many times I had to let Tobias go, not certain if he would even return in one piece.
I am going to go through this again. And maybe again. It is a continuous pattern of grief over loss and dread over what I have yet to lose. I grew up completely unfamiliar with death and oblivious to murder, and during wartime I lived it daily—if not by witnessing or committing it, then at least reliving it. Now, war is coming again to tear everything else I love away.
Tobias. Caleb. Christina. Uriah. Zeke. Shauna. Dez.
Breathing is something that does not come naturally. I have to think about the action as I dwell on how rapid my list of loved ones is dwindling. Half of them could be snatched away at this very moment.
And as I silently break down, for whatever reason, I think of Lynn.
Her face has not come to mind in a while, as I attempt to compartmentalize a special spot for mourning in the very far corner in my mind. But now, instead of recalling her aggressive nature, I remember what she told me about how a person is not truly considered brave until they are in a situation that really requires it.
That makes me a coward, I realize. I am cowering in a corner, biting my nails over something that has not even happened. I am centered around myself when I should be focused on aiding everyone as best I can with my hindering wound. That certainly does not begin with pining over Tobias when he needs me to be stable.
So I steady my inhales and exhales, staring out the window for any signs of danger.
Nobody talks until Christina does, unsurprisingly—I have noticed that her outspoken personality has gradually returned within the last week. "What are we going to do?" she asks aloud.
I shake my head. "Go back to Dauntless?" I guess. "I don't know that we can do much there, but at least we would be home."
Caleb puckers his lips and fidgets, a nervous habit. I don't call him out on it.
"I suppose we would be somewhat safer there," Christina says. "Although, I don't think anywhere can be considered safe anymore."
I nod and duck my head. Nowhere is safe in a war zone; nothing is left untouched.
"I can't go back to Abnegation," Caleb speaks up.
I figured as much, but I didn't know that he would be frank about it. That only leaves one option for him, and I honestly cannot see Caleb living in Dauntless for longer than an hour without going into cardiac arrest.
"It's a lot to ask, but could I come with you?"
Staring at the carpeted floor, I ponder the idea. Where would he even live? I don't think Tobias could bear him sleeping on the couch for a night.
I guess the fine details don't matter right now. It will be some time before we can return.
"We'll figure it out," I tell him. "I owe you though, don't I?"
Rapid gunshots crack outside, sending a jolt of pain through my waist.
"I never thanked you. For saving me."
Caleb frowns. "You don't have to. It wasn't something I would have thought twice about."
Why did I even decide to thank him in the first place? My reasoning is nonexistent until I discover it, buried underneath layers of scars.
"There was a time when you would have," I remark. "So I do have to thank you."
It was not a brilliant idea to dig up that betrayal, but it needed to be said. I try not to hold what he did against him since we came to a mutual understanding; sometimes, though, I want him to know that I remember. We let the awkward fill the silence for the next hour, accompanied by the rain tapping at the glass.
The boys return in the evening, when they are certain that there is no threat. The sun is dying, and it casts a depressing light into the room. I only notice it for a second because the door to the hotel room bursts open, almost slamming into the wall.
"Uriah—" Tobias says.
"No!" I can see him from the doorway now. "No, Four! You don't get to tell me that I'm wrong. This whole situation is wrong!"
Christina, Caleb, and I all share a worried glance.
Zeke interjects, "Uriah, we could not have gotten involved down there. What the Dauntless just did was stupid, and we would have just added to our own casualties."
Needing to be a part of this conversation, whatever it concerns, I push myself off the floor, using the wall as leverage. My side feels like it is splitting in half, and a high-pitched groan is present in my exhales. Christina rushes over to steady me.
"We could have done something!" Uriah shouts.
"Keep your voice down—" Tobias barks.
"There were people out there without a mask."
I hobble out into the living room, with Christina at my back if I need her. Tobias meets my eyes briefly.
"Yes, there were," he says. "And they were most of the few casualties out there. Like Zeke said, if the Dauntless would not have been so flippant and thought this through, then every one of them would have taken the proper precautions."
Uriah looks torn. I can tell that he believes what they are saying, but another part of him is miserable and can't accept logical reasoning for an answer anymore.
"Nobody should have to have a serum control them," he replies brokenly, and I know instantly that he is referring to Marlene. "Nobody. We could have done something."
He passes us on the way to Caleb's room, and I reach out for his arm, suddenly empathetic. "Uriah..." I say softly.
He dodges out of my grip and disappears, shutting the door behind him. Tobias crosses his arms and turns away in frustration, and Zeke looks unapologetic.
"I won't condone his suicidal behavior," he states after he notices me staring. "I'm sorry, but I won't."
Some part of me agrees with him, and another part of me is Uriah, shattered by war and unwilling to listen to any answers.
It is a somber night in the suite after the argument, following the trying day of waiting on edge and reflecting on past experiences. Uriah refuses to come out, so everyone else is confined to the uneasy living room area, where we pass around a humble dinner. All anyone offers is small pleasantries that set me even more on edge.
The city is collapsing. This is a time when we need to be tightly knit together.
Eventually, I cannot bear being trapped here anymore with the world caving in. With my head already leaning against Tobias's shoulder, I tilt my lips toward his ear.
"I want to be alone with you," I whisper.
He must agree by the way he addresses Zeke, Caleb, and Christina. "Tris and I are going to call it a night," he announces. And if the situation were normal, I am sure that we would receive catcalls. Instead, they all concur with the idea, and Christina volunteers to take first watch before we hide in our room.
I sigh once my back is flat against the supportive mattress. At this point, my head is more sore than my side. I rest my eyes until I feel the bed jostle followed by an arm being draped across my abdomen.
Dragging my eyes open, I gaze back at the intense ones from across the pillows. Tobias seems to share my sentiments without expressing them verbally, so neither of us offers dialogue.
"Your idea of running away is sounding more appealing each day," I tell him after a moment.
He closes his eyes and rolls onto his back, his arm resting above his head. "Now we are stuck," he points out. "Another war is here; it is inevitable. The city won't have enough resources amongst themselves, let alone for us to live off of. It was a far-fetched idea."
The idea of watching more lifeless bodies collapse makes me physically ill. Sighing, I turn onto my side. "I can't do this again, Tobias."
He shakes his head. "No, you shouldn't have to. In fact, we will stay out of this fight completely."
To get my nerves in check, I tentatively reach out, tracing his rib cage through his shirt where I know the flames mark. The steady expanding and contracting of his chest beneath my hand puts me at ease.
"Yeah, we say that," I retort. "And then we end up back in the middle of it all, trying to be the heroes."
"Not this time," he denies.
Recalling something he told me months ago, I counter with, "You said you liked fighting."
That was when he admitted his reasoning behind participating in brawls for entertainment. He needed the fast-paced, unexpected life he was used to, needed to feel alive. It is by no means the same as war, but the conflict is enough.
"You would be willing to give that up?" I ask.
Tobias lays his hand on top of mine, effectively halting its movement.
"That was at a time when I had nothing," he answers. When we weren't together, I felt similarly. He lifts my hand up and brushes his lips across my knuckles. "Now I have everything."
A ghost of a smile hints across my lips. There was never time for us to be serious about each other, between me hurling myself into harm and both of us taking time to collect our damaged selves. And now, when we were just approaching that time, we find ourselves being backed into a familiar corner.
Maybe it does not have to be like the last war though. Maybe we could leave it to nature to sort out, or everyone else can clean up the mess. Maybe, since we know what our priorities are, we would not struggle in this relationship. Like Tobias said, we have given this city enough of ourselves. It is time to focus on us.
"Would you marry me?" he asks smoothly.
For some reason, I internally panic. My hand stiffens in his. My reaction is nonsensical, considering I am not necessarily afraid of making that commitment. I just have not genuinely thought about it.
"I don't think that's how you're supposed to phrase that question." I choke out a laugh that sets fire to my side.
His stern eyes are honest as he turns to face me. "Would you?" I watch him swallow, suddenly hesitant for my response. His eyebrows furrow as they do when he is concentrating. "The conditions are less than adequate right now, but...if things were better, would you?"
I have taken too long to answer. The Abnegation and Dauntless battle within me, one fighting in defense of modesty and the other for what is right. Why is this so challenging? Why would I ever consider an alternative?
As I stare back at his placid face, I realize why. Every time I have fully committed to someone—whether it be a friend or family member—I have lost them. And I cannot shake the idea out of my head that if I were to take this step, then I would only be jeopardizing him.
No. I am finished with letting my fears overwhelm my life. With the last year being tainted, I refuse to live like this going forward.
I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have a moment of selfishness.
Since I am struggling to come up with a way to phrase my emotions, Tobias talks through the barrier that is being built between us with each second I hesitate. "I never expected to want this with anyone," he admits, refusing to meet my eyes out of shyness. "But you have changed my perspective on many things. Maybe this isn't the right way to approach this subject, and certainly not the right time. Maybe it isn't the best option to choose from going forward. Regardless, you're it for me, and I figure that we are headed this way eventually. And if we never get that chance, then I want to know."
I picture casual mornings where we bump into each other in front of the bathroom sink as we prepare for the day. I see me cooking an Abnegation dinner for us on the stove in his apartment like my mother taught me. I imagine afternoons where he sits on the floor and plays with our children, making them burst out into giggles.
I want that. More than anything, even though it is a mirage that is too ideal to be in the distant future.
"I would," I finally say.
He does not seem too surprised, but his heart pounds against my palm anyway. Bringing our foreheads together, he whispers, "Maybe one day."
The uncertainty is like a lead weight on my chest. To rid myself of it, I press my lips to his.
It is sweet and hopeful, soon clouded by doubt and need. In denial, we kiss with a more heavy energy between us, determined to press closer in order to push out the bad. And it works for a moment, until his hand brushes over my waist and we remember what put that bullet there.
A held-back gasp breaks us apart. He shakes his head, apologizing.
"We shouldn't be doing this when you're injured," he murmurs.
I trap him with my arms around his neck. "Since when have we ever been careful?" I ask.
He kisses me slowly, his hand finding a safer place on my thigh. Mine wanders up his shirt in a desperate need for more friction. The last time we had the luxury of being close was days ago, and I feel like I will burst if I don't get more of him.
I hope that is what the remainder of our life will be like.
With that in mind, I drag out the kiss, determined to keep him here. We continue until we are near out of breath, and then he only stops to whisper that he loves me.
TOBIAS POV
I watch her sleep—peacefully. It is relieving to see that she is not restless from the fever anymore.
Her face is neutral in sleep, her hair splayed out in a fan around her head. The moonlight pools into the room and casts soft shadows on her. I admire the way the birds on her collarbone shift each time she inhales and exhales.
I want this every day.
But, despite our earlier conversation, that will likely not be a possibility. I suppose I should not have offered her a promise that I don't know if I can redeem.
War is approaching rapidly, based on what we all witnessed today. The odds of both of us staying alive and out of trouble... Even if we did, what would we have left? A ruined city, less people we know, and a society that tore itself apart, similar to the chaotic days in the aftermath of the previous war. It is certainly no world to have a family in.
With a frown on my face, I brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
Maybe that is why I am suddenly so upset. This conflict does not have to happen. There will be nothing left after this; I am not sure the city could survive another battle now that each side knows what it is capable of. It is over something so stupid, so solvable.
Recalling Uriah's words from today, I wonder what I could really do to put a stop to this before it begins, before countless lives are wasted.
I have a few options.
Immediately, I know that this is not brilliant to become involved yet again. And I already know that when I broach the idea to Tris, she will be much less than satisfied.
I watch her mouth twitch up into a brief smile in her sleep, and I sigh.
It is worth a shot. If only for that glimpse of a future we have.
TRIS POV
Tobias is uneasy the entire morning. I notice it in his mannerisms, in the way he refuses to hold my gaze for more than a second. In the way he paces along the floor-to-ceiling windows and judges the outside streets frequently.
He wants to leave, that much is obvious. And I somewhat agree because we are running low on food, and it would be in my best interest to see a doctor eventually. But I do not know the direction that he is going with that idea until he announces it after breakfast.
"I'm going to talk to my mother."
My head snaps over to him, startled by his suicidal suggestion. He wants to visit the mother he severed ties with, the mother who has no problem forcing people to take their own lives and starve and die by her hands too as long as she benefits.
I laugh hysterically, like my stomach is not sinking. "No, you're not," I retort.
His eyes flash to mine, frustrated that I would undermine him in front of our friends. "I'm the only one who has the power to potentially put an end to this war before it begins," he states. "And I am going to give it a shot. It won't take long, and if anyone wants to come with me, I would appreciate the backup."
With anger flaring up inside, I narrow my eyes at Uriah momentarily, whose idea it was to get involved in the first place. Then I realize that it is misplaced because Tobias was the one to hypocritically smother last night's tender conversation and to take initiative. That is what I am really upset about: the fact that he would promise me things that he did not plan to follow through on the very next day.
"I will," Zeke offers immediately.
"You're not even going to discuss this," I say hotly. "You're just going to do it."
Tobias clenches his jaw and doesn't respond. I take that as an affirmative.
With a scoff, I walk with heavy feet into the bedroom, needing to get away from him before I do or say something embarrassing in front of our friends. It sends a hot, tearing ache through my side, and I grit my teeth as soon as I am out of sight.
"This is not about what we want and don't want right now," he says from the doorway. "This is about what is right and wrong."
"And it's right for you to go out and get killed for a hopeless cause?" I all but shout as I turn around.
He roughly shuts the door to muffle our argument. "I'm not going to—"
"This city is on the brink of war. We were getting shot at in the streets a few days ago just for wearing black!" I take a step toward him and point accusingly. "I waited on edge for hours yesterday thinking you wouldn't come back with that war zone so close by, and you're going to leave again and try to guarantee to me that you won't die?"
Neither of us can promise something like that. I was foolish enough to believe him last night when he implied that we wouldn't have to anymore.
The sudden surge of rage sends flames up my right side. I whimper at the pulses and press my hand around it.
"Careful—" He reaches out to steady me, and I flinch away.
"It's like last night was nonexistent to you," I choke. "You said you would be done with the conflict. You said it was time to focus on us. We were talking about marriage—" My voice jumps on the significant word and all that it means.
The betrayal stings. Tears burn at the back of my eyes, and I force myself to look out the window instead of at his own impassive ones.
He shakes his head. "I wasn't lying to you," he states. "Our time will come, but I refuse to let it be in a war."
"This city is going to be in a war, Tobias. Whether you leave the safety of this building to waste time on your mother or not."
"You can't say that with certainty."
I laugh incredulously. "Because she has been so lenient in the past." Between throwing disparaging comments my way, using the Dauntless, and passing out the suicide serum to her lackeys, Evelyn Eaton will never have my trust.
Tobias is silent at my truthful words. Then he simply tells me, "If there is even a slight chance that lives can be spared, a slight chance that I can stop war from tearing apart the place we are going to have a life in...then I'm going to take it."
Some rational part of me understands. But the obstinate, clingy part of me shoves logic aside and believes that he is leaving me. It is like the first war all over again; he is ignoring what I say, but this time he is the one running headfirst into risky situations.
"I will take the safest roads on the way to the train. Zeke is coming with me too," he reassures me. "It won't be dangerous. It will be a small discussion, and then I will come back, and we can go from there."
Even now he could lose his life. All it takes is one unfortunate glimpse. A lucky sniper. A gunman, hidden in an alley.
It is not worth it to me.
"Tris..." I feel his hand on my shoulder, and more than anything I want to lean back into his chest. I want him to tell me that he will stay and that I will never have to worry about his safety again.
"No," I growl.
He sighs harshly and removes his hand. "You're being unfair to hold this against me. I'm not doing it for me."
"If you really cared about what I thought, you wouldn't go," I huff.
It is quiet as we drop the argument, realizing neither of us is going to change our stance. And even though we are vexed with each other, he steps closer until his chest is against my back and closes his hands around my arms. Before I can rebuff his actions, he presses a kiss into my hair.
"I'll see you soon," he murmurs.
When he leaves, I relieve my body from its strain and sit on the bed. I try to count the number of times he has returned back to me despite the odds being against us. And me to him. Those thoughts lull me into a false sense of security, if only for now.
Maybe he did have a point. I don't want to have this heightened anxiety every time he leaves home when we are married years down the road.
That future seems far ahead, yet so close. I hold onto the visions that my mind comes up with tightly as I wait.
After hours of stewing and drowning in regret, the door to the hotel room creaks open. My eyes fling open, and I push myself up from the bed, determined to see Tobias. He is back now anyway, so there is no reason to hold a grudge.
A lump forms in my throat as I hobble across the bedroom. My mind runs through the words I want to say. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave the way you did. I love—
Everyone stands around Zeke in the main room. I glance past him into the empty hallway before I notice that he is marked with cuts and bruises, and that his clothes are tattered.
"Where's..."
He looks at me hollowly. Only me.
"There was a train crash," he rasps. "It must have derailed, and there was a fire, I don't know..."
His voice is weak and on the verge of breaking completely.
"Zeke," I say. "Where's—"
"I'm so sorry, Tris."
Christina covers her mouth. Uriah stumbles back into a wall. Caleb is expressionless.
I laugh hysterically, searching for a way out of this delusion. "What are you talking about?"
Zeke closes his eyes. Tears stream down his cheeks freely as he holds out a gun, marked with the number four. "I did everything I could, but nothing could have saved him."
"No," I say fiercely. "No, I don't believe it."
But how could I not? I have never seen Zeke cry. If he is crying this forcefully, it is not fake.
"I want to see him," I demand in a panic. I need to see him alive and strong and warm. I need to see a motionless body to prove that he really is dead. Because this has to be an illusion, a simulation, none of this is comprehensible.
"No, Tris, you can't see him like that," he sobs.
And that is when it clicks that this is actually happening.
"No," I deny.
I turn and walk robotically, stoically, distancing myself from the sobs in the living room. I shut the bedroom door behind me softly and face the empty room for a moment without feeling anything.
Tobias is dead.
A sharp laugh escapes me before the grief can set in. My emotions run wild, battling each other until I am too overwhelmed to focus on why I am upset. Still unbelieving, I rub my eyes and open them, expecting to be back in the real world.
Tobias is dead.
My reaction is delayed. My legs collapse underneath me, followed by hyperventilation.
Time is gone. A scream repeatedly rips my throat to shreds as my entire existence hurtles toward its uselessness. Sound disappears, and my vision blurs until the dark room around me meshes into a world worse than hell.
Wake up, I beg. Wake up, wake up.
But it does not end. And I am inevitably trapped in a place I don't want to be, alone, and
I
am
nothing.
Ok so some of you may be mad but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not give up on this story. PLEASE. Just read the next few chapters. That's all I ask.