Tori and Tris - Chapter Fifteen - Holding secrets
Late in the afternoon our new friendly is rapped out discreetly upon the front door. Tris' panicked response betrays her heightened startle reflex, she grabbed a towel and retreated to the bathroom. Through the virgin peephole I spy Four's broad chest, he slides through the door and locks it behind him, "Thank God!" I exclaim. "Why?" he asks, "What's happened?"
Upon seeing my sardonic expression, he nodded and said "Right." Four cast his eye around the studio, apparently looking for Tris, "Shower," I inform him.
"Tell me everything, Four," I urge. I stoop at the foot of bed, my hand searching under the mattress for cigarettes, unsuccessful, I dig around in my bag still coming up empty. Four, too familiar with my preoccupation with tobacco to be concerned, he took a dining chair over to the window knowing I would join him momentarily. "Drink?" I offer, "Please, and water" he nodded. I'm impressed with his roundabout way of indicating his preference for alcohol.
Four sipped his spiced wine and got straight down to business, "How is she?" he asked, "Alive," I reply rather more severely than I intended, he purses his lips and continues, "Stage Three testing," he stated. "Hardly a priority, surely?" I am immediately aware of my defensiveness, "Sorry, Four, I am not used to being on this end of proceedings." He nods, understanding, "You know the value of need to know, Tori," and I nod resignedly, accepting his terms. Four lets out a long sigh, and precedes, "I know this is asking a lot, but our position - the position of the alliance, is predicated on Tris passing the final test."
I staunch my immediate reaction, I have to employ my thinking brain, I remind myself. I can't help thinking that Tris really ought to be part of this discussion but Four's reminder of need to know prompts me to caution. I think over his words. Four's message reveals that this sentiment has been discussed and accepted as part of the formal strategy of the alliance. I trust that these issues have been carefully weighed in consideration of the apparently increasing complicated state of affairs. The alliance was already concerned about how to respond to the increasingly dark and dangerous nature of Dauntless culture, necessarily mediating our own immediate safety with the needs of the future of our faction.
Add to that yet another more perilous concern. I eye Four closely. He looks straight back at me but I know he can't read me. I have never been faced with a more delicate and volatile situation. I love Tris and would give everything to protect her, my life is no sacrifice. But there is something yet more precious to preserve. Something in which her life is no sacrifice. I am still staring at Four, no longer aware of my drink or the cigarette burning away between my fingers. I have a strong conviction to communicate something to Four. But how.
I raise my index finger between us indicating my need for still more time before I can respond. I stand up looking around the room, I need something, some idea, some inspiration. Four too, stands and stretches his tall frame, he heads into the kitchen and helps himself to more wine. I look out of the window, channeling Tris' acute sagacity, I walk along the window ledge and as I turn to pace back in the opposite direction I run my finger along the sill. It is so dusty - I wonder how I have been able to ignore it for so long. The filthy, greasy dust balls up like a sticky cobweb and clings to my finger. "Four," I called out, he strides over to me, observing my filthy but stationary finger.
"About Tris and final stage testing, Four," I begin, "It's complicated." "Yes," he nods, "But we can protect her, Tori." "No," I shake my head, "It's not that, it's more complicated than that," I turn my eyes on him, willing him to make the connection I know he cannot make unassisted. Even if he did, he would be unable to confirm it. He is searching my face, his eyes peering earnestly into mine, his mind trying to unravel the enigma. I deliberately move my gaze to my finger, Four's eyes follow mine. I lean forward and trace a capital D into the dust and remove my hand, rubbing the dust from my finger onto my pants.
I stand patiently, telepathically willing Four to puzzle it out. He stares at the D for a very long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he brings his own index finger to the right hand side of the D and traces a lowercase i. I don't respond. To the i he adds a v. Savagely, I swipe away the dreadful evidence wishing I could likewise obliterate the oppressive implication. But Four has received the message as clearly as if I had shouted it from the roof. We look at each other again, and I know that Four knows that the stakes have just been raised to a critical new level.
What Four meant earlier when he said that the alliance was dependent upon Tris passing initiate testing, was that Tris' unmitigated Dauntless membership legitimises the claims of the alliance. Particularly in view of the recent assault upon her. This challenge is precarious enough to consider on its own. Discovery of her divergence, by either Dauntless Leadership or the general public, will serve to authorise the very system that attacked her in the first place. She will be as good as dead and so will the alliance.
This new revelation renders further conversation moot. Before Four takes his leaves, I tap on the bathroom door and ask Tris if she wants to join us. She shakes her head adamantly. "Four," I ask returning, "How safe are we here?" "I need some context," he replies diplomatically. I indicate the new weapons piled up in the corner and say, "I am not sure what to make of this delivery?" Four gives me a strangled sort of look before he opens the door, and says, "Not safe enough to eat in the mess," and beats a hasty retreat.
I lock the door immediately and grab a fist full of wet rags and scrub down the entire length of the window sill, hoping to eradicate the evidence of my betrayal suddenly and the whole terrible reality. I stood plumb in the middle of the window, leaning my knuckles on the sill, and gazed out into the world that seemed sadly inaccessible and so very far away. My eyes resisted the urge to return to the section of the sill where I am sure I can still see the Div. I knew I wasn't seeing it with my eyes but my conscience. Not even feeling Tris' arms circle my waist eased my upset.