Author's note: Ok, so I managed to write one short chapter this week, though I didn't think I would have the time. Chapter eight will come next week. I hope you guys are still enjoying it! Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Seven

Four's POV:

Over the next two weeks we witness Tris's awakening. Each day she is conscious longer and longer. Her speech becomes clearer, her voice stronger, her mind sharper. In the beginning she is sometimes confused and doesn't know where she is or what's happened. At these moments I see a fear I had never seen in her before. She never cries, she never complains, she just grows quiet and seems to wait until the moment passes. We help her as best we can. Sometimes that means talking gently to her, telling her where she is, what's going on. Sometimes it just means holding her hand or stroking her head. Dr. Cooke spends a lot of time with her and he helps us to understand what she needs. And what she needs is time.

The moments of confusion come less frequently as the days pass. Tris grows more confident in her own mind and trusts her thoughts more and more. I'm fascinated by her determination and her strength. Watching her is like witnessing a flower bloom or a butterfly spread it wings for the first time. I can see her struggle with her own mind and body, but somehow she does so without despairing. There is a fear in her now, but she fights it as bravely as she fought during the war. I feel like I am falling in love with her more with each passing day. It's silly because the faction system now seems so pointless, but I can't help thinking: she has never been more Dauntless.

Two weeks after Tris's first awakening, Dr. Cooke determines she is no longer in danger of slipping back into the coma and she is moved out of the intensive care unit. It is decided I will finally stop sleeping in my little closet in the hospital so I'm given a room in the hotel a few floors above the "ballroom" where we spent our first days here. Zeke and Caleb also have rooms in the same hall. I'm not quite thrown out of the hospital, but I get the feeling I'll be making another "deal" with Dr. Cooke soon if I don't leave. So I pack my limited possessions in the black duffle bag Zeke brought me so long ago. I look around the tiny room. It's a strange feeling. I've spent a month living in this hospital, my life revolving only around Tris. The nurses have been bringing me food, they've been washing my clothes, Zeke and Christina have been bringing me anything else I might need. The only thing I have done outside of the hospital for the past month is go on my daily walks and train for an hour a day. Only now that this phase is ending do I truly become aware how much my life has been about Tris. I don't know what to think of it. I love her, but I don't know how healthy this condition is. I remember the feeling I had in the beginning, just after she entered the coma, of my life being tethered to hers. I shake my head. Eventually I will work my way through this, but maybe I too need time. I leave my makeshift living space in the hope I will never have to enter it again.

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Tris's POV:

Each step of this process has been difficult in its own way. Being shot now seems like the easiest part. That was painful, but at least it was fast and I knew what I was doing and why. The coma was a nightmare. First I lived in pain and darkness, then I was awake but still not awake and couldn't communicate with the world or see anything. I shudder at the thought. And waking up also wasn't easy. It came in fits; it seemed that all I had in that time was my determination to make it. Sometimes I was just so tired of trying I would wish it could all finally end. But it didn't end. And here I am now. It was torture, but I made it through. I'm alive.

Having Tobias and Christina and Caleb and other people that care about me has been so important. I don't think I could have made it this far without them. They constantly encourage me, always give me hope and love. I remember that feeling I had that love and joy were my beacons of light in the darkness surrounding me. It still feels that way.

I can almost remember everything now, although some parts are still fuzzy and I still get bits and pieces confused. My mind seems to be almost fully returned. Unfortunately I cannot say the same about my body. Pain is my constant companion. They give me pain medication but it's never strong enough and I'm afraid of becoming dependent. The doctors will eventually have to wean me off of it - I'm looking forward to that day and dreading it all at once. There is still a bullet in my right leg, the movement of my left arm is limited. My wounds are still healing, so they're puffy and sore. I feel like I have scars everywhere: my back, my stomach, my throat from the tracheostomy. And my motor skills are still impaired because of the coma. I walked for the first time three days ago. I was pretty wobbly and only made it a few feet, but I have walked more since and seem to be getting better at it. Today I have been practicing writing. I'm definitely getting better at that, though I think my handwriting will never look the same. My left hand twitches sometimes.

I sigh. I shouldn't be looking at it this way. Dr. Cooke always tells me to see what I have achieved and not to look at what hasn't yet been achieved. He's right. I know he's right. Usually I'm pretty good at it, too, but sometimes I look at myself more closely and it just feels like there is such a long way to go.

Tobias has gone to move his things into his new room in the compound. They say I'll get a room there too when I'm released from the hospital but for now they've moved me into a new room in the hospital. I guess I should be happy I've finally left intensive care. Dr. Cooke says I can start with physical therapy now and that I should progress very quickly. I hope he's right.

It's strange to feel helpless inside your own body. I was never the most coordinated person, but this experience has made me realize how reliable my body actually was all my life. Especially after Dauntless training. Now I feel like a puppet, like my brain is pulling the strings and then my body hesitantly obeys. Everything feels jerky and strange, whereas before it was easy and smooth. I'm smaller and paler than ever. I should be thankful that I even have the abilities I do have – the doctors say some coma patients have to learn everything again, to write, walk, talk, eat… I can basically do everything, though not as well as I used to, and my body is still healing, so I know it should get better with time, but it's still just a hard thing to get used to. Usually I try not to think about it.

I look around my room. I realize I'm searching for some distraction from my own thoughts. It's my first day officially back and I don't want to spend it like this, moping about. I wonder what Christina is doing. She told me she'd be looking into job possibilities today. I wonder if she'll go into security like Amar and George. I wonder if she's busy now. Just as I am about to pick up my mobile phone - which Matthew brought me two days ago - from my bedside table, I see her head pop in my door.

"Christina!" I say brightly. She smiles at me, walks over and gives me a hug. I awkwardly hug her back without lifting my left arm properly and trying not to feel weird about it. Her smile widens.

"Once a Stiff, always a Stiff," she says and drops herself into the chair next to my bed. I redden.

"Yeah, something like that," I say.

"So, how's your first day back among the living?" She asks in a dramatic voice, that big smile still on her face. Her words hit too close to home and that thought makes me shudder. Her smile falters. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that…" she mutters.

I can't help but laugh at the situation. "Once a Candor, always a Candor?" I ask.

"Yeah, something like that…" Christina says sullenly. I laugh again.

"It's good to be out of there, I guess. Good to know I'm healthy enough to be out of there, that there's no big danger I'll slip out of consciousness again." I try to be honest without going into too much detail.

Christina nods. "Yeah, that's how we all feel, Tris. We're so glad you're back and that you're going to be fine."

Going to be fine, I think. It doesn't feel that way right now. My hand twitches and I place my other hand on top of it so it won't be so obvious. Christina sees it, though. Her Candor-trained eye seems to see something in my face, too. She peers at me. "Tris, are you sure you're ok? You can talk to me, you know."

I sigh. "I know. It's just that I feel so ungrateful. I should be thankful I'm as well as I am, not complaining."

Christina snorts. "Tris, I complain when I break a nail! Of course you can complain a little about this!"

I laugh a little. "Yeah…" She just continues looking at me patiently, like she knows I will say something soon. So I do. "It's just… I feel so… broken. I feel like I'm in a stranger's body. Nothing works like it used to. And I know everyone says it takes time, and I'll get better soon, but I wonder…" I bite my lip.

"Are you afraid you might not get completely better? Like you'll never be the same?" she asks softly. I nod.

She seems to be thinking about this. "Well, then we'll just have to make sure you do."

"Do what?"

"Get better," she replies simply.

I stare at her for a while. "That seems like something very Dauntless to say," I finally answer.

Christina smiles proudly at me.