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Chapter 17

I am on my way back from the control room when I see Lauren. I had fallen asleep there last night I was determined to keep an eye on Tris, just in case Peter tried anything stupid. Her face is ashen and I know something bad has happened. I open my mouth to ask her, but before I get a word out she tells me.

"One of the transfers jumped last night. They found him in the Chasm this morning. It was Al."

I had guessed the name before she told me. I knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself after what he did to Tris. I had heard him telling the others to stop the other night as I ran up to them.

"When is the funeral?" I ask.

"In a few hours. The initiates already know, Tris and Christina were there when they pulled him out. I'm sure they told everyone by now." She finishes.

"Thanks." I say and continue walking. I need to go to my apartment and shower. I need to at least appear that I care, even though I don't. All I can think about is Tris. She will blame herself for this and it's not her fault. This would have happened eventually. She us not responsible for his choices.

When I am dressed, I head down to the pit. It is a chaos of drunk dauntless. I think about my mothers funeral in Abnegation, how somber and quiet it was. People gently giving me their respects over her passing, my father acting stricken with grief as if he cared. I get to the floor and start looking for Tris. She is standing with some of the others. I look at her face trying to decipher her reactions. Christina is crying and Will has his arm wrapped around her. Uriah is standing on the other side of Will sipping from a brown bottle. Tris is on the other side of Christina. She is staring blankly into space. She doesn't look sad or angry, she looks like she doesn't feel anything at all. I recognize this look. It was plastered on my face for days after my mother died. She is in shock.

Eric begins his speech and Tris's face changes from blank to angry. I feel the same way, knowing what he did to her. I don't want hear how brave Al was either, because it is a damn lie and no one will ever know because it's not right to speak ill of the dead. The Dauntless crowd starts to chant Al's name and I see her turn and walk away from the others. She is shaking her head and her hands are balled into fists. I am on the other side of the pit and I press my way through the crowd trying to get to her. I see her head up to one of the upper levels and disappear down a hallway. I know where she is going. Its her quiet place. I should probably tell her that it is right under one of the main security cameras. She may not like her most private moments being seen by everyone in the control room.

I see her at the end of the hallway, the blue light from the security camera illuminating her form. She is shaking her head and pacing back and forth slightly. I can see her lips move, silently talking it over in her mind. I walk up to her quietly and when I am close enough that I can stop her if she tries to walk away I say her name.

"Tris."

She jumps in surprise and turns around. For a moment, I thought she was going to take a swing at me, but she relaxes as soon as she sees its me.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be paying your respects?" She makes a face like the words taste bitter in her mouth.

"Shouldn't you?" I respond, taking a step towards her. Her eyes meet mine and I feel a jolt of electricity go through me.

"Can't pay respect when you don't have any," she says tersely, an angry look on her face. The look changes form anger to guilt almost as soon as the words have left her mouth. "I didn't mean that." she says quietly.

I give her a look to let her know I don't believe her. But I don't chastise her for her remark. I feel the exact same way she does. Why pretend to respect a person that doesn't deserve it. She looks back at me reading the look on my face and begins to blush.

"This is ridiculous! He throws himself off a ledge and Eric's calling it brave? Eric who tried to have you throw knives at Al's head?" She pauses and makes a face like she is going to be sick. "He wasn't brave! He was depressed and a coward and he almost killed me! Is that the kind of thing we respect here?" She has started to yell. I know she needs to get it out, but underneath a security camera in the middle of the hallway is not the best place for her to vent.

"What do you want them to do? Condemn him? Al's already dead. He cant hear it and its too late." I say, trying to calm her down. Her eyes flash angry at me and I know it didn't work. I have to get her away from here. She isn't thinking, to lost in her own rage to care what danger she is putting herself in. She is becoming reckless.

"Its not about Al, "" her words starting to come fast, in an all out rant. "Its about everyone watching! Everyone who now sees hurling themselves into the chasm as a viable option. I mean, why not do it if everyone call you a hero afterward? Why not do it if everyone will remember your name? Its...I can't...This would never have happened in Abnegation! None of it! Never. This place is warped him and ruined him, and I don't are if saying that makes me a Stiff, I don't care, I don't care!"

She is shaking and tears are starting to flow down her face. She wipes them away furiously. Trying to stop them. I look to the security camera above the drinking fountain and pray that no one is watching.

"Careful, Tris," I say. My eyes never leaving the camera.

"Is that all you can say?" That I should be careful? That's it?" she scowls at me, her words harsh.

"You're as bad as the Candor, you know that?" I grab her arm and drag her away from the drinking fountain. She struggles to free herself and I tighten my grip. I stop a few feet away knowing we are out of the camera's range. I lean in closer to her, my face only inches form hers I set both hands on her shoulders and squeeze them hard, my fingers digging in to her arms.

"I'm not going to say this again, so listen carefully. They are watching you. You, in particular." I say, a warning tone in my voice.

"Let go of me," she says weakly.

I realize how hard I am squeezing her and my fingers instantly spring apart. She rubs her shoulder and I know I was hurting her. I feel guilty for a moment. I wasn't trying to hurt her. I am scared for her. I straighten myself trying to regain my composure. She looks a little frightened of me. But she doesn't back away. Instead she gets that questioning look in her eyes.

"Are they watching you, too?" she says, so quietly I wouldn't be able to hear me if I wasn't inches from her.

"I keep trying to help you," I say, exhausted by her inability to catch on, "but you refuse to be helped."

"Oh, right. Your help," she says, sarcastically. "Stabbing my ear with a knife and taunting me and yelling at me more than you yell at anyone else, it sure is helpful."

Is that what she thinks I have been doing? Taunting her, picking on her? My anger begins to boil, frustration and anxiety mix in and I come back at her. "Taunting you? You mean when I threw the knives? I wasn't taunting you. I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else would have to take your place."

She cups the back of her neck with her hand and looks down at the ground. I see the realization that I am right spread over her. She looks up at me, but I can see she is no longer angry.

"Why?" she says.

"Because you're from Abnegation," I say. "and it's when you're acting selflessly that you are at your bravest. If I were you , I would do a better job of pretending that selfless impulse is going away, because if the wrong people discover it" I pause, I don't want to think about what will happen if the wrong people discover it. "Let's just say, it won't be good for you."

She looks scared, her words come out desperate, "Why? why do they care about my intentions?"

She really doesn't get it. She hasn't been trying to be hard headed or stubborn, she really is this naive. How could I have not seen it before. She has never been in danger in her whole life. I am so stupid. I should have handled this differently, but it is too late now.

"Intentions are the only thing they care about. They try to make you think they care about what you do, but they don't. They don't want you to act a certain way. They want you to think a certain way. So you're easy to understand."

"Why? Why do they care about my intentions?" she looks at me, trying to take in what I am telling her.

"So you won't pose a threat to them." I presses a hand to the wall next to her head and lean into it. I want so desperately to make the space between us as small as possible. She stares at my collarbone, the top of her head barely reaching my chin. How can someone so small, be so strong?

"I don't understand why they care what I think, as long as I'm acting how they want me to." she says.

"You're acting how they want you to now, but what happens when you don't? When your Abnegation wired brain tells you to do something else, something they don't want?"

"I might not need you to help me. Ever think about that?" she says. "I'm not weak, you know. I can do this on my own."

I shake my head, and the corners of my mouth turn up. She really doesn't see herself as strong, or she wouldn't feel the need to defend it to others all the time. She can't believe that I or anyone else would see her that way.

"You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong." I lean my face close to hers and wrap my fingers around her chin. My whole body tingles, like there is an electric current flowing between us. "My instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." I can see her body tense up, but she doesn't pull away. Her eyes flash at me, that spark waking me up. We are so close we are breathing the same air. I look down at the birds tattooed on her collarbone. She looks like one of those birds, so small, pressed against me. I trace my eyes up her neck and stop a moment at her lips, I want so badly to kiss her. I keep my eyes moving up, until they find hers. "But, I resist."

"Why..." she swallows hard and licks her lips "Why is that your first instinct?"

"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. Its fascinating." I run my hand down her jaw to her neck my thumb grazing her collarbone, tracing her tattoo. Her skin makes my fingers tingle, and I know that I can't pull away. "Sometimes I just...want to see it agin. Want to see you awake."

I feel her hands slip around my waist and my stomach instantly knots. She pulls herself into my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her fingers skim the muscles in my back. I reach forward and press her closer to me by the small of her back. I smooth her hair and she closes her eyes. A moment ago she looked scared of me, but now she seems like she feels totally safe in my arms. I love the feeling of her in my arms. I don't want to ever let her go.

"Should I be crying?" she says, her voice muffled by my shirt. I can feel her warm breath against my chest as she speaks and it makes my whole body tingle.

"You think I know anything about tears?" I say, quietly.

"If I had forgiven him," she says, "do you think he would be alive now?"

"I don't know," I reply. I press my hand to her cheek, and she turns her face into it, keeping her eyes closed.

"I feel like it's my fault."

"It isn't your fault," I say. I lean down and press my forehead to hers. I had never really thought about how much tall I am compared to her, the top of her head barely meeting my shoulders. I breath her in, closing my eyes. I want so badly to help her through this.

"But I should have. I should have forgiven him." she says, her voice filled with regret.

"Maybe. Maybe there's more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time." I say. It is an Abnegation teaching and I hope that it will comfort her. I know she will recognize it, it is something her farther used to lecture about at our weekly meetings. She frowns a little and I don't know what she is thinking. She pulls back from me and looks into my eyes.

"What faction did you come from, Four?"

"It doesn't matter. This is where I am now. Something you would do well to remember for yourself." It is an omission, not an outright lie. I want to tell her everything, but I can't, not here, not like this. I know how I am going to tell her, I just need it to be the right time. She has been through so much in the past two days, that I think information like that might be too much for her to handle. I look down at her, conflicted over not telling her. Lost in her eyes, I move forward and press my lips to her forehead. She closes her eyes, gently rubbing her hands up and down my back again. We stay that way for long time, my lips pressed against her skin, her hands on my waist. It is the first time I have felt whole, in a long time.