I don't own Divergent.
Zeke's mother flicks his ear again. He hides a smile. Then, there's a pounding at the door.
Dang, I think. Twice in two dinners? But I excuse myself to get the door anyway. I open it onto….Four. But he's barely able to stand. His shirt's been ripped to shreds and there are lash marks everywhere I can see. I rush out and put an arm around him to help him stand.
"URIAH!" I shout. "ZEKE! DAD!"
All three come running. My father coughs and helps me to get him in the house. Uriah and Zeke stare, open-mouthed, at him.
"Help Beatrice, idiots," my father snaps. That snaps Zeke and Uriah out of their shock and they help my father and me carry his dead weight into the house. Zeke and Uriah's parents watch in horror as we carry him upstairs. I let Uriah take my place and get an old sheet to lay on the bed in the guest room. I strip the bed of the comforter and lay the sheet over it. My dad and the boys lay him on it, on his stomach. I know it's not much better than if he were on his back, because there are so many marks, but it's slightly better. I silently take inventory of the cuts I've seen and turn to my dad and the boys.
"I think we need to take him to the hospital," I say grimly. "I can take him, Dad, if I can use your car."
"I'll go with you," Zeke tells me firmly. "I need to be there, and I can help you with getting him in and out of the car."
My father looks between the three of us and nods, tossing me his car keys. "Should we let him rest here for a few minutes or go straightaway?"
"Go," I say forcefully. So Zeke and I boost him up again. My dad and Uriah tie the old sheet around him like a makeshift bandage and follow us down the stairs.
"Zeke," their mother says. "What happened to Four?"
Zeke shakes his head. "I have no idea, Mom. But Tris and her dad know."
Their mother looks at me. "Tris?"
"It's not right of me to tell," I answer, not meeting their eyes. My father nods. Zeke and I get him in the car, me holding him in place and Zeke driving. He makes it to the hospital in record time, not really following the lights. Zeke and I carry him in, and immediately two nurses help us. I'm sure we're a sight - two blood-covered people escorting an unconscious guy wrapped in a bedsheet - but the nurses just help us get him on a gurney and calmly escort us and him to a room. After only a minute, a doctor comes in with a nurse carrying a box of what I assume are medical supplies.
The doctor and nurse unwrap the bedsheet and see all the bruises and scars and cuts. The doctor's face slumps. "What happened?" he asks, sounding like he already knows.
I look between Zeke and Four, and Zeke excuses himself. The doctor turns to me. "Obviously you know."
"His father," I say quietly. "I don't know exactly what happened tonight, but I can bet money it was Marcus Eaton. Zeke, his brother Uriah, their parents, my father and I were having dinner and Four pounded on the door. He collapsed on me and I yelled for help. Then we came here. This has happened before….I thought I got Marcus to stop. But when he got back from that stupid business trip, it got worse!" A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly.
The doctor puts a hand on my shoulder. "This is Four Eaton? Marcus Eaton's son?" I nod slowly, and he continues. "Four has been here many times. Broken arm, concussion, four broken fingers, dislocated elbow, and so many more. I've known that a kid couldn't be that klutzy, but To-Four wouldn't fess up. Wouldn't shed light on his father. Believe me when I say this is not your fault."
"Can I stay here with him while you guys patch him up?" I request quietly.
The nurse starts to speak, but the doctor puts a hand up. "Yes. Yes, just sit over there. Hold his hand, will you? Some of this will hurt."
I nod and take Four's hand. I lean over and whisper to him. "Four, you're in the hospital. Marcus beat you until you fainted and then Zeke and I brought you here. Some of what they're going to do will hurt, okay? But I'll be here. I'm going to hold your hand the entire time."
Four turns his head and looks at me woozily. "No, Tris, I'm okay. I don't need to be here."
"Yes, Four, you do," the doctor corrects him.
"Doctor Hodgins?" Four mutters, still out of it. "Is it bad?"
He sighs. "Yes, Four, it's bad. I'm going to have to stitch a lot of these."
"Doctor Hodgins?" I ask. "Like, Jack's uncle?"
He nods. "Yes, Bea. Let's socialize later, though." Then he and the nurse get to work on Four's back and I whisper comforting things to Four, whose face is contorted in pain. They've attached an IV that's supposedly pumping him full of pain meds, but they don't seem to be working. I glance away from Four's ear for a second and see that the doctor and nurse are removing his destroyed slacks. Fortunately, they leave his boxers on. I look at his legs. It's a wonder he made it to my door - they're covered in lash marks. I turn my attention back to his head and touch his face softly. There are a few bruises on his face, and a mark where the belt buckle must have hit him. I gently run my fingers through his hair, frowning when I feel a bloody lump.
"Doctor Hodgins," I say quietly. "There's a cut on Four's head. And a lump. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a concussion."
The doctor looks up from stitching a cut and hands the needle to the nurse, who silently finishes the stitches. He walks over the where I'm standing and examines the cut.
"Not deep enough for stitches," he decides. "And we'll test him for a concussion later. But, right now at least, we need to finish stitching and bandaging these cuts. Beatrice, will you help? Pull on gloves and smear the cuts with that tube of Neosporin over there. We've already cleaned all of them, and the nurse and I can do the bandages."
I quickly scrub my hands and pull on the gloves. I swab it on all of his cuts, wincing when he winces. I quickly finish his back and move on to his legs. The doctor and nurse bandage him and I help them to turn him over. He cries out slightly and I rush to his head. I take his hand again and comfort him as best I can. I kiss an untouched part of Four's head and go back to my Neosporin-ing his cuts. We finish, and the doctor and nurse add some more bandages that I don't question. The doctor then says something quietly to the nurse and she nods, leaving.
"What?" I ask wearily.