A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie! Fair warning - she didn't like this chapter, and I know some of you won't, either. But please see it through to the end; it doesn't necessarily go where you expect, and I think it has some value even though it's emotionally very rough to get through. And just remember that everyone makes mistakes...

Chapter 42: Tris – Letter

I pace back and forth for the last hour before Tobias is due to arrive home. Panicked adrenaline is flowing through every part of me, and I can't figure out what to think or how to react. All I can do is picture the same image, over and over, as if it's burned into my brain.

Periodically, I stop to reread the letter, hoping to somehow find that it's not as bad as I thought. That I misread it the previous twenty times, or that there's some excuse for it. But every time, it just increases the sick feeling that's filling my insides like concrete.

I don't even know how old it is – how long this has been going on. The letter was folded up tightly, and judging by the wear on the paper, Tobias carried it in his pocket for a few days before it fell out and ended up on the floor, under the corner of the desk. Where I innocently found it while cleaning today.

Part of me is tempted to go talk to Christina about it, but even the thought of someone else knowing is embarrassing. Besides, it's not like she could tell me anything beyond what I've already seen with my own eyes, in black and white. That Tobias wrote a love letter to someone named Nita, filled with anguish over the fact that they're no longer together….

The more I pace, the more my mind dwells on who she is and what she's like. I picture her as tall and curvy – everything I always expected someone as handsome as Tobias to want. Someone who is everything I've never been. The image eats away at me, destroying all rational thought and leaving me mired in the horror of the two of them together.

Maybe I should just pack my stuff and move into one of the other apartments. I could leave the letter on our bed as explanation, letting him know that I found out. And that we're over now.

But I can't do it. The masochist in me wants to hear him admit to it all. After everything we've been through together, I need that before I could ever start to move on. As if there's any way to truly do that.

I should have known when he told me again that he isn't ready for kids yet. When he started working longer hours, supposedly to finish a new faction. I should have suspected that something else was going on, but I was foolish enough to think that we loved each other too much for this to happen.

My heart hammers when I hear the footsteps coming down the hallway, toward our door. It'll be him, of course, and I have no idea how to face him right now, or how to talk about this. But as the doorknob turns, I wipe my cheeks one last time, determined not to let him see my tears, and I wait.

"Hi," he says softly as he enters our apartment and sees me standing there. His voice is sweet and relaxed, like he's happy to see me. It's impossible that he could sound so normal when he's just destroyed my entire world.

He walks up to me as he always does, leaning down as if to kiss me, but there is absolutely no way I can handle that. I back away quickly, knowing that my anger and outrage and grief show in my expression as I glare at him.

"What's wrong?" he asks instantly, looking alarmed. "What happened?"

For a second, I have no voice, but then I spit the words out viciously. "Maybe you should ask Nita."

He looks at me blankly. I've never thought of Tobias as being a good actor, but judging by how well he portrays complete ignorance and confusion at the moment, I guess I was wrong. Apparently, I was wrong about a lot of things with him.

"Who's Nita?" he asks.

"Don't," I snarl. "Don't deny it." His eyebrows furrow, and he seems to be thinking hard. But I don't want to hear whatever excuse he's going to try to give, so I add, "I found the letter."

He manages not to look like he's been caught in the act. "What letter?"

"Were there so many that you have to ask?" The anger is fierce.

"Tris," he begins uncertainly, stepping toward me and raising his hand in supplication. He freezes when I move sharply away from him.

He rocks back on his heels, upset obvious on his face, before he tries again. "Tris, please talk to me. What is going on?"

I scoff, looking away as the emotions overwhelm me. There's no way I want to look at him right now.

"You know damned well!"

"No," he states sternly, "I don't."

It's too much, and I'm heading for the door before I'm even aware that my feet have moved. He steps forward quickly, grabbing my arm to stop me. But I yank it away, turning to glare at him.

"Leave me the hell alone!"

His entire body goes rigid, and for a moment he just stands there, breathing heavily.

His voice has a strange edge when he finally finds it. "How about, just for a moment, you consider the possibility that I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." He scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. "And you give me some kind of explanation."

For a split second, I meet his eyes, and I'm stunned to see the hurt in them. How dare he act like he's the victim here?

"Fine," I grind out between my teeth. "I found the love letter that you wrote to Nita." The words are even harder to say than I expected, and I can't stop the tears from starting to slip down my face. "Is that enough explanation?"

His lips part as he stares at me, and he shakes his head in a quick motion. "Tris…." His voice is rough. "I don't even know anyone named Nita. And I sure as hell haven't written any love letters – to whoever she is, or to anyone else."

That's the last straw, and I can't help yelling my response. "Then why was it in our apartment, in your writing?"

He takes a half-step back, raising his hands in a defensive sort of movement. "I don't know how it got here," he begins slowly, "or why you think it's my writing, but I guarantee it is not. I haven't hand-written a letter since the last one I wrote to you, right after I returned Anna's ring. And I have never written a love letter to anyone except you."

It's another obvious lie, since I've never received a letter of any kind from him. Perhaps he realizes that, because he adds, "I didn't send them to you. I wrote them and then destroyed them."

His gaze drops to the floor, and he takes a deep breath as if he's trying to calm himself. "It's something we do in support…to help us put our feelings into words. We write to the people we wronged, and the ones who wronged us. We put it all in letter form, and then we destroy it as a way of trying to move on."

Despite how furious and hurt I am, something stirs inside me at the thought that he wrote to me repeatedly during our year apart.

A sudden realization crosses Tobias' face, and he glances quickly at the desk before looking at me again. "It's Dave's," he says abruptly, relief filling his expression. "From when he came here last week, in the middle of the night…whichever night that was. It must be his."

Tobias looks straight at me, imploring me to understand. And part of me tries. It really does.

Dave has only been Tobias' sponsee for a few weeks, and at this stage, he could be showing up at odd hours, seeking emergency help from his sponsor. I'm not aware of him coming by last week, but I might have slept through it. Maybe. And the letter is not complete, so it's not signed. It's not impossible for it to be Dave's.

"I made him empty his pockets," Tobias continues, "because he's from Dauntless. I assumed he had a knife or a gun, and he's still unstable enough to use them the wrong way. So, I had him dump everything on the desk." He steps over to it, placing his hands on the corner and adding, "Right here."

He looks back at me in desperate appeal, but I'm still torn. The spot he's indicating is near where I found the letter – if it fell to the floor. But if it's Tobias', he would know where he's been keeping it, so that doesn't do anything to clear him.

"He must have missed the letter when he picked everything up afterwards," Tobias adds, nodding as if he's stating a fact. As if there should be no doubt.

Unfortunately for him, that rubs me the wrong way.

"It's still your handwriting," I snarl. That's the one fact he can't change, as much as I wish he could.

"It is not," he insists, his mouth flattening in hurt and anger. "A lot of guys have similar handwriting. You're seeing what you expect to see, but that doesn't make it mine."

That's a low blow – acting as if I'm imagining things and being paranoid. It's not as if I've seen a lot of Tobias' writing, but I've seen enough to recognize it. It's his.

I cross my arms, giving him the most withering glare I'm capable of producing. He returns it just as fiercely.

I'm not sure how long we stand like that before Tobias finally speaks again. "Fine." His voice is cold. "You don't believe me. So, let's go talk to Dave. Maybe you'll listen to him."

It's not a solution, and the reason why comes out of my mouth without requiring any thought. "Yes, because he's going to tell a complete stranger the truth instead of defending his sponsor while you're standing right there?"

Tobias grits his teeth. "Do you have any suggestions, then, Tris? Other than to assume I'm guilty of something I haven't done?"

With that, we're back to glaring at each other. I know he's hoping I'll back down – that I'll assume he must be telling the truth or else he wouldn't be willing to let me talk to the person he's blaming. Logically, I know that.

But at the same time, some small part of me refuses to dismiss what he's saying. If there's even a remote chance that he really is innocent, I have to find out.

"I'll talk to him by myself," I mutter.

"No," Tobias says flatly. The response immediately raises my suspicions back to where they were, and I'm about to say that when he continues. "Dave is too dangerous at this stage in the program. You shouldn't be alone with him."

My mouth opens in protest, but again that tiny part stops me. There's something all too familiar about Tobias' expression – something that reaches me even through the haze of fury and betrayal filling my mind. He looks the way he did just before I left for Erudite, to surrender to Jeanine. Like he's terrified that I'll get hurt, or worse….

"What if Kevin goes with you?" he asks, his voice a bit desperate. It's a compromise, offering his sponsor's presence, and I can't think of a legitimate reason to object. That actually gives me pause, making me wonder again if maybe, just maybe, Tobias is telling the truth.

"Fine," I growl.

We don't talk on the way to Kevin's apartment, and we walk far enough apart to avoid any accidental contact. I don't look at him much, but on the few occasions when I do, I see him staring straight ahead, his face set in the stone mask that he wore during initiation.

He marches through the door of Erudite headquarters without pausing, and I try to do the same. I don't succeed, though. It's impossible to pass through this lobby without remembering the previous times I was here, and they're certainly not happy memories.

They get worse once we're walking the hallways, as I remember Peter escorting me to experiment after experiment that sucked away any remaining will I had to live. The longer we walk, the more my panic grows. I'm starting to hyperventilate even before I see the doorway.

My execution room.

I stop in the middle of the corridor, unable to look away as flashbacks of my worst moments in this building flood through me. They mix with all the upset that's already filling my stomach and mind, and the combination is immobilizing. My heart is racing faster than I think it ever has, and I can't seem to catch my breath as I stare at the door that represents it all.

Time has frozen, and sound seems to have disappeared with it. There's nothing except my pulse racing through every part of me, somehow keeping me alive and threatening to kill me at the same time.

Tobias moves in front of me, his mouth forming words that I can't hear. His image merges with ones from my memories, and I don't know if he's real or a simulation – and if I love him or hate him. I just know that this is all way too much.

He grabs my arm firmly, hauling me back the way we came, and I follow as if he's Peter, forcing me back to my cell. Instead, he takes me into a stairway and presses me against the wall, giving me something to lean on as he stands directly in front of me.

"Tris." His voice is stern, and I try to meet his gaze, but I'm too lost in nightmare images. "Tris, listen to me." His hand cups my chin and lifts it, forcing me to look at him. "You're safe. Do you understand me? You are not a prisoner. You are not being attacked. No one is going to hurt you."

But I don't believe him. That's impossible under the circumstances.

Still, he doesn't give up. Instead, he holds me by the shoulders, standing so I can't see anything except him, and he continues talking in his deep voice.

"The war with Erudite is over. Jeanine is dead. Caleb is okay now, and so are we. It's all right, Tris. You're safe. You're safe."

I breathe harshly, in and out, trying to focus on his words and on the cold from the wall sinking into me. But it's hard…so hard. And it doesn't help that there's fear in Tobias' voice. Fear and pain and concern. Slowly, they make their way through my own confusion, helping me remember why we're here.

It's like replacing one horror with another.

Fury washes through me again, and I shove Tobias away from me. "Don't touch me," I snap. He's lost that privilege.

For a second, he just stares, and then his mouth flattens into a line as the hurt returns to his eyes.

"Tris, I have never cheated on you. Ever." He glares at me. "You're hurting both of us for no reason."

"I guess we'll see" is all I can hiss.

For another moment, he just stands there, breathing hard, his hands fisted at his sides. And then he shakes his head and turns away. His entire posture radiates anger as he starts up the stairs.

"We'll take a different route there," he calls without looking back.

It's a long walk – probably a lot longer than the route we started to take earlier – but at least this way, we don't pass by anything that makes me panic again. Well, no more than I have been for the last few hours, anyway.

Tobias finally stops in the middle of a hallway that looks like any other. He gestures me toward a door with a firm hand movement, not meeting my gaze.

"I'll wait out here," he snarls, "so I don't bias Kevin into believing me." I've rarely heard him this hostile.

Nodding stiffly, I step toward the door, raising my hand to knock. Tobias speaks again before I complete the motion. "Tell him about the letter. He needs to prepare for Dave's reaction."

It's hard not to snap back, but something about his tone stops me, as it did earlier. And yet again, that little part of my brain reminds me that if Tobias is telling the truth – however unlikely that might be – then Dave is unstable and unpredictable and might not like that I read his letter. I can't let Kevin head into that blindly.

"Fine," I say resignedly. "Come in with me, so you can make sure I don't leave out anything he needs to know."

My tone is sharp again as I add, "But otherwise, let me do the talking."

Tobias shrugs, his expression cold as he raises his own hand and knocks loudly.

When Kevin answers the door, Tobias brushes right past both of us, walking quickly through the apartment and into the kitchen that I can make out behind the living room. Kevin watches his back for a moment before turning to me, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Come in, Tris," he says uncertainly.

It's more than a little awkward as I sink into the deep couch while Kevin takes the large chair across from me. His gaze rests on me, waiting for an explanation that I absolutely don't want to provide.

Finally, I slip the folded letter out of my pocket and hand it to him. He accepts it cautiously, opening it and reading its contents carefully. His eyebrows draw together, and his lips purse the further he gets, and he sits there quietly after his eyes stop moving, apparently thinking about the words.

"I found that in our apartment," I say stiffly. "It's in Tobias' writing."

"It is not," Tobias snaps from the kitchen.

Kevin glances toward him, while I glare at him angrily. He's trying to influence his sponsor's opinion before he can even form one.

Kevin gives a long sigh before fixing his gaze solidly on me. "Well, if you wanted a handwriting analysis, I assume you'd go to your brother or to Cara, since you know them both a lot better than me. Which means you're presumably here for a second opinion about whether this sounds like Tobias?"

I'm about to tell him the real reason we're here when it occurs to me that I'd rather hear what he has to say. So, I let him continue.

His expression is serious. "Honestly, it doesn't seem like something he'd write, even disregarding who it's addressed to." He scans part of the letter again. "It's pretty typical stuff for someone in support. Half the group might have written it. But even at his worst, Tobias didn't sound like this – he's always tended to blame himself more than this shows."

Kevin sits forward a little, making sure he has my attention as he adds, "And I've got to tell you…I can't imagine him cheating on you." I don't know if the words make me feel better or worse, since I can't make myself believe them, but I do feel them all the way through my gut.

"I've seen a lot of shit in my life," he mutters, "and done plenty of it, too. So, I know this type of thing happens. But for what it's worth, Tobias just doesn't seem the type." He shakes his head. "So, I'd like to hear his side of things."

I half-expect Tobias to speak up, but he doesn't. And when I glance in his direction, I see him staring at me, seeming to hold his breath as he waits for my answer.

The words catch in my throat as I force them out. "He said that Dave must have left it there. That's his new sponsee."

"I know." Kevin's gaze returns to the letter, and he re-reads part of it. "It could be his, but I can't honestly say I know him well enough to judge." His eyes move to the top, to the salutation. "I don't recognize the name, either, but that doesn't mean much. Dave is Dauntless, so he has plenty of exes."

He hands the letter back to me before leaning back, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Clearly, you're having trouble accepting this. So, I'm guessing that you want to go talk to Dave, but your husband doesn't want you going alone?" He raises an eyebrow, asking for confirmation, and I nod rigidly, trying not to think about the term "husband."

"Okay." He stands up. "All you had to do was ask."

Tobias leads us to Dave's apartment in silence, refusing to make eye contact with either of us. Kevin tries to communicate with him only once, on the train. He reaches out to pat his friend on the shoulder, but Tobias shies away sharply, and his sponsor leaves him alone after that. Kevin does give me an accusatory look, though, as if he blames me for this whole situation.

The longer the trip takes, the more that same part deep inside me wonders if he's right. I just don't know anymore – about anything. I've always trusted my gut, but at the moment it's too twisted with anguish to know what's real and what's not.

It doesn't help to walk the dark, cold hallways of Dauntless again. Tobias is everywhere here, in everything I see, and I don't want that reminder. It makes the pain even worse.

I'm glad when he finally stops in the middle of a long corridor, standing to the side and pointing. "That one," he says coldly. His mouth in a flat line, he finally looks at Kevin enough to address him. "Don't let Dave hurt her."

"You know I won't," Kevin reassures him firmly.

Before I can react, Tobias' gaze turns to me, and I'm startled to see the red around his eyes. Was he crying on the train?

"I'll be at the practice range, shooting, when you figure out I'm not a lying scumbag." The words tear unexpectedly at my heart, and as he turns on his heel and walks away, I'm filled with a sudden urge to believe him. To say that it's all okay, and that we'll get past this no matter what….

But I don't know if that's true. So, instead I just stare after him.

I'm startled when Kevin takes hold of my upper arm. "Come on," he says almost gently, turning me to face the door again. "Let's get this over with, or else you'll always have doubts." And he's right. I need a clear, undeniable answer, no matter what it is.

So, I wait as Kevin knocks loudly, twice, and as the door finally opens.

It's immediately obvious why Tobias didn't want me coming here alone. Dave is large – more than twice my weight, heavily muscled, and as tall as Tobias. He's also clearly drunk, moving with a wild energy that screams of potential violence. As if that's not bad enough, he's carrying a handgun that he waves at us much too casually for comfort.

"Give me that," Kevin snaps, taking the gun in an authoritative manner before Dave can process our presence enough to object. It's a smart move.

"What are you doing here?" Dave demands, his eyes moving between us in confusion.

"Random spot check," Kevin answers crisply, lying far more easily than I would have expected. "You're not supposed to be drinking at this stage in the program, so, we're going to have an impromptu meeting."

"Wha…" Dave sputters, looking guiltily at a bottle that's sitting on a small end-table. "I didn't know we had random checks."

"They're more effective when people don't know about them," Kevin says smoothly before walking to the end-table, picking up the bottle, and calmly emptying it into the sink in the small kitchenette.

"By the way, this is Tris. She's Tobias' wife."

Dave stares at me. "Yeah, I recognized her. Everyone knows Tris." It's a strange reminder of the role I've played in this city's survival.

"Not sure what you're doing here, though," Dave adds after a second.

I hesitate, not entirely sure I want to say this, but Kevin nods as he makes his way over to us again, standing nearby in what I recognize to be a ready stance. If Dave tries anything, he's prepared to act.

Swallowing, I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded piece of paper. "I found this when I was cleaning my apartment. Tobias thought it might be yours."

Dave takes it from my extended hand, looking at it curiously as he unfolds it with clumsy, drunk fingers. His face goes rigid when he sees what's inside.

"What the hell?" he asks, clearly startled and upset. "How did you get this?" His eyes snap to mine, suddenly far more alert than they were. "Is my fucking sponsor reading my stuff?"

His voice rises to a yell as he adds, "Is he showing it to you?!" He waves the letter in my face, looking furious now as he snarls, "Did you read this?"

It's difficult to know how to respond, and I back away instinctively, not answering. Kevin, on the other hand, reacts immediately. Stepping between us, he grabs Dave's wrists in controlling locks.

The letter flutters to the floor as Kevin snaps, "Enough!" His voice is impossible to disobey. "You are not going to attack your sponsor's wife!" I've never heard him speak with that type of authority, but I suppose he mastered it over decades of helping with the support group.

Dave's eyes move between us, anger distorting his appearance, before he slumps in defeat.

"Those are supposed to be private," he mutters petulantly. "She isn't supposed to read them."

"She didn't know what it was," Kevin explains in a soothing tone as he pulls Dave toward the couch. "She thought it was something Tobias wrote."

Looking back at me, he says sternly, "I'll see you later, Tris," before he turns his full attention to Dave.

I hesitate, uncertain if I should just leave Kevin to this mess after I'm the one who dragged him here, but it's obvious that he prefers to handle this alone. And he's undoubtedly faced many situations like this over the years.

So, I force myself through the door and down hallway after hallway, my body moving automatically while my thoughts race wildly.

It was Dave's letter. Out of everything that's happened today, that's the one fact that stands out the most. Tobias was telling the truth.

Relief and guilt war within me, twisting through my insides in a way I haven't felt in a very long time. Not since I killed Will to end the simulation. Part of me knows this isn't nearly as extreme a betrayal as that day, but at the same time, I had far less of an excuse today.

No one was dying, or controlled by someone else. And yet I still put Tobias through all of this. For nothing. Why didn't I just trust him?

No matter how long I walk, I can't come up with an answer for that.

It's not until I'm standing outside the training room that I realize where my feet were carrying me. Apparently, my body knows where I need to be, even if my brain doesn't know how to have this conversation….

I'm not sure how long it takes me to open the door, but finally I do. The room looks just the way I remember it, and I get a strange sense of déjà vu as I watch Tobias shooting at a target. He stands solidly in place, the only figure in the room, as he fires another round through the heart of the man-shaped paper.

He doesn't look at me as I make my way slowly toward him. Theoretically, it's possible that he can't hear me over the gunfire, but I know better. He's too hurt and angry to want to see me. I don't blame him.

Stopping a few feet away, I close my eyes against the heat that's prickling behind them.

"I'm sorry, Tobias." It's not much more than a whisper, but I have no doubt he can hear it.

He's still staring at the target when I find the strength to open my eyes again. Slowly, he lowers the gun he's holding.

His voice is rough when he speaks. "I spent eight years thinking that my mother was dead. That whole time, I was sure that Marcus had killed her for having an affair."

The words sink deep into me, and I can barely breathe as he continues in the same strangled tone. "Even after I learned she was alive, I still thought that she'd left me to be with him. With whoever the 'other man' was."

He finally turns to face me, and my heart misses a beat at the pain in his expression.

"When I say that I would never cheat on you, I mean it. I could never even consider it after that." He swallows hard. "Frankly, I'd be much more likely to hit you again, and you know what kind of lengths I've gone to to make sure that never happens."

For another long moment, he holds my gaze, and the intensity renders me utterly unable to speak as what he said strikes home. We both have our vulnerable spots, and I hit one of his worst ones today – hard. When he didn't deserve it at all.

He doesn't say anything else, instead turning back to the target, raising his weapon, and firing again. I can't seem to get anything out through the tightness in my chest, so I stand in silence, watching him shoot bullet after bullet through the same hole in his target. Right through its heart.

My body finally moves on its own, finding its way to collect a gun and load it as if that's the only thing it knows how to do in this room. I stand a couple of targets away from Tobias, shooting at a traditional set of circles, trying to hit the bull's eye the way I did in training so long ago.

But it does nothing to clear my thoughts. If anything, it makes them worse.

Tobias taught me how to shoot. And he taught me again after I lost the ability – or the nerve. As I hold the gun now, I picture every way that changed my life, in excruciating detail, lingering on how Caleb would be dead if it weren't for Tobias.

I don't notice that there are tears streaming down my face until they blur my vision too much to aim. Staggering over to the table, I drop the gun on it and grab the edges in clenched hands, holding myself upright as the grief and guilt take over. As everything I've done today comes to a head.

How could I have treated Tobias that way? He's never done anything to earn that kind of distrust, but I automatically assumed he was guilty the moment there was a shred of evidence to make me worry.

Every part of me wants so much to be able to go back four hours and give myself a good, hard shake. To force me past my fears and insecurities enough to see the truth. But instead I'm stuck with the consequences of my mistake….

I don't even know if it's possible to fix this.

It doesn't register that the shooting has stopped until I hear the clank of Tobias' gun dropping onto the table next to mine. Firm hands grasp my shoulders, turning me toward him before he pulls me tightly against his chest.

My face presses into him, automatically seeking out his heartbeat as his hands slide down my back, holding me close. And I do something I almost never do – I sob into his shirt as I clutch at him desperately, wanting to feel his presence against every part of me.

He buries his face in my hair, his frame shaking, and I realize that he's crying, too. That's even rarer, and it makes me weep harder.

"I'm sorry, Tobias," I choke out. "I'm so, so sorry."

He strokes my hair, soothing me despite everything I've done to him, as I repeat the words over and over.

"I should have trusted you," I manage to add after an eternity of the same phrase. I'm rocking back and forth in agitation now, but neither of us loosens our grip. "I should have known you wouldn't do that."

"It's just…." A hiccup interrupts the sentence, and I try again. "When I read it, I formed this image in my head. Of you and…her." Tobias' body stiffens against me. "And I couldn't get it out. No matter what you said, or how much sense it made, I just couldn't erase that image. And I couldn't think past it."

There's a shift in Tobias' breathing. Whether for good or bad, I have no idea.

It's close to a minute before he speaks, his throat tight. "I can kind of understand that." He runs his hand down my hair again, gently. "It took me a…very long time to stop thinking about Uriah kissing you." His voice is quiet. "An embarrassingly long time."

A strangled sound comes out of me. It might be a laugh, but I can't really tell.

Our red eyes meet as he gives me a sad half-smile. "I don't want to be mad anymore," he says softly. There are too many emotions wrapped up in that sentence for me to process anything except relief.

He kisses the top of my head, his breath warm on my forehead. "Besides, you've forgiven me for worse things than a false accusation. So, I guess I owe you this one."

It's a peace offering, and I know I should just accept it. But somehow I can't.

Shaking my head, I say, "That's not how it works, Tobias. I forgave you – that means I can't hold it over you anymore." I pull back enough to meet his gaze. "You don't owe me anything."

For a second, he stares at me, his mouth opening a little as he absorbs that. He looks deeply moved.

His fingers caress my cheek lightly. "Then, I'll just have to forgive you, too," he whispers.

A sharp pain presses out from my chest, as if it can't contain the swell of feelings that go with his words.

"I love you, Tobias. So much."

The hint of a smile touches his lips before he brings them to mine. It's a long, tender kiss that speaks of hope and faith and a future that's somehow been saved from the damage I inflicted today.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, dropping his forehead against mine. It's impossible to say how long we stand together that way, before we eventually move, cleaning the room by some unspoken agreement. After two years as an instructor in this faction, I suppose the habit is too ingrained in Tobias for him to do anything else.

He leans close to me as we're picking up the bullet casings, his fingers brushing mine gently. "You know," he whispers into my ear, "Zeke is always talking about how good make-up sex is."

I look up quickly, feeling the redness in my cheeks. But any embarrassment disappears when I stare into his deep blue eyes. "Christina says the same thing." I shift so I'm even closer to him, our breaths sharing the same air. "I think we should find out if they're right."

A grin slips over his face, and I can almost hear his heart rate increase. "How quickly do you think we can get home?" he asks.

But a mischievous impulse goes through me as I glance around the room. Biting my lip, I say, "That door has a lock, Tobias. If you know where the key is…."

It takes him a split second to understand, and then his eyes widen as he stops breathing for a moment. "I do," he finally whispers.

It's a nice choice of words.

A/N: It's okay if you didn't like this chapter, but maybe you still liked parts of it? Also, out of curiosity, did you believe Tobias was guilty at first? If so, when did you realize he wasn't?

By the way, the next few chapters are much friendlier, so please hang in there. There's good stuff coming! :-)