A/N: We're both back for another chapter! Don't forget to R&R!

****Tobias's POV****

I suppose I should have seen this coming, but I avoided it the best I could. Telling Tris about my parents wasn't really hard for me, and I was assured once she didn't give me pity or apologies or something else stupid like that. Now though, she was pushing her luck.

I love her, and I admit it to myself. I've loved her since I gave her her nickname so many years back, but I don't think she wants to hear that yet. Besides, as much as I love her, as much as I know she's the one, I'm afraid to marry her. What if ends up unhappy? What if I can't provide for her and our children? What if?

"Tris, you know I would do anything for you, but this?" I ask her.

"What?" she asks, genuinely hurt. I feel a pain in my chest. "You mean I can't come over and meet you parents?"

I sigh. She just doesn't understand. "I want you to be safe, and I don't think you would be there. My father… well, I told you about him. My mother is just a living shell of a person. They're not people you want to meet."

She crosses her arms and bites her lip. "Are you just ashamed of me?"

I gape at her. "What? Ashamed of you? No! I am ashamed of my parents!"

She flinches and I realize I just yelled at her. I pinch the bridge of my nose and mutter an apology under my breath. Why can't she just understand?

We sit in my Jeep, the sky still light for evening time, in her driveway. I was planning on dropping her off from our shopping excursion and leaving, but now she wants to meet my parents. I shouldn't have even brought up breakfast this morning; it only fueled her fire.

"Tris," I beg. "Please. If anything happened to you while you were there, I couldn't live with myself. And I don't want you seeing where I come from. You're better than that."

She shakes her head. "No, you don't understand. I lo- I like you Tobias. A lot. Anything connected to you, good or bad, I want to see. It doesn't matter if your parents aren't great; what matter is that they're your parents."

I sigh again. I know what I have to do to convince her. I get out, open her door, and walk up to ring her doorbell. Her mother answers the door, thankfully, instead of her brother.

"Hello, Mrs. Prior. Tris and I were just talking on our way home, and were wondering if she could come over to my place for supper?" I ask.

Her reaction is just what I had hoped. She gives a tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes throws Tris a look. "Oh, well, Tris honey, I was planning on making your favorite tonight! Hamburgers and french fries! For dessert I was thinking of making some cake, too."

She crosses her arms. "Thanks, mom, but I'd rather go to Tobias's."

Her mother now shoots me a look. We're both powerless against a determined Tris.

"But, sweetheart, it would be rude to just barge in on them. At least give them some warning…"

Tris shakes her head. Her mother, a bit maddened, nods her head. "Fine, go. But be home by eleven, and I mean it young lady."

I put my hand on the small of Tris's back and open my Jeep door for her. Before setting off, I text my parents to let them know we'll have guest. My father's reply isn't as full of explicatives as usual, so he must not have been drinking yet. My mom doesn't respond.

I stay silent on the ride there, fixed on staring at the road with my jaw clenched tight and my hands wrapped around the wheel so that my knuckles are white. Tris looks out the window to avoid me, but eventually turns to me. I ignore her.

"Tobias," she says softly. "I'm sorry I upset you. This just means a lot to me."

I don't respond yet.

After a few more minutes we are almost there. And after those few minutes pass in silent, we have arrived. My house looks average enough in the suburban area, but I know the skeletons hidden in its closets.

I move to get out, roughly putting the gear in park, when her hand rests on my bicep. I finally look over at her.

"We'll be fine," she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I pat her hair down.

"I know."

Inside, my father sits in his chair watching TV, and my mother is in the kitchen cooking. I can't believe it, she's actually cooking! She hasn't come downstairs except to get groceries for at least a month. I look to Tris, who is examining every detail of the front foyer and hall.

In the living room, I look to my dad, who has his usual pack of beer sitting by his chair, for him to drink as he pleases. He doesn't notice we've come in until I clear my throat.

"Tobias," he acknowledges, not looking at me.

I scowl at him. "This is Tris. Tris, this is my father, Marcus."

She smiles at him and shakes his hand. He glances her up and down before looking back at the TV. As if realizing she wasn't usually here, he looks back over with a start.

"Oh! Pleasure to meet you, Trip," he says.

For being a politician, he has little to no tact, even less so in his public relations.

"Tris," I correct him, which results in him waving me off. I take her hand again while we enter the kitchen, where my dark haired mother is putting a lasagna in the oven. She smiles at us and waves with her oven-mitt.

"Hello, you must be Tris. I'm Evelyn," she says politely.

Tris shakes her hand as well, and I realize that her handshakes have been awkward with both of my parents, just like mine are.

"Nice to meet you, Evelyn. The lasagna smells amazing!" she gushes.

My mother's dark eyes brighten. "Thank you! I found an old recipe book of my grandmother and decided to put it to good use! We don't get company too often."

"How long until it's done?" I ask her.

"About thirty minutes. You two could watch TV with your father," she sees my reaction and hastens to correct herself. "Or you could give her a tour of the house. Or even show her your room."

Tris straightens a bit, but goes unnoticed by my mom. We walk up the stairs and I show her the different rooms, including my dad's office. She seems interested in his line of work and we linger for longer in that room.

Finally we make it to my room. The wall is lined with some of my medals from various taekwondo tournaments, wrestling competitions and boxing matches. My car calendar, on the present month, some old Men's Muscle & Fitness magazines lie abandoned on the floor, and some shirts thrown on the floor are scattered throughout my room. My bed is unmade, and my dark comforter is strewn across the floor, which is hardwood. An old computer sits on my desk, along with a stereo. My alarm clock sits on the nightstand.

I can see Tris out of the corner of my eye engrossed with looking at everything, like she did in the front foyer. She's staring at the wall across from my bed, adjacent to my window. There's a large poster with the words "Fear God Alone" on it.

"Uh, you can just… take a seat somewhere…" I say awkwardly while rubbing the back of my head. I suddenly wish we were back in the office to save me from this.

She grabs the chair from my desk, a hard wooden one, and takes a seat. I sit on the floor with my back leaned against my bed, only to have one of the blankets fall over my head. Tris giggles while I fumble to get it off.

"Maybe you should actually make your bed," she says like I'm a child. I stick out my tongue at her in response, causing her to laugh again. I feel something in the pit of my stomach, but stamp it back down. We kissed once, but I want it to be her decision when we kiss again.

We hear the doorbell ring, which is weird because we never get visitors. I gesture for Tris to get up and we both go downstairs. We make it in time to see my dad open the door. Instead of some politician at the door, or salesman on the other side, it's Peter.

"I'm Four's friend," he's trying to explain.

My dad turns to me and I shake my head and make a fist in one hand, throwing it into my other hand.

My dad turns back to Peter and says, "Get the hell away from my house you little damn hooligan! Leave my property now and never come back. Never talk to my son or his girlfriend again or your head will be on my wall!" Peter starts to run away, only for my dad to throw the beer bottle he was holding, at Peter nailing him in the back.

"Thanks Mr. Eaton, that was amazing," Tris says, not knowing that is my dad's usual way of talking to people when he's drunk.

"Call me Marcus, girly," he says, already drunk for the night. It can only get worse from here. Before Tris can respond, I grab her shoulders and lead her upstairs. She doesn't protest, but I can tell she's confused.

Back in my room, I sit with my back against my bed again. She sits beside me.

"He's hammered, and you saw how violent he was with Peter. There's a good chance he could turn on us, too," I tell her quietly, staring at my hands in my lap.

She rubs my back with her hand as comfort, and we lean against each other. I can feel her breathing against me; I memorized it when I was hiding out in her chicken coop. I match my own to hers again and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She sits up slightly, still leaning against me.

"Tobias?" she asks, eyes wide. I nod in encouragement. "I thought you said you almost never see your mom anymore."

I pull her head into the crook of my neck. "I don't. My father must have gotten her up somehow today. She never talks to us, just sits in her room doing… I don't know what."

I can feel her hot breath flutter against my neck. "My mom didn't want me to come over tonight, because she knows about your family, right?"

"Yeah," I say, not knowing why she's bringing it up.

She looks at me with her gray-blue eyes and says, "Tobias, I don't care about your family. I care about you. I will love you either way." She moves so she's straddling my legs, and looking at me in my eyes. My heart is racing. She just said she loves me. She takes her hand and brushes it against my cheek. "Tobias, I love you," she says.

I give up on my vow of not initiating the kiss. I bring my head to hers and my lips hit hers. Her hands wrap around my neck, and mine to her waist. "I love you too Tris," I mutter in between breaths.

My door opens, and Tris and I both jump up, frightened. "Your mother said to come get you two for dinner," my dad says, "but if I knew you guys were passionately making out with intentions of attempting to make babies with sex, I wouldn't have opened the door."

Tris blushes deeply. She doesn't take my hand on the way down to the dining room, so I wrap my arm around her waist. I whisper in her ear, "Don't listen to him. You know we weren't going to do that."

At the table, we say a prayer, and begin passing the salad and lasagna around. Everyone is quiet at first, but then my father, beer in hand, decides to talk.

"You two gonna get married?" he asks Tris and I.

"Uh, dad, we met about three days ago," I reply.

"Thats not what your kissing with intentions of sex said," he slurs.

"And hon, you only have three more months," my mom interjects.

I grip Tris's hand under the table and squeeze it for reassurance. Hers is icy cold.

"I realize that, mother," I reply sharply, causing her to flinch.

"Don't talk to your mother that way!" my father bites out. My mom puts a hand on his arm to soothe him. That's when all hell breaks loose.

"Did you raise him to treat you that way?" he asks, then laughs. "Oh, no! I remember, you were hiding away from your own son the whole time!"

My mom slaps him in the face. Tris holds her breath along with me, waiting for this to play out. The minute my father moves to hit her back, I'm in between them. My arm receives the blow instead of her face, but it still hurts and will leave a bruise. Tris gasps almost inaudibly.

My mom screams and runs upstairs, crying and repeating something over and over to herself. Tris gets up and follows her in hopes of being consolation. My father tries to use this opportunity to hit me, but I block it. I don't hit him back, just avoid him. Finally though, I have to hit him in the face. Right as Tris walks in.

Our half-eaten dinner sits forgotten as I grab her arm a little too roughly and get her out of the house. She stays quiet when we reach the Jeep. I rest my head on the steering wheel for a few minutes while she sits with her knees to her chest. The time on the dash reads eight o'clock.

There's a knock on the window. I expect to see my father, but the figure across from me is even worse; it's Peter. I'm past the point of dealing with him. I'm infuriated, and he's going to pay for it. I shove the door open and slam it closed, causing the Jeep to shake and Tris to grip the handle of her door.

"What do you want?!" I yell.

He smirks. "Tris."

"Leave."

"Make me," he says, arms crossed and superior look on his face. Yep, he's dead.

"Do you really want that you son of a-," I start saying when Peter throws a jab at me. I quickly slide back and counter with my own jab, followed by a hook. As soon as Peter's hands are up protecting his face, I throw a roundhouse at his belly and he sucks in a deep breath, lowering his hands to protect his stomach from yet another kick. I then throw a jab at his face, followed by an uppercut that hits his jaw.

He throws a punch at me, and I perry it. Followed closely by me throwing my own, that hits him square in the nose. Blood starts to trickle down from it and he wipes the red away with his arm while I take the opportunity to front snap kick his chest, sending him stumbling and flying backwards.

Peter, now infuriated, comes running at me, closing the distance I made from kicking him backwards. I simply take a step to the side, causing him to fall onto the concrete of the driveway, scraping his arms and knees. He stand up and turns to face me, where I'm waiting.

I throw a jab, then a cross that both hit him hard in the face. He will have a black eye in the morning. Wanting to end the fight, I know what I want to do next.

I hook my arm around his neck and say "Sweet Dreams," as I pull him into the guillotine choke, cutting off the oxygen and blood from reaching his head. Three seconds in the move causes for someone to pass out, five or more seconds may cause death. After three seconds I let Peter hit the ground blacked out. In a competition or tournament it would be a submission, causing me to win. I kick him in the chest once for good measure before looking back to the Jeep to see Tris looking out the window shaking.

I look back down at Peter, bloodied and bruised. What have I done? I just took out all of my anger from my father on him. He deserved some of it, but I went too far. I take a deep, shuddering breath and make my way to the Jeep to face Tris. I knew I shouldn't have let her come!

I put my face in my hands, leaning against the steering wheel again. When I look back up, there's fear in Tris's eyes. That get's to me more than anything. It seeps through my skin, past my bones, and into my brain. And my heart. I cry.

Tris doesn't comfort me at first, she just sits there. My entire body is racked with shakes. I promised myself almost six years ago that I would never cry again. Yet, here I am. My father and Peter have pushed me into it. And so has Tris.

I don't blame her for it, though. I should've been more persistent in not letting her come. I should've protected her better. My father's direct comments at our activity caused her to be more wary of me, and my actions proved the fears she may have always had. I don't want that. I want her to feel safe with me. I want to be able to hold her without her having fear.

I expect her to say, "I want to go home," but she doesn't. She waits for me to finish crying. When I do, she takes a long look at me, but I can't bear to return it.

"I'm sorry, Tobias," she whispers. I have to look at her, I can't help it. Tears are shining in her eyes, but have yet to leak out. I vow that I won't let them.

"No, you're not the one who just did that. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She shakes her head and laughs without any humor. "I sure as hell caused it!"

I'm afraid to touch her after knowing she fears me. I don't move to start the Jeep, and she doesn't move to leave. In a way, I want her to. I want her to call her brother or friend to pick her up so that she'll never have to see me again. I don't want to have to face this, because I am a coward.

She hesitantly reaches out to grab my hand, and I almost snatch it back. I let her take it, though, as she wipes the blood from my knuckles. I can't tell if it's Peter's, my father's, or my own. She rubs each knuckle diligently, then moves onto my other hand. When she's done, she kisses my hand. I lean my head against the seat, closing my eyes.

"Tris, please, dont," I tell her.

"Tobias?" she asks. I don't look at her. "Tobias?" more fervor this time, but I do not reply. "Tobias?!" she yells.

"Yes?" I ask without looking at her.

"We should go for a drive. Maybe we could get dinner at a diner or something. I have money with me…" she says.

I cut her off. "I have money. I can drop you off and then pick you up once you're done."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Why would you do that?" she asks.

I give her a look as if to say the answer's obvious, because it is. "I don't want you to feel unsafe, Tris. I love you."

"I love you, too."

A/N: Wooh! That one took some work. We hope you liked it! We each have our own questions this time, because JerkZero is the one who knows how to fight!

JerkZero: Have you ever gotten in a fight? Were you as skilled as Tobias?

JerkNone: What's the worst date you've been on and why?

Thanks for reading!