In the morning, I wake up, happier than I have ever been. My face is still pressed firmly against Tobias's chest. I pull away slightly to look at him. His eyes are closed, his breaths are even, and a content smile stretches across his lips. I place a hand on his shoulder, and kiss his cheek. His eyes open slowly, and his smile grows when he sees me.
"Morning." I say.
"Good morning." He responds. I've never seen him happier or more well rested. I suppose that even though I woke him up in the middle of the night, he slept better than he has in ages, because he was with me. The same thing applies to me, too.
His eyes seem to full of pure bliss, but then the realization hits. We have to visit Marcus today. He sighs, and I can see in his eyes that he is dreading the events of today.
"I hate to say this, but we should probably get up." I say, caressing his arm gently.
He nods. "Yeah," he looks into my eyes. "But one day, we should stay like this all day."
I smile. "There will be plenty of those days."
He nods, and kisses my lips. When he pulls away, he runs a hand along my cheek, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Beautiful." He whispers. And by the way he looks at me, I believe him. Despite my childish body, my plain facial features, and all of my other flaws, I don't wish I was any different.
My back is pressed firmly against the bed frame, and Tobias is almost hanging over the edge, but somehow, we're comfortable. So comfortable, that I don't feel like moving. He sighs, and sits up. I sit up when he does, and Tobias swings his legs over the side to stand up. A shudder courses through him when his feet touch the cold floor. It is almost spring, but the nights are still cold. He stands up and looks through my, our, dresser to find something to wear. He pulls out a black button up shirt, and dark wash blue jeans. I stand up too, and look in the drawer to find something to wear, I settle on a long sleeved black shirt, and high waisted jeans, the color of Tobias's.
"I'll change in the bathroom." I say, taking my folded clothes into the bathroom with me. I see Tobias nod, right as I'm closing the door. I sigh softly once the door closes and slip on my outfit, and run a brush through my hair. This is the extent of my morning routine. I look in the mirror. A girl stands before me and her face has color, and is not as tense as the one I know. She looks almost happy. Then I realize, that girl is me. It's amazing how much your appearance can change when things as simple as your mood change.
I slip out the bathroom door as Tobias is buttoning the last button on his shirt. He looks at me, and gives me a nervous smile. His hair has grown out a little in the past few months, and he looks very attractive.
I take a few steps toward him. "Ready?" I ask, taking his hand in mind.
His expression hardens and he nods. We walk down stairs, hand in hand, and I grab two muffins on the way out the door. We had time to sit down for breakfast, but Tobias is extremely eager to get this over with. I guess I can't blame him.
We step outside, get into his car, and he pulls out of the driveway. Then we begin our forty five minute drive to the outskirts of the city, where the jailhouse is. I hand Tobias a muffin.
He smiles a little. "Thanks, Tris."
I nod, "You're welcome." I take a bite out of the muffin. It's blueberry. "Do you think he'll recognize you?"
Tobias seems to ponder this for a moment. "I doubt it." He mutters. "The last time I saw him I was scrawny and awkward, and..." He pauses for a moment. "Stiff."
I nod. Tobias has put on a lot of muscle since that incident in the airport.
"I started taking self defense when he was put in jail. Just in case." He says. "I really enjoy it. It's a good way to release anger."
"Yeah, I enjoy it too."
"You should come to my studio sometime," he says, making the turn out of my neighborhood.
I take another bite of the muffin and look out the window. "What do we say?" I ask. I know we're going to interrogate Marcus, and get some sort of a lead, but I never thought of questions to ask. Marcus won't just give us the answers we're looking for.
"I'll handle it. You can say anything whenever you feel so inclined."
I nod, but feel a lump in my throat. I hope Tobias isn't trying to prove anything to Marcus.
I turn on the radio. Tobias will be wise about it. Nothing good is playing on the stations, so I put it on his CDs. Night Visions by Imagine Dragons begins to play. I put it on Demons and start to sing along.
When the days are cold
Tobias starts to sing with me. He sings the lower part, and I go up half an octave.
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale
Tobias sings this line: I want to hide the truth he looks at me.
I want to shelter you
He looks back at the road. But with the beast inside, there's no where we can hide We sing this line together: No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
Tobias sings. This is my kingdom come I join him. This is my kingdom come He sings When you feel my heat I sing Look into my eyes
We harmonize. It's where my demons hide
He sings, don't get too close, it's dark inside
I join him again and our voices fill the car in perfect harmony. It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.
"You have a really nice voice." I say.
He shakes his head. "Nah." He looks at me for a moment. "You, on the other hand, have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard."
I blush. "You don't give yourself enough credit." My face gets even redder. "I love your voice." He smiles and looks back at the road.
About thirty minutes later Tobias and I arrive at the jail house. He parks his car in the "parking lot", next to a big white van with metal bars lining the windows. I don't want to know what it's for. A dirt path stretches out before us, lined with a barbed wire fence, and at the end, a small building that blocks the path to the main building. A security thing, I assume. Tobias and I start down the path. Every now and then one of my combat boots will come in contact with a big rock, but Tobias catches me before I fall. Although his efforts are sweet and comforting, he seems tense; angry, even. Not with me of course, but with the idea that Marcus is probably the one who messed with the inside of our heads.
A security guard greets us at the halfway point. "Name." He says, in a deep monotone voice.
"Tobias Eaton." Tobias says, sternly. He has transformed into someone else from who he was a minute ago. He is no longer the gentle Tobias, who kisses me softly, and holds me when I cry; but now the Tobias that was hurt so many years ago. The Tobias that was beaten, whipped, and tortured. This is the older, strong, faster version of him, who will destroy anything in his wake.
At the name, the guard's eyes widen in realization and he lets us pass security without another word. Tobias Eaton used to be a shameful name, now it is a powerful one.
A guard from inside the small building tells us to follow him, and he will take us to the place where we will have our conversation with Marcus. It is a small, soundproof room with a window dividing it in half. Chairs are on both sides of the window, and a small speaker rests on the table on the prisoner's side. Eerie bright white flickering lights hang above our heads, making everything in the room too bright. The floor is light gray cement, and scattered with dirt. The security guard leaves the room without another word, and shuts the door. Tobias turns to face the glass wall, and sits down on the edge of the chair, as if he might have to flee in an instant. I sit down as well. On the other side of the glass, a man limps toward the chair, with his head down. He slowly lowers himself onto the chair. He is wearing bright orange scrubs and his hands are bound together by metal cuffs. He lifts his head up slightly, just enough that I can see a scowl is plastered on his face. His lips turn down in a similar way to Tobias's, except that his are now wrinkled and quivering. Hatred fills his eyes as he glares at Tobias.
"Hello, son." He snarls.
Tobias returns his glare. "I am not your son."
Marcus laughs dryly and his whole body shakes. He runs a chained hand through his graying hair.
"Prior," he says shifting his gaze to me.
Tobias's body goes rigid. "How do you know her?"
"Your father and I were very close. And..." He stops and looks at Tobias. "We met in the airport."
"What did you do?" Tobias growls, so low and animal-like I can barley understand him. Marcus remains silent.
Tobias jumps up from his seat, pounds his fists against the glass and screams, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"
Marcus raises an eyebrow. "You expect me to tell you?"
Tobias takes deep, ragged breaths and his right hand pounds against the glass again.
Marcus laughs, this time in a more sadistic manner. He wears some of Tobias's features on his face, but that is where the similarities end. He looks like a psychopath.
Tobias breathes too fast, and too deeply, as he contemplates what to say next. This isn't going anywhere.
"It was one thing," Tobias starts. "to hurt me. To beat me, to whip me, and to torture me. But when you hurt her," His gaze shifts to me, then back to Marcus. "and strip her of her memories, and me of the only good memories I had as a child," Tobias takes a deep breath. "you have crossed the line, Marcus."
"It's sad." Marcus says. "That your first instinct is to blame me when your small little brain can't remember anything."
"Nobody else is as sick as you are." I say. "So tell me, Marcus Eaton, what are you and your pathetic group of city leaders hiding?"
Marcus smiles. "That's none of your concern."
Tobias's fist pounds against the glass again. "NONE OF OUR CONCERN?"
Marcus laughs again, and I see just how fragile he is. Spending time in prison has seems to of sped up his aging process. Dark circles are underneath the wrinkled skin of his eyes, and his face has started to sag. He looks nothing like the beloved mayor of Chicago used to.
Tobias is fuming, and Marcus does not respond.
"He's no use, Tobias." I say after a moment.
Tobias steps back from the glass. "You're right." He says. "He's just a pathetic old man." Tobias turns his back on him, and reaches for my hand. I eagerly slip mine into his. We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact is like a rush of energy or relief.
Tobias looks down at me. "Come on, Tris. The government is hiding things, and we need to figure it out."
I nod. I have a feeling that whatever happened with our brains is part of a much bigger plan than just getting rid of some teenager's memories. And I usually trust my instincts.