Can you tell I'm stalling? I have chapters nearly ready, but life's sort of slowed things down on the editing side. So... I have 100,000 words of scenes and chapters in my "unused" folder. Many of them are 2nd or 3rd looks at a scene, and then some of them are full branches that had to be abandoned due to one or two decisions.
TL;DR: These take place after Four's sent to the fence and without the messiness on the train. This was written two ways and there's a lot of overlap. There is short intro 1 and then short intro 2 and then the finish out piece that was common to both.
In order to use the first of these two scenes a few things would have had to have been different. First, Four's trip to the fence for beating Matthew would have been kept from Tris. Second, some other incident that drove home how they couldn't spend time together would have had to have happened. Something like Tris innocently wanting to hold his hand and Four shouting at her for not taking it seriously. Something that would have made her extremely anxious about being alone with him.
The second version, she would have been aware of why Four went to the fence as punishment. It's obvious that I tried re-working it to still use it.
Instead, you got a trial that Tris had to participate in and a Tris that was pissed off that he got involved and the combination with withdrawal symptoms that set off her tirade on the train.
1st Front End to the Scene:
George is usually pretty quiet and not normally a smiling person. Since coming back, he wears a confused look of pain like he can't believe it still hurts, that it will always hurt. But he came back for Amar and he dutifully placated his partner's more gregarious tendencies like hosting dinner every Sunday. It was at a point that he felt obligated to do so even when Amar was away.
Even so, Four could tell this Sunday was different. George was grinning at him most of the day like he's heard a good joke at his expense. In the hallway on the way to Harrison's security meeting. In line at lunch. When Four jostled with him playing soccer. It was infuriating. No matter how many times he threatened him or tries to drag it out of him, the only response he got was, "You'll see at dinner."
Without the expansive personality of Amar to fill the kitchen, the apartment seemed silent from the other side of the door. Four patiently waited, expecting to hear giggles or further smug jokes as soon as the door opened. But it was just George, still grinning.
"Okay? Where is everyone?"
"Small group today." George stated, hustling him in and handing him a knife for cutting potatoes. "In fact, just three of us."
"Oh? Who else?" Four said, weary and contemplating if it would be impolite to bow out. He could handle a group where he didn't have to carry a conversation the whole time. But George was just as quiet as him, and that didn't bode well for a comfortable evening.
"Tris." George bites his lips, excited and expectant, bouncing a little.
"Really?" Four swallowed nervously. He hadn't been with her in any semblance of privacy since that first week. He'd been living life through camera lenses and from across the expanse of the training room.
"Yeah, I figured you should celebrate together."
"Celebrate what?"
"She passed the loyalty test."
Four brightened, relaxed his shoulders then wondered if she had to cheat and brought back all the nerves again.
"Come on, that's a big thing." George goaded, elbowing him. "So I asked her to come over, have dinner, banished the rest of the folks that asked and here you two will be, in about an hour, having dinner alone. And." George took off quickly down the hall begging Four to follow him with his outstretched hand. "If you're so inclined…"
He opened the door to the spare room, the room Four has slept in on more than one occasion when his apartment was overrun by drunk and obnoxious people. But it looks different.
George has carefully made the bed so it looked like an advertisement, the pillows layered and the covers turned over at the top in contrast to the sheets. A fresh bunch of the late spring flowers in a vase on the side table. And, somewhat garishly presented, three condoms staggered orange, black, orange on the table top.
Four quickly brushed the packages into the drawer and turned around red faced, eyes pinched shut. "We can't be alone. Harrison will kick us both out."
"Harrison won't know. I short circuited the cameras is section three, nothing works between here and Ro's, no one will know until you start your shift tomorrow. Better, no one will know when I slip out. And… and… this alarm, it goes off thirty minutes before the last train." George grinned.
"Why?" Four looked at him confused.
"So she doesn't miss it."
"Why would you do this for me? For us?"
"Because I know what it feels like — wanting something so bad and never getting it, being reminded everyday how it's out of reach. And I'm a bit of a romantic." He clapped him on the shoulder and headed back to the kitchen.
If he cut off his own finger, he probably wouldn't notice he's so distracted by what he's going to say, do, get from tonight. He's barely said more than one word at a time to her in weeks, it was a lot of distance to make up. He was also battling the urge to rub one out in the bathroom so he could be in better control, because there's a pressure in him that has been seeking her out in his dreams and his fantasies. The three packets flashing in the back of his mind.
George gave him instructions on when to pull out the game hen from the oven, how to carve it and wished him luck. Four was alone, terrified, and he started to feel like he'd rather puke than eat. So he paced back and forth nibbling on the callouses on his knuckles and trying not to hyperventilate.
Her knock sounded as hesitant as his, maybe softer and less even. He nearly swallows his tongue and coughed on spittle that didn't make it down his throat. He doesn't know if his face is redder due to choking himself or the embarrassment of answering the door looking like he's dying.
She looked at him uneasy, concerned. She peaked behind him and then froze, realizing he was alone.
"I can come back when others get here. I know the rules." She said quickly, turning.
"Tris, no, come in." He grabbed her elbow, still trying to clear his wind pipe. She resists him, but he's stronger, shutting the door behind her. It's the first time he's touched her in a month and the shock of it repels his hand.
"Are you okay?" She asked, still hovering by the door, clutching her training bag tightly, ready to leave at any second.
"Yeah." He confirmed, finally taking a deep breath and bringing oxygen into his lungs. The beep of the timer was a thankful distraction.
"Sit." He partially commanded, trying to remember how George said he should cut the meat and make it look a little fancy before he finally gave up and plopped a helping of potatoes next to the butchered pieces of bird.
"Where's George?" She stepped up behind a chair.
"Out." He tried to balance the plates on one arm and grab the glasses with the other. The task taking all his concentration.
Her stomach fluttered nervously, "I should really go, you know, so you don't get in trouble."
"Tris, sit down." He stated calmly, but firmly.
She sat on the edge of the chair, gripping the seat as he set the food down. When he had a chance to sit himself and look up at her, he finally noted her shallow quick breaths, the painful pinch that held her eyes shut and the tear streak that curled down her cheek and under her chin.
"What's wrong?" He combed through a thousand possibilities in his mind until one was plucked front and center: she'd met someone else. He shifted limply to the chair next to her, instead of where he'd placed his food.
"I guess I failed, right?" She squeaked. "I'm out and this is the consolation. One last meal?"
"No." He took her hand, "No, you didn't fail."
"So I'm not who you want?" She finally looked at him.
"Tris, I… um. Why would you say that?"
She jerked her hand out of his, and pulled away from him. "Is he here? Are there cameras in the corner? You just want one kiss or one touch so that he has his evidence?" She started to get angry. "Least you could do is do it yourself, not hide behind him."
"Tris, stop. There's no cameras, there's no one here but us."
"Exactly." She started to stand, he grabbed her wrists and stood with her, wrapping her up tightly.
"Tris, stop." He couldn't think of anything else to say, he held firm around her and felt the sting of her fists against his sides until she came to rest in sobs.
"I tried so hard."
"You're doing amazing."
"But it was never going to be enough, was it?"
"Tris, I'm not breaking up with you!" He held her face, with a chuckle, "This is a date."
2nd Option for the front end:
George is usually pretty quiet and not normally a smiling person. Since coming back, he wears a confused look of pain like he can't believe it still hurts, that it will always hurt. But he came back for Amar and he dutifully placated his partner's more gregarious tendencies like hosting dinner every Sunday. It was at a point that he felt obligated to do so even when Amar was away.
Even so, Four could tell this Sunday was different. George was grinning at him most of the day like he's heard a good joke at his expense. In the hallway on the way to Harrison's security meeting. In line at lunch. When Four jostled with him playing soccer. It was infuriating. No matter how many times he threatened him or tries to drag it out of him, the only response he got was, "You'll see at dinner."
Without the expansive personality of Amar to fill the kitchen, the apartment seemed silent from the other side of the door. Four patiently waited, expecting to hear giggles or further smug jokes as soon as the door opened. But it was just George, still grinning.
"Okay? Where is everyone?"
"Small group today." George stated, hustling him in and handing him a knife for cutting potatoes. "In fact, just three of us."
"Oh? Who else?" Four said, weary and contemplating if it would be impolite to bow out. He could handle a group where he didn't have to carry a conversation the whole time. But George was just as quiet as him, and that didn't bode well for a comfortable evening.
"Tris." George bites his lips, excited and expectant, bouncing a little.
"Really?" Four swallowed nervously. He hadn't been with her in any semblance of privacy since that first week. He'd been living life through camera lenses and from across the expanse of the training room.
"Yeah, I figured you should celebrate together."
"Celebrate what?"
"She passed the loyalty test."
Four brightened, relaxed his shoulders then wondered if she had to cheat and brought back all the nerves again.
"Come on, that's a big thing." George goaded, elbowing him. "So I asked her to come over, have dinner, banished the rest of the folks that asked and here you two will be, in about an hour, having dinner alone. And." George took off quickly down the hall begging Four to follow him with his outstretched hand. "If you're so inclined…"
He opened the door to the spare room, the room Four has slept in on more than one occasion when his apartment was overrun by drunk and obnoxious people. But it looks different.
George has carefully made the bed so it looked like an advertisement, the pillows layered and the covers turned over at the top in contrast to the sheets. A fresh bunch of the late spring flowers in a vase on the side table. And, somewhat garishly presented, three condoms staggered orange, black, orange on the table top.
Four quickly brushed the packages into the drawer and turned around red faced, eyes pinched shut. "We can't be alone. Harrison will kick us both out."
"Harrison won't know. I short circuited the cameras in section three, nothing works between here and Ro's, no one will know until you start your shift tomorrow. Better, no one will know when I slip out. And… and… this alarm, it goes off thirty minutes before the last train." George grinned.
"Why?" Four looked at him confused.
"So she doesn't miss it."
"No. Why would you do this for me? For us?"
"Because I know what it feels like — wanting something so bad and never getting it, being reminded everyday how it's out of reach. And I'm a bit of a romantic." He clapped him on the shoulder and headed back to the kitchen.
If he cut off his own finger, he probably wouldn't notice he's so distracted by what he's going to say, do, get from tonight. He's barely said more than one word at a time to her in weeks, it was a lot of distance to make up. She might not want anything to do with him, she might be too afraid of being alone.
George gave him instructions on when to pull out the game hen from the oven, how to carve it and wished him luck. Four was alone, terrified, and he started to feel like he'd rather puke than eat. So he paced back and forth nibbling on the callouses on his knuckles and trying not to hyperventilate.
Her knock sounded as hesitant as his, maybe softer and less even. He nearly swallowed his tongue and coughed on spittle that didn't make it down his throat. He didn't know if his face is redder due to choking himself or the embarrassment of answering the door looking like he's dying.
She looked at him uneasy, concerned. She peaked behind him and then froze, realizing he was alone.
"I can come back when others get here. I know the rules." She said quickly, turning.
"Tris, no one else is coming." He grabbed her elbow. She resists him, and he dropped his grip immediately, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched you. You don't have to if you don't want to, I'll understand."
"Are you okay?" She asked, still hovering by the door, clutching her training bag tightly, ready to leave at any second.
"Yeah. Are you?" He finally took a deep breath when she stepped over the threshold.
"Sit." He partially commanded, on his way to answer the timer on the stove. She took her position while he tried to remember how George said he should cut the meat and make it look a little fancy before he finally gave up and plopped a helping of potatoes next to the butchered pieces of bird.
"Where's George?" She rocked side to side.
"Out." He tried to balance the plates on one arm and grab the glasses with the other. The task taking all his concentration.
Her stomach fluttered nervously, and she stood up. "I should really go, you know, so you don't get in trouble."
"Tris, sit down. It's okay." He stated calmly, but firmly.
She sat on the edge of the chair, gripping the seat as he set the food down. When he had a chance to sit himself and look up at her, he finally noted her shallow quick breaths, the painful pinch that held her eyes shut and the tear streak that curled down her cheek and under her chin.
"What's wrong? I didn't know he was setting this up, either. I just. You stay and eat and I'll clean up and give you space."
"I guess I failed, right?" She squeaked. "I'm out and this is the consolation. One last meal?"
"No." He took her hand, carefully, loosely, "No, you didn't fail."
"So why break the rules? Why throw it away?" She finally looked at him.
"Tris, I… um. Why would you say that? You're doing amazing. You passed the loyalty check."
"Really?"
"Yeah, George thought we should celebrate together. I mean, I get that I scare you and being alone with me might not be the best approach. But he didn't know."
"I'm not scared of you." She corrected, "Not right now, anyways. I've missed you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Of course I have." She said with an accusing tone.
"Last I heard from you, you wanted me to fuck off." He defended.
"That." She took a deep breath, " That was weeks ago and I've spent a lot of time processing what happened."
Both of the above lead into a common end to the scene:
He kissed her forehead, then her temple. He held her face between his hands, knowing they wouldn't get much time alone together, he couldn't help himself. The gentle pinch of her lips gripping onto his was as electric as he remembered. Tobias had convinced himself that his memories were false, that no kiss could ever feel like it both gave and took life at the same time. But it was every bit as pungent.
Her sniffling brought them both back to the present, and he couldn't help but laugh at how wet his hands were from her tears and how she shook against him.
"A date?"
"Yeah, a date." He pulled his shirt up to wipe her cheeks and he let out a sigh when her hands landed on the flat of his stomach.
"What about Harrison?"
"George took care of it." He dismissed. "Now, will you sit and eat with me?"
"Okay."
The utensils shook when she took them up. Defeat is the only ugly look he's ever seen on her, probably because it reflects the affects of his inner monster right back at him. Its the only time she seems to shrink — to be smaller than herself. When she fits in her skeleton and even retracts. It hurts that he has that power over her. Its worse when he can't backpedal out of it, when it lingers like a scab. He had neglected her and she was still there, trying but not believing.
"You passed the loyalty check." It was the only thing he could think of saying that might signal to her that he was telling the truth.
"I did?" She sounded surprised.
"They didn't tell you?"
"No. They kind of rushed me out to get someone else in."
"And your marks are getting better on drills." He offered.
Her eyes widened and the edges of her lips curled up. "You looked at my file?"
"Everyday. I go over it with Zeke, we strategize, set a plan for the next time. I've been there every step of the way." He smiled.
"But, where were you go for the last three weeks?"
"I got busy." He chose to push food in rather than words out.
"With what?" her eyes hardened.
"How are your landscapes?" She stiffened, so he added, "Amar doesn't let me peak."
"Hard." She sighed, pushing the food on her plate.
"Still six?"
"Don't know, we only just started." She put a tentative string of muscle up to her lips.
"Really?" It was the first obvious lie she told, but given the personal nature of fears, he wasn't ready to judge her too harshly.
"Yeah. I was taking something — for my shoulder — that would have gotten in the way of the serums."
Another lie, not about taking something, but it wasn't for her shoulder. He decided to let it slide if it meant she'd come around to smile at him.
"You make this?" she asked, chewing with a smile.
He chuckled, "Even I can't lie that well. George made it."
"It's delicious."
"I'll let him know."
"Get the recipe." She gave him a little smile.
"So, how's working with Zeke?"
"He's okay." He can't read her, she's too transfixed on her next mouthful.
Tobias sucked a string of meat out of his teeth, "Does he push you?"
"Not like you did." She let out a snicker, "He's actually really nice."
"Is it better? Training with someone else?"
"It's different." She stated diplomatically, but it stung.
They silently eat, glancing up at each other and letting embarrassed grins punctuate their meal until she pushes her plate away.
"How long do we have?" She asked, starting to take her plate up to the sink.
"Until the last train." He intercepted her with an arm around her stomach and pulled the plate out of her hands and onto the counter. "I'll clean up later."
"What do you want to do?" She asked, still stiff in his arms.
"Can we just…" He ran his hands up her sides and pulled her arms around his shoulders, feeling her solid body under his fingertips and then between his elbows and against him. He sighed into her ear when she edged up onto her tip toes to spare her arms from hanging on him.
"Just this?" He liked how her voice vibrated into his collar bone.
"Some of this." He kissed her temple.
"And this." He traced her spine with his fingers, letting her lean back and look up at him. She still looked uncertain.
"Oh and…" He pulled gently on her lips. His heart surged.
He moved her backwards, and she fought a little. Together they were a fluid tangle of limbs and lips crashing in a heap on the couch. Tris got twisted up on his lap, pecking soft kisses at his cheek and his throat. Becoming suddenly still when his hand pushed up her shirt.
"What happened to keeping calm?" She panted with a giggle.
"Meh." He shrugged, "Come here." He kept his arm around her waist, reluctant to let her go. He wondered if she could feel the nervous thrum of his stomach when he pushed open the bedroom door.
It should have felt like a gift, but receiving presents wasn't something either one was practiced at. It was strange and straining, confusing. Tobias stared at her while she examined the flowers, the comforter, the soft texture of the sheets. He held himself and contemplated how much of this wall, his armor, should or can fall to the wayside. Even though it seemed like a good idea after they spent twenty minutes on the couch, he wasn't certain he was actually ready.
Tris balked when she saw him watching her want so clearly present in his eyes. Sex was sequestered among miserable memories, lies, pain. She much preferred the kissing and the holding that they were doing on the couch. She let the light of excitement wane, looking for any excuse to leave before he could chuck his better judgment. But he was already letting the comfort of her call him in.
He wasn't exactly hoping for sex, but it wasn't far from his mind. Mainly, his legs were falling asleep with the way her body pressed on his circulation.
Tris hesitated, looked up at him and saw the grin sweep across his face. She thought he was different, but under it all he was a teen-aged boy. She chastized herself for thinking he was some how different.
She dropped her chin to her chest, resigning and stepped up to the side of the bed. She lied to herself: if he was happy she'd be happy. She sunk onto the edge of the bed, preparing herself to be molested much like at the doctor's office.
"Tris? What's wrong?"
"Can I keep my shirt on?" She asked, meekly.
He didn't think about it, how this could be too fast or too much. To him rape was violent force and shattering aggression and that he could avoid, always. Tris was quiet and soft, submitting to being broken again like she didn't deserve to be whole. If he wanted her, she'd let him take her; but she wasn't offering herself.
He wished he could beat Matthew bloody all over. He had to calm himself, staring at her, not sure how to navigate terrain he never knew existed and it made it worse.
She chewed her lip. Taking his silence as disapproval she pulled up the hem of her shirt in defeat and pressed him into motion at the same time.
"Tris, you don't have to do anything."
"I know." She lied, slowly pulling the cloth over her arm. He had to physically pull it from her hands and back down.
"I don't want this. I just thought — I thought you might be sore." He stammered, because he was making it up on the spot and cursing himself for being so stupid. He should have left her on the couch.
She let him pull her shirt back down, and was on the verge of tears. She ignored the press of his hands on her hips, his arms on her thighs.
"Not like this." He assured. "Not tonight."
"You don't want me." She stated.
"Tris, I want you, but it's just… the rules, you know. I don't want us to get careless." It wasn't horribly far from the truth.
"Can I take your shoes off?" He asked, carefully shifting onto his knees in front of her.
She nodded, again weakly and watched his hands on her laces. He pulled her boots off and set them to the side, took her right foot in his hands and began to ply the bones and cartilage.
"Is this okay?"
"Yeah." She smiled small, still waiting for the flip side of his request.
He moved to her other foot, then worked up her calf feeling the flex of her leg when he moved her ankle. He stopped just above the knee, where he always ached after climbing.
"Lay down on your stomach." He tried to make it sound like a question, but the flinch on her face told him he missed.
He took a heavy breath before touching the small of her back, working up under her shirt. He'd never given a message before, he only knew what he liked from the few times Lauren liquored him up. He worried he was pressing too softly then too hard or that the rough of his hands were scratching her.
She didn't seem to breath until he sunk into the muscles just below her shoulder blades. Tobias couldn't ignore the throb in his pants when her low moan escaped the pillows. Reluctantly, he had to pull his hand out of her shirt to move higher.
"Is this okay? Touching your shoulder like this?" He asked, suddenly aware of the scare tissue bubbled up under the cotton of her shirt.
"Yeah, just not hard." She confirmed, and she let out a shaky breath.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asked.
"Where were you?"
She pressed her face into the pillows and focused on his touch. When he shuffled over her and his knee landed between her's she let out another telling moan.
He debated. Honesty was important, but so was the confidentiality around fears. He looked at the clock and didn't want to spoil the next hour with a fight.
"Just busy, you know faction crap."
"What kind of crap?"
"Boring crap."
"Try me."
"Fuck, Tris." He groaned, she twisted to look up at him.
"Why won't anyone tell me?" Then her eyes went wide, and she started to push out from under him. "What's her name?" She accused.
"I wasn't seeing a girl." He rolled his eyes, and pulled her into him.
She pushed at his grip, trying to peel his arms off, "Was it the one in Milwaukee? Is that where you went?"
"I didn't go anywhere, I was here the whole time."
"You quit your job."
"I went on leave."
"What for?" She kicked him in the shin, and he relented, letting her go.
"I got in a fight, okay? Harrison put me in the pen for four weeks." He finally admitted, turning red.
She blinked back at him, then paused, "You attacked Matthew?"
Running his tongue over his teeth was his only response.
"Oh my God. Is this how it's going to be? I sleep with someone you brutalize them? What happens if I talk to someone, you going to interrogate them?"
"It wasn't like that." He looked at the fresh pink skin where the scabs had only just fallen off. "He hurt you. I wasn't going to let him hurt anyone else."
"He never hurt me."
"Your landscape says otherwise." He shot back before he fully thought it through.
"Who told you?" She was breathless, her hands shaking.
"File landed on my desk." He lied.
"I thought we weren't supposed to lie anymore." Her jaw was trembling.
Chapters to Something New are right around the corner. Until then, I'll continue to empty out the unused scenes that aren't spoilers. One of the comments said it was interesting to peek into how I write. If you actually want to know how I do it, let me know and I can put together some tumblr posts or something.