Chapter 33: Tris – Explosion

"I think some of us should try to rescue Amar." The moment I say it, I know Tobias sees right through to the guilt squirming inside me. It's not the only thing motivating me, not like it was when I went to Erudite. But I can't deny it's there. My actions caused whatever Pari and Amar have suffered today.

And it doesn't just affect them. I saw the look on Tobias' face earlier, when he figured out why I returned alone. Amar is his friend – one of the only people he truly trusts and respects. And I may have killed him. Tobias won't blame me out loud, of course, but the proof is in his actions. He hasn't touched me since then.

"You're being foolish," Marcus states coldly. "Amar wants us to finish the mission he started. You know that, Beatrice."

"Yes," I snap at him, "I do. But I also know that we're less likely to succeed if we rush. And the main reason we need to rush is because Amar was captured. If we can rescue him, we buy time to do this right, or to try again if we fail tonight. That's not foolish."

There's a pause while the others digest this. Then, Cara nods thoughtfully. "I'm inclined to agree. It's dangerous to risk everything in one effort, particularly when there's so much at stake."

Uriah looks like he might agree too, but before he can respond, Tobias shakes his head. "We don't know enough to go after Amar," he says in a low voice. "We have no idea where he is, or how well guarded he is."

He looks at me for confirmation, and I reluctantly admit, "That's true…but I doubt there will be many guards. They probably only capture one person at a time, and judging by what Amar said, most prisoners will stop fighting the moment they're given a high dose of serum. I bet they don't have more than a handful of guards."

Christina gives me a you're showing your Erudite look. "That's all very logical," she comments, "but it's still just a guess. And we still don't know where they are. So, I'm not liking the odds."

"It's not hard to find them," I start to protest, but I stop as Tobias tenses up next to me. Our eyes meet, and I can tell that he's piecing together exactly what I'm suggesting. He knows me too well.

"You want to turn yourself in," he says bitterly, "so they'll take you to where Amar is, and someone can follow." I look down, nodding very slightly.

"It's the most sensible option," I explain before he can object. "With my hands like this, I can't hold a gun well, but I can play 'prisoner' just fine."

"No," he says fiercely. "I will not watch you walk into another situation like that."

"It's not like Erudite," I insist. "We know what to expect this time. Amar already told us what they'll do to me, and that I'm immune to it. And I can fool them like he suggested – make them think the serum has worked when it hasn't. I won't be in any real danger at first, not for a while. And if someone follows me, they can work on breaking in from the outside while Amar and I attack from the inside. It stands a good chance of working."

But Tobias shakes his head adamantly. "Tris, we need you at the Control Computer. You can't go throwing yourself away like this!"

The words make me angry. He tells me that I have good ideas, that we should use them to help others, and then he refuses to listen the moment I suggest something that puts me in danger. As if I'm a little girl who needs to be protected. My hands automatically try to ball into fists, and the sharp pain from my injuries just adds to my frustration.

"It's not throwing myself away! It's helping Amar – and our mission."

"No, it's not!" he snarls. "There are at least eight guards between us and the Control Computer, and only nine of us. The odds are already bad. How does it 'help' to go with only half that number while the other half chase after Amar?"

For a moment, we glare at each other, and then Caleb interrupts us. "I'm not sure it's realistic to plan for a second chance, anyway," he says gently, understanding in his eyes as they meet mine. For the first time, it occurs to me that maybe he knows as much about guilt as I do.

"If we try and fail," he continues, "the government will be too alert for us to attempt anything else for a while, and Chicago doesn't have time to wait. I think our only real option is to throw everything into tonight's effort."

"Agreed," Tobias states flatly. But his voice takes on a softer tone as he meets my gaze and adds, "The best way to rescue Amar is to do the broadcast as soon as possible. If we do it right, it will stop all government attacks, including that one. We have to focus on that."

I sigh in frustration, pressing my uninjured palm against the bridge of my nose. "But what if we don't succeed? Then we've lost everything. Not just Amar, but all the work the rebels put into our city, and all the effort it's taken to get us here. It would take another sixty years to build that up from scratch, if it's even possible to do all of this again."

"You are showing your ignorance," Marcus says scornfully. "By now, Anna will have gathered some of the strongest young Divergents into the bomb shelter. They can stay there safely for another generation and try again if we fail in our mission." He narrows his eyes as he adds, "But there is no excuse for us to fail. We must stop wasting time on Amar and move out. If he dies, so be it! He accepted that risk when he took this mission, and we cannot afford to keep discussing this merely to appease your guilty conscience."

Every muscle in me tightens in response. It's bad enough that Marcus sees the guilt in me – and assumes that's the only reason for my argument, but his attitude toward Amar is far worse. After everything Amar has done for us, he deserves so much better than that. So much better than being dismissed as if he isn't worth any effort, isn't even worth a thought.

"It is not a waste," I shout, "to spend five minutes considering ways to help him. We would probably do that even for you, and he is a far better human being than you will ever be!"

Marcus laughs derisively. "Spare me your drivel," he sneers. "I do not care in the slightest about your opinion, or about how likable I am. I care about duty, and about ensuring the good of the population as a whole. It is a value I have tried to instill in all Abnegation, but it seems that neither of you is capable of learning it." His eyes pass over Tobias and back to me, disgust evident in his expression. "You are far too selfish."

A strange sound catches in my throat. "Are we supposed to believe that you're a good judge of selflessness?" I ask him incredulously. "You, who beat your own family just to make yourself feel stronger?" Tobias stiffens next to me, and I wonder for a split second if I'm going too far, but I'm too furious to stop.

"What does it say about you that your wife faked her own death just to get away from you, and that your son changed factions because he hates you so much?" My voice is shaking now, but I'm still not done. I hold my injured hands up so Marcus can't help but see them. "What does it say that you harmed a member of your own team just because she dared to question you?" I almost spit the next part: "What does it say that you don't even have the decency to feel guilt over any of that?" I'm still glaring at him as I add, "Don't try to lecture us. You don't even count as human."

For a long moment, our eyes lock with a ferocity that must radiate through the whole room. It must, because no one else makes a sound. They don't even move, apparently frozen in place.

Then, something inside Marcus seems to snap. "You are as bad as Evelyn! You are so concerned with being kind and with trying to protect one person that you ignore your duty to the broader public."

He turns to Tobias, contempt filling his face as he snarls, "And you allow it. I tried to make you strong, to make you a leader, but you turned your back on me. And this is the result. We stand here doing nothing while you coddle your little girlfriend, as if she is worth more than an entire country."

Loathing twists his mouth as he continues. "I should have limited your mother's influence from the beginning. She was too focused on trying to 'protect' you from the discipline that you needed, and her defiance warped you. It taught you to be selfish." I didn't think Tobias could stand any straighter, but somehow he does at those words.

"And her obstinance grew over time, until she refused to perform even the most basic duties. We were always meant to have more children – more Divergents who would be able to help us now. But instead she acquired birth control pills from an old friend in Erudite. She hid them for eight years, before I found out and put a stop to it." He shakes his head. "And even then, her defiance continued. A year later she gave birth to a child that clearly wasn't mine. A useless, sniveling infant with none of the skills we needed. That is the mother you mourned for all those years – a selfish liar with no sense of duty."

Revulsion is evident in every aspect of his expression as he adds, "I tried to overcome her influence once she was gone, but she had already infected you with her self-indulgence. And now you allow Beatrice to do the same. It is a weakness we cannot afford – one that will destroy this entire mission."

"Enough!" Tobias snarls, interrupting Marcus' tirade. He steps closer to his father, his hands in such tight fists at his sides that his knuckles have turned white. "You have spent my lifetime blaming everyone else for your anger. I'm not interested in hearing it anymore."

He takes another step closer, tension radiating from every pore of his body as he speaks again. "I don't care what you think of my mother or of Tris or of me. I don't care what pathetic excuses you make for how you've treated us all. And I don't care what you think about this mission." He pauses, his face twisting as if he's not sure whether or not to say the next part, but the words come out anyway. "The only thing I want to know is what happened to the baby."

For a split second, my mind goes to the infant from the doctor's office today, but then Tobias says more fiercely, "What happened to my younger brother?" And I remember that Evelyn's second child supposedly died at birth – at the same time she did. A shudder passes through me as for the first time I fully understand why Evelyn abandoned Tobias. It wasn't to save herself. It was the only way to protect the baby from her husband's murderous wrath. Marcus made her choose between her children.

"How would I know the brat's fate?" Marcus spits. "I saw it once, just long enough to tell it wasn't mine." His face is utterly uncaring as he adds, "But I assume it died later. Infant mortality is high among the factionless."

I'm vaguely aware of Peter stiffening at the words, but I don't pause to watch him. I'm too consumed by the fresh wave of rage washing through me at this cold dismissal of a child's life, of Tobias' brother's life, and at the idea that Marcus caused it by driving Evelyn away. I can't even begin to fathom how much harm this monster has caused, how much he is still causing the only remaining member of his family.

I turn to Tobias again, wanting to come up with some way of comforting him, but there's no comfort for this. He's been through more than any human being should ever have to take, and somehow his father keeps adding to that load.

I find myself stepping forward in blind fury. I've forgotten that my hands are damaged, forgotten that I'm not the kind of person who attacks others over words. Right now, all I want to do is wipe that expression off Marcus' face.

It shouldn't surprise me that Tobias gets there first. A strangled sound escapes from him as his hands fly at his father's throat. But this time, Marcus is ready for his son. He strikes fast, punching hard into Tobias' face. Tobias staggers back a step, startled, or perhaps caught by his oldest fear. For a second, the two of them stand less than a foot apart, their matching blue eyes digging into each other. And then they both explode.

The rest of us scramble to the side, trying to avoid being trampled as the room is suddenly filled with the two tall forms striking at each other with deadly ferocity. For a full minute, I just watch, feeling satisfaction with each blow Tobias delivers as the rage still pumps through me. But the sheer level of violence is frightening, and slowly it sinks in that maybe this time Tobias won't be able to stop himself. That maybe Marcus has finally pushed him too far, and that my boyfriend will kill his father. A voice whispers through me that it would be justified, but a larger part of me knows that no matter how true that might be, Tobias would struggle with the aftermath for the rest of his life. I can't let that happen.

"Stop it!" I scream, stepping closer to them. But if Tobias hears me, he gives no indication. He's too lost in fury.

"Tobias, stop!" I shout again, just as uselessly. I glance at the others, hoping that one of them will do something, but their faces tell me they have no desire to interfere. I guess that's not a total shock. Caleb and Cara are Erudite, used to words more than fists, and the others may feel that Marcus deserves this. And it certainly doesn't help that they see Tobias as their instructor, as a Dauntless prodigy who is way beyond their ability to fight.

No, Amar was the only one who would intervene in this situation, and he's not here now. Because of me. And that means I'm the one who has to do something.

I time it carefully, waiting as Tobias leans back, fast and hard, to avoid a vicious punch. When he moves forward to strike again, I go with him, taking advantage of my small size to slip in beside him and grab his arm.

Maybe it would have worked if my hands weren't injured, if I could have gripped tightly and held on long enough for Tobias' adrenaline to ease. Long enough for him to realize it was me. But I'll never know, because the moment my fingers glance over his wrist, failing to take hold, Tobias' arm swings in a back-fisted punch, catching me hard across my ribs and stomach.

Until this moment, I didn't realize how much Tobias held back when he was under the simulation, when we fought in the Dauntless control room. But if this punch is any guide, he is far more powerful than he showed that day. I fly backwards across the room, slamming into the cement wall, and then I slump down to the floor, unable to move.

Sharp pain is tearing through my ribs, and I struggle to breathe. But if there's air around me, my body can't find it. I can't even gasp, can't make my diaphragm move. Panic sets in, and I can hear my heartbeat so loudly in my ears that it drowns out everything else.

But my vision still works, and I watch while Tobias turns toward me, his eyes wide with horror as he realizes what he's done. His father lands another fierce blow on him, but he doesn't even move to defend himself – just stares at me as if he's seeing his greatest fear come true. And in that instant, I know that he will never forgive himself for this. My eyes close in pain, wanting to shut out the world, wanting to turn time back and change the last ten minutes, wanting to tell Tobias that it's okay, that I know he didn't mean to hurt me.

Instead, when I open them again, I see Caleb launch himself between us, overcoming his terror in order to protect me. He blocks my view as he pushes Tobias away, forming an obstacle between me and the man I love. And I hear Christina shouting words I can't understand as she also moves between us, yelling at Tobias with a fury I've never seen in her. Black specks are dotting my vision now, but I can see Peter restraining Marcus, keeping him away from his son, and I know he's feeling his own years of abuse echoing through him. They seem to be echoing through me too, pounding their way through my ribcage.

The last thing I see is Uriah crouching beside me, tears in his eyes as he reaches out in a fruitless attempt to help me. But it's too late, and the blackness swallows me.

"I'm so sorry, Tris. I love you." Tobias' whisper repeats over and over as the darkness starts to retreat. I don't know if the words are real or come from my imagination.

They're filled with such pain that they blend into the burning that sears through my ribs, into the ache that fills my head. At first, I can't tell one pain from another, particularly since they throb to the same rhythm. It takes me a while to realize that rhythm is my heartbeat.

And the pain grows as I regain consciousness. It's still difficult to breathe, and I can only manage shallow, little pants as I struggle to open my eyes. When I finally succeed, I see that Cara is crouched over me, her face etched with worry as she wraps something tightly around my ribs.

"Lie still," she says. "I don't think anything's badly broken, but you might have a cracked rib."

I try to nod, but my head hurts too much, so I attempt to speak instead. Nothing comes out. There's still no wind to put behind my voice.

"Don't try to talk," Cara tells me. "Focus on breathing." I do my best to obey, watching her actions as I breathe in and out, in and out. She's wrapping cloth around me – ripped up tee shirts, I think. The constriction helps the pain a little.

Gradually, my eyes move to the room beyond her, trying to locate the others, but I don't see or hear them. Cara notices my expression, and she purses her lips in distaste.

"Don't worry. They're not here."

I know she thinks the words are reassuring, but they're definitely not. Where did Tobias go?

After a moment, Cara sighs and says quietly, "There wasn't a choice, with the short timeframe. They all went after the Control Computer."

A moment ago, I didn't think it was possible to feel worse, but as cold reality sinks into my jumpy stomach, I realize it's actually very easy. Virtually everyone I love just left. Tobias left. I don't know if I'll ever see him again, and I didn't even get to say goodbye.

But my eyes stay dry. I remember Will's last moment alive, the way he looked as I shot him, and I know that Cara never got the chance to say farewell to him – to her brother. I can't cry in self-pity, wanting more for myself than I gave her, not while she tends my wounds. So, I push the thoughts back and keep breathing in and out, in and out, pretending nothing else exists in the world. Now is a time to be strong.