I still don't own Divergent.

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"No, you're not wearing it," I reply. I disappear into the laundry room and come out with a camo button down to wear with his jeans. Glancing at the tank in my hand, I pull it back over his head and give him the camo shirt. He tucks his arms in and buttons is most of the way, leading the way out the door.

I help AJ into his carseat and buckle myself into my own seat as we wait for Tobias, and then it's off to the barbeque.

When we get there, it's surprisingly somber. Well, I guess it's not surprising, considering today's news. Brandon stands off on his own, leaning against the wall and sipping from what looks to be a cup of soda.

Uriah and Zeke sit slumped on the couch. Marlene and Lynn sit together in an armchair. Shauna sits on the right of Zeke. Susan sits on the floor with Tristan and Hayden. When AJ sees them, he crosses the room and sits next to Tristan.

Tobias takes in the scene. Then he walks over and punches Zeke. "Stop sulking," he orders. "Let's do something. I'm going to get some burgers started. You…make people stop sulking."

Zeke sighs. "Okay."

I silently follow Tobias. He acknowledges me only by handing me some stuff to take to the grill, and then walking off. I follow again and hand him the stuff, and we grill the burgers and buns silently. As we're watching them cook, one of his hands sneaks down and slips into the back pocket of my jean shorts.

He kisses my head and whispers, "I don't know if it's damning for me to be thinking of right now, but those jean shorts look really good on your ass."

I bite my lip to contain a chuckle. "Well, those jeans look pretty good on your butt, too," I murmur back.

Tobias smiles and flips a burger. "I'm glad you like them."

"I like them better off," I reply, squeezing his leg. "But they're nice on, too."

Tobias chuckles. "Dirty, thinking things like that."

I kick his leg. "Shut up, horn dog."

He smiles innocently and continues to flip burgers. I get a plate to put them on and then check the buns, which I deem ready. I bring them inside and tell everyone to fix themselves one, and then return with the first batch of burgers, which disappear onto buns quickly. I check Zeke's fridge and pull out a twelve-pack of beer and a twelve-pack of Fanta. I set them out and return for the second batch of burgers, which also go pretty quickly, leaving only three left - for Tobias and I.

I fix our burgers and hand Tobias a plate and a bottle of beer. He wrinkles his nose at it, but takes a swig anyway. I find myself taking one, too, though I normally don't drink, especially around Aje.

Then I remember that one of us has to be somewhat sober, so I put down the half-finished bottle and plop onto Tobias' lap to finish my burger. The only noise in the room comes from the kids, who eat and laugh quietly.

Susan finally stands and walks over to me. "I'm sorry about your teammate," she says to Four. To me, she adds, "I'll take AJ home with me tonight. You can pick him and my kids up tomorrow morning. I have an out-of-town stretch, remember?"

I nod numbly. "I have one starting right when you get off - back. Whatever." I rub my temples. "Thank you."

She smiles and pats my hand. "See you later." She gathers the kids and leaves.

I sigh, set my plate down, and cuddle into Tobias. "I hate…"

"What?" he mumbles.

"I don't know. Cowards. Depression. Life," I reply.

Tobias rubs my back. "I'm sorry, love. It'll get better."

"The problem is that I don't feel…sad," I say, furrowing my brow. "I just feel…nothing for him. Maybe pity. Maybe disappointment in myself that I didn't do anything. But I don't feel anything for him."

He sighs. "It'll be okay, Tris," is all he says.

Chris comes with me to watch the kids during the game. Every Yankee employee wears a black patch with number forty eight, Al's number, on it. I put AJ in a black polo and khaki shorts, as well. Tristan and Hayden wear dark colors.

It's an hour before the game actually starts, and Al's family sits above the dugout. I look at his mother with a sad smile. "I'm sorry," I say.

"Were you his friend?" she asks, wiping away tears.

I bite my lip. No, I think. "Yes," I find myself saying. "He was a good player."

She smiles. "Thank you."

I smile back and hold my cap over my heart for the anthem, which they're playing before the memorial. After the anthem, the players and employees sit in chairs on the field, along with Al's family and some news people.

They play a slideshow of Al as a kid, and then in middle school, and then in high school, and then in college, and then in the Minors, and then on the Orioles, and finally on the Yankees. He looked so…life-full until the last few pictures.

After the slideshow, Max gives a gruff speech, followed by one from Al's dad. Then Max announces that the team will wear the patches for the remainder of the season and every year on the anniversary of his death.

That's putting it nicely, I think. Suicide. Cowardice. Not death.

I sit next to a few other trainers, none of whom I know well. I sigh and sink down into my seat. Then I glance over at the players. Tobias meets my eyes and gives me a small smile.

I rub my temples and wait for the service to be over. When it finally is, the team disperses to get ready for the game, and some of the Yankee employees begin to take the stuff on the field down.

I find Tobias in the mass of people walking off the field. "Hey," I say softly.

"Hi."

"What position today?" I ask.

"Catcher." He gives me a smile. "Can you adjust my left shoulder before the game starts? It's feeling a bit sore."

I nod. "Get ready except that, and I will."

A few other players ask for adjustments, and I give them. Then Tobias returns and I easily adjust his shoulder.

I kiss him lightly on the lips. "Good luck," I whisper.

He gives me a wry look. "I don't need luck. I have you."

I hit his shoulder lightly. "Oh, shut it."

He jogs onto the field and takes his place behind the plate. Zeke is pitching today.

I see Tobias give Zeke a reassuring look before he squats down. As the batter steps up, Tobias gives a signal, and Zeke nods ever so slightly.

Zeke pitches pretty well until the sixth inning, when he gets three guys from the Astros on base in a row. He throws another pitch, and the guy hits a ball to the shortstop, a new guy named David, who throws it in to Tobias quickly. Tobias tags the runner sliding into home out quickly.

The ump calls it out, unsurprisingly. However, the batter throws his hands up, saying something quietly to the ump. The ump shakes his head and gestures to Tobias.

The player, with an angry look on his face, stomps over to Tobias and digs his cleat down Tobias' calf hard, ripping the fabric of his socks and pants as well as the straps of his gear and his flesh. I run onto the field with my kit to a collapsed Tobias, peeling his hands away from the wound.

The cleat marks are deep and nasty, bleeding sluggishly with visible dirt in them.

The Astros' trainer runs up and joins me on the ground, kneeling my Tobias. "Shit. I'm sorry, Mister Eaton," the guy murmurs. To me, he adds, "Do you want me to call for an ambulance?"

I consider. "Yeah. I think he needs a tetanus shot. We don't have them."

The medic-trainer person stand and walks into our dugout, calling on the phone there. The umpire, Zeke, and Max approach. Will and Uriah jog out from the dugout, and all the players slowly form a wide circle around him. When I feel there's not enough space around him, I glance up at everyone around him.

"Get away," I order. "Give him space."

The ump kneels. "How bad of an injury is it, trainer?"

I hesitate. "Bad enough. He won't be playing for at least two weeks."

Tobias lets out a ragged breath. "I'll be fine, Tris."

I smack his uninjured leg lightly. "Don't do that, Four. I can see this hurts you. I'm not stupid."

He sighs. "I'll be fine," he insists.

"I called for an ambulance," the other medic tells me. "We should clean it, though."

I nod. "We need to turn him onto his back, though." I glance into the crowd. "Zeke and Uriah," I call. They come forward, caps tucked into their belts. "Help us turn him."

They do as we say and then step back. I pull out gauze, and the other medic produces some hydrogen peroxide. We work together to clean the dirt out of the wounds. Tobias stays admirably still, though I can tell us touching them is like us recutting him.

Max kneels next to Tobias, too. "Tris, will he be okay?" he asks.

I nod. "Eventually."

Max lets air hiss out through his teeth. "How long?"

I shrug. "We'll see after the stitches. A few days on crutches, and a lot of rest. At least two weeks, though." I run my fingers through Tobias' hair.

The umpire stands. "Mister Girardi," he says, gesturing to Max, "where is Mister Porter?"

"Here," a voice calls, and Bo Porter, the manager of the Astros, appears.

"Mister Porter, where is the player that did this?"

Bo Porter grimaces. "In the locker room, being held down by several of his teammates."

Max scowls, and the umpire says, "He will receive a suspension, Mister Porter. He will be out as long as Mister Eaton is out."

Bo Porter did a double take. "Um, sir, can you do that?"

"It's only fair, isn't it?" Max says quietly. "I lose one of my best players, you lose one of yours."

"Exactly," the ump agrees. "It's decided, then. I'll tell my supervisors my decision, and you can tell yours."

Max returns to Tobias' side, and the umpire walks off the field with Bo Porter, only to return a minute or so later.

"The ambulance is here," Zeke tells me quietly.

I touch Tobias' shoulder. "They're going to want to put you on a stretcher. Do -"

"I'll walk," he announces. "Help me up, Tris. You, too, Zeke."

Zeke glances at me for permission, and I nod. We help him up.

The crowd begins to applaud, giving Tobias a standing ovation. I think he would nod and smile, if it didn't require require so much effort to simply stand and have Zeke and I help him off the field. Instead, he grimaces.

"Who cleated you?" I ask.

"Number six, Villar," he replies, face red with exertion.

I help him onto the stretcher in the ambulance, and an EMT begins to strap him down. I help, as well as help bandage his leg.

The other medic runs up to the back of the truck. "Sorry about Villar," he gasps.

I shake my head. "Four will be fine after a while."

Tobias groans. "I don't want to be out."

I give him a look. "Sucks to be you, then, babe."

Both the EMT and the medic give me a weird look at my use of "babe." I giggle.

"She's my girlfriend," Tobias explains. Then he grimaces in pain. "Can we just leave already?"

The EMT walks forward the driver's part and talks with him for a second. Then he walks back, closes the doors, and sits, gesturing for me to do the same. The ambulance starts moving, and I hold Tobias' hand. I smooth his hair as we go quickly through the New York streets, though it takes nearly twenty minutes. The other EMT has readjusted the bandage on Tobias' leg so that he doesn't lose too much blood, though I can tell that one little tightening hurt Tobias like hell.

In the hospital, the EMTs wheel him into the emergency room. I follow them to the room they bring him to, where a group of nurses quickly come in to help move him onto the bed. He lets out a controlled huff of breath.

I sit next to his bed. A nurse approaches me. "Are you one of the field medics?" she asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Can you please explain what happened and the gravity of the injury so I can give him a number?" she asks.

"He tagged a runner out and the runner got angry. He purposefully cleated Four's calf. The wounds are about eight or so inches long. They're deep enough to cause concern, and I think, without the bandages, he'd be losing blood pretty quickly," I explain briefly.

She nods and takes notes. "And how long has he been waiting for treatment?"

"Well, it took about twenty minutes for us to get here, plus another five before the ambulance got there." I glance at Tobias. "I can stitch him up with the proper supplies, but I think he needs a tetanus shot, too. Of course, I assume you guys can handle everything. I'm just offering." I smile.

"It's no problem. A doctor will be in in a few minutes." She walks out of Tobias' room, flips a flag outside the door, and writes on the whiteboard.

I take Tobias' hand. "How bad is it?" he mumbles.

I kiss his head. "It's not good, babe."

He sighs and groans. "This fucking sucks."

The doctor comes in, a nurse wheeling a cart following him and shutting the door. "Hi, Mr. Eaton. My name is Dr. Machel." He takes the cart from the nurse, giving her a polite smile. "I can take it from here, Farah."

She leaves, closing the door again behind her.

Dr. Machel gives me a smile. "Are you his girlfriend?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Um, yes. I'm also the Yankees head trainer."

He carefully begins to unbandage Tobias' leg. "Ah. Well, -" he cuts himself off when he sees the wounds, frowning. "These are nasty lacerations you've got here. I was told they're from cleats?"

I nod. "One of the other players cleated him."

He takes out the necessary items and begins to clean and stitch. "Well, considering the depth and number of these wounds, I'm going to have to give you crutches, as well as recommend physical therapy once they're healed."

"How long will this injury keep me out of play?" Tobias asks hoarsely.

"A month, at most."

"The season will most likely be over in a month! It's August!" Tobias protests.

"Four," I warn.

"Then you'll most likely be missing the rest of the season," Dr. Machel replies, half-shrugging as he stitches.

Tobias moans. "I'm going to kill that bastard."

"Is hanging out with me and AJ that bad?" I tease, stroking his hair.

"You'll still have to go," he grumbles.

"I'm sure Max will let you tag along," I reply.

Dr. Machel moves on to the next wound. "And I said at most four weeks. It could be less, Mr. Eaton."

Tobias slumps back into the pillows of the hospital bed anyway. "It's still a long time to be out."

Dr. Machel finishes the last wound. "Well, I'll send a nurse in here with crutches. I think we'll keep you here overnight, Mr. Eaton, as you lost enough blood to be of a little worry and I want to make sure those stitches don't get infected." He puts the stuff on the cart and holds up a hand. "No driving, extensive exercise, running, walking without crutches, or anything along those lines for the next week or so." He ticks them off on his hand. "Balanced diet. Don't st around on the couch all day and eat junk food."

I smile. "I can handle him."

Dr. Machel gives a wicked smile. "Oh, and no sex for at least a week."

Tobias sinks back into the pillow, mumbling something. I give another, tighter, smile. "Thank you, Dr. Machel."

He leaves, and I sit on the edge of Tobias' bed. "I need to go home soon for AJ," I murmur, stroking his hair. "Are you okay here tonight?"

He huddles back into the pillow. "Yeah, whatever."

I stroke his hair. "I'm sorry, Tobias, but I can't leave AJ with Susan like that. I'm sorry."

He huffs. "I told you it's fine, Tris. Just go"

I take his hand. "I'll be back tomorrow early to pick you up."

"And then you have the game," he grumbles.

"And then I have the game," I confirm. "But hey, it's not that long. I technically don't have to be there for the warmup and batting practice. I'll stick with you for as long as I can, and then leave AJ with you."

"What about when the team leaves? They're going out of town in a few days," he complains.

"You'll stay with AJ," I repeat. I run my fingers through his hair. "It's only for a little bit, Tobias. It won't be hard."

He sighs. "Whatever."

"I'm sorry, Tobias, but this isn't my fault," I say softly, sitting on the side of the bed. "And the team will only be gone for a bit."

"Eleven days," he corrects.

"I'll Skype you -" I kiss him "- and call you -" I kiss him again "- and we can do some sort of...dancing before I leave."

His eyes light up at the thought of sex. "When?"

"When I think your leg is okay enough," I reply, stroking the side of his face for a second. Then I kiss him one last time. "I love you, Tobias. I'm going to go pick AJ up from Susan now, okay?"

Tobias pulls my head down and kisses me for a long time. "Yes," he finally says, slightly out of breath. "I love you, too," he adds as I leave.

The next day, I get AJ up at seven to go get Tobias, who was released only about an hour ago, but without a ride, he was stuck there. When we get there, AJ is rubbing his eyes, and Tobias is clearly angry about me leaving him for the night.

We don't talk much on the car ride home. AJ sleeps, anyway. When we get back, I put Epic on for him and follow Four to our room.

"Tobias, I'm sorry," I murmur, stroking his thigh.

He sighs and leans towards me, towards physical affection, from our seats on the bed. "It's okay," he finally says, eyes half-lidded.

I move my hands from his thighs to his shoulder, gently rubbing. "Do you want me to massage you?" I ask, already starting through his shirt.

He nods, reaching down to the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. "Yes, please." He lies face-first onto the bed and sighs as I begin to massage.

I work out some of the kinks in his back as we lounge. We don't talk, but I occasionally hear soft grunts or sighs of contentment from Tobias.

After about a half hour, I remove my hands from his back and give him a clean shirt to wear. He kisses along my jaw.

"Thank you," he murmurs, still kissing.

"No problem," I reply, running my hands along his sides.

He shivers slightly and presses his face into my neck. "I'm so fucked up."

I wrap my arms around him. "I…know."

"Then why do you stick with me?"

"Because I can see the real you. The one that's not fucked up," I explain slowly, stroking his hair.

He sighs lengthily. "Only you, Tris. Only you."

I hug him tightly. "No, not only me. AJ. Uriah. Zeke. Shauna. Will. Christina. Marlene. Lynn, I guess. My parents. Susan. Lots of people."

"I guess."

"Tobias, don't be…ugh. You're annoying me now," I say halfheartedly.

He chuckles slightly. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now let's go watch Epic for the four millionth time."

"We have seen it a lot, haven't we?" he asks, standing.

"Yeah. I could probably speak along with it." I shake my head. "I can't wait until he finds a new 'favorite' movie."

I feel his laughter against my side as we descend the stairs. "Me neither."