A/N: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter! I loved your comments. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, BK2U, who helped me catch some unintentional repetition in this chapter. This is another fairly short chapter, but I wanted to post it while it's timely...

Chapter 11: Tobias – Thanksgiving

"You're sure he won't be there?" Tobias feels weak for asking the question, but he can't help it. There's no way he wants to see his father.

"I'm sure." Tris adjusts his tie a little, her fingers lingering on his chest. "He alternates holidays between different coworkers, and he's spending this one with the Blacks."

Tobias gives a jerky nod, running his hands lightly down Tris' arms to calm his nerves. "Do your parents know I'm coming?"

Her expression answers the question before her words do. "Not by name." The side of her mouth lifts apologetically. "I was afraid my dad might tell Marcus if he had advance warning."

Another nod. "Probably a good call." Neither of them raises the obvious issue – what they'll do about Christmas, when there's no way to avoid that advance notice. Maybe he'll just stay at his apartment that day, like he traditionally does. Though it wouldn't be fair to Tris….

"Is Caleb bringing his girlfriend?" he asks instead, trying to deflect attention from his own messed up family.

"His fiancée," Tris emphasizes, smiling a little. "Cara. And yes, they'll both be there."

Despite his anxiety, Tobias' lips lift at the correction. Pulling Tris to him, he rests his forehead on hers. "Fiancée," he murmurs, enjoying the feel of the word in his mouth and wondering if he'll be able to use that term for her at some point.

"Yup." Tris seems to be oblivious to any deeper implications. "I was surprised they didn't wait to announce it today, but I guess they wanted her family to know sooner." She shrugs. "Anyway, we should get going."

"Yeah." Tobias releases her reluctantly. "I'll grab the pie."

Offhand, he can't think of many moments in his life more awkward than this one. He stands just inside the doorway to the Priors' home, the apple pie in one hand, as Natalie stares at him, shell-shocked, and Andrew glares at him coldly. Utter silence fills the room.

"Hi Mom. Hi Dad," Tris finally tries, her voice unnaturally high.

"Hello, Tris, honey." Natalie forces a smile. "You didn't tell us that your 'new' boyfriend was Tobias."

Biting her lip nervously, Tris says, "Didn't I mention that? I thought I did."

The lie fools no one, though only her father calls her out on it. "No, you definitely didn't." His tone is icy.

"Oh. Umm, sorry?" Tris looks anxiously between her parents' unwelcoming expressions. Tobias reaches for her hand, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"How long has this been going on?" Andrew seems even angrier as his eyes take in their linked fingers.

To everyone's surprise, the answer comes from deeper in the room. "I'd say two months. Maybe three." Caleb gives his sister a small smile – a considerably warmer greeting than their parents have managed.

"You knew?" Andrew is glaring at his son now, shock and betrayal registering on his face.

"No." Caleb shakes his head to reiterate his innocence. "I'm just judging by when she started acting happy again." Something lightens inside Tobias' chest at the words. No matter how rocky their second-time-around has been, something must be right for Caleb to notice that type of change.

Perhaps Natalie agrees, since her expression softens. "Is he right?" she asks her daughter gently.

Tris holds her mother's gaze, the sides of her mouth lifting, as she nods. "Yes. It's been almost three months."

The answer is enough for Natalie. Smiling tenderly, she pulls her daughter into a hug, reaching a hand out to Tobias' arm to include him, too. "Come in," she urges. "Let's get out of the cold."

To some degree, though, the frosty air seems to follow them – firmly embedded in Andrew's frown and in the sullen glances he keeps casting at Tobias as they all gather around the table and begin their meal.

Natalie plays the role of peacekeeper, making a point of redirecting her husband every time he seems on the brink of a dangerous topic, and smiling sweetly at the others, her gentle voice calming the whole group. Tobias wonders vaguely what it would have been like to grow up with a mother like that – or with a father who would have listened, for that matter.

"Cara," she murmurs when Andrew looks like he's about to break a lull in the conversation, "have you and Caleb picked a date yet?"

"No." Her gaze moves curiously between her future father-in-law and Tobias. "But we're leaning toward the summer. That should give us enough time to pull everything together."

"We don't need a large ceremony," Caleb adds. "And Cara doesn't have her heart set on any particular location, so that should be plenty of time." He smiles at his fiancée, clearly proud that she's too sensible to want to wait years and spend thousands on exactly the right venue.

"Are you inviting family friends?" Andrew asks, evoking an audible sigh of annoyance from his wife. Everyone – except perhaps Cara – understands that he means Marcus.

"We haven't decided on the guest list yet," Caleb replies neutrally, trying very hard to avoid a holiday fight but losing patience. "But we'll be prioritizing our family." His eyes linger on his sister before shifting to Tobias. "And their significant others."

Tris' lips curve upwards. "Thank you," she replies, unsuccessfully squelching the triumph in her expression. It visibly infuriates their father even more.

Before he can say anything, however, Natalie grips his arm, tugging him with her as she rises. "Andrew, would you please help me with the pies?" Her tone somehow manages to be both polite and fierce at the same time, and he wisely doesn't respond aloud, choosing to just go with her as the others watch in silence.

Cara's eyebrows are practically in her hair when she turns to Tobias afterwards, whispering harshly, "How the hell did you piss him off that much?"

"Natural charm," Tobias answers wryly, not particularly inclined to share his horrendous past with someone he just met. The words pull a bitter chuckle from Tris.

"He's in denial about a friend of his," she tells Cara simply, her expression making it clear the topic is closed. Cara nods a wary acceptance.

"Well, I, for one, am glad you're back," Caleb pipes up, surprising Tobias for the second time today. "I never thought I'd say that, since I was happy when you left." He lifts an apologetic shoulder. "I didn't know who to believe then, but either way, it seemed safer for Tris to be with someone else." A nervous smile touches his lips when his sister glares at him. "But the thing is…Tris was never as happy with anyone else as she was with you. Or as strong." He meets Tobias' gaze evenly. "If you're the one who brings that out in her, then I have to respect that."

Tobias nods slowly, uncertain how to respond, particularly since Tris is now looking away, her face reddening. "Thanks," he finally mutters, just as Natalie and Andrew reemerge from the kitchen, bringing dessert with them. It's a welcome distraction.

And maybe the sugar helps, because the mood seems lighter as they sample the three different flavors of pie. Andrew steers clear of troublesome topics, instead asking about everyone's current jobs. He listens courteously to the answers, too, prompting Cara for more information about her position as a medical researcher and letting Tris brag a little about what Tobias does for a living.

It's not until after they've eaten, and the women are upstairs discussing something related to Caleb and Cara's upcoming wedding, that Andrew loses his newfound control.

"Is your father even aware that you're back?" he asks Tobias bluntly.

"I doubt it." Tobias tries to keep the irritation out of his tone. "We haven't talked in years."

"And why is that?"

Caleb groans. "Dad, don't ask questions if you don't want to hear the answers." It's sound advice, but judging by the glare Andrew throws at his son, it's far from appreciated.

"I would like to know," he drawls back coldly, "why a grown man would continue to blame his father for everything he doesn't like in his life." He directs his gaze firmly at Tobias. "A lot of things were beyond his control, you know. And it hurt him tremendously when you considered them his fault anyway. And when you left."

For a moment, Tobias feels his throat constricting with all the helplessness of his youth – at being held responsible for his father's actions yet again. With a tremendous effort, he pushes past the feeling. "Whether you like it or not, Andrew, I blame my father for exactly what he did. Nothing more and nothing less."

The words are firm, and the two men stare at each other as Caleb sits stiffly beside them. "He's not responsible for your mother's decisions," Andrew finally states.

A scoff comes out of Tobias despite his best efforts at remaining polite. "With all due respect," he virtually spits, "you have no idea what life was like in my household. You can't even imagine it because it's so foreign to who you are." The hard lines of his face soften just a little. "I know from Tris that you're a good father. That you love your kids and your wife and that you have never hurt them." It's getting difficult to keep his breathing even. "Marcus isn't like that." He looks straight at Andrew. "Not at all."

Andrew's expression draws another intervention from Caleb. "Dad," he starts, but his father holds up a sharp hand to stop him.

"Different parents have different methods of discipline," he declares, his face reflecting his disdain. He clearly can't get himself to believe what Tobias is saying. "That doesn't make him a monster, and it doesn't mean that he doesn't love you."

Some small, distant part of Tobias' mind knows that Andrew can't possibly understand how deeply those words slice through him. How they bring to mind the thousands of times his father repeated the same phrase over and over whenever he raised his belt, or his fist, or his booted foot. Whenever he locked Tobias into the small, dark closet without any idea when he'd be released. This is for your own good.

His breathing is ragged as he snaps, "Love? Is that what you call it when a father whips every inch of flesh off his son's back? When he leaves him bleeding and dehydrated in a closet for three days? When he breaks his ribs and refuses to take him to a doctor so no one will know?"

He stands up, unable to sit still any longer, his hands pressing against his head in a desperate attempt to push back the memories. "If Tris and I get married, is that how you'd want him to treat your grandchildren? Would it be fine with you if he took a belt to their backs over and over every fucking day of their lives until they had more scars than skin? Would he still be trustworthy after that?"

Andrew's eyes have grown wide with horror, and Caleb is saying something as he stands up, too, but it's impossible to hear over the ringing in his head. "But I guess you need proof, don't you? So, tell me, Andrew, what exactly do you want for that? Do you want to see the scars on my back? Do you want to hear how it felt every time that belt landed?" His voice has risen to a full-fledged shout. "Do you want me to describe all the times he kicked my mother until she lost consciousness? What the hell constitutes proof for you?"

If Andrew has a coherent answer, he doesn't get a chance to say it, because suddenly Tris is there, inserting herself between them as she yells at her father with more fury than Tobias has ever seen in her. And Natalie is trying to intervene, her normally soothing tone rising in panic, while Caleb watches helplessly.

Tobias isn't entirely sure what instinct takes him out of the house, walking through the frigid weather without a coat – only that he needs to move, and he needs to be alone, and he needs to somehow clear the chaos from his mind. So, he walks down street after street, trying to let the cold air draw the adrenaline from his body and release the images from his tortured brain.

He knows that he overreacted. He knows that Andrew didn't mean any harm. And he knows that the rest of the household already believes him. But none of that seems to matter. All he can think is that this is why his mother left. This is why she abandoned him to his father's abuse. Because even her friends sided with him.

By the time he returns to the house, his limbs numb with cold, the panic is almost gone. His muscles feel weak in the aftermath, barely able to support him, and there's no way he wants to talk to anyone for the rest of the day, but he doesn't move away when Tris races through the door, meeting him on the porch and wrapping her arms fiercely around him.

"I'm sorry," she recites over and over. "I'm so sorry I made you come here."

He wants to disagree – wants to take the pain of this day into himself only and not burden Tris with it – but he doesn't seem to have any words left inside him. So, instead, he clings to her, letting her scent and her warmth ease the ache that fills his core.

It's not until they're in the taxi, halfway back to his apartment, that he realizes he just ruined Tris' Thanksgiving with her family. Guilt floods through him at the thought, particularly since he has no idea how they can ever make Christmas work next. He doesn't want to make her choose between him and them, but how can they possibly have a happy holiday together after this?

Briefly, his mind goes to Amar, and to a discussion they once had about how difficult it was to get George's family to accept him. Maybe it's time for him to seek some advice….

A/N: The next chapter is partly written, but I expect it to be very long, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to complete it this weekend or not. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews really do inspire me to write, so if you want the next chapter soon, that's the best way to help me get there. :-)