AN: I appreciate all of the follows, favorites and reviews. Enjoy and see you on Sunday.
I stare at the ceiling in my room, my tears have left a dry and cracked path down my cheeks and around my eyes that I desperately wish I could scrub away. Thinking about my family, and that fucking war, it was all consuming and I couldn't deal with it. I can't deal with the loss, or the guilt I have now, and I don't think there's any way in hell I can talk to someone I was told had a part in what happened.
Tobias had been a leader back then too, just as young and fresh as Eric, and I had wholeheartedly believed that job is what changed him. The Tobias I grew up with in Abnegation was kind and gentle, sweet and sure with our love, and the person I met in Dauntless was now Four. He was harder, almost jaded, with tattoos and an aloof manner. He was only slightly kinder than our other instructor Eric, and maybe that was only because he seemed to still have an ounce of humanity.
Tobias, or Four as I now knew him as, wasn't as happy to see me return as I thought he would be. He struggled a bit with the realization that we were now in the same faction, and that bothered me. I'd asked him if there was someone else, and he'd promised me there wasn't, but there was more than just a two year separation between us and I decided to distance myself from him until he could figure it out. After just a few days of my silence, he'd come and found me and we'd spent some time together alone for the first time in over two years.
The sixteen year old girl he'd left behind foolishly expected him to wait for me, and the eighteen year old that I now am realized that he didn't. Even with as shaky as our reunion was, we did sleep with each other while he was a leader and I was his initiate, and even though our relationship was mostly physical Tobias did try to protect me. He had told me for weeks leading up to the war that he felt Jeanine Matthews was up to something, and it was more than just her obsession with divergents. He was always cryptic with the way he talked, and even with the way he handled himself, and I had a hard time understanding if his worry was warranted. I do know that he didn't trust his colleagues in leadership, and he lived with a cloud of paranoia over his head.
We were held together by a frayed and worn tether, and if it weren't for the looming worry of the unknown when it came to Divergents and our city we'd likely have broken apart. I foolishly held on to the belief that he still loved me, that my body would be enough for him. I was an idiot, and even with the knowledge that Tobias was not interested in a committed relationship I still loved him.
He and I had our worst fight yet the night before the war, when I had tried to gently tell him how worried I was about his mental state. He'd gotten so angry at me, and I'd gone back to the dorms in tears. My best friend Christina held me to her closely as I cried myself to sleep. I awoke when I felt her getting out of my bunk, and when I tried to talk to her she was vacant, as were the others in my dorm who were getting dressed and moving like mindless drones. I followed along, pretending to be just as numb as them, and when we were given weapons and ushered onto the train I looked for Tobias. He was nowhere to be found.
Alone in Abnegation I played my part, I'd dutifully walked in sync with my faction, and I pretended the gunfire and screams weren't real. I couldn't find Tobias, so I sought out my parents by myself instead. That day, surrounded by gunfire, screams and death, I learned how to depend solely on myself. Neither my parents nor my brother survived that day, and tracing the three birds in flight on my chest, a representation I had inked into my skin well before this war began, makes me miss them so much it physically hurts.
Almost as much as watching Tobias be shot to death in front of me.
A knock on my door jolts me, and I peek through the blinds to see Eric standing there. Or Paul. Or whoever the fuck he is. I crack my door open and stare at him, and he awkwardly stares back at me with his hands in his pockets.
"Did you need something?" I ask. I know it's rude but I can't seem to keep it from slipping out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry."
I look at him through my swollen and watery eyes, and for the first time I wonder if this man truly isn't who I think he is. Eric Coulter would never apologize to me.
"Who are you really?" I ask him as I cross my arms around myself.
"I'm Paul." He replies.
"Do you know who I am, outside of this place?"
He studies me, and sighs, "I don't feel like talking about that in the hallway is the best idea."
I open the door wider and gesture for him to come in, and he stands right within the closed door and continues to stare at me. I move away from him, sitting on my bed and scooting back to the wall, creating some distance between us.
"Do you know who I am?" I press.
"No, but I feel like I should." He finally answers.
I remember what my escort muttered about him when they were taking me back to the room.
"They should have given him a personality wipe too."
I jump from the bed and he backs away as I approach him, flattening himself against my door. I invade his personal space and study his face, seeing the faint scars left from his piercings. The healing serum was amazing, but as I know myself it's never foolproof and I have the bullet scars to prove it. I trace my hand down his neck, feeling his smooth and warm skin, and his pulse racing, but more importantly feeling the slight raises in his skin where his tattoos once were.
"What are you doing?" He asks.
I jerk my hand back and feel the blush staining my cheeks, "Do you remember anything about yourself before being put here?"
"No." He replies.
"Why?"
"My therapist claims it is PTSD from the war. A war I have no fucking memory of in a city I can't figure out why I'd even be in." He replies.
"Childhood?"
"Not a thing about it." He shakes his head, "You know me, don't you, outside of here?"
"I do." I admit.
I know he can feel the way my body is shaking, and I'm very aware that this is Eric Coulter I'm dealing with. Ruthless, impenetrable, deadly Eric Coulter, who may very well have helped plan the war he's forgotten. Who could easily snap me like a twig if he wanted to, who could choke the very life out of me behind the doors of my room and no one would know until mandatory medication time.
"You're the only person has remotely felt familiar since I've been here." He admits.
"So you do know who I am?" I ask quietly.
"Not yet but I think you can help me figure it out."
"Why would I do that?" I ask, trembling under his intense gaze.
"You wouldn't have let me in here if you weren't willing to." He replies.
The announcement over the loudspeaker makes us both jump, and when we leave the room to report for our mandated activities he follows me, but I am quickly intercepted by an orderly and forced to go visit Myron.
Eric stands with his hands in the pockets of his scrub pants, watching me as I'm led away.
"I've seen you with Mr. Benton today, I take it you two are getting along." Myron says before I've even had a chance to get settled.
"Who?"
He looks up from his notepad, "Paul Benton. The patient who we've integrated from solitary."
"Oh, yes I met him."
"Do you still believe him to be some long-lost leader of Dauntless?" He asks me.
I could tell him the truth, but right now I'm afraid that it could be more deadly than the lie that's about to slip from my tongue, "No. He has similar features, but it's not him."
"What do you know of Eric Coulter?" He asks.
"He was the youngest leader we had in Dauntless."
"I thought he and Tobias Eaton were the same age." He replies and my stomach drops.
"Stop-"
"Tris, we have to start somewhere. Please." He asks calmly.
I close my eyes, feeling the tears already, "He's eight months younger than Tobias was."
"Were you and Eric close?"
I shake my head in the negative, "No. He was just one of the instructors in our training class."
"Did you like him?"
"No." I reply.
"Why not?"
"He was a cocky asshole." I reply frankly and Myron actually laughs.
"I appreciate your Candor." He says when he's calmed down.
I smile briefly in return.
"That's the first time you've smiled at me since you've been here. If being around this Paul Benton does it for you, we can keep it up."
I don't see Eric when I'm out of my therapy session, but I'm surprised when I'm given a message to return a phone call.
Who would call me?
I look at the note and see the scribbled message, an unfamiliar phone number but a very familiar name.
Uriah Pedrad
I shake my head, remembering the last time I saw him was in a hospital with tubes and swathed in bandages, and the severe face of his brother as the doctors said it was unlikely that Uriah would ever wake up.
I ran that day, to the roof, ready to end it all.
I make my way to the central desk and request permission to have personal phone time, and I wait as they scan my badge and check their computers to ensure I qualify. I just hope that my conversation with Myron was enough.
"You have twenty minutes." I'm told as I'm led into the room, "The time is strictly enforced."
I dial the number with shaky fingers and when I hear a tired and scratchy, but familiar voice.
"Uriah." I breathe out through tears.
"Hey you." He replies.
"How are you? Oh my god, I can't believe you're talking to me, are you okay? Are you in pain?"
He chuckles, "Slow down Trissy. I'm okay. Tired, a little sore, but I'm here."
"You can't imagine how happy I am to hear your voice."
"Ditto. I was hoping to see you, but my brother was able to track down this number for you. Tris, are you okay?" He asks softly.
I want to tell him everything. I want to scream that I'm not okay, that my parents, my brother, my friends and my dear sweet Tobias are all dead and it's all because of me, but all I can do is cry. Besides, I'm sure he's already gotten an earful from his brother Zeke.
After all, he's the one who saved me from jumping that day.
"Hey, we only get a few minutes, don't cry. We can talk about whatever you want."
"Tell me about things there." I finally choke out.
I listen as he talks about the liquid diet they've put him on since he's just woken up from a coma. He tells me about the continued physical therapy he's going to have to endure, and how Zeke is getting his apartment ready for his possible return with mobility issues.
"Four's going to make sure I get a good place, and you never know maybe Marlene might actually move in with me." He prattles on but all I can do is concentrate on one name.
Four.
"Uri, did you say Four?" I ask.
"Yeah, he's been voted as the head leader since the war and all, he's got a lot on his plate so I appreciate him doing me a solid-"
"He's alive?" I ask.
"Tris are you kidding me right now? Of course he's alive, as a matter of fact he's going to be here in a few minutes. He dropped Zeke off and he's parking the car-"
"You've actually seen him?"
"Yeah, of course I have." Uriah answers.
"Four is alive?!" I exclaim again.
"Tris, what's going on with you?" He asks with concern in his voice.
"He's... he's... dead... Uri, Four is dead-"
Twenty minutes complete
"No!" I scream into the phone, hearing the drone of a dial tone in response, "No!" I slam the phone repeatedly against the table, watching it shatter into pieces.
I watch as an orderly walks in and I scream, "I need more time. I need more!"
They push their radio button and bark a command but I don't hear them. All I do is beg for them to let me call Uriah back.
"You'll be lucky if you ever get to use the phone again." They bark as I see another person enter the room with a syringe in their hand.