Chapter Text
Tris
I have just enough sense to put the safety on the gun and stuff it at my back in the waistband of my jeans. I don't stop running until I find someone; two Bureau guards. When they run off in the direction I told them, I lean into the nearest wall.
What have I done?
I bring my hand up to see it shaking. Cowardly, I let it drop out of my sight as if doing so would help me to forget what I did.
I had a problem with guns for so long. I've only just become comfortable wielding one again and now what? I'm trigger happy? At the sight of Uriah, something in me snapped.
And then Tobias said something that hit me at the core. We don't know whether or not this is the real Uriah or a clone. What if I just killed the real Uriah?
I've jumped into situations in the past but this—this is positively the fastest and wrong decision I've made. Had I been thinking clearly, I could have subdued Uriah, and Tobias and I could be questioning him together.
Tobias.
He hasn't looked at me like that in a long time. Not since I killed Jeanine. I don't like that look on his face; I don't like how it makes me feel about myself.
He called me Prior. He hasn't called me that since the beginning of Dauntless initiation. The sound of my last name from his lips still strikes something inside me, reminding me of my unsure future.
I suppose the future is always unsure. But for a while I could see it—I could see the two of us in our new house. I could see something beautiful developing between us. Even after the bomb put him in the coma, I could still see us. I saw what I feared and somehow it wasn't as scary as I'd imagined. I had hopes for when he woke up, hopes that we could return to our home and make a life together, surrounded by friends and family. And then when Tobias did wake with only the memories of an imagined life I could still picture it, a small hiccup but it was there—our future was there.
Now, after shooting our only sure link to what's been going on since the bombing in the pits our future is as hazy as ever.
Tobias is the only one who I can confess all my sins to. He's the only one not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong. I've come to learn that I need that—I need him. I can't lose him over this.
I was sure enough of my aim that I didn't hit anything vital. Tobias' training helped shape my marksman skills. But there is still a chance of Uriah bleeding out if help doesn't get to him in time. My actions have consequences.
I go still; the shaking has stopped. This whole time I've missed something vital.
"Uriah."
Tobias had said his name. He remembered. I was too caught up in seeing Uriah as a threat to notice.
I have to face it. I have to face what I've done. I have to face him. Both of them.
I need to see Uriah live, not only to set my conscious clear but to get to the bottom of the radicals and their plot.
I need to make sure that Tobias and I are okay. We've come too far for it to end this way; not after all we have been through.
I peel myself away from the wall.
The run back seems shorter than when I fled.
I'm too late. The room is empty. No Tobias. No Uriah.
There is, however, a puddle of blood on the floor. Glancing up at the scaffolding, an vision of the explosion trespasses in my mind. I forgave Tobias so his involvement. I can only hope that he can forgive me in this.
Surprising myself, I find the infirmary quickly enough. At this late hour the infirmary should be quiet. Not anymore. I follow the commotion, which leads me through a hallway. I spy Tobias standing in front of a closed door.
He must hear my approach because he turns. His expression is inscrutable before turning back to look at the door.
"Your help came fast," he says without looking at me. "He's in surgery."
"I..." I swallow.
He whirls on me. "Do you have any idea what—"
"I know what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have acted so quickly."
His brows are knit together impossibly tight. "Tris."
I shake my head. "Don't say my name like that. I'm not a child. I know you have your memories back, maybe not how much but enough to recognize Uriah. Maybe you have enough to recall that I haven't been a child for a long time. I've made mistakes. I won't hide from them. But you've made mistakes too. whether you remember them or not. That's the point of all this—everything we've been through since leaving Dauntless, discovering that the city was an experiment. We're free to make our own choices, to make our own mistakes. Our lives are not determined by a single choice by drops of blood in a bowl—instead, our live are dependent on the various choices we are free to make. And if those choices turn out to be mistake, we learn from them. I understand that my action could have cost a person their life. It wouldn't be the first time. But now I see how much my choice effect the world around me."
His expression softens. Wordlessly, he draws me up into his arms.
"Are we okay?" I ask.
He sighs. "I'm frustrated as hell, but yeah, we're okay."
I close my eyes, melting into him; my safe place.
Leaning his chin on my forehead, he says, "I don't think you're a child. But sometimes, Tris, you're so smart, so strong that I feel inconsequential next to you. Then you go and do things that remind me just how inexperienced you can be. We both have our faults. A big part of what I have wanted for you is to realize that—to take a step back and see how what we do effects each other. I'm glad you see it know. If Uriah pulls through, we have a big opportunity to learn what's been going on. Who knows when we will get another one."