fourtris oneshots

death

Four years.

It has been four years ever since the love of his life died. Four years since he saw her body laying on that table--cold and pale; dead.

He doesn't want to get out of bed. He doesn't want to go on with his day, watch how many forget that a hero died today. He doesn't want to walk around the city, see people smiling and laughing and forgetting that a sixteen year old sacrificed her life for theirs.

A sixteen year old who was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl he still wants to.

Tobias does not want to walk around the city and he does not want to see the pathetic faces of those who Tris Prior sacrificed their--her and Tobias's--lives together for. They got to keep their memories, got to build their peaceful life. They are the ones that are happy, while Tris was ripped from his hands.

A vial of memory serum sits in his dresser still. No one knows he has it. Sometimes he would stare at it and just wonder how life would be without the memories of her and of them. It would be helpful, in a way, to create a new life. One where he didn't have to lay in bed for hours, or stay in his home. One where he didn't have to imagine where they would be if she was alive, what her job would be and whether they would live with each other.

They would. If she was alive, Tobias wouldn't have let her out of his sight again.

But, in this world now, there was no such thing as would or could. Because she was dead, and there was no way ever of bringing her back.

Tris Prior was shot by a man messed up in the head, who wanted a perfect society and who wanted revenge. A life cut short; the girl he loves dead on a table.

But still, Tobias moved the blankets back. He placed his feet on the carpeted floors. He moved toward the kitchen, where he made breakfast and sat down at the small table to eat. He looked out, at the bright yellow sun that hung in the sky.

And he grieved.