TRIS POV
The waiting room is starting to irritate me.
I watch the same doctors pass me. I stare at the same ceiling tiles and patterns in the carpet. I listen to the same people blab about God knows what.
Nothing new happens. Nothing can distract me from the living hell I am facing.
There has been no news since we arrived at the emergency room. The only information I have is that Tobias needs a liver before time runs out. Of course, I volunteered immediately to give up half of my liver for him, but the doctors informed me that we don't have the same blood type. That was hours ago.
So now we wait: I for some news regarding his health, and he for a liver transplant.
My heart rate has permanently risen by this point and stays high above average as I struggle to not think about how pale Tobias was in the ambulance and how much blood there was as he gradually slipped away. That cannot be the last time I see him, definitely not in that state.
"Beatrice?"
I snap out of my trance to see Caleb standing in front of me with his hands on my shoulders, looking worried.
"You don't look okay. How long have you been pacing?" he asks.
I shrug, unsure about anything anymore.
"Why don't you go freshen up a little in the bathroom, huh? Wash that blood off?" This is the brother I miss, the one who looks out for me and takes care of me when I am not strong enough. Unfortunately, he is never around anymore.
I hold up my hands to see them stained red, and the sight makes them start shaking again. I am dizzy and sick to my stomach and a hundred other things on top of that, but all I want to take care of right now is my hands.
So I nod and shuffle over to the bathroom, past all the people who look all fine and dandy. How are they not distraught like me? Don't they know what's happening?!
By the time I make it to the bathroom, I am seething. I am angry at everything: at Eric, at Dauntless, at all the happy people in the hallways, at myself, at the world. I flip on the faucet and pump out a ton of soap so that it practically covers my hands to hide the blood. More bubbles appear as I scrub at my hands, and I watch the pink water drain.
But even when all the soap is washed off, there is still a crimson color staining my palms, imbedded in the creases.
I use more soap, rub harder, make the water hotter. I have to get the blood off. I don't want it there. When I look at it, all I can see is Tobias's cloudy eyes, and it makes me even more determined and livid.
And then I break.
A sob leaves me, causing me to bend forward, and I barely catch myself on the sink. I manage to turn off the tap as I cry into the mixed bubbles and water from above. Surprisingly, I have a strong grip on the sink despite my hands being slippery, and it keeps me grounded.
By the time I am finished with my fit, broken blood vessels are added to my already repulsive face. I take in my wrecked state in the mirror, from my messy hair to my hands that are now maroon from the heat of the water. The clothes I am currently wearing are soiled with blood. Tobias's blood. Just when I thought I got rid of it all...
I stop caring about all the blood. It is everywhere, after all, so I abandon the effort of cleaning it out from under my nails. After looking down to see my bare feet—I didn't have time to put on shoes on the way out—I glance back up in the mirror to be met with the sight of the raven necklace around my neck.
My fingers automatically reach up to touch it. I memorize every indent and curve of the bird on the chain and hiccup as I do so.
I figured if I wasn't there with you for some reason in a dangerous situation, then it could be a charm that would keep you safe.
It is a lie. Even when he was gone, he was the one to return and save me. The necklace didn't do anything; it was all him.
If he dies tonight, then I will be left with nothing. He was wrong when he said a necklace would protect me.
So I think of it as one of the only things I will have left of him, and I leave the bathroom after quickly mopping up the watery mess I made on the counter with paper towels.
Caleb approaches me when I reenter the waiting room. "Mom and Dad landed a few minutes ago," he tells me. "Mom will be here soon, but Dad has to go home and deal with the police."
"Okay." There's not much to say to that because them being here won't help much. It may comfort me, but Tobias will still be dying.
And I finally begin to understand: all of the money I have does not pay for the important things. Sure, I can satisfy my material needs, but when it comes down to survival, it is useless.
Money will not save the life of the man I love.
xXxXx
As I begin to doze off on my mother's shoulder for the first time tonight, a door clicks open, and a group of surgeons, whose scrubs are covered in blood, exit the room they first wheeled Tobias into. I am on my feet and wide awake in half a second, rushing over to the one who lingers by the door and scans the room to find a family member.
"Is he okay?" I blurt out. These next words could either devastate me or take away all my fears.
"He's stable," he announces, addressing my mother as well. "He was extremely lucky to get a liver transplant; it came from another man who was unfortunately killed in a car accident tonight. We're pretty sure he is in the clear, but we're going to wean him off the anesthesia and keep a close eye on him for the next hour or so. Then he can have visitors."
"Thank you," I breathe, feeling like all the pressure and pent up tension has been released from my body. I shuffle back to my chair and sink down into it, contemplating life.
Tobias is going to be okay.
The fact that I almost lost him still traumatizes me. I couldn't handle not being with him for a week, so how would I have survived the rest of my life?
I am relieved that I don't need to fret about that. It is like waking up from a stressful nightmare and realizing that you don't have to worry about a problem because it was not real.
"How are you feeling?" my mother asks. Up until this point, I wasn't talking to my family members much.
"Fine," I lie. I am actually a million things at once: overjoyed, tired, upset, relieved, still a little stressed... But this has been a catharsis, so my mood goes directly to sorrow. "I thought I was going to lose him tonight, Mom." I wipe a stray tear and bite my quivering bottom lip. "He looked so weak, and there was so much blood and—"
"Oh, sweetie." I sob into her shoulder when she pulls me into a comforting hug. "He's okay now."
My voice sounds nasally because of my stuffed nose when I reply, "He was so close to death though. You didn't see his face..."
She holds me for a while longer as I let all the pent up frustration out. It is strange because she is never there to act all motherly like she is now, but I get used to it. It turns out to be very helpful when she gets me to relax substantially.
"Thanks," I sniffle. "I really needed that."
"No problem." She gives me a pitying smile.
We wait in silence for an agonizing hour. My excitement builds and builds as I stare at anything that could be interesting enough to distract me. After the time drags on for what seems like years, I am told that Tobias is awake and I can visit him.
I ignore the reminders of how he can't move and may not speak, and that I shouldn't be in there for long because he needs rest. When the doctor is done with his lecture, I burst into the room uncaringly, just needing to see Tobias.
Immediately after entering, I pause at the door.
He is lying nearly flat on the bed and is hooked up to a bunch of different machines, one of them a heart monitor that beeps steadily to indicate that he is indeed alive. An IV feeds him morphine, while a mask supplies him with oxygen. Those are the only basic pieces of equipment that are recognizable to me.
Hesitantly stepping closer, I make it to his bedside and stare at his face, which is thankfully now flushed with color. I wait for his eyes to open, needing to see those adorable puppy dog eyes so that I know he is still here.
It takes a moment, but eventually he drags his eyelids open to squint up at me groggily.
"Hey," I whisper.
Tobias doesn't respond in any way, but he doesn't need to. I know he went through an immense amount of trauma and pain tonight, so I don't want him to feel obligated to do anything besides stare.
The room stays silent apart from the beeping that echoes his heartbeat. It reminds me once again that he is going to be just fine. I can't repeat that sentence to myself enough; every time I think it, a wave of calm rushes over me.
My fingers card through his dark, soft hair in the way that I know he likes. He shuts his eyes again for a minute as he dozes, and I decide that I better say what I want to say to him before he falls back asleep.
"You saved me," I whisper to get his attention. He opens his eyes again. "You're a hero, Tobias." My voice cracks as a smile spreads across my face for the first time in a week. "You're my savior."
A lazy, minuscule grin appears under his breathing mask as he reaches up to touch my cheek with his left hand. Unbelievably, more tears escape my overworking eyes as he guides me down so that my forehead rests against his.
We both close our eyes and stay there for a long time, saying nothing more.
xXxXx
TOBIAS POV
Like I have always said, I hate hospitals.
I don't know how long they have trapped me here, but in my opinion, I have been stuck in this hospital bed for far too long. I was in and out of consciousness for the first bit of recovery—probably because I didn't get much rest when I left Tris—so I lost track of time.
I am being discharged today though, and I could not be happier.
Although I am unaware of where Tris and I stand. She told me a while ago that we would talk once I was out of the hospital and well on my way to recovering completely. This silence has made me on edge, but it is nice to pretend that we don't have issues. I can hold her hand, kiss her every once in a while... I think she has sped up my recovery, in a way, by making me optimistic.
But it is not enough anymore. So when she walks into the room now, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and move to get up, ignoring the stinging in my side.
"Hey, what are you doing?" she asks, pushing me back. "You should be resting. We're not leaving for a few minutes."
I relent and sit back down because the pain escalates, but stays bearable. The ache fades when I stay put and say, "We need to talk."
The way she avoids my gaze makes it clear that she has been avoiding any discussion with me. I don't blame her; this has been great while it lasted. But if we want to have any chance of staying together—or getting back together, really—then we need to converse like an actual couple.
"You shouldn't be stressing about this yet. You're still—"
"Tris," I cut her off. "I'm fine. Will you please listen? For once?" I smirk at my sarcasm and watch a small smile tug at her lips. "You may think that I should be apologizing right now. It is what any ideal guy would do, so I should. Well, I think we have made it clear that I am not an ideal guy."
She rolls her eyes at me and bites the inside of her cheek, most likely biting back a caustic remark because of my attitude.
"I left partially because it wouldn't be smart to stay around while the police pieced things together." I pause and try to remember what she told me about the investigation, since she talked to me about it on a day where my mind wasn't all there. The cops apparently found evidence on Eric's phone that led back to Dauntless, and now they are working on cracking the case.
Luckily, there was no debate on what happened. Eric broke in and tried to kill Tris; I, with my carry permit, stepped in to save her. It was that simple. No ties were found between Eric and I. I should be in the clear.
Tris sighs and crosses her arms. "I understand that, but you could have been a little more kind when it came to—"
I hold up my hand. "I'm not done yet." She takes a deep breath to control herself. "The main reason I left is because I thought Dauntless was going to come after me, and therefore you. I did it to keep you safe, but the problem was that I didn't think I would be coming back."
"Where were you even going to go?" she mumbles. There's that curiosity. I knew it couldn't hide for long.
"Somewhere out of the country." I lick my lips and spill, "Good thing I decided against it. I sat outside down the street the whole week in a new car, which you wouldn't have recognized even if you did leave the house."
"Dammit, Tobias!" she groans, pulling on her hair in exasperation.
I laugh. If only she knew how difficult it was for me to be bored the entire day, battling myself on whether or not I should talk to her while keeping an eye out for suspicious activity.
Though all the waiting turned out to have purpose because one of the nights someone actually did break in. If I had not been there...
"However," I continue, my mood shifting to a serious one. "I will apologize for keeping you in the dark and leaving things the way I did. That was wrong. You and I both know it. And I'm sorry."
Tris thinks this over. She looks like she wants to say something but is deciding against it. To encourage her, I reach out and take her hand, rubbing circles on it with my thumb.
She steps closer so that she is standing in the gap between my legs and says, "I want to say I accept your apology, but I also feel like I don't need to. I think saving my life overrides what you did, don't you think?"
It gets a short laugh out of both of us. In a way I do agree; getting shot was certainly not my idea of fun, and I should get brownie points for it. But at the same time, the way I treated her was inexcusable. I could have solved the issue differently.
I think we have established that I will never be good at this relationship thing.
I divert the conversation because I am on the fence about her statement. "You saved my life too, you know," I add, placing my hands on her hips. In turn, she wraps her arms around my neck, and it feels so nice to go back to this normalcy that I momentarily forget what I was talking about. "If you hadn't thrown that knife, then his aim would have been a lot deadlier."
She shakes her head. "But that wasn't...I was only trying to protect myself."
"Does it matter?" It saved me. I'm still alive because of the fight that was remaining in her when there was no hope left.
"No, I guess not."
We stop talking when we realize how close we are, literally and figuratively. Now there are no more secrets and no more conflicts. Our disagreements have been resolved. Everything is laid out there.
And here we are. Still together, still in love.
"I love you," I whisper against her cheek.
She doesn't reply but that's okay. Her replacement for the words are her lips on mine, and that is always enough to render me breathless.
We keep it short—she will never let me take it farther because she is so worried about my sore side. But this kiss is different from those chaste ones we shared during my recovery time in the hospital. Those were timid and I'm-glad-you-are-alive kisses. This is familiar and instead communicates the message, "I'm glad that we are finally to this point, and I can't wait to move on with you."
"I love you too," she finally whispers back.
And I hold her for a minute because I still can't believe I made the terrible mistake of trying to let her go. Lucky for me, my girl is loyal.
When we do let go of each other, her concerned nature takes over and she asks, "Are you sure you can walk?"
Pushing myself up from the bed with a sharp intake of breath, I remind her, "I'm an assassin. I think I can manage."
She smiles when I drape an arm across her shoulders and lead her out of the room. "No," she says. "You're my bodyguard."
xXxXx
Last chapter, but there will be an epilogue!
See, you guys can trust me. Kind of. Maybe. Probably not.😂