Chapter 24

--Tobias

I hear Tris in the bathroom as I leave Tom's room. The sound of her sobbing and vomiting makes my heart ache. I can't blame her, for I too feel nauseous after everything that happened today.

She shakes uncontrollably, gripping the toilet seat for support as I kneel down next to her, placing my hand on her lower back. I allow myself to let tears brim my eyes, knowing how hard this is for her. The ambassadors are a close knit bunch, and although I don't think she was close to the man who was the shooter, they worked closely together, as did the two men who were killed. Sarah has always been a good friend to her, and seeing her badly injured can't be easy for her.

Part of me wants to lecture her and tell her she should have stayed in her office, locked the door, and called Josh or I for assistance. I decide against it though. Scolding her right now would not only be counterproductive, but also an asshole move. Plus, if I were in her place, I would have done the same exact thing.

Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that she has lived an entire life without me, and she is very capable of holding her own in so many scenarios. I blame it on the fact that she has been injured the majority of the time since she has returned to the city, but the reality is that I do baby her. I love her, I want to protect her with every cell in my body, but I can't. She is her own person who is capable of making her own decisions, and she doesn't need me to harp on those decisions.

"I love you," I let a tear escape my eye as I press my lips behind her ear. She sighs, gripping the toilet as another round of sobs wrack her body, her shoulders heaving as her eyes squeeze shut.

This Tris that currently sits in front of me is one that I haven't seen in a while. Currently, the sixteen year old who watched her parents die, shot her best friend, and has an entire city out to kill her sits in front of me. Her blood stained hand holds onto anything it can for support as years of trauma and sadness leave her.

I reach around her, taking the opportunity to flush the toilet while she has a break in her vomiting.

"It could've been Thomas," her voice is raw and it makes the hair on my arms immediately shoot up.

"I had just let him go to see you," she sobs, "Not even two minutes before. Sarah had just been talking to me after he left, and she was shot right after she saw me."

She takes a breath, turning towards me on her knees as she presses her bloodied hands to her forehead.

"I can't get the image out of my head," she breaks for a sob, "Of him just walking down the hall to see his dad and getting shot in the head," her voice is almost a scream at the end, her body shaking as I wrap my arms around her. Her arms wrap around my neck as I feel her tears in the nook of my neck. I pick her off the ground and she clings to me, wrapping her legs around my torso as I rest my head in her hair, holding her just as tight as I held Thomas earlier.

I lean against the counter, letting my tears roll down my face as she sobs into my neck, her whole body still shaking.

I easily could have lost both of them today.

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but eventually Tris calms down and we separate. I manage to talk her into taking a shower with me, knowing it might make her feel just the tiniest bit better.

I help her undress, taking small breaks to kiss her forehead or rub her arm as I allow the shower to warm up. She is still shaking, but not as severely as she was moments ago. I run my hand across her cheek in an effort to get her to look at me. She does finally does, her eyes meeting mine, appearing blue from how red and puffy they are.

I take her hair out of its elastic, letting it fall loose down her back before helping her in the shower. Once under the warm water, she sighs, letting all of her bodyweight fall onto my chest.

Her and I both are too familiar with what she is feeling right now-- the emptiness after a traumatic day, exhaustion kicking in after all the tears are gone and the thoughts swirling your brain of what you could've done differently become too much.

I take some shampoo in my hands and work it through her hair in attempt to mask the smell of blood that has become more pungent from mixing with the water. I notice bits of dried blood in her hair as well be sure to work them out with my hands as I massage her scalp. I take extra caution to not touch the black and blue spot on her temple while doing so. 

"Let me have one of your hands," I mumble, pressing my lips to her forehead. She shifts her weight, taking one of her hands from behind my back and showing it to me, the blood caked around her cuticles and under her nails.

I take a bar of soap and rub it between my hands before taking her hand in mine and rubbing the foam between her fingers. I run my nail along her cuticles, and under her nails. She watches me closely at first, watching the blood slowly disappear, but then she presses her face into my chest, shivering a little. 

I think about saying something, but then decide against it, pressing my lips to her head and continuing to work on her hand. I ask for her other hand and she shifts to the other side of my body, allowing me to do the same on her left hand. There wasn't as much blood on that hand, so I was able to finish it much faster, allowing Tris to resume her spot on my chest, letting all of her weight lay on me.

I work the bar of soap in my hands again, noticing some blood spots on her neck and arm. Setting the bar of soap down, I rub the foam over her shoulders and neck, massaging some tight muscles at the same time. She sighs and I feel some tears on my chest, my heart aching for her.

"Are you ready to get out, or do you want to stand here for a little while?" I ask when I feel confident that I have washed away every trace of blood on her body. My voice feels like an intrusion on the comfortable silence we had going.

"I'm ready to get out," she turns her head up to look at me, "Thank you," she says, her voice small.

"Of course, baby," I wrap my hand around her waist, pressing my lips to hers softly before shutting off the water.

I help her out of the shower, coming behind her and wrapping her in a towel, my mind playing the image of her holding that guy's gun at his head over and over.

I haven't seen her even touch a gun since the war, and I still am taken aback by how confident she was with that pistol in her hands. Chances are she would have never been able to pull the trigger if need be, but even touching a gun to defend herself was a huge step for her.

I make a mental note to mention her carrying a gun with her, or at least keeping one in her desk in her office in a few days. Now isn't the right time to bring it up, but maybe after this I will be able to talk her into it.

Just like I do to her, of course she is able to read my mind.

"Can you help me get over my fear of shooting a gun?" she asks as I pull a shirt over her head, "I-- I just would have never been able to pull the trigger on him even though shooting him in the arm or leg wouldn't have killed him and it's proving more and more that I need to get over that and--"

"We can work on it," I cut her off, knowing it will be just as hard, if not harder to work with her to shoot a gun again than it was working with the staffs because of her PTSD, "Don't worry about that right now though," I say and she nods, her eyes looking away from mine.

"Are you still dizzy?" I ask.

"Not as bad, but yeah," she says as I help her into some pants.

She leans on the counter for support and runs a towel through her damp hair while I dress myself. I see the slightest bit of life back in her eyes and it makes me smile.

Already she is much more steady on her feet as we walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Just for good measure, I check my gun to be sure the safety is on and put in my pocket to keep on me today. I don't believe the attack was planned, but I'd rather be ready than not. Tris takes a seat on the couch, taking no further movement to get more comfortable.
"Here," I say, handing her the ice pack. She mumbles a thank you and I contemplate sitting down next to her or letting her have some space. A knock on the door makes my decision for me, and I move to the door to see who it is, my gun now in my hand.

I open the door to find Rose talking a mile a minute, her face hot with tears, her eyes wild with panic.
"I don't mean to bother you both, judging on the phone call I just got from Josh you both probably have had a long day already. I just couldn't sit with myself in my thoughts anymore and had to make sure you were okay."
"We're alright, come on in," I open the door wider and Rose goes right over to Tris.

The two embrace silently, Rose in a fit of sobs as Tris seems to hold it together. I didn't even notice Rose's daughter, Charley come in as she stares up at me with her wide brown eyes.

"Hey kiddo," I say, crouching down to her level. She has always been shy and continues to stare at me as if we've never met before. "Did you find Indy yet, the doggy?" I remember her being obsessed with Indy every time they are here. She runs off, finding Indy in his dog bed and pestering him, making me laugh lightly.

I tune back into Tris and Rose's conversation.
"Josh called me and told me everything that happened, and I went right down to the infirmary to try and find Sarah but they had already transferred her to Erudite Med. I called over there and they said I can't see her since I'm not family. Tris, I don't even think she has any family in the city, she's going to wake up all alone from surgery over there and she's my best friend," she sobs.

"I'm sure once she's awake they'll allow visitors, Rose," Tris tries to reassure her. "Have you heard anything on Alex?"
Rose shakes her head, "Josh said he was in worse shape than Rose, so I'd assume he's over at Erudite too."
Tris nods, clearly not sure what to say.

"Did you get checked out at the infirmary at all?" Rose asks.
"No. He hit me good in the head and I probably have a concussion, but I really don't want to deal with the hospital to get the diagnosis."
Rose nods, knowing Tris's whole backstory. Now that I think about it, in many ways Rose has been a much better friend to Tris than Christina through her life the past few years.

I also take a breath upon hearing that Josh is calling around to the ambassadors and telling them what happened. In the back of my mind I was worried that Tris would've had to do that.

"I just can't believe Jacob," Rose shakes her head, pushing tears from her eyes.
"He kept saying something about wishing he took his meds. Did he have a mental health problem or something?" Tris asks.
"I have no clue," Rose says, "He always kept to himself, and the two Jacobs were his best friends. Maybe Alex will know more, granted if he makes it," her voice croaks at the end.

"How is this going to reflect on you?" Rose asks the question that has been also coming to light in my head, "Half of the city doesn't like you already, and your trial isn't a closed case as it is."
"I don't know," Tris shakes her head, "My fingerprints are all over the murder weapon too, so I wouldn't be surprised if I get arrested somewhere in this."
"There is cameras in that hallway though," I chime in, knowing it might be the one thing that saves Tris from prosecution, "There's no way they won't turn in that film to be added to the trial."
I see Tris relax a little, knowing that at least something will be on her side when this all does get taken to trial.

"I've heard that candor reworked they're entire accusation stance. Guess we all will get to try out the new system," Rose jokes.
"Is it better or worse than it once was?" Tris's voice sounds heavy.
"I've heard they don't just jam people with truth serum the second they walk in the door anymore, and you're innocent until proven guilty, not guilty until proven innocent like it was before," she sounds bitter when referencing her former faction.

"I was going to leave Charley at my mom's and go sit at Erudite Med until they let me see Sarah," Rose says, standing up from the couch. "Just in case you are looking for me, or Christina lashes out and you need someone to return a favor," she jokes, catching Tris's arm as she stumbles in an attempt to stand.

"Keep me updated," Tris looks at her, her eyes sad.
"Will do, and same to you. Maybe I should take you with me, are you sure you don't want to get your head checked?"
Tris laughs off her comment lightly, wrapping her in an embrace.

Rose being the hugger that she is also hugs me on her way out, telling me to keep her updated on Tris, which I agree to do so.

"Are you sure I don't need to take you to get checked?" I ask Tris as she sinks into the couch, "I would be with you, and I wouldn't let them do anything stupid."

"There won't be anything they can do for me," she says, her voice hollow, "They'll do a cat scan, take some blood, tell me yet again that I'm not pregnant, and that I have a concussion and cannot take any of the medication they prescribe for concussions."

"They'd be able to tell if there was something more serious than a concussion going on."

"I wouldn't be able to stand at all if there was something worse going on, Tobias."

Valid point, I shrug my shoulders.
"Put that ice pack back on your head," I tell her and she does. Indy jumps up on the couch, laying his head in her lap. I watch her close her eyes, running her hand through his fur.

We take the rest of the night slowly, and I find myself grateful that Tom wakes up from his nap and doesn't seem to remember anything that happened before it. He is very upset that Tris is hurt though, and he clearly is acting like he wants to help but doesn't know how.
Same buddy, same.
He has taken to asking Tris every thirty seconds if she feels better, and Tris is a good sport in telling him yes every time even though I can tell in her eyes that she is hurting.

She was unable to keep dinner down, although I do give her credit for even trying to eat. We hadn't even finished and she was already back in the bathroom vomiting.

"Hey Tom, come here," I call to him from the kitchen, and he comes running.
"Go give this to your mom," I hand him two crackers, knowing the job makes him feel helpful.
He reminds me of Tris in so many ways. For such a little boy, god, he has such a big heart.
"Here!" Tom says eagerly, holding the crackers right in front of Tris's eyes, making me bite my tongue to not laugh.
"Oh, thank you sweetie," Tris takes the crackers from him, taking a bite from one of them,
"Feel better?" Thomas asks her.
"Yeah, I'm feeling better," she says, laying her head down on the couch.
She clearly is exhausted, and I feel so bad knowing that she won't get a second of sleep tonight. Images of today are going to follow her for months, and I'm sure her PTSD will give her insomnia like it has many times in the past.

"Zeke did offer to take him for the night," I say, leaning over the back of the couch, rubbing her arm.
"I'd rather him be here," she says.
"Me too."
"Not that I don't trust him and Shauna, it's just, when he's here, I can go into his room and be sure he's still alive as many times as I need to tonight."

I hum, feeling the exact same way.

About another hour passes, and somewhere in that hour Thomas sat on Tris's lap and fell asleep.
I sit on the couch next to them, the sight reminding me of when Thomas was a newborn and Tris would sit on the couch with him on her chest. It always amazed me how she would sit there and just hold him, no tv or music playing, and no looking at her phone. She would just sit there and hold him for two or three hours, awake the entire time, just snuggling him.
I'm thankful every day that my wife has taught me what a mother looks like.
Thomas barely fits on her lap anymore. His head is on her chest, his legs pointing in the direction of me to their right. She holds him tight, his head right under her chin as she herself begins to doze.

I know I should suggest that we move him to his bed, and her to ours, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

So I don't.
I let Tris doze as I stay where I have been.
She needs more sleep than I do, and I want to be here for her when she wakes up.

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