-- Tris

Tonight my nightmares for once don't involve my ambassadors, or Jacob shooting my four year old son as he runs into my office, his truck in hand, smiling and getting ready to show me whatever it is that he is smiling about.

Tonight I am back in the building where I was held captive for so many years.

I am being chased by a gang of women— the same women whom I once knew, but do not remember. Derrick's voice booms over the blood rushing in my ears and my exhausted panting, "Whoever kills her first is granted an advantage in the next fight."

A scream is at the back of my throat, but I don't let it reveal itself. It would be a waste of my breath, and I need every bit of oxygen that I can have right now. Plus, screaming won't save me in a room of people who want me dead.

I run as fast as my legs can carry me, but it's not fast enough. I feel them right at my heels, one woman grasping hold of the end of my ponytail. I feel the hair break from my head as I continue to sprint, gritting my teeth at the temporary pain on my skull.

Think, Tris. Think. Where can you hide? You're smaller than them. Where can you fit that they can't?
My options are slim and include a rather tall table that offers no protection, or an exposed vent parallel with the floor that I have hidden in once before. I know that the screws are loose, but I still will need enough of a lead on them to have time to move the cover and crawl in.

It's my only shot.

I power my legs as much as I can, throwing myself at the wall and getting the gate off of the vent. Throwing myself into the narrow tube, I crawl frantically, my voice echoing through the metal chamber.

But I wasn't fast enough.

A hand wraps around my ankle, then another. My shoe slips off, and I think for a moment I might have a chance, but a hand wraps around my bare foot and begins pulling me out.

I frantically try to hold onto anything that I can, but there is an unforgiving lack of traction in the metal vent. My hands screech on the metal as I am dragged to my fate, by body ripped from the one space that I thought I could be safe.

I'm dragged across the floor after exiting the vent, the other women taking opportunities to kick and spit at me as the largest woman drags my exhausted body.

I twist my ankle sharply, managing to break free from her grasp. Stumbling to my feet, I begin to run, adrenaline coursing through my veins for just a moment before I take a blow to the head.

And then I'm falling. Tumbling down the stairs that David had pushed me down so many times. The women are gone, and I am in a different location now, but I am still just as out of breath as I was seconds ago.

I feel like I am falling for ages, each stair hitting me in a different rib, part of my neck, shoulder, or leg as I roll. My body hits the flat landing before another flight, and I cry out, grasping whatever I can for support to avoid myself from falling further.

My world is spinning. Everything hurts. I glance down at my leg, counting three fresh, raw, bleeding bullet wounds.

"Get up, Beatrice," David spits in my face, holding me up by the collar of my shirt.

I scramble, trying to gain traction and balance on my bare feet as my world spins rapidly around me. For a moment, I am successful. I feel the cool cement under both of my feet, and I grasp the railing next to me for support.

"Down the stairs. Walk like a civilized person this time," he barks.

I feel like my eyes are shaking in my skull, and I can't even see the first step to step down onto.
Guessing to the best of my ability, I start with my left leg, placing my foot on the step and gritting my teeth as I shift my weight for the right foot to join it.

"I don't have all day, Beatrice. God, have you become so useless that you can't even do the stairs?"
I block out his voice, tackling the second step in the same fashion that I did the first.
My whole body is shaking in pain and my vision is still spinning as I continue to go down the stairs.

While my weight is on my left leg, David fires a shot in the air. I jump, anticipating a bullet to impale itself into me.
I loose my focus and my knee buckles.

I'm falling again. Each stair creates a new ache that will be a painful bruise in a few hours. I feel blood in my mouth, but am not sure if it's from my jaw, tongue, or teeth.

It feels like the flight of stairs never ends.
Please let me go unconscious before I hit the bottom.

The second that I hit flat ground, my eyes fly open, a strangled cry on my lips.

I grasp around at my surroundings, my ears ringing as I am met with softness and bedding.

My hands fly to my face, trying to find the source of the bleeding that I was tasting in my mouth just moments ago.

Familiar feeling hands find their way to mine, but I swat them away, terrified that they are trying to prevent me from defending myself and whatever is next in this nightmare.

A light is turned on, but the ringing in my ears still has not dulled. I can't bring myself to open my eyes and see what is next for me to face in this nightmare.

"Make it stop. Please no. Stop. No," I hardly recognize my own voice through the pulsing of my body and ringing in my ears.

This time, arms wrap around me, and a familiar scent overwhelms me. I push against the arms, trying to break free without thinking about where I am.

"Tris, it's me, you're okay, it's just me," the voice belongs to Tobias, but he sounds like he is underwater.

I am loosing energy to fight against this grasp, so I give in. My fingers lace in his shirt, holding onto whatever I can for support.

"You're okay, you're okay," his voice becomes more clear as it feels like I am being lifted from out of water.

"No, no, please," I keep saying, but am not trying to, and can't seem to get myself to stop.

"Slow down, Tris, I'm right here. You're safe," his fingertips on my hair ground me, stroking a single line over and over.

"Breathe. Come back to me," he says, inhaling deeply, my head rising on his chest, and falling when he exhales, his breath tickling my hair.

I finally stop mumbling, and the tears begin to fall from my face.
I allow myself to be weak, because I don't care anymore. I've been strong for so long, and I don't have anything to prove anymore. I don't have to fight for my life every day. So, I sob.

Tobias holds me uncomfortably tight for what feels like hours as I tremble and sob. I am so grateful for him. He is so patient, caring, and genuine. Even I am frustrated by how I can't get a grip on my emotions to control myself right now, but he doesn't flinch, doing everything in his power to make sure I feel safe.

Once I have calmed down enough, I tell him about the nightmare, or maybe it was a flashback. Memory loss makes it hard to determine what is true and what is false.

I have tried to get better at sharing with him my experiences. It wasn't until recently that I realized he does not know much about my past. Which granted, neither do I, but I want him to know what I do know. He puts up with me, and I trust him, and I do think sharing it also makes me process it a little bit better.

"Do you think that is maybe why you were so inclined to hide under the couch after these nightmares years ago?" He asks in reference to myself being pulled from the vent by my ankles. "Safety in where you could fit and others couldn't?"
His rationality always helps me process what I have experienced. If this even was a real experience.

"Maybe," my voice shakes and I focus on his hand, rubbing circles over my left shoulder.

"I am so glad that he's dead. Er, well, both of them," he corrects, but at first I am assuming he means David, then lumping Derrick into the mix.

"I know you saw him die, but I just have this pit in my stomach some days that he's not dead."

"Not everyone comes back from the dead like you, Tris," he lightens his voice in attempt to joke.

"Tell me again," I ask, knowing he knows what I mean, and he's told me the same story so many times.

"Amar and I were searching for you. And for David. We knew you had to be together because we had seen you both on the cameras before. I wasn't going to leave without you, Tris. I knew you were there. I had seen you. We found files with your name on them. We found your family. We knew you were there. I knew you were there. The rest of the rescue crew had left to get everyone home safely. Some were planning to return for an additional sweep the next day. I knew you were still in there, and if you were still alive, you couldn't wait until tomorrow," he takes a long breath.
"We had never seen the closet that he pulled you in before on the cameras. I heard his voice before I heard you. I wanted to keep him alive. I wanted to question him, understand his twisted reasonings, and get answers. Most importantly, I wanted him to suffer, just like he made you suffer for so goddamn long. But in the moment, you were injured, and I couldn't risk him being alive. I watched him press the knife into your leg. He was so focused on you that he didn't hear us barging in. He turned around to reach for his gun, and I shot him in the head, twice Tris. I ran to you, Amar shot him a third time in the heart. He didn't deserve a quick death like we gave him. Amar confirmed that he had no pulse. There is no shot that he is alive, Tris."

I exhale, my memory foggy from that day, but also so shockingly clear at the same time. I was in and out from blood loss, but so many things I remember crystal clear that it is terrifying.

"This is why I am so passionate about reopening the investigation on that building. I think we are missing something there. But even if not, there still is so many answers there that we have not uncovered yet," he holds me tight, kissing the top of my head.

+ + +

There is no way to host a normal visiting week with half of my already small group of ambassadors. However, Candor is pushing us to host things as normal for the sake of the trial, and Josh agrees with them. I think that is the worst idea ever, and it is putting unnecessary stress not just on me and my ambassadors who are grieving, but also on a faction who is grieving as we await Jacob's trial.

We are shortening the events to 3 days of panels about the changing Dauntless housing territories, future plans for the compound, and some typical general information sessions about Dauntless for those who might be interested in becoming members, as well as the leader panel that happens each week with whatever information they have to share about happenings the compound.

"Josh, I really just don't think that this is a good idea. You and I have both seen how nasty people can get at these events when there's a publicized trial going on. Remember when Ian died? We were torn to shreds out there, Josh."

"We are the faction of bravery, you shouldn't be worried about being torn to shreds," he is direct with me, almost talking down to me, and I scoff.

"I am not worried about being torn to shreds. But you can't expect me to expect my ambassadors to get torn to shreds."

He doesn't engage the fight that I was ready to have after his first comment and responds calmly, "The leaders will be all present to assist. I have the control room staff setting us up with walkie talkies to make communication as easy as possible. Tris, this really is our only option,"

"I can think of so many more options, Josh. But, whatever you say," I say, sprinkling the doubt and making it clear that I do not have a good feeling about this.

He's ridiculous, thinking that this will end well. What, because the leaders will be there to shut down panels if they get out of control? Yeah, like that has worked in the past.

I bid Josh a goodbye and head to my office, taking a few hours to arrange papers, make some phone calls, and make the finishing touches to the visiting "week" three day schedule for two days from now.

I struggle to focus on my tasks because of how frustrated I am with Josh.

We're the faction of bravery. His voice repeats in my head.
Yeah, then why are you cowering to the leader of candor, Mr. Leader of the Bravery Faction? Shouldn't you be putting the well being of your members first?

Whatever, Tris. Don't get yourself worked up over it.
It's gonna be a shit show, you can say I told you so to him in a week.

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, but they stop a few doors before mine and open the door to the conference room that we share with the leaders. The door screeches, I hear something drop, and the footsteps continue towards me.

My heart races even though my brain tells me that logically it is just a leader or ambassador existing in this hallway, because they have every right to. My anxiety tells me that it's someone here to kill me.

"Hey!" Zeke peeks in my cracked door, his white teeth reflecting the light. "You busy?"

"Hi! No, not at all, what's up?" I mentally exhale, rubbing my shaking hand on my pants in relief that it is just Zeke.

"Two things. One, I left a box of walkie talkies per Josh's request on the table in the conference room for next week. I think there is enough, but you can always call me or call up to the control room someone can run you guys more day of."

"Awesome, thank you," I smile at him, resisting the urge to comment on how we shouldn't be having visiting week at all next week, and that we shouldn't need the damn radios, but alas, I bite my tongue.

"And second, beers at my place, seven tonight. Don't stay here all night. Kids are welcome, we've got plenty of juice and are not going crazy," he snaps his finger and points at me, sticking his tongue out.

"Sounds good," I laugh at his expression. "See you then!"

Zeke turns to leave when another set of footsteps starts down the hall. They are footsteps that I recognize this time.

"Heyyy my man!" Zeke greets Tobias with open arms, and I shake my head at the two of them.

"I already gave your wifey the details, but beers at my place, seven o'clock! Bring One, I got a cup of juice with his name on it. Hell I can get a bowl of water for Indy too if he wants in. Hell, if your mother wants to come she's always welcome!"

Tobias laughs, "I think my mom will probably stay home, but sounds good for everyone else," he smiles at his friend.

"Who all is coming, Zeke?" I ask, crossing my fingers that this is not a huge party. I really don't have the energy for a whole event tonight.

"Nothing crazy, trust me," he claps his hands together, and I begin to wonder if he's just excited or has already started drinking. "Uri and Mar, you, Four and One, Amar and George, Indy, I guess not Four's mom, but that's about it."

"That will be fun," I smile, excited to catch up with my friends.
"Oh, and Lynn might be home this weekend? I'm not sure, but I'm sure Shauna extended her an invite."
"You better be sure she did!" I laugh and his eyes grow wide, he and I both knowing how Lynn can get.
"Yeahhhhh, good idea. Alright, see you both tonight!" He excuses himself, heading down the hallway and out of the main building.

"What are you up to?" Tobias asks, sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk. He picks up one of the pictures I have from a few years ago of him, Thomas and I on my desk and smiles.

"Sometimes I forget how small he was," he smiles, "He's still so small, though."

I hum, agreeing with him as I turn to close some tabs on my computer.

"Josh told me you're not happy with him," he sets the frame back on my desk, not making eye contact with me.

"How nice of him to talk about me behind my back to my husband," I say dryly, only loud enough that Tobias could hear.

"He's been on my nerves too lately, Tris. I won't get into it here, but, I agree with you."

"Let's just," I contemplate ending the conversation or not, "Talk later. We have a few hours till going to Zeke's, and I'm just about done here."
My eyes find his across my desk, and I hold his gaze. His hand is resting on my desk, and I take it in mine, my thumb running against the callused skin.

"Let's get out of here," he suggests, "I have some plans, and we can talk more."

"Okay," I agree, closing down my computer and tucking away some papers. I can tell whatever happened is bothering Tobias, and I'd love to not delay in receiving the details.

He takes my hand in his, and we walk out of the main building towards the streets of the city.

"Okay if we go on a little walk?" He asks, squeezing my hand, and I nod. I've already noticed that he has his gun on his hip, and I'm assuming that his plan all along was finding me for another practice session.

But maybe not. I try to boot the anxiety from my mind.

"Some of the leaders are not supportive of reopening the investigation on the building," Tobias says, his voice still low. "Erudite leader Mark and Josh have always been for it, ever since we rescued you all way back when. I was under the impression that Josh was also supporting it this time around, but we had our first meeting this afternoon, and it's Erudite and Candor leaders backing it. From Dauntless leadership it was just myself and Don, and he was also shocked about Josh not showing."

"Candor, huh?" I widen my eyes and look at him.

"I think they will do just about anything for clarity on your case, Tris," he laughs, making me laugh, because he has a good point.

"I just came down to the main building to confront him on it, and find you, I came across him first. He literally had no reason to give me as to why he wasn't there, but created some bs excuse of it being a waste of resources."
"Waste of resources?" I clarify in shock and he nods.
"I just kept prying at him, because he and I have always been so close. This isn't like him to not support something that he knows I am so passionate about."

"Maybe he just has other things going on? Other things on his mind?" I suggest.

I inhale deeply, the sun beating down on us as we walk up the sidewalk. It is beautiful outside today, and it feels so refreshing to leave the compound and have fresh air.

"I don't know," he sighs, frustrated. "I still trust him as a leader, I really do. Especially after Eric and Max. It's just, he's being more secretive lately. Which I guess maybe he should have been doing that all along, since he is our leader, but also, why is he just starting to do so now?" He rambles his thoughts to me, and I nod.

"I agree that I still do trust him too. He's just been making questionable choices lately. Especially with visiting week coming up too. I expressed my concerns to him and his response was that 'we're the faction of bravery so we shouldn't be concerned about handling it', or something like that,"

"Jeez," Tobias responds, and I continue.

"Like, sorry I have not only the well being of my ambassadors in mind when expressing my concerns, but also the goddamn reputation of our faction? Those are things he should also be thinking about."

"I agree that it's not the right call to have visiting week. But your hands are tied, what he says goes."

"Oh yeah, and if he's pushing for it to happen because of Candor pushing him to do so, I'll put it on, because it's his factions reputation. I'm just an ambassador."

"Do you have a game plan?" He looks at me, his eyes full of concern. "To deal with the punches, and whatever else might come?"

"I probably should have a better plan, but at the moment it's to bring some popcorn and watch the dumpster fire," I laugh.

"Tris, I'm being serious," he slows our walking and his eyes don't leave mine.

"I'm not forcing my ambassadors to hold a panel and be aggressively questioned by people while they're grieving. I'm not overstepping on Josh to shut it down, but if we run out of ambassadors, which I think will happen quite fast, what is he going to do?"
I watch Tobias contemplate my words for a moment, slowly nodding.

"I think that's probably the best idea that you could have for now," he says.

"I'm all ears if you have something better."

"I don't, but I definitely will be thinking and let you know," he says, squeezing my hand.

We walk in silence for a bit longer, our footsteps echoing down the street as every now and then a car drives by and breaks the silence.

"Where are we walking to?" I finally ask, wondering if he does have a plan, or if we are just walking to walk.

"Just up here on the right is an old factionless safe house from the war. If you're up for it, I figured it would be a more private place to get some gun exposure in, since the training room is probably packed during this time of day."

I want to say no, but know that I have to say yes. I don't doubt for a second that my nightmares this morning stemmed from our shooting practice yesterday,
Saying no does not get me any further that I was yesterday though.

"That's fine," I say, squeezing his hand as we cross the street.

I feel bile rising in my throat at the idea of doing what we did yesterday. It's going to feel like I made no progress, because I hardly have.

"Talk to me," he says, probably sensing my anxiety.
"How do you do that?" I ask.
"What?"
"Read my mind, like you know every time I'm having anxious or negative thoughts about something."
He is quiet for a moment, probably unsure of how to respond.
"I don't know, I just know you. Amar phrased it to me once as a trauma bond, saying we know each other like an old married couple from the war," he chuckles. "Maybe it's all of the fighting and conflict we dealt with together early on? Or maybe it's because I love and care about you that I'm hyperaware."

I toss his words around for a moment, reflecting on how much sense it does make. I could say the same for myself with him. I recognize his footsteps in a room, know when he's upset without saying so, when he's fearful but doesn't explain why, or why he cares so much about what seems like insignificant things.

"That does make some sense," I look up at him, taking a moment to memorize each facial feature of his once again, like I have so many times before.

"Here we are," he says, opening the door for me as we enter the old, abandoned building.

"Why are they building new homes out in the suburbs instead of fixing these?" I ask, astonished by the size of the room. "Dauntless wouldn't have to be underground. There's so much wasted space out here."

"My only guess is that it takes too many resources to knock down a building compared to start fresh."

"Probably not as many as it takes to launch an investigation," I poke fun at our earlier conversation where Josh told Tobias the investigation on the building was a waste of resources.

He scoffs, "Very funny."

"Let's sweep the place to make sure no one is here before we start anything," Tobias says and I nod, following him around the old, mangled building. After a few minutes, we deem it vacant, and Tobias offers me some earplugs.

"I'm going to fire some rounds so we can see how loud it is in here, okay?" He asks and I nod, not entirely sure how comfortable I am with the current situation of being in a new location with a weapon that makes me feel so weak.

I'm aiming to not cry today. I make the mental goal for myself. I'm already too damn tired and not in the mood to cry, so if I don't cry, that's a success.

Tobias loads his gun and unclips the safety. I watch his fingers carefully, his body language, his stance, his demeanor, and how he inhales before lining up his target and pulling the trigger.

I can't help but jump as the sound echos across the empty building. The resonating sound makes me feel like I'm in a nightmare or a simulation, where fire after fire is going off, even though Tobias only shot one bullet.

I look around frantically, knowing that I would not be able to hear someone enter the building with that echo. I would never hear someone coming up behind me, killing me, or trying to hurt Tobias.

I feel my hands sweat and begin to shake.

I don't like this.

"That's a nasty echo," he remarks, looking back at me, "It's kind of cool though."

"One might say," I respond in a shaky exhale, rubbing my sweating palms on my pants.

"Where are you comfortable with picking up from yesterday?" He asks.

"Nowhere near comfortable," I say confidently, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Talk to me then," his eyes soften as his gaze locks with mine.

I sigh, not wanting to talk about it.
I never know how to put my thoughts into words. They don't make sense, that's why they're meant to stay in my head.

But I know that the more I speak them out loud, the less sense they make, which in turn gives me the power to overcome them.

It's just so damn hard to do so.

"That echo makes me anxious as shit. Neither you nor I would be able to hear if someone came up behind us. There's no where to hide in here if someone did come in to attack us. There's two exits, but what if they're both blocked? Not to even dive into the fact that I'm uneasy in a new location, but dealing with a weapon I'm also uneasy with?" I ramble, letting every anxious thought leave my mouth like a candor under truth serum.

"Are those really the thoughts that you have every day, Tris? Or is it just because it's a new location?" He asks in a nonjudgmental tone.

"Yeah."

Tobias knows that I've had my bouts of therapists, medications, and working to better myself mentally. The reality is that PTSD isn't always manageable, but the one way that mine presents is this anxiety that everyone is going to kill me.
It gets better at times, but then things like an ambassador that you knew well comes into your place of employment and shoots your coworkers, and suddenly you're back at square one, looking over your shoulder all the time.

He just nods, acknowledging my concerns and probably wondering how to proceed.
He makes a decision, and empties the bullets from his gun, stretching it out in his hand, offering it to me.

"No bullets, no echo," he says matter of factly, keeping his arm in the same outstretched position.

"How the hell are we suppose to defend ourselves if someone comes in?" I say, dumbfounded that he thought that is a smart idea.

"No one is going to come in, Tris."

"You don't know that!"

"Then we'll fend them off with what we have. That's what you would have to do anyways, right? Why does it matter if the bullets are in the gun or not? It won't be used to defend if you're holding it," he says factually. It's a tough jab, but he's right.

Tears well up behind my eyes, but I push them away, remembering my deal with myself to not cry today.

"I'm trying my hardest here," my voice is strained.
"I know you are. Try harder," he pushes, his hand persistent and unwavering with his unloaded gun that he is offering me.

I take a step away from him and the outstretched gun, hating myself the second that I do so.
Taking a step backwards isn't progress, Tris. Dammit, you need to get over yourself. It's a goddamn piece of metal.

"Take the gun or talk to me," Tobias persists, giving me and my anxiety an ultimatum.

"It's not easy to explain when I hardly understand why I'm like this, Tobias," my voice is low, and I don't even know if he understood a word I said.

"Every day you are learning more and more, Tris."

"Yeah, but are the sleepless nights and awful flashbacks worth getting back a piece of me?"

He doesn't respond, which is fine. It was a rhetorical question anyways.

"It started when I shot Will, but I still don't know where it morphed to be out of control. Because even in the Bureau I had gotten over it for a bit," I begin, recalling the guards that I shot before taking Caleb's place in the weapons lab.

"I remember there was specifically no guns when I was training with the New York project. Derrick had commented on it as to why before, but I don't remember his reasoning."

"They did not have guns during the attack four years ago either," Tobias adds, and I hum in agreement.

Is all of this just my hatred for a weapon that caused me so much pain? Caused me to almost loose my leg multiple times? Caused me chronic nerve pain for the rest of my life?

"You're understanding yourself more, I see it right now, Tris," he says, reading my mind once again.

"Even if it is just a piece of metal that's caused me so much suffering, it's a justified hatred and fear. Guns have almost ruined my life so many times," I think I am thinking in my head, but realize I say the words out loud.

Tobias opens his mouth to reason with me, but then hesitates, and closes his lips.

"I know all the good that guns have caused me as well, Tobias," I read his mind, having a good feeling that was what he was going to say but decided against it. "How they have saved my life, and could continue saving my life. It doesn't make sense. Trauma doesn't make sense. You know that."

He smiles the slightest bit, small enough that I don't think he knows he's doing it.

He's tough on me because he cares about me. And I appreciate that, so damn much.

In a bout of confidence, my hand shakily takes the unloaded gun from his. I grasp it with both of my hands, the carving of the number 4 reflecting the light.

"A weapon like this should've never been used to cause you so much suffering, Tris," Tobias says in reference to the gun.

"Guns are meant for single shots, like slowing someone down or killing them on the spot. You should have never of been tortured with bullet wounds like you were," his voice is thick with emotion, and I feel the tears burning in my eyes once again.

I hold the metal in my shaking hands, looking at each angle of it as if I have never held one before.

"Can you," I begin but stop, disgusted by how small and frail my voice sounds. I continue, "Stand with me like you did the other day?"
I feel myself reaching a peak where I might panic, the tears still hot behind my eyes. Part of me wants the closeness of him for support to not fall apart, but the other part of me knows that I am going to fall apart, but it will be easier if he is already here.

He wraps his arms around mine, his chest pressed to my back, and our hands holding the gun. The weight feels completely off with there being no bullets in it, but I still feel on edge.

"Remember like I taught you in initiation," he raised our arms, pointing across the room at nothing. "Feet braced," he shifts his feet and I shift mine, "Inhale, aim, exhale, fire," his breath is hot against my ear as he pulls the trigger with my finger. I flinch even though nothing goes off,

"Let's do it again, say it with me," he says. "Inhale, aim, exhale, fire," we press the trigger when saying fire.

It seems like this is so simple, but my brain is screaming at me to stop. My leg aches from the memories of bullets flying into my flesh.
Guns only hurt people. Guns have only ever hurt me.

"Let's go, again," he encourages, running through the same motions. My voice is quiet, but he is giving me the confidence to keep going. My trembling hands make our hands shake together, the piece of metal flailing around.

His voice begins to sound like he is underwater, and I know he is telling me to inhale and exhale as I hear him breathe. My pulse is loud in my ears as his finger pushes mine down on the trigger.

My memory flashes, and suddenly David is standing over me with a gun, his finger pulling the trigger as it sends another round bullet into my leg.
The second it imbeds itself in my leg, my memory flashes back and I am in the abandoned building, gun in hand, Tobias' chest pressed to my back as his hands hold mine on the gun. His gun.

Don't let go of the gun.
You're fine.
You're fine.
Tobias is right here, you are fine.
I will myself to hold onto the gun and not flail myself from Tobias' arms, running away from the piece of metal.

"Stop," I ask Tobias in a small voice as he is still going through the motions of inhaling, pulling the trigger and exhaling.
It's enough that I'm holding onto the gun right now, I can't handle pulling the trigger.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressing his cheek to mine, our hands not leaving the gun.

"No," I feel the tears coming.

Don't let go of the gun. You can do it, Tris.

"Talk to me," he says sweetly, his cheek still pressed to mine.

"I just had a flashback," I say, squeezing the words out as I inhale sharply. "I want to run away from the gun because I never could do that before."

He is quiet for a moment, and I listen to his breathing.

"You're not running though," he comments.

"I really want to, Tobias," the gun feels hot under my fingers, and just when I think I'm getting control of myself, the urge to push out of his arms swells back to me again.

It's Tobias' gun, it would never hurt you. I remind myself
It doesn't help though. The urge to run takes over and I push myself out of his arms, putting as much distance as I can between the gun and myself.

I shake my sweating hands, inhaling and exhaling as my pulse rushes in my ears.

"You're one step further than you were yesterday, Tris," Tobias reminds me.

He's right, even more than he realizes, because I haven't cried during this entire interaction.

He puts his gun back in his holster and walks towards me, wrapping his hand around my waist and squeezing my hip. Bending down, he presses his lips to my forehead. Immediately, I feel my pulse less in my ears and am more grounded in my surroundings.

"Let's go get ready for Zeke's," he suggests and I nod, leaving the echoing building behind us.

One step forward than I was yesterday.

-

hey everyone!

I am so so sorry for no update for the entire year of 2023!! I have been pre writing some chapters other than this one on the side all last year, so I do hope to have some more content out. I hope this *very* long first 2024 chapter makes up for it a little bit!

Please do know I think about this fanfic and you all every single day. I hope you all are well, and I appreciate you sticking around all this time!

45.7k reads!!

Until next time!
Kat <4