Forgive Don't Forget (Part 2)

Chapter 1 - Wishes

Tris's POV:

I thought it would be near impossible to get let out of that hole in the ground they call a hospital. But as it turns out, the nurses pretty much had the paperwork all ready for me to sign saying "I understand that I'm refusing care, blah, blah, whoop tee doo, get me the hell out of here!" I'm fully aware they hate me and that I'm the worst patient ever, and frankly it worked out in my favor.

All of the nurses gave Tobias a lovely, "Bye, Caleb!" as the elevator door closed. I looked up at him just as he was rewarding them with his panty-dropper smile, which he immediately wipes off his face the moment he glances down at me.

"What?" he asks in jest while still looking nervous. "They…let me stay."

I don't answer because I know the real reason they let him stay was because they heard every word I said to him and didn't have the heart to turn him away. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I said to him. It's not so much the detailed account, although that was horrifying for him, I'm sure. But it's more of how I compared him to Eric. I wonder how he feels about it—I'm hoping he saw right through that aspect. Jesus, I fucked up…

We exit the elevator, Tobias toying with the ends of my hair the whole ride down, and head for the circle drive to see Bud waiting for us. I look up at Tobias, who just shrugs, "Ownership comes with perks."

I nod my head in appreciation at the thought, seeing as riding the bus or even a cab doesn't seem wonderful right now. I'm sure Bud is aware of my injuries and won't drive like an asshole. But I feel a twinge at this new aspect of Tobias's life that I haven't been a part of yet. Take down the dramatics, Prior, it's only been a few weeks. Why does time always seem to be on its own continuum for the two of us?

"Hi, Tris," Bud greets as he takes my duffel bag from Tobias. "Lemme give you a—"

"No, I got it," Tobias jumps in front of Bud, almost bowling him over, as he expertly helps me out of the wheelchair.

In all reality, it's a better decision for Tobias to do it seeing as Bud was going for my hands, and I almost stupidly let him, where I should be helped up by the elbows. But, I still feel sorry for Bud and give him my best eye roll and smile referring to my own personal helicopter.

"I saw that!" Tobias yells to me over his shoulder as he pushes the embarrassing, ridiculous wheelchair back to the hospital doors.

"Would he mind if I open the car door for you?"

"Better let me," I comment as I open the door and slide in slowly.

"Beatrice!" Tobias grunts rather loudly as he jogs across the street and practically hurls himself into the car.

"What? I know, I know, chivalry's not dead—"

"Fuck chivalry. You have a punctured lung and fractured—"

"So, Bud?" I smack Tobias's hand away as he reaches over me to buckle me in, huffing out an annoyed breath at me in retaliation. "Tell me."

I take Tobias's hand before he can pull it away and hold it in my lap, which seems to pacify him as he kisses my knuckles and takes the middle seat next to me.

"She's okay. Real worried about you, though. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Got it. Who's been taking her to chemo?"

"Lynn."

"Seriously?"

"God's truth."

I laugh under my breath at the hilarity of that—Lynn actually visiting me at the hospital, coercion or not, and taking Tori to chemo in the middle of the night, coercion or not.

Damen is actually fairly close to the hospital and e have to cross over on our way to Tobias's apartment. He squeezes my hand as I gaze down the street toward Parkland, shaking my head, not knowing what the hell I'm going to do.

"You don't have to think about it now," Tobias whispers putting his arm around my shoulders, kissing on my temple. "But you don't have to go back there, you know—"

"It's my home," I state plainly wanting the subject to be dropped at the moment.

Knowing Tobias, he'd want to do the honorable thing and offer for me to move in with him and there is no way I'm falling into that trap. Not that I would feel trapped, I think it would be more of a trap for him—one he unintentionally set. How the hell would he ever get out of that situation?! Poor guy!

I take a deep breath feeling so thankful that Tobias knows not to waste syllables on idle chit-chat with me during the car ride. Although I know it's not just for my benefit, he hates that shit just as much as I do. I love the moments between us, where we're just lounging. Although we never got to do a whole lot of it. But when we did, I loved sitting in his leather recliner (which, of course, I made fun of him for having), reading while he worked. He shook his head as I angled the chair more toward the balcony than he prefers—but that way I had a view of him out of the corner of my eye, looking sexy in his glasses, working at the table while still being able to enjoy the balcony view and my book. Multi-tasking at its finest—

"Hey, Tris, call me when you need a ride."

I shake my head out of my thoughts to see that we're parked in front of Tobias's building and Bud is handing me his card.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'll just take the bus or the El—"

"No," Tobias interrupts taking the card out of Bud's hand. "Thanks, Bud. She will."

I clear my throat and purposely scoot myself out of the car, opening the door and struggling to get out, but I achieve it before Tobias gets there.

"Tris—"

"I'm fine."

He backs away, getting the hint that he doesn't speak for me, and grabs our bags as I look at him with softer eyes.

"Sorry, did you want to get the bags?" he remarks annoyed.

"Tobias, I just—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Miss Independent. Shall we?" He gestures throwing the bags over his shoulders and leading me by the small of my back. I love...that...

"Yes, Mr. Control Freak, let us away."

He stops short as we both stand there staring at the glass doors to this building, waiting for him to open them like usual.

"Get the damned door," he states seriously. "Do I have to do everything for you?" I take him at his word for ½ second until he grins and leans in kissing me on the cheek. "You know I would have you followed with a professional door-opener, if you would let me."

"Not gonna happen, Eaton."

"No, shit. Come on," he says pretending to struggle as he opens the door.

I grin until I see that Gregory guy look at me with wide surprised eyes and the many shitty memories come back of this lobby—Tobias kissing Kirsten (I think that's her name) right where we're approaching. That's an image forever imprinted in my mind—him pulling her close to him by her hips and smirking that bullshit smile after a night of mind-blowing sex.

I must have slowed down because Tobias places his hand on my lower back prompting me to keep walking, but I dodge it and walk toward the elevator instead as he gives me a confused look. He doesn't know I saw that event transpire, and I'm sure as hell not going to bring it up.

"Evening, Mr. Eaton—"

"Don't speak."

I think I'm as confused as Gregory, watching Tobias approach the desk. I can only see the back of his head but I can still imagine what his face looks like based on his tone of voice and the look of fear on Gregory's face. Poor guy. I was a total bitch to him the other morning and—

"Tris Prior. You will add her name to the Approved Visitors list...again. Not that it's entirely necessary because this," he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, taking three long strides backward and shoving something into my hand without even looking, "is her key. She will come and go as she pleases and add whomever she desires to your beyond ridiculous list as well—"

"Mr. Eaton—"

"Don't…speak!" Tobias grabs Gregory by the tie bringing him within inches of his face. "I sincerely hope working with Marcus Eaton was worthwhile, along with the sexual favors provided by Miss Juares. She never quite got me there, but you seem to be content with ground beef while I'm a filet kind of guy."

Is it weird that I think that comment is awesome and endearing, yet simultaneously makes me want to puke?

He pushes Gregory away roughly. "Get your shit together because you're about to be fired."

"You can't—"

"You have five minutes."

As if by perfect timing the elevator beeps and we board leaving Gregory with a very shocked look on his face.

About ten seconds pass before Tobias mutters, "Sorry."

I just nod my head soaking in the awkwardness of that exchange, not wanting any explanation right now.

"Did you, uh, know I took your name off the list?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Oh." He shifts his weight as I wait for him to continue. "I didn't want to. Gregory was involved and I—"

"Filet, huh?" I interrupt wanting to wait just a little longer before we open up any cans of worms.

"Ha…" I watch his cheeks turn a lovely shade as the elevator doors open and he ushers me out and to the left. "Well, it's a superior cut."

"Hmm." I shrug my shoulders, nudging him. "Thought I would be more like a rib-eye." I chuckle to myself at my little joke, which as it turns out, he doesn't find funny. "Too soon?"

"It will always be too soon, Tris," he admits pushing a forceful breath down his throat as we approach his door.

"But, uh…ground beef didn't 'getcha there?'" I ask suggestively hoping that was an accurate implication. Why do I always want to know this shit?!

He shakes his head. "Mmm mmm, sure didn't."

It makes me feel, yes, quite proud, that I had absolutely no problem with "getting him there" in that aspect of our relationship. In fact, it was over sooner than expected. Hmm!

We stop in front of his door and I watch his mouth as he purses his lips.

"Turns out, I have very refined taste." He runs his knuckles down my cheek, grazing my neck and down my side until they come to rest on my hip bone and he draws circles with the backs of his fingers.

I swallow as goosebumps race up my arms and I step closer to him. "I would say I'm the one with the refined taste buds, wouldn't you?"

I see his eyes darken as he takes a controlled breath, stilling his knuckles on my hips and rubbing harder circles with his thumbs. Until he pulls away, rather abruptly, and faces the door. "Care to do the honors?" he asks referring to my key.

"Okay, sure." Inserting the key into the hole, I give him several side-long glances that he completely dodges.

"It's purely symbolic seeing as I'm, uh, having the locks changed."

I nod my head, assuming that has something to do with Gregory, Nita, and sexual favors. Vomit! Then, pushing the door open, we walk into the totally darkened apartment as Tobias quickly shuts the door and pulls the chain behind us. We both stop as he flips the lights on, taking in the scene of his apartment. I stay in the doorway unable to speak. And he just shakes his head, pushing on, walking into each room, seemingly checking every crack and crevice for...something.

"What the hell is he doing?" I ask myself being momentarily distracted until my gaze returns to the mess that is his apartment. I walk in slowly, sighing in disbelief. "Tobias…"

I get tears in my eyes as I walk in and look to the right—the table and the floor is strewn with papers. Walking past the dining room table, I see the living room to my left—his pillows and unfolded throw blankets in a heap with several empty rocks glasses on the side table, some broken on the floor. I keep looking around the corner and there are upwards of ten empty whiskey bottles on the wet bar.

"Ohhh…," I whisper hoping he didn't hear the pity in my voice as I walk by the kitchen seeing coffee beans and broken mugs on the floor.

"Yeah, so…" I look up to see him leaning on the wall in the hallway, not making eye contact with me. He scratches the back of his head as I walk over to him. "I'll, uh, clean this up. Shit, I didn't even know it had gotten… Well, I haven't spent much time here and… So, I put your stuff in my room." He clears his throat nervously. "I hope that's—"

I wrap my arms around him tightly, preventing him from more unnecessary stuttering as he lets out a breath in relief and rests his chin on my head. I hadn't thought for a second that he may have been having a tougher time than I was. When I screamed at him in the street that I could barely function, turns out he was right there with me...but worse.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't say you're sorry," he orders putting his hands on my shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong... I did," he laughs at himself, letting me go and backing up, heading into his bedroom.

I sigh, not knowing what to say because he doesn't know how much I know, yet, and follow him into his room. He's standing there staring at the scene—comforter strewn on the bed, sheets on the floor but partially hanging off the bed, two glasses of red wine, one with lipstick around the edge, and my orchid picture lying on the ground…broken.

My mind goes to the worst, yet, most likely, scenario of what took place…right here. My first response takes over—flight.

Tobias's POV:

I stare down at the floor at the sheets, knowing I had pretty much just pushed Tris away and left her in the hall, but I needed air. My mind is flooded with a mix of embarrassment and irrational humor at the first glance of my apartment, which now, objectively, looks like a tsunami came rolling through. Upon doing a thorough Nita check, knowing that's yet one more thing to explain to Tris, I saw her standing there with a guilty look on her face and I could barely handle it. Especially when she actually tried to comfort me, and I readily accepted it, which is total bullshit. I don't deserve that. I'm the one that left her! I still can't even believe she's here… Why is she here?

Flashback:

My phone died and therefore I have no idea if it's "Tris time" or still "project time." I've been in project mode for what definitely feels like awhile, but time seems to be losing it's meaning. And I fully realize how little sense that makes.

"Hey, Four."

I do a double-take and squint my eyes to make sure I'm seeing her correctly. Small, built frame, weird hair, perma-annoyed face. Yes, it's definitely—

"Lynn. What are you doing—"

"Stopped in to visit the head case," she answers before I can finish, resting her boots on the edge of the table. Not okay!

"Don't call her that and get your boots…off…my…project," I grunt pushing each foot off roughly.

"Is that inaccurate?"

I narrow my eyes at her, guiltily not responding. "Your name wasn't on the 'no visitors' list…was it…"

"Nope. Walked right in."

I flit my eyes up to her nervously as she practically smiles at me, most likely relishing in my misery. "So, uh, you saw her? How did… How did she look?"

"Like horse shit."

I struggle with conversation with a regular person on a regular day. I cannot handle Lynn in this situation. Shaking my head, I look back down at my project, just now noticing my alignment is completely off.

"And what the hell are you doing? Is that a…? Never mind, I really don't care."

"Great. Now are you going to tell me…anything?" I continue to look down at my notes but I'm dying for her response.

"She asked about you. Well, almost. I cut her off." Did I hear that correctly?!

"Why!? Wait, what!? She asked about me? What did she say? What did you say?"

"Wow. Those are a lot of questions. I don't think you've ever talked to me this much."

"Nor you, me."

"True."

I look at her plainly, waiting, so, so, so, patiently for her to tell me what the fuck Tris said!

"I just told you all I know." She shrugs looking at me as if that's an obvious fact.

"Why," I grit before deciding to relax my face, "did you cut her off?"

"I saw you moping on my way in." She shrugs again. "Walked right past you, in fact. Didn't even see me." She drums her fingers on the table and nods her head. Who gives a shit?!

"Continue…"

"It's obvious to me, being the all-seeing eye that I am, that you two need to work your own shit out. Bye." She gets up swiftly and heads for the elevator.

"Thank you for…mmm…absolutely nothing, Lynn."

I get no response apart from a quick wave of the hand over her shoulder.

I spend not another minute thinking about Lynn because Tris asked about me! Why would she do that? I Already know the answer to that question—she feels guilty.

There's a part of me that feels pretty good about that assessment because hopefully that would mean some of the horrendously awful things she said to me were falsified—things I may not ever get over, to be honest. Her comparing me to Eric after so many reassurances that I'm nothing like him may just stick with me forever. I don't easily let things go. Understatement.

Yet I still don't want her to feel an ounce of guilt. I knew she needed to yell, she needed to blame, she needed to make some sort of sense of what happened to her.

Christ, all I've wanted, for years, is to make sense out of what happened to me. What the hell am I saying? It didn't happen to me! It was your mother, you self-centered piece of shit! I've wanted to cry, to yell, to scream since the day she died. Even before then, actually. But at the time, I didn't want her to see how affected I was. It took me years to come to that realization...

"God, I need to stop thinking about this..." I groan, laying my forehead on the table with my eyes open.

The mix of the red pen and gray pencil with the A: LOG backdrop is crazy this close up. Especially if I try to cross my eyes. Whoa! Is this what it feels like to do ecstasy? Uriah attempted to get me to do it once—

"I'll say this one time and you will not comment. Got it?"

I snap my head up at Evey's voice to see her standing there with actual concern in her eyes. "If I say yes, is that a comment?"

"No."

"Then, yes."

"Okay, just...don't leave."

I stare at her, really wanting to ask pertinent questions. Such as, "Why would you say such a thing?", "Did Tris say that?", "What the fuck happened?" while also stating the obvious, "Of course, I'm not fucking leaving!"

"Okay?" She looks at me like she's expecting a response.

"You told me not to comment—"

"Acknowledgment is not commenting."

"Noted."

I nod my head sizing her up. She reminds me of Tris—she speaks before realizing exactly what she's asking of someone.

"Bye, Tobias."

"Bye, Evey." I watch her walk away. Say something! She was your saving grace...literally! "Hey!"

"Yeah?" She pushes the elevator button.

"I'm not a hugger but…um…if I were, I would hug you."

"Noted."

Thank the Lord the elevator doors immediately open. I scrub my hands down my face realizing how sufficiently awkward that was. Could I think of nothing better to say to the woman who saved Tris's life? Apparently not, motherfucker!

I thunk my head down onto the table again, this time deciding to give my eyes a rest. Counting down from 30—29, 28, 27, 26, 25, 24, 23, 22, 21, 20…19…18…17…12…2… Shit!….9, 8, 2… … …

The shuffling of feet rouses me and I grab my pen ready to pretend to be working so no one will talk to me. Tris scoots her small body right across the room and stands in front of the coffee machine.

"What…the…hell?" she whispers.

It's funny because there's build-up behind it—as if the lack of shitty coffee may just put her over the edge. I laugh to myself because I have officially gone over the edge, but I decide to make an obvious comment anyway.

"Coffee machine's broke."

She turns, looking at me—like really looking at me. Not through me as if I'm not really there. This shit just gets worse and worse!

I look down at my A:LOG and finally see where the most reasonable area for reinforcement is. Tobias, you're truly a dumbass. Well, I've gotta give myself some credit—this is brand new territory.

I glance up again to see Tris standing there. Fuck me! Two minutes…just two minutes without thinking about her!

"I told you," I let out a long sigh knowing exactly what will scare her off. What the fuck? How did I screw that up? Grabbing my pencil, I erase and fix my blatant error in efficiency. 5/8 thickness not ¼ inch! I can still feel Tris as if she were a real presence. "I won't leave you," Alright, that's better. "…ever."

"Tobias…"

I look up at Tris and know for sure she is a figment because she is dressed in my favorite outfit—my T-shirt and nothin' but panties. It's one of my shorter shirts so I bet if I cared enough to look closer I could get a quick undie shot but why torture myself?

"I…"

I move my chair back roughly, removing my glasses. I need to get the hell out of here—go for a walk or something. Looking up, I see Tris walking over to me slowly. Trying to shake myself out of this one, I catch my head in my hands rubbing my aching eye sockets. I can feel the top of my head pushing into her stomach and it does nothing but remind me of when I was in the bathroom in Marcus's guesthouse, and how I could have sworn Tris jumped up on the sink. I can still feel the swishing of her smooth calves as she was swinging them back and forth over mine. Just like I can feel her hands on the side of my head right now. And it's fucking torture! But just like Tris said—I'm a glutton for punishment. So I decide to reside in my little sleep-deprived, emotional anarchy haven of hell.

"You let me blame you…"

I nod my head at projected mind-reader Tris. Wouldn't this be a fucking dream come true?

"I needed that. And you knew..."

I agree again, loving the feeling of her fingers running through my hair.

"Thank you." And, she's thanking me. Seals the deal, doesn't it? Reality Tris would not be thanking me.

The top of my head feels cool as Tris sighs through her nose—the effect of air on wetness. All it does is remind me of the first time we were together, and how I was blowing my warm breath on her between her legs, purely to test her reaction. She probably didn't even like it. I bet it just made her uncomfortable.

Unexpectedly on my behalf, I reach for her hand, grabbing it and kissing it quickly. My lips feel the same wetness—it's…salty. It's tears… Is this real? Blinking my foggy eyes, I see a bandage that wouldn't have been a memorized image. She had an IV line in the last time I saw her. This is…happening. The last time my heart accelerated this quickly was when I was in the shower with her, knowing, or thinking at the time, this was going to be the last time I would hold her.

DO NOT FUCK UP THIS TIME! Relax… Relax… She cannot know you are tempted to join the Jessie White Tumblers just to learn proper acrobatics and not embarrass yourself as you do backflips down the hallway. Don't be that guy! Keep your cool…

"I love you..."

Did she say that? She said that, right? Do I need to make sure? What the fuck do I do? Ask? No, you do not ask!

Apparently not being able to stand it anymore, I sit up, my eyes feeling the chill air as a shock of embarrassment hits me that too many of my emotions may be showing. I lean back and pull her with me because there is no FUCKING way I'm letting her take off. Before I can pull away to study her face, she touches her cheek to mine and I practically light on fire, so I pull back just for a small bit of assurance that there's no need to join Caleb.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" So much for not asking, dick!

"Uh, I said…I love you?" She sounds like she's gargling mouth wash. And I think she took my inquiry as an off-the-cuff quip or remark so I'm rolling with it.

"Yeah, that didn't help." I need to hear her say it and mean it. I know it's not about what I need at this point in time, but—

"I love you." Oh, yeah. She meant that shit. She said it with her eyes…

She's so close to me, and it's on her terms, not just because I crawled into a hospital bed with her where there is a lack of space, or for comfort in a stressful situation. No. She's choosing this…and I am incredibly confused! Why? Why? Why is she here?!

The pad of her thumb brushes across my bottom lip, distracting me as I'm tempted to bite it to hold it there, but instead I just decide to keep her there, pulling her closer, being careful of her injury. And even though I can see the desire in her eyes, and I feel the inevitable build-up, I still need to be sure she's in the same boat. So, I gently bring my hand up, dragging my knuckles under the soft skin of her arm, loving the pink it adds to her cheeks, and rest my palm between the valley of her breasts, right over her heart. It feels like it's about to burst out of her body and I know I have some stupid, stupid ass smile on my face—or maybe just a smug grin.

And then, Jesus, her lips touch mine and I check out. I'm gone!…Goodbye world!…I've died a happy man! Which is total shit because I greedily go back for more and run my tongue over her lips, setting us both on a very heated, passionate, mind-blowing, kiss-to-end-all-kisses journey. She pulls me closer by the back of my head, as we change angles thoroughly mapping out missed areas. Yet I'm brought back to the reality we're facing as she tenses, trying to push through the pain. So I softly and more reluctantly than ever in my life, pull away hoping the look on my face doesn't cause guilt. My reluctance is soon forgotten as I get to lose myself in her eyes…

End Flashback

I turn at the click of the lock on the bathroom door, wondering how long I had gotten lost in my own world. I sigh to myself trying to count, figuratively speaking, how many steps we've taken back, especially since she feels the need to lock the damned bathroom door. Then I hear the running water of the shower and it makes more sense. She doesn't want me in there. She doesn't want me to see her. I would imagine she knows I'd try to help, because, for fuck's sake, she can't even lift her right arm over her head. How the hell does she plan to wash her hair left-handed?

I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! Christ! She's self-conscious to begin with! Again I wonder how many steps back this bullshit…I don't even know what to call it…event has caused her to take. However many, I can be patient. I won't push her. This will all be at her own pace and I will be totally cool with that. 100% okay with that. She's in control. I'm a willing participant if needed. This is some real shit she's dealing with and I will not pressure her.

I had put her duffel bag on the floor in the closet, and at first, I second guessed whether or not it was too presumptuous of me to assume she would stay in my room. Well, now I'm third and fourth guessing myself. I mean we can, at least, share a bed, right? It's a king-sized bed. I will, with extreme disappointment yet total acceptance, sleep on the other side of the bed and not lay a finger on her. Just follow her lead, Tobias…

I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE SHE'S HERE! Why is she here? Why did she forgive me? We decided to talk tomorrow… I can wait… I fucking HATE waiting!

I sigh again, they seem to be limitless since she locked the bathroom door, and walk to the closet to grab her bag. I figure I'll have her things ready for her when she's done. But I see absolutely no bag—duffel or toilety-thingy.

"Fuck…Tris…," I whine seeing that she took both bags, each very heavy and full of unnecessary crap (Thank you, Christina!) into the bathroom with her. How did I miss that?

Feeling frustrated and helpless, I literally pace in front of the door. I stop when I hear her suck in a breath through her teeth and ball up my fists anxiously. Then I calm down when I hear the water splashing on the floor from rinsing out her hair. How is she doing this with her ribs wrapped tighter than a drum?! She better not have taken that shit off!

"Mmmggghhhh!" is all I can get out as I then have the pleasure of hearing her literally yelp in pain. "Fuck this shit-ass-piece-of-shit God-damned son-of-a-bitch in hell fucked up shit," I grumble among other things that don't register, yet distract me, nonetheless, from this crippling feeling of helplessness.

I stomp over to the bed, figuring I may as well make myself useful and clean up this hell hole. I throw the comforter off the bed, rip off the fitted sheet tossing it on the floor on top of the other sheet seeing as they were both tainted by another woman—holy…fuck…wine glasses…bed sheets on floor…broken…orchid…picture… LIPSTICK!

I drag my feet over to the bathroom door at least now understanding why she went into the shower unannounced—there's nothing like visiting the scene of the crime. I should know! The nasty part of me is thinking—Hey! Remember when I walked in on you NAKED because you just fucked another dude? Paybacks! Yet, the better part of me, which always seems to win out when it comes to Tris, feels awful that she saw this.

I knock on the door seeing as the water has been turned off.

"Yeah?!" she sing-songs in a weird voice.

"Can I help?" I think I may have moaned that.

"No, I got it."

I clear my throat. "Tris?"

"Yeah?" I think she may have croaked that.

"It wouldn't be the first door I've broken down for you."

She doesn't answer but I hear her shuffling around, trying to take short breaths and then she just seems to stop.

"Tris?"

"I'm fine, damn it—"

"I didn't sleep with anyone."

Again, I hear nothing but silence and a very shaky exhaled breath. After an amount of time passes and I work through my primary reaction to flee the scene seeing as she's not responding, I decide that since she's not going to talk, I am. It's probably easier to say what I'm going to say if I don't have to look at her anyway. So I sink down to the floor, with my back against the bathroom door.

"I almost did. I hate it." I roll my head right and left over the recessed panel. "But that doesn't change the fact that, Tris, I wanted to. I literally wanted to have sex with another woman. And I wanted it to be in my bed. God... I couldn't even sleep in my own damned bed because I couldn't bring myself to change the sheets seeing as you were the last person to sleep in them. How fucked up is that?" I laugh aloud. "In my mind a perfectly acceptable solution was to sleep with another woman, yet changing the sheets…unthinkable. But even if I had gone through with it, it wouldn't have mattered. You still would have been everywhere—in my bed, on my couch, sitting on the breakfast bar, lounging in my chair. Don't even get me started on the shower. I know you don't know the full story yet, but at the time, I wanted you gone." I pause almost regretting saying that. "I—"

"No, you didn't," she says in a groggy voice. At some point, she must have sat down because her voice is right by my ear. "You wanted to want me gone. There's a difference…a big one."

I nod my head at her 100% accurate statement.

"I wanted to want someone else, too," she remarks as matter-of-factly as me.

I stare at the blankness that is in front of me making sure my mind doesn't wander off to less desirable places—

"But, I didn't."

Taking several deep breaths of composure, I decide to speak. "Um, when you say you didn't, does that mean you didn't want to want someone? Or, um, you wanted to want someone but didn't… (Damn you English language with your vague usage of the auxiliary verb!) ...or you didn't…um…You tried to but…didn't—"

"I didn't sleep with David…or anyone. I…I couldn't."

The last time I performed an unintentional fist pump was when Tris agreed to go out with me via text message. It was rather embarrassing because she saw the whole damned thing. But this time, I am no holds barred, shamelessly fist pumping the hell out of this place—

"You're totally fist-pumping."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Feeling a sudden loss of support behind me, I plummet backward landing hard on my left shoulder.

"Mmmggghhh," I grunt grabbing at it.

"Shit! I'm sorry! Are you okay?" I bat Tris's hand away as the injured fool tries to help me up. "I grabbed onto the door handle to lift myself up and—"

"Well, if you would have let me in in the first damned place...," I grumble rolling onto my other side and pushing myself up.

"Well, don't leave evidence behind of your seductive…aspirations," she snarks.

"I didn't even know the glasses were there! That's how fucked I've been for the last however many weeks! I haven't even slept in my bed! One time! I let myself one damned time…and maybe a half… But aside from that, I've been drinking myself to sleep at the fucking office!"

She sits quietly, for once, waiting for me to finish my moment of frustration. But I have nothing more to say about any of that right now!

Sitting up, I can see her more clearly. Speaking of clearly, she is clearly in need of assistance. Clutching a towel around herself, she presents quite the mess. Half of her hair is wet and the other is fairly soapy.

"I look like an idiot."

"Yeah, you do. Come on." I rise up on my knees and grab under her elbows assisting her upright.

Her towel immediately falls to the ground as she stands. Which basically brings me face to face with the object of my sexual fantasies. My mouth drops open and I can't look away as she reaches for the towel, a noise coming from the back of her throat, and mine for that matter. While I basically just swat at the bare bathroom floor pretending to help her find her towel but actually trying to inhibit the process. She hasn't…I don't know what to call it—waxed or shaved. But surprisingly so, it's a fucking turn on! Who knew?! Something about au naturel. Is it like some weird primal thing—

"Tobias! What the fuck?!" she grits out trying to angle herself away as my cock stands at immediate attention ready for orders from its superior—Tris.

"I, I, I'm—"

"Get up, get up, get up! I can't exactly go far! Please, God, help me…"

"What? Yes, I'm here and I…will help you," I say in a daze as I finally hold up her towel, covering her butt because I'm still on my knees.

She finally achieves her 180, facing away from me and I can see her precious, albeit horrified face in the mirror. I stand, purposely avoiding her sweet, sweet, ass because I'm hard as fuck as it is, and I really don't want to scare her with my dick that is doubling as a beacon for her right now.

"Sorry, about that," she whispers nervously with her eyes squinted shut, oblivious to the fact that I can see her face in the mirror.

"Tris," I laugh.

What I want to say is—"I will come (I probably would literally come) face-to-face with your vagina any day of the week, any time, any place. You name the place (don't forget the time) and I will be there…diving in…deep." But I don't, all I do is chuckle because I don't want her to feel pressured.

"Is your dumbass laugh supposed to make me feel better?" she exalts regaining her attitude wrapping herself tightly in the towel.

"No, I'm sorry. It's—Come on! That was funny! You know it was funny!"

"It was embarrassing!"

I rest my hands on her hips and walk her forward to the sink, relishing in the redness that has spread across her face. I briefly notice the yellow that is starting to take over the purple marks and I find it amazing that I actually forgot she had bruises. Maybe because I can't stop thinking about her thighs that I want to be wrapped around my head.

Looking up, I see her face is still red from irrational embarassment. "Beatrice…," I accuse.

"Stop! You don't get it. Look, I haven't…been able to... Jesus Christ, am I talking to you about this?"

"Apparently, you are."

I reach over to the drawer and pull out her brush as I smile shyly (yes…shyly) because it's still there. But she seems pleased as she returns my smile.

"But, I am admittedly confused as to what you're referring to," I admit with just the right amount of false ignorance.

"Never mind."

I shrug my shoulders. "Okay." But then I can't help but add my two-cents in. I kiss her creamy shoulder lightly and mumble in her ear, "I liked it."

And I get my expected and strangely anticipated response—her covering her face and shaking her head. "Oh, my God."

I decide to just leave it at that and concentrate on my project. No expectations! No pressure! Fuck... Trying to get a brush through this is like trying to navigate through a swamp.

"Uh, Tris?"

"What?"

"Half of your hair is dry and the other half has enough of that conditiony stuff to last a lifetime. Come on." I lead her back into the shower not making her remove her towel.

"Tobias, what are you—"

"You're going to lie on this bench and I'm going to wash your hair," I remark as if she doesn't have a choice in the matter. "Now, sit."

For once, she does as she told and then spins on her tailbone while I support her back and neck, probably more than needed, lying her supine with her head at the very end of the bench.

"We've never done it this way," I comment in jest.

She does successfully stifle a laugh but I was hoping for an actual laugh. Damn…

Turning on the hand-held shower to warm up the water, I take my socks off, tossing them outside the shower and roll up my jeans. Gathering her shampoo and conditiony stuff that still remained on the shelf, I crouch down and run the water through her hair. She closes her eyes as I run the nozzle back and forth over her forehead, making sure no water gets in her eyes, enjoying the look of relaxation on her face. The ends of her hair touch the shower floor in a smooth, perfect wave.

"Why haven't you asked me why?" She breaks our relaxing silence in a quiet voice as I put the previously instructed amount of shampoo in my hand, massaging it into her scalp. I can't believe I actually get to do this again.

"What do you mean?" I mumble pretending not to know what the fuck she's talking about but prepared for her to see right through it.

And I know she does when she doesn't answer me. She just waits fuckin' patiently.

"Because I quite like living in my head. You know, pretending you thought about nothing but me for two days straight, completely disregarding your injuries and other traumas, until a switch just flipped and you suddenly decided 'fuck it all, I'm just going to jump on his lap, kiss his face off, all is forgiven, end…scene.'"

I pause for a moment in reflection, something I hadn't officially allowed myself to do, even though deep down I knew something was off. This was too easy. Something had to have happened. I know Tris had basically checked out for 90% of the Nita debacle, based upon the look on her face and serious facial blood loss. I would venture to guess she didn't get beyond the fact that Marcus was threatening me and I went along with it. And she was too angry to just come to a sudden realization—an epiphany.

I do believe, deep down, she would have gotten there at some point. And I meant what I said—I'll never leave her. But I was expecting weeks and months of apologies and explanations before she even considered forgiving me.

Soft fingers touch my cheek bringing me back to reality.

"I love it when you do that with your mouth…or, um, face…yes, face."

I furrow my eyebrows and squeeze way too much conditioner in my hands. Fuck! Am I ever going to get this right?!

"Do what?" I run my fingers through her hair momentarily entranced by how smooth and silky it instantly feels. This stuff is the best!

"Well, when you come back down to Earth, you do this twitchy-smirky thing on the side of your mouth along with a small head shake, like you're embarrassed or something."

"I doubt that entirely. So, how long does this stuff have to stay in?"

She tries hard not to laugh at me and it only makes water run into her eyes. I chuckle along with her and am fairly close to her face so I rub the water out with my thumb, watching closely as she blinks her eyes several times then bringing her knuckles up instinctively to rub them. She leaves a couple eye-lashes behind as she widens and blinks her eyes a final time. I reach up, removing the stray lashes—

"Wait!" she exclaims.

"What?!"

"You have to make a wish." What the hell is she talking about? "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Not a damned clue."

"How…is that possible?"

"How…am I supposed to answer that question when I don't know what the hell you're talking about?"

"Make a wish and blow the eyelash away."

"That's a thing?" I huff out a breath, hating this girlie shit but knowing I'll go along with it because she wants me to.

"Don't worry, I won't tell. We wouldn't want anyone to know you have a soft side. It would ruin you."

"Enough out of your beautiful face, I'll blow on your damn eyelash—"

"And make a wish."

"Jesus…," I mutter but then I actually do think of a decent wish, and it doesn't take me long: I wish for forgiveness. Total forgiveness. Not this teetering on a ledge shit that I may just fall off of at any moment. Real, true, forgiveness.

"Now blow it away."

I do as I'm told, holding back a grin because she totally checked out my lips. I love so much that she loves them. I don't get it because, to me, it's just my mouth, but, hey, whatever she finds sexy, I will exploit. However, I do stop myself from running my tongue across the bottom of my lip.

"Your turn," I say seriously because she has another lash under her eye.

"My turn? You're into this now—"

"Turnabout's fair play. Come on, hold still." I dab my finger on the thin skin under her eye revealing to her the second eyelash, not missing for a moment the grin plastered all over her face. "Yeah, yeah laugh all you want."

"Is this like our new thing?"

"No."

"Oh, yes, it is."

"No. Make a fuckin' wish." Secretly love that, moving on.

I admire her face in general as she closes her eyes, but then of course as she blows on her eyelash I lean in to devour her mouth. But I stop short when I realize what I'm doing. I want things to be the same. But they aren't, just yet. But she does seem confused as she worries her lip and draws her eyebrows together. So I lean in softly, placing my lips gingerly on hers. I mean, I don't want to confuse her! We can't have that!?

Our kissing is soft and teasing. Am I dying a little on the inside, like I have so many times with her? Yes. Then I feel her tongue slowly, so damned slowly in my mouth and I think, I think, I think, I hear a slight moan come from her as I reciprocate. Fuck, I forgot how good at this she is. I feel her palm on my neck as she brushes her thumb along my temple pulling me closer to her. I sigh, quickly hovering over her and landing my lips on her neck, tasting her skin. I grip her hip until I can balance my weight, freeing up my hand to run it up her side until it comes into contact with bare skin. The towel had fallen away enough that my thumb grazes over her hardened nipple. Her sucking in a rather quick breath in pain and suddenly my jeans no longer fitting, at all, brings me back to this planet.

"Shit," I comment quickly. "I'm, uh…" I lift my hips as to not drag my dick over her legs, hop off the bench and I—have absolutely nothing to say!

"Uh," she makes a quick noise from the back of her throat as she tightens the towel around herself again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine. Can we just get the conditioner out of my hair?"

"Sure," I answer nervously, knowing I crossed a line.

She closes her eyes for the rest of the time as I hastily rinse out the stuff, squeeze out her hair and grab a towel out of the linen closet. When I return, she had already sat herself up.

"Hey, sitting up like that has to hurt. I can help—"

"You've helped plenty. Just wrap my head if you can—"

"I can."

Turns out I can't.

Tris's POV:

Well, that was an official mix of incredible and appalling. I stay silent and make no eye contact, having no idea what to say as my cheeks are a shade of fire engine red and I'm biting the inside of them to hold back emotion.

To start, the beyond awful drop-the-towel moment! But I have to admit, the look of shock and what I hope was desire, although, I'm not sure anymore, on his face and the fact that it seemed to make him incapable of movement did make me a little happy. But the fact that I was vaginally unprepared was... FUCK, THERE IS NO WORD TO DESCRIBE MY HUMILIATION!

Okay, okay… It wasn't that bad. I mean, it's not like I've gone native or anything. It's just… STOP thinking about this!

Tobias is brushing my hair and actually doing a decent job of it. I smile, on the inside because I can't seem to bring myself to do it outwardly, as he hums low enough so only if one were to truly pay attention they would notice. He does it when he works too, but I've never told him that.

"Hey."

I feel soft lips on my shoulder as I make eye contact in the mirror with a concerned looking Tobias. My eyes flit over to myself. I'm heinous.

"Let's…" he gestures toward his room. "I can help you…with your pajamas. Or not?! Only if you…want. Or, you can, um... Did you want one of my, uh, shirts? Fuck, that's um… I didn't even ask where you wanted to sleep. You can...take the guest bedroom. No! I can take the…guest bedroom." Apparently we are not sleeping in the same bed. Fuel to the fire… Douse it!

I stand there and stare at him as he does the full out gamut—scratching the back of head out of nervousness, running his hands through his hair out of frustration and scrubbing at his face when he thinks he fucked up.

He huffs out in 100% aggravation, storming out of the bathroom. I hear him grunt and grumble as he takes his jeans off, chucking them in the hamper. The belt clinks against the side of the wicker basket. I think how totally out of character that is for him to not remove his belt and hang it nicely on his belt rack.

"Jesus, Tobias…"

I back up and scrunch my body to a crouching position by my bag, while he lets out his dissatisfaction all on his own—mumbling and muttering to himself. I honestly have no clue what he's doing.

I need a minute to sit, I realize, as exhaustion hits me like a blow to the face. My euphoria, upon finding out he hadn't slept with anyone, took over my body and my mind, to be accompanied by him tenderly washing my hair and speaking to me in soft tones. What is with that shower and intimate moments? Fuck!

I wonder what he wished for? I wished to forget—About my anger, my confusion, my resentment. I just want to erase it all and wake up in Tobias's arms with all being right in the world.

My said euphoria seriously subsided upon Tobias practically launching himself off of me in the shower. That was definitely, yes, beyond a doubt, the most humbling moment of my life. I was the one who shoved my tongue in his mouth! I was the one trying my damnedest to pull him onto the bench, hiding my stabbing pain! I was the one grasping at his neck! He practically stayed on all fours! I realize I'm injured but a little closer, please?! Finally, contact! When he moved his hand up my side as if I'm a cracked eggshell. One nipple-graze over my bony chest and that was that!

"Fuck…" The humiliation overwhelms me and I wipe the hot tears away quickly.

Okay, Tris. You may have been raped. You're injured. He's just being careful. You need to talk to him. Is sex on the top of your list? Do I want a quick fuck? Nope. But, that's not what Tobias and I do! Okay, you're injured, you physically can't anyway!

I lose my equilibrium as a thought that hadn't presented itself until this moment floods my mind—What if it's because I may have been…raped? As if he can't get past it. Or maybe because I've contracted something. That's probably smart, right? God, that makes me feel so dirty. Holy shit, please tell me I wasn't! Please, please, please!

I try again, to control my emotions as I clutch at my towel and rest my elbow on the floor, going through my bag. The least I can do is to dress myself before Tobias has to be tortured by my weight loss and bruises. I sniff back the snot that loves to accompany my fucked up temperament.

"Fucking embarrassing," I mumble blinking the fog out of my eyes and resting my cheek on my hand… … … … …

Tobias's POV:

Did I leave her in the bathroom? Yes, that happened. Is she giving me a moment of space? Yes, because she's amazing.

After stuttering, and when I say stutter, I mean a party. There was a fuckin' stuttering party in my mouth. Pretty sure they had a keg! I had to walk away—gather my thoughts a bit. I look around the room in a panic as the wine glasses present themselves again. I unequivocally do not even remember how they got there! Jesus, that was weeks ago! WHAT THE FUCK?! I grasp at them, missing the first time. Even my coordination is off. I need sleep. I walk out to the kitchen and run the water until it is scalding, plunging my hands under the faucet 'cause I'm a fuckin' idiot, to plug the drain. Did that hurt? FUCK, YES! I grunt as I shake my hands off and jump up and down. Focus! Dousing the glasses in soap, I carefully put them in the water to disinfect them.

"Shoulda just fuckin' thrown 'em away! But then I would have to take out the damned garbage, and that means leave the apartment, and that's not happening. Plus they're nice glasses. Tris likes those glasses because you can fit half a bottle in each one." I shake my head and laugh knowing I'm just mumbling shit to myself.

Just thinking about the memory of Tris polishing off a glass of red can make me smile...

Flashback:

"Mmmm…"

I watch, grinning as she takes down the last sip of wine.

"Ima fan! I just drank ½ a bottle without even knowing it!" She's standing on the bed in my T-shirt, feeling very proud of herself.

"Well, I knew it," I quip breathing hard because I'm intoxicated, and trying to teach an intoxicated girl, who seems freakishly skilled to begin with, self-defense. "Why do you think we're usin' 'em?"

"Well, they're pretty awesome—AW!" She landed hard on her back after my carefully calculated leg swipe. I thought about catching her but then changed my mind as the wine glass went flying.

"Shit!"

I dive for the glass as she tries to catch her breath because I awesomely knocked the wind out of her stubborn ass. Grabbing the glass by the stem, I do a sweet and entirely unnecessary dive roll onto the floor onto my back.

"Oh, my God," she groans.

"Did I hurt you—"

"Tell me you didn't break the glass!" I laugh at her concern for the wine glass.

"I totally…caught it," I breathe out holding it up in the air like a trophy.

"Thank God," she crawls over the bed to look down at me, having grabbed the third bottle. "Don't get me wrong… I'll drink outa the bottle any day, but…" I hold the glass up high as she pours half the bottle into the glass. "…it always tastes better in a glass."

She puts the bottle on the nightstand and slides her sexy self off the bed laying herself out on top of me.

"I'm in love with a classy lady," I comment as I pull her down to kiss the fuck out of her face.

"Mmmm…" She pulls away (which is dumb but whatever). "Holding a wine glass while making out with your girlfriend?" She runs her tongue along my bottom lip.

"I'm awesome."

"Hmm."

Before I can even react, she's between my legs. Turns out, I'm not as awesome as I thought...

End Flashback

I still can't believe she's here.

I look down at the bed that now has new sheets, perfectly ready to accept Tris's intoxicating scent, and I am pretty impressed that I did that with a hard dick. High five myself! I need sleep.

She was rustling around in there a few minutes ago, probably mad. Okay, just tell her how you feel. Tell her what you want. Do it! Do it now!—You want her in one of your shirts and if it's not pushing your luck you would like to help her put it on. You want her in your bed, with you in it! Tell her. She's blunt. She'll tell you if she doesn't want that!

I march into the bathroom with a new sense of resolve, until I see her.

"Oh, babe…" I groan as I kneel down next to her.

She is…passed out…on the floor, fetal position, using a hair dryer for a pillow.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper as I slide my arm under her neck and under her knees with my other.

I strain to stand, yet, accomplish it nonetheless. I need to do some legs, damn. I kiss her forehead softly and walk her over to the bed, feeling the sudden need to go to the gym and run 20 miles, hit the bags for an entire hour without tape, using my left arm only, and do 21 minutes of wall sits without a break. Then I can do yoga! No, yogalates—pure torture. Then, Jazzercise.

I lie her down as she sighs and tries to roll over onto her right side, making some guttural noise.

"Tris, you need to lay on your back, come on."

"Mmm mmm…" She dozes off and I don't know what to do. She can't sleep on her right side!

I remember Evey propping a pillow under her rib cage when I was spying once (I only spied once-and-a-half). I run out to the living room, grab a useless decorative pillow that serves no purpose except to crowd up my apartment, and run back. How the fuck am I going to do this?

"Babe? I mean, Tris?" She doesn't move, so I reach over, lifting her up and preparing myself for the inevitable—

"What…the…fuck, Tobias!?" she cries out in pain. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Not today."

After I place the pillow, hoping I did it correctly, she exhales out in pure relief. "Ohhh… Thank...you."

I chuckle at her swift change in tune after the pillow is in place while I sit for a minute just watching her breathing even out. Then I go into the kitchen, dry off the disinfected wine glasses and hang them in the back of the wet bar, rotating the others to the front. I laugh at myself for rotating my glassware. What kind of douche does that? Then I make sure the chain is secure at the front door, turn off the lights, make sure the chain is secure, put her duffel bag in my closet, and make sure the chain is secure. When I'm happy, relatively speaking, with my progress, I tiptoe into my room, kiss her on the head one more time before turning the light off and heading to the guest room—

"So, that's actually happening?" she mumbles.

"What is?" I whisper wondering if she's dreaming.

"Are we roommates?"

"No—"

"Then, please, sleep with me. I miss you." She says that last part with an unintentional pout.

So, excited as all hell, I race to the other side of the bed and crawl in lying on my side. I tuck her hair behind her ear. "Better?" I whisper.

"That's not your side of the bed," she says like a crab ass. "It's weird."

"Okay," I whisper, happy at her use of the word "sides" but confused as how to solve this problem because she's on my side of the bed.

Until the upside presents itself—Now I have to sleep close to her! I stealthily slip out of bed and sprint to the other side climbing in right behind her. I slide my arm under her neck and scoot myself flush with her perfectly.

Puzzles pieces, magnets, however the fuck you want to liken it. We click into place as a simultaneous sigh-groan comes out of both of us.

"Fuuuuucckk," I say. Totally not romantic. So not cool... It just came out—

"Soooo fuuuuuucckk."

God, I love you…

Tris's POV:

God, I love you, too…