“THE SERUM WEARS off five hours later, when the sun is just beginning to set. Tobias shut me in my room for the rest of the day, checking on me every hour. This time when he comes in, I am sitting on the bed, glaring at the wall. “Thank God,” he says, pressing his forehead to the door. “I was beginning to think it would never wear off and I would have to leave you here to … smell flowers, or whatever you wanted to do while you were on that stuff.”

“Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks towards me. "Is your-" he begins. "You did that on purpose!" I shout. "Yes, I did," he says quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you." I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?" "You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!" He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes looks thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye.”

“My name is Tobias Eaton," Tobias says. "I don't think you want to push me off this train."The effect of the name on the people in the car is immediate and bewildering: they lower their weapons. They exchange meaningful looks."Eaton? Really?" Edward says, eyebrows raised. "I have to admit, I did not see that coming." He clears his throat. "Fine, you can come. But when we get to the city, you've got to come with us."Then he smiles a little. "We know someone who's been looking for you, Tobias Eaton.”

“Four grabs a bar with each hand and pulls himself up, easy, like he's sitting up in bed. But he is not comfortable or natural here--- every muscle in his arm stands out. it is a stupid thing for me to think when I am one hundred feet off the ground.”

“I have only one memory of getting here, and even that is just a single image: black ink curling around the side of a neck, the corner of a tattoo, and the gentle sway that could only mean he was carrying me.He turns off the bathroom light and gets an ice pack from the refrigerator in the corner of the room. As he walks toward me, I consider closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep,but then our eyes meet and it's too late."Your hands," I croak."My hands are none of your concern," he replies. He rests his knee on the mattress and leans over me,slipping the ice pack under my head. Before he pulls away,I reach out to touch the cut on the side of his lip but stop when I realize what I am about to do, my hand hovering.What do you have to lose? I ask myself. I touch my fingertips lightly to his mouth."Tris," he says, speaking against my fingers. "I'm all right.""Why were you there?" I ask, letting my hand drop."I was coming back from the control room. I heard a scream.""What did you do to them?" I say."I deposited Drew at the infirmary a half hour ago," he says. "Peter and Al ran. Drew claimed they were just trying to scare you.At least,I think that's what he was trying to say.""He's in bad shape?""He'll live," he replies. He adds bitterly, "In what condition, I can't say."It isn't right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first. But white-hot triumph races through me at the thought of Drew at the infirmary, and I squeeze Four's arm."Good," I say.My voice sounds tight and fierce.Anger builds inside me, replacing my blood with bitter water and filling me, consuming me.I wantt o break something,or hit something, but I am afraid to move,so I start crying instead.Four crouches by the side of the bed, and watches me. I see no sympathy in his eyes.I would have been disappointed if I had. He pulls his wrist free and, to my surprise, rests his hand on the side of my face, his thumb skimming my cheekbone.His fingers are careful."I could report this," he says."No," I reply. "I don't want them to think I'm scared."He nods.He moves his thumb absently over my cheekbone, back and forth. "I figured you would say that.""You think it would be a bad idea if I sat up?""I'll help you."Four grips my shoulder with one hand and holds my head steady with the other as I push myself up.Pain rushes through my body in sharp bursts,but I try to ignore it,stifling a groan.He hands me the ice pack. "You can let yourself be in pain," he says. "It's just me here.”

“Why do you care, anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn’t mean to use it so flippantly, but it’s too late now. "You can’t play both parts at the same time.""I am not cruel." He scowls at me "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call you ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."I open my mouth to object, but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands."You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally."And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck."Besides- it worked, didn't it?""At my expense.""I didn't think it would affect you this way." Then he looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt."I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. A strange feeling goes through me- a sweet, aching weakness. He did what he did because he believed in my strength.At home it was Caleb who was strong, because he could forget himself, because all the characteristics my parents valued came naturally to him. No one has ever been so convinced of my strength.I stand on my tiptoes, lift my head, and kiss him. Only our lips touch."You're brilliant. You know that?" I shake my head. "You always know exactly what to do.""Only because I've been thinking about his for a long time," he says, kissing me briefly. "How I would handle it, if you and I..." He pulls back and smiles. "Did I hear you call me your boyfriend, Tris?""Not exactly." I shrug. "Why? Do you want me to?"He slips his hands over my neck and presses his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back so his forehead meets mine. For a moment he stands there, his eyes closed, breathing my air. I feel the pulse in his fingertips. I feel the quickness of his breath. He seems nervous."Yes," he finally says.”

“He gives me a conflicted look and touches his lips to my forehead, right between my eyebrows. I close my eyes. I don't understand this, whatever it is. But I don't want to ruin it, so I say nothing. He doesn't move; he just stays there with his mouth pressed to my skin, and I stay there with my hands on his waist, for a long time.”