The Way Back

Chapter 22

TOBIAS POV

"How is she?" I ask.

"She's okay," the doctor replies, removing his latex gloves. "Besides the bullet wound in her leg, she only suffered from minor shock. We've removed the bullet and stitched it up, and it should heal fine. We'll monitor her for a few days before we release her because of the infection though, just as a precaution."

Sighing in relief, I thank him and watch him walk away.

I am currently in the building over from the one where Tris and I were reunited, which contains a hospital. After they practically pried us off of each other, the doctors whisked her away on a stretcher to get to work on her bullet wound. I haven't seen her since.

It is nighttime now, and the battle has died down. The reports I received indicate that the war will be won very soon, maybe by the morning. We are now waiting for the remaining Enslavers to surrender.

With not much to do for these long hours, I have been waiting on edge for any updates on Tris's condition. I didn't get a good look at her earlier because we were in a life-threatening situation, but I did notice how she trembled in my arms, which had me worried.

Luckily, it has now been confirmed that she is okay, and I'm sure she will make a speedy recovery with the healing serum. I, of course, will help her the whole way in any way I can.

But we won't be able to go back to Chicago for another few days. That is frustrating in and of itself because after all the trauma we have both been through, we want nothing more than to return back home, to our cozy Dauntless apartment.

But I'll settle for being anywhere near her right now.

A nurse emerges from Tris's room eventually, informing me that I can visit her. I brush past her and refrain from bursting into the room; she isn't going anywhere.

And a voice at the back of my mind reminds me about a fact I forgot: she doesn't remember much. I don't know to what extent she even remembers me, her husband, although if earlier was anything to go by she must have a decent amount of memory of me.

When I step into the room, she is awake, like the nurse said she would be. She looks on the verge of sleep though, so I plan to keep our conversation short. I only have one question I need to ask her anyway.

"Hi," she slurs groggily, her lips lifting at the corners.

"Hey," I say with a small, grateful smile before I take a seat next to the bed.

My eyes run over her, drinking in her appearance. Besides the fact that she is even more thin than she was before, the only other visible change is her pink skin, which will likely peel and settle into a tan over the course of the next couple days.

Other than that, she is the same Tris I sent over the fence. She went through hell and back and yet she is still beautiful in my eyes. Maybe even more extraordinary, if possible.

"Did the doctors tell you everything?" I ask. It is such a lame thing to say after being apart for a year, but what do you say to someone who barely knows you?

But she doesn't seem to mind the casual discussion. She nods and explains, "I have to have crutches when I get up and walk around the hospital, and then when we go home I have to wear a brace for a few days."

When we go home. So far she is willing to come with me despite her memory loss. That's a start.

"That's good." I reach out and take her hand because I am itching to touch her, and she hesitates before tightening her grip on my own. "Um..." I clear my throat. "How much do you remember about me?"