We Can Be Mended (Divergent fanfic)

Chapter 20

(Tobias)
I shift from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for the door to open. My hands are shaking slightly, partly from the cold of standing outside in Chicago at 1 o'clock in the morning, and partly from nerves. I saw Evelyn only a couple of weeks ago but this is different. She never expressed her dislike for Tris once she died, partly because she knew my feelings for her and knew that it would only hurt me, and partly because what's the point if she is dead anyway?
I have no idea what she will do having Tris turn up on her doorstep at this time of night asking to stay.
I asked her to wait in the car so that I could explain things first in order to lesson the shock. I glance back at her and faintly see her reassuring smile through the glass window.
The click of the door opening sends my head spinning back round. On the other side of the door stands my mother in a dressing gown, still blinking sleep from her eyes.
"Tobias?" she says, focusing her gaze on me, "what on earth are you doing here at this time of night?"
I clear my throat, "sorry, it's a long story."
She shakes her head and stands aside, letting me pass into the house. I glance back at Johanna's car, knowing that I can't leave Tris outside alone.
"Wait, it's not just me," I say, looking nervously at my mother for a reaction.
She just seems confused, "what? Well who else is there?", she shivers as a gust of wind blows through the open doorway, "well for crying out loud just both of you get inside, its freezing out here." She still does not seem particularly with it, still half asleep I presume.
"Evelyn, it's not that simple. I just want to explain before you see her."
"See who? What are you talking about Tobias, just come inside!" She sounds exasperated and she is right about the cold, my fingertips are already going numb. I just have to get it over with.
"Tris is alive."
The sleepy look disappears from her face. Her eyes focus on me fully attentive and wide in shock.
Then suddenly the look changes to something I cannot quite place - pity?
"Tobias..." she trails off, but her tone is enough to confirm the look of pity in her eyes. She doesn't believe me. She must think that the grief has taken over and I am hallucinating.
I sigh, "Evelyn, I'm not crazy. Or ill or.. on drugs or anything! This is real."
The look in her eyes does not change and I know that it won't unless she has proof. I turn back to Johanna's car and beckon to Tris, with a nod of my head. I cannot see her expression through the window, but as she gets out the car, she walks with her head held high and her hands clenched by her sides. I smile to myself. She is clearly nervous, yet she refuses to show it, even now after everything that has happened. Always so determined to prove her bravery.
When she reaches the doorstep, I turn back to my mother, whose expression is still disbelieving, yet in a very different way. She stares at Tris, her eyes the size of golf balls, almost popping out of her skull. I have the sudden urge to say 'I told you so', but I don't think that would be particularly helpful so I hold my tongue.
Instead I say, "It's a long story."
Evelyn nods, snapping her jaw, which was hanging open, shut and trying to regain composure. She stands aside once again to let us through and this time I take Tris's hand and lead her into my mother's house.
~~~
Evelyn sits on the sofa opposite me and Tris, one hand clutching a now cold cup of coffee and the other rubbing her eyes.
We explained most things to her, leaving out the details. It appears that each time we tell the story, more and more gets left out. I think by this point we have figured out that we are going to have to tell it a lot. Nevertheless, it still makes me wonder how much of Tris's experience she left out the first time, when telling me. I am not foolish enough to believe that she told me everything. We were never very good at the truth thing.
Eventually, Evelyn opens her eyes and looks at me, then at Tris. I can see pity in her eyes, which I know Tris will hate, but there is also a hint of admiration in there. Plus, it isn't the hatred or resentment which I feared.
"I'm sorry," she says, looking at Tris, "that sounds..." she trails off. I glance sideways at Tris, who is staring at her hands. She doesn't like to be pitied, she doesn't like to seem weak, but I think she also recognises that Evelyn is trying to be kind. "I wouldn't have been able to do what you did for so long," she finishes off.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tris look up in surprise. I suppose she was not expecting my mother to imply that she is strong as opposed to pitying her for what she went through.
I smile at Evelyn, trying to thank her silently.
"Thanks I guess," Tris replies warily. It is the first thing she has said, other than chipping in on a few story details. Story seems an odd word for the horrific events described, but there is no other way to describe it without making it real. Too real to bear.
Tris clearly does not feel comfortable here, but she promised me she would try. And I know she meant it.
"You can stay here as long as you need, there's a spare bedroom and one of you can sleep on the sofa, although you're probably happy to share-" she looks away, colour rising in her cheeks. No one says anything.
I clear my throat, "Thank you." It is the only thing I can think of that will shatter the awkward silence. Tris appears to have retreated into a world of her own, barely following the conversation. I doubt she even registered the pause. It is happening more and more recently. I cannot say that I am not deeply concerned for her. When she first turned up at my door, only a few days ago, our reunion was so crazy and unexpected and the events that followed were the same, that I feel like I have been running on adrenaline ever since, and I'm guessing it's the same for her. But now I am starting to see the cracks in her mind a little more. I was surprised at first about how little six years of torture seemed to have affected her, but now I am starting to wonder if she is just good at hiding it - she always has been a good liar. And now, in these moments with that distant look on her face, I know that she is not really here. In her mind she is back in that place where she was tortured by David and his little band of psychopaths.
I want more than anything in the world to draw her away, to help her leave that place and never go back. But I have no idea how to do that.
Her hands tear at each other nervously in her lap, but I doubt she is aware of doing it. I place one hand over hers to hold them still and gently whisper her name.
Evelyn has left to go back to bed, letting us get some rest ourselves.
It takes another few times repeating her name before she finally responds, snapping out of her daydream with a slight gasp. She looks around for a moment, disoriented before her eyes focus on mine and the panic dies.
I am about to ask if she is alright, but I know what her answer will be. And I know that it will be a lie.
"I want you to know that I'm here Tris," her gaze is steady on mine, "always. For whatever reason - whether you want to talk about it or just - just be with someone. I am always here."
I can see tears in her eyes, and I can feel the familiar pricking sensation in my own. I lean towards her, pressing my lips against her forehead.
"I know you are always going to tell
me and everybody else that you're fine Tris," I whisper, my lips brushing her delicate skin, "just because that's who you are. You're brave and you're selfless and you don't want to burden other people with your problems or ever admit weakness. And that's okay. But for the times when it's not true, when you're not fine at all, I will always be right here. Always."