#third installment

“And how’s school, Eliza?” Sarah asks over a stew Mary had made earlier that day. She wasn’t meant to stay for so long but it just ended up being that way with Mary telling her that Eliza would be home from school soon. She had felt obliged to stay, seeing as her husband Mark was also away during the weeks now because of her own son.

Eliza was a pretty brunette with long brown ringlets loosely falling by her ears. Her mannerisms were faultless as she sat straight, holding a spoon that seemed too large for her hands. Mary wasn’t forceful with correcting sloppy behavior, Eliza had seemingly picked up her mother’s ways through instinct. It was nothing like how they were brought up. It felt calm and peaceful, an easy home to belong to. In fact, it wasn’t even like Sarah’s home, because of the constant play on parenting and Eric’s obnoxious ways.

“I love school, Auntie Sarah.” Her voice is so small and quaint. It makes her think of April and how different she is to her cousin. April has never been quaint or delicate, the quirks of her father had taken her genes and entrapped them. Though April didn’t have height on her side, her attitude carried her much further. If only she could learn how to embrace it.

“I also remember someone who loved school,” Sarah says, hinting to Mary who grins quickly at her. “You remind me of her so much.”

“Is that my mommy?” The little girl questions, tilting her head shyly while they watch her.

“Yes.”

With a small giggle, they grow quiet, finishing their food. Sarah politely props her spoon in the bowl and sighs. “Thank you for dinner. It’s nice not having to make it myself. It tastes better.” It was also earlier than she was used to. Most nights, Sarah’s family were never really ready to sit down to eat until well after eight.

“We should do this more often…” A wry smile forms on Mary’s face. “I also like the fact that the leftovers get delivered by Eliza to Mother.”

“I still haven’t been to see her.” Sarah feels guilty, but not that much. She hadn’t been in the mood to visit Meredith; it would be question upon question, insulting Eric to the tenth degree, and moaning that April and Jack never visit

“That woman is as hard as nails, she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon…” Mary strokes her daughter's hair. “Why don’t you take the bowls out to the kitchen for me? Then when you’re finished, go up to your room and sort your things out for tomorrow.”

Eliza swings her legs down from the long bench and walks over to Sarah on the other side of the table, hugging her quickly. “Good night!” Then she gathers the bowls and heads for the kitchen.

“She’s growing so quickly,” Sarah comments, staring off after her. When Mary doesn’t reply, she frowns over to her. “What?”

“What’s going on? I know you. I know that look. I know the tone. I know the heaviness.”

“Work’s been a little strange. I’m working with Erudite and the new… maybe new Leader.” Sarah fidgets, leaning her arm on the table. “He’s not what I expected. I feel out of my depth and intimidated, I suppose. What’s also strange is that Eric seems to have every confidence in me. I thought at first that he just did it as a way to swindle Erudite while he was busy patching up Candor. I showed him some other information about another major problem, a serious problem, and he hasn’t mentioned it. Maybe I’m just overthinking… I seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“Overthinking what?” Mary asks, watching Sarah’s eyes remain on the table.

“Everything…” Eliza reappears and they wait until she vanishes upstairs. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course! You can tell me anything. Do you want a drink or something, though? A hot drink?”

Sarah looks out to the sun setting. “No, it’s getting late. I can’t have another relapse of last time.”

Mary scoffs. “Go hard or go home Sarah.”

“You’re not funny.” But she does laugh a little. “I’ll just come out and say it… Blake is being suggestive.”

“And Blake is who again?”

“He’s Blake Hammond, the guy from Erudite that I’m working with. It may just be me, but I feel his persona towards me is mixed. It’s like… it’s like I can’t work him out.”

“So, you mean like, flirting, or...?”

“Sort of. His words are all work related. But it’s the way he expresses himself - his actions.”

“Mommy! I can’t find any hair ties!” Eliza shouts down the stairs, sounding like she was about to descend any minute.

Mary snaps her head over her shoulder. “Honey, just wait two minutes!” Her eyes flicker over Sarah for a moment before she gestures for her to continue. “And?”

“Well, that’s it.” But she begins blushing. “He kissed my cheek after I accepted his work proposal. And he touches my hands a lot,” she rushes, realizing how immature it sounded. “I can’t explain.”

“Have you given him any reason?”

“Nothing at all.” She shrugs, frowning for a moment and then her eyes widen at Mary. “He must be half my age. He knows I’m married.” Sarah bites her lip still under her sister's scrutiny. “Eric doesn’t know any of this. And I can’t tell him. How could I possibly? It sounds preposterous just telling you.”

“I could have guessed that. But to me, it doesn't sound like anything to be worried about. Maybe that’s just what he’s like.” Mary smiles, trying to comfort her older sister. “It may be a big thing to you because you’ve always had Eric breathing down your neck, let alone the chance to interact with, I’m guessing, single and successful men.”

“I have an active social life, Mary. I’m not locked away.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “There is something off with his behavior,” she stresses.

“He hasn’t technically done anything. And as you say, he’s all words, about work from what I’m understanding.”

“It’s his disclosure.”

“Do you... like him?”

It takes Sarah by surprise, scrunching up her nose, she exclaims, “Oh gosh, no!”

“If it happens again, maybe then you should say something.” Mary smiles at her. “Everything is okay with you and Eric, though?”

Sarah thinks about the extra effort Eric has put in lately, especially when he had taken it upon himself to help April the other night. “We are more than fine,” she reassures her sister. She pauses for a moment, wiping a crumb from the table. “Can we keep this between us? I just needed to get that off my chest. And it’s not particularly something I can approach Eric with.”

“You don’t even have to ask. A problem shared is a problem halved. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Sarah stands up, straightening her skirt. “No, I’m going to make a move. It’s getting dark. And I think Eliza is waiting for you.” She finds her boots by the door, slipping her feet inside, and then pulls on her long cloak, shrouding her head with the hood while her sister watches with clasped hands. “If you hear anything from Mark about Jack, let me know as soon as you can.”

“All I know is that signal is bad and they are extremely busy. I barely hear from Mark as much as I’d like,” Mary lies. But it’s for the sake of Sarah’s state of mind, so that can’t be a bad thing…

They hug quickly, and as Sarah steps onto the graveled path, she waves over her shoulder, the light from inside dying with the door closing.

It’s colder than she had realized, the night sky clear and freckled with masses of stars, the moon bright overhead and appearing as if it leads the way home. Of course, Abnegation is like a ghost town, the opposite of Sarah’s Dauntless lifestyle. Most of the people here would be dining with their families and tucked up by nine, not long after their children’s heads had hit the pillow.

Sarah knew this route like the back of her hands. It took her through a patch of abandoned buildings and old streets. She admired the way nature had tried to claim back some of the carnage left behind; growing through the brickwork and sprouting in the cracks in the sidewalk. She even thought the space between Abnegation and Dauntless was like a different solitary world. It was usually the place where the bulk of her thoughts were left to run wild and the only witness of her dreaming was the sun or moon itself. The old buildings were like long forgotten whispers of the past, only still present to be remembered for what was - like gravestones, sad but beautiful.

But something has Sarah peer over her shoulder. Not once had she ever feared walking the short track home, but like the connection she processed when people's moods changed, the same feeling slipped down the back of her neck unexpectedly.

She increases her pace a little more, no longer able to wander in her thoughts - when she hears a sharp scrape behind her. She gasps, having heard it so evidently, twirling round to… nothing. Staying completely still, though her breath left raggedly through her open mouth no matter how hard she tried to control it, the old street remained silent.

After the initial fear, her anxiety creeps in. “Get yourself together, Sarah…” she whispers to herself. “This is stupid.” Turning and heading back towards Dauntless once again, every piece of her skin is on alert. The urge to run ahead screamed in her thighs, but her mind kept her locked with indecisions and uncertainty of why she actually should if there was nothing physically there.

She doesn’t need to be convinced further when the sound of rocks scatter behind her. She grabs the front of her skirt and sprints without looking back. Turning a corner, she pushes herself up against the cover of a building. What sounded like debris is now large striding footsteps, approaching closer and closer. Peering down the dark street to her right, a path set away from her destination, she doesn’t know where it leads, or at least can’t remember precisely in this moment as adrenaline pumped through her veins and blocked her thoughts. Her fingers grip into the concrete behind her and she prays the person will pass without noticing her. The fight or flight instinct was a terribly blurry line between possible stupidity; standing up to whoever was coming behind her, or maybe a chance of escaping and unknowing.

She decides to face her fears, stepping out determinedly, though shaken and comes face to face with… Thomas. She doesn’t hesitate and throws herself into her younger brother’s arms.

“What are you doing?” he questions while chuckling as if she was insane for embracing him so tightly.

“You frightened me!” She whacks his back for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I just saw Mare and she said you’d just left and I didn’t want to miss you.” She still doesn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now.” Standing back she wipes her nose, beginning to smile as the threatening feeling evaporated. She even laughs. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“I’m not surprised. You looked it.” She whacks him playfully on the arm. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I thought I was being followed or… I don’t know!” Putting a hand to her hip, she breathes deeply. “Can you walk me home?”

“I would be delighted.” Enthusiastically, he guides her hand to the crook of his arm and covers it with his own. Sarah feels safe like this. Her once small and young brother; the one she used to protect from all the happenings of the past, now a strong man she could rely on who had changed roles with her. How things had changed. But his next words make her blood run cold. “I only saw you step around the corner, thank god I did, as I don’t think I would have spotted you.”

Sarah quickly calculates the time between when she had stopped and gazed down the path, back towards Abnegation. She swallows dryly. “Just now?”

“I sprinted the whole way. I got my daily dose of exercise.” He continues talking aimlessly, and Sarah peers back behind her, Thomas dragging her forward. What was that?

Sarah opens the door to the apartment and Eric is sitting at the dining table. He’s passive when he sees her, appearing as if he has been waiting. There is no work in front of him and his phone is under one of his hands. “You do realize you have a phone, right?” he asks sarcastically. But she ignores him, unwrapping herself from her long cloak and kicking her boots off. 

Eric stands up and rounds the table, waiting a few feet from her.

“April?” Sarah questions.

He shakes his head before replying, “Nightshift.” She doesn’t miss the cocky lift in his lip from his own doing. “Double shift, too.” He seems proud of his own trifling.

Sarah pulls out her hair, unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress. She kicks her boots to one side, rolling down her stockings and lifts her dress over her head in one fluid motion. Standing still, Eric inclines his chin, another way of asking what she was up to.

For the final revelation, she unclips her bra, dropping it to the ground. That’s where Eric’s eyes flick to and then back to her face. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Stop talking,” she says tremulously. Her last garment is her underwear, flung carelessly without breaking his eye contact. “Take your clothes off.”

Eric stares blankly at her for a moment. Ever so slightly his eyes narrow, his hands reaching up to undo his uniform. His jaw is set as he strips away his top layers, revealing a solid body etched with tattoos and specific marks gained from his line of work. As he breathes, his muscles flex under his skin as if in anticipation of her next move. And he takes a wide, confident stance under her perusal.

When she doesn’t move, he goes for his belt, but that is when she steps forward. “Wait.” She pads over, instantly caught by the close heat of him towering over her, a nervous shake tinging her fingertips. Unclipping his belt, she slides it from the loops of his pants. “Keep this.”

It’s an unusual request that throws him. In his pause, she unbuttons his pants, sliding them down his legs, then straightens, allowing him to remove them.

And then she offers her wrists to him with a mild blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s happening right now. But I’m not going to question it.” His voice is steady, pulling his belt tight over her desired destination. Tugging on the strap, she tags him along with her and he holds onto the belt until they reach the bedroom. Wrapping the loose leather a few times to secure her, he already knows what she wants.

Eric pushes her onto her front, moving up quickly behind her, and Sarah pants in anticipation. Rubbing the tip of his cock slowly over her clit, he nudges forwards to feel her center when he passes, easing his way in.

Sarah gathers the sheets into her fists, just as he charges forwards. She whimpers semi-consciously, arching her back, trying to spur him on, listening to the raggedness of his breath as the slow strokes are abandoned for hard thrusts; Eric’s control and awareness slipping. Sharp jolts knock her stability, constantly squirming to readjust as his grip tightens on her hips.

“Harder,” spills from her lips. But it’s not what she wants. Eric does what she says, a grunt escaping from his effort. “Harder, Eric. Harder.” Sarah was coaxing him, coaxing him to understand. “Harder!” When his palm connects with her thigh, half playfully, half in frustration it seems, she entices him further. “Yes, like that.” She turns around only to make eye contact, to tell him it was okay. “Again!” 

The sound as his palm meets her skin, echoes in the air and she mewls, enjoying the sting. “Again!” And he does so on command. She can feel her body tightening, along with the build-up of guilt and stress she felt and pushed away on a daily basis; it all beginning to unravel. It gets to a point she doesn’t even comprehend what’s she’s saying, murmuring the same word over and over.

It’s only when Eric stops, she glances over her shoulder, irritated and unsatisfied. He’s sweating, panting, rubbing at his temples. “Eric… what-”

“I’ve come, Sarah.” His tone is something she’s barely ever heard before. He’s disappointed.

Lost for words, she awkwardly rolls over to face him in the transcending silence. “What? You mean…”

“You made me come. The way you were talking. What you were saying.” His face is pained, almost disgusted with himself. “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

Did she say that? “I… I…” It’s a fiery burn of embarrassment and loathing for herself that forces its way to the surface of her cheeks. “That’s not…”

“You made me take you like a whore!” Eric explodes, beginning to pace, constantly rubbing his face. “You’re my wife!”

“Exactly!” she retorts. “I am your wife. I… I…” She obviously wanted this, but not with this outcome. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of her over-exhilarant actions. “I am not a whore, Eric!”

“Then don’t make me fuck you like one!”

Sarah’s mouth drops open. Ultimately, she had caused this; she had done this. Eric had his kinks and they were never exactly conventional with their lovemaking but he was always in control. She had taken it to another level, something he wasn’t happy with. In her shame, she pulls the sheet up to cover herself.

Without another word, Eric heads for the door. “Wait! Where… where are you going?” Could she fix this? She could try if she could only talk to him for a moment. But deep down she knew he couldn’t, not in this raging state he was in. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” Eric slams the bedroom door shut. Sitting in the silence of their bedroom, Sarah doesn’t move; she doesn’t cry, doesn’t wallow in her own pity. What she felt, she deserved, and she embraced it.

Jack’s busy staring up at the ceiling. The pain is manageable, causing his mind to be restless. Most of the night he had all the time to think, which he usually wished for. But right now it was too much. Too quiet. 

Hearing the door open to his small room, he glances over slowly to Chip smiling. “Came to see the patient. The others sent their regards,” he explains, his eyes traveling to Jack’s arm supported up to his chest to help aid his shoulder. “It suits you.”

Jack scoffs, sitting himself up further. “I’m done with this place.”

Chip strolls more into the room and touches the array of different wildflowers beside Jack’s bed. “Interesting… I would be more surprised if we hadn’t have gone on our woodwalk. I take you for a nature guy now.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Day off.” Chip shrugs, taking a seat on the spare chair next to his bed. “Kind of missed my grumpy friend.”

“You should be with the others.” Jack’s voice is husky, low, almost sounding defeated.

“The others are all doing boring shit or sleeping. Plus, half are still working. I’m just lucky I was picked first. They get the day off tomorrow.” They stare at each other too long until Jack looks away. “And I’m not going anywhere before you say it.”

“Why do you bother?”

In confusion, his friend’s face scrunches up. “What?”

“Why are you here? Why do you bother?” he repeats, sharper than before.

“I can see past the evasive front you put on. It’s getting rather boring now, Jacko Smacko.” Chip pushes from the bed to tilt in his chair. He seems to remember something and pulls out a notepad and pen and begins scribbling. “Jenny asked about you.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes, his voice laden with sarcasm. “...I’ve been thinking about her the whole time I’ve been in here.”

“What have you been thinking about?” Chip mumbles and Jack looks over to his friend’s tongue sticking out the further he gets into whatever he’s scribbling. He doesn’t acknowledge him, or the fact his question is heavily prying as per usual.

“Honestly?” he asks after a moment. “I’ve been thinking about capping the dick who shot me.”

Rotating the notepad to a weird angle, his friend's voice is almost absent when he says, “You’re going to have an awesome scar.”

“I keep thinking…” He feels himself becoming irritable and hot, letting his head fall back onto the pillows propping him up. “...About my mom.”

Chip pauses now. “I don’t know whether to ask as you told me not to talk about your mom-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jack interrupts him and sighs. “I just keep thinking about her. I think about April too.”

“No offense, but I’ve never liked April. She’s such a bit-” He looks up at Jack and licks his lips. “…She’s a horrible person, man.” Chip looks down to his notebook. “She tipped a drink purposefully over me once in the Pit. We were in initiation together. She branded me a loser and…” He touches his hair, messing the top of his dark, sandy locks; a thing Jack noticed he did when Chip got nervous. “...She made my life practically hell. Typical class A bully.” He snorts to himself and begins scribbling quicker than before.

It shouldn’t be Jack’s burden to carry the guilt of what April’s done in the past, but he can’t help it. “Mate, you are not the only one. She’s my sister and at times I find it hard to like her.”

“She turned that entire class against me and ever since I’ve been trying to win back people’s respect because of her. She wasn’t that bad with anyone else. I was the only one. Do you have any idea what that is like?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chip inhales sharply, meeting Jack’s gaze, and this time neither breaks it. Obviously, an apology on April’s behalf was not what he was expecting. A smile reflects on both their faces slowly, and Chip turns the notebook to show him. “I’m a little rusty. Not my typical notepad either, it’s a bit small. And ignore the page lines, that’s-”

“You drew me?”

“I like to draw emotions… expressions. It just so happens you have so many of them.”

Cautiously Jack studies him. He’d never met anyone so persistent and open by Dauntless standards.

“You’re even doing it now,” Chip mentions with a smile and points at his friend to emphasize his point.

“Habit,” he mumbles quickly and looks down at his free hand.

“Shall I get coffee?” Chip asks, a coarseness to his voice as he drags himself out of the chair.

“Definitely,” Jack replies and watches Chip leave the room. A heavy feeling of confusion washes over him as he glances at the notepad left open on the chair next to him.

Sarah decides to have lunch back at the apartment with the pitiful hope Eric would come back to find her. He hasn’t. She’s aware of the sound of April banging around in her bedroom getting ready for the day after her night shift. 

She sips a coffee, something Eric had got her accustomed to years ago as April makes an appearance, almost dashing by. “Hi, April,” Sarah says with a smile, putting down her coffee cup.

“Oh, hey mom,” she chirps back with a head of bouncing waves. Her eyes land on Sarah’s cup and she comes directly over and snatches it up, sipping it. Sarah was used to it by now.

“I like your hair.”

Vainly, April pulls on a strand. “Thanks! I thought it may be a bit much… You don’t think so, right?” Expectantly, she looks at her.

“I’ve always said you should leave it natural.” Sarah gets the vibe she is about to leave at any minute. “How was work last night?”

“Long, boring, irritating. The usual.”

“Will you sit with me for a minute?” April seems surprised, biting her lip, but does so anyway.

“Where’s dad?”

“I… I don’t know.” Sarah scoffs sadly, peering down to the table.

“You’re not going to cry or anything, are you?” April rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not good with that stuff.”

“No, no! I’m fine. Turn around and let me see the back,” she motions to her hair. April does so, her frame slender and petite from this angle and Sarah revels in the slight attention she has from her daughter, scrunching the ends. “You know, my little sister Elizabeth, Lizzie, your aunty, had very curly hair. I think you two would have gotten on really well, she was... something. You share a lot with your dad, but with her too.”

“Nobody really speaks about her,” April says quietly. “Mary gets all teary whenever she thinks about it or if it’s mentioned.”

“It’s... a hard subject.” Sarah tilts her head, still tending to her daughter's hair.

“What happened? I mean, I know it was an accident…”

Sarah has always avoided the facts as the children were always too young, but she couldn't find fault in the open truth anymore. “We were too late.” She stops, and April turns to face her questioningly. “Me and Mary went to find her after she ran away. The stupid girl wanted to be with the factionless. She couldn’t stand living with Grandma and Grandpa anymore. We found her, but it was too late.”

“Was dad there?”

“He has always been there.” It’s one thing she couldn’t fault him on. Still to this day, she couldn’t work out if Eric saved her that day; stopping her from devotedly crossing the train track to get to Lizzie.

“Is that what happens when people die? They just get forgotten?”

“It’s not that we have forgotten her. She was so full of life, she wouldn’t want us moping around.”

April’s blue eyes narrow. “That’s where you and me are different, mom. When I die, I hope people can’t live without me.”

“Don’t say such a thing! I couldn’t live without you. And I’m sure your father would have the same reply.” April shakes her head, looking out towards the door. “April,” Sarah says sharply. “It’s not forgetting about someone, it’s genuinely just time. It never stops. It never ceases.” She grabs her hand and holds it. “I wanted to keep you small forever, but without time, you wouldn’t have turned into the young and beautiful woman you are today.”

“Forced compliments make me cringe.”

“I’m serious. No matter what, you will always be my little girl. Can’t you see that?”

“This is a real nice mother-daughter moment, mom, but I’m going to be late for work.”

Sarah holds her hand tighter. “Please don’t shut me out anymore. I need you just as much as you need me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you didn’t need Meredith. So, how could you possibly know about how much we need each other if you hardly had a mother yourself?”

“She’s the exception, not the rule.”

“You’re just like dad, rules to suit yourself - like Jack, for instance. Don’t try and fool me, I know you wish it was me out there and not him. It’s written all over your face, day in and day out.”

Sarah snaps her hand away as if she had been burnt. “How dare you say that!”

“But it’s true!” April stands up, knocking the table. “And you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, I guess that you and dad have had another row. The quicker he sees you for what you are, an Abnegation, the better. You’ve changed him. I hear all these great stories of this incredible Leader and I never get to see any of it! Why are you forcing yourselves to click with each other? You don’t match!” This was something April had kept submerged and she really couldn’t have picked a more harrowing time to vent them. They were her most inner thoughts and opinions on Sarah’s situation - and it was crushing. More so, because she couldn’t grasp what love is; what it took for them to finally find each other for who they were, sounding like the many bitter people who put themselves in the way of their relationship before. She didn’t see her; her mother, a person willing to see past any front April tried to depict. A friend; Sarah spent so many nights praying to be. All she ever saw was gray. “...And when he divorces you-”

Sarah is possessed with such an awful hurt which unpredictably drags itself to the surface, that she stands up and slaps April’s face with force, just as the front door clicks and Eric steps into the room. Whether his face was like thunder before, she doesn’t know.

April lurches towards Sarah threateningly and Sarah loses her nerve, cringing back.

“April!” Eric bellows. The young girl pants in anger, a red swelling on her cheek from her mother’s hand, the payment of her awful words, and storms past him while all he does is watch.

“I… I didn’t mean to do that…” Sarah runs a hand through her hair, pushing flyaways back in place. “You didn’t hear what she was saying…”

“Have you gone mad? Have you lost your mind? I come back to talk, at the very least, and see you taking a swipe at April now?”

“She was saying hateful things. She loathes the very ground I walk on over something I can’t control. You know what she is like!”

“Oh yeah, I know. But I also thought I knew you.” Eric wipes at his mouth quickly, an irritable fashion he usually did before he exploded. “If you want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me, not our daughter.”

“You’re defending her?” Sarah says exasperatedly, throwing her arms up. “No… no… Of course you are. I’m stupid to think otherwise.”

“You’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now.”

“I wonder why!” Nothing short of hysterical was the only thing Sarah could begin to describe her tone of voice.

“That’s a question I keeping asking myself!” He steps forward and Sarah’s arm shoots out to stop him.

“She wants you to divorce me!”

“Oh, she does? Is that what you think I’m going to do? If you do, you don’t know me very well either. I took my vows seriously, Sarah.” He proceeds to approach cautiously all while she stands numbly with her outburst, hand to her forehead. “Do you want me to?”

She looks up at him. “No, of course not...”

“At least we’ve got that settled. You’re listening to a lonely girl’s cry for help with a plate load of shit waiting for you back at the office. If it’s too much, just say so.” The head tilt with his reply is a test. She’d seen it so many times now. She knew he had expectations of her and she didn’t want to fail him. He looked completely fresh in his uniform, down to his spotless boots. And she felt sweaty and disheveled, her nerves trip-wiring while he always managed to make it seem effortless.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers defeatedly.

“What for?” His voice is low, not threatening anymore, almost comforting.

“I’m not strong. I’m not like you.” It started to give her a sense of why Eric was how he is. Until put into a similar position, she couldn't fathom her mind being drafted into different sections. She’d always been primed with tasks that were never too much of a responsibility. Yes, she sounded for the council in Abnegation on other topics people relied on, but never to this difficulty of Erudite. With the added effects of April and Jack, it was a recipe for personal and professional disaster. “I try, I really do.”

“Sarah...” As always, he lets his fingers tuck her hair away, gently tilting her face up to him. “I’ve always wanted you for who you are.” He shrugs. “Maybe, at first, I couldn’t quite get that. But I see it now. And always have since. I don’t want you to be like me, sweetheart.”

“But I’m not weak,” she stresses.

“No. You certainly aren’t.” He scoffs, his hands leisurely enveloping her waist. “Who else could stand me for nearly eighteen years? If anything, I feel kind of lucky.”

“Last night-” she rushes to say but he interrupts her.

“Forget about last night.” He dismisses it with a wave of his hand and swiftly cradles her head, pulling her forward, his lips in her hair, he lets her rest in the crook of his neck. “Forget about it. And forget about April too, she’ll get over it. Plus, I have something to show you.” She pulls back to the picturesque sight that is his smirk.

Eric had guided her to the Leader’s suite and covered her eyes as the elevator appeared on their floor. He walks her slowly as she grips his wrists, anxious and a little excited about what was in store that was so top secret that he couldn’t just say. 

“You’re scaring me a bit,” she comments, her hands gripping his wrists tighter while she is constantly driven forward by his chest hitting her back.

“That’s alright,” he whispers close to her ear. “Being scared makes you hold me closer.” He pushes up purposefully from behind. “And it reminds me of a time, years ago, down in the dark of the basement when we were trying to find those shitty panels.” His hands tighten on her skin as he mumbles, “Your wide eyes, open mouth, that quivering break in your voice.”

“There was no way, at the time, that you were thinking that.” She scoffs and laughs at how she remembers Eric back in the day. “You were stomping your feet, and you were mad that you had to go and fix the problem yourself.”

“How do you know exactly what I was thinking?” He bites at her neck suggestively, and as she flinches to stop him, he keeps his hands steady over her eyes. “No looking.”

“I remember thinking, ‘what would he do if I reached out and touched him’, as we were descending the steps. I was truly frightened then. I couldn’t see my own feet.”

“Honestly, I was hoping you would.”

Sarah beams, biting her lip to control herself as they swayed to a stop, the familiar waves of heat beginning to tighten pleasantly in the pit of her stomach. “Can I open them now?”

“Hold on.” It sounds like a door clicking open and Eric flicking on a light. A strong smell of fresh paint and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on entranced her senses in a rush. It made it almost impossible to wait any longer, Eric was really drawing this out, until he says, “Okay, you can look now.”

The factionless camp is a plot just outside of Amity. It’s pretty large, spread with brick houses from old buildings as far as the eye could see. It had its own guarded entrance, the dauntless camps made from dark green tarpaulin tents starting from either side of it and running parallel to a flimsy wire fencing. Jack remembers the debate on whether they needed to be fenced in anymore. It seemed as though anyone could scale it if they tried; even a small child, and the factionless plowed the fields of Amity freely during the day anyway.

The reason why Eric hadn’t authorized to lower the fences, is because he thought that if the did, it would give the Factionless ideas on becoming a whole independent unit - and he didn’t want that, not from people who he saw as wastes of space. He said ‘oppression with a society like theirs was vital’, and stuck by it. Though, he could agree that their help in Amity made the seasonal weather changes and the forever increasing requests on produce far easier to maintain and reach each year.

“Assholes and elbows, everybody out!” A senior officer commands at the back of the truck once they come to a stop. It’s every man for himself, everybody rushing to grab their equipment and exit without being the last.

Jack is marched with the other new faces to a freshly bleached-smelling tent with cots of beds lined symmetrically either side. Men and women shared; not that that was unusual. Everything is basic, everything is bland, and it is cold. Jack breathes in deeply, trying to forget the ebbings of homesickness already cursing him, and locates a bed.

“Consider yourselves lucky with having the rest of the day off. We rise at zero-six-hundred hours!”

Next to each bed, they are given a small line of drawers for their things and a dim lamp which was already on for their arrival. Jack decides it’s best to settle himself in, make it as comfortable as possible, put his clothes away at the very least. Dumping his rucksack on the bed, he begins unfastening the straps.

“You’re the Coulter’s boy.” An unfamiliar voice has Jack peer up to a guy probably younger than him. He appears to be claiming the cot directly next to his, but facing him from across his bed, nonchalantly copying with unpacking.

“It that obvious?”

The guy studies him closer. “Your shoulder-width sure says so.”

Jack smiles to himself. If only he knew though how much he loathed his father’s influence over him. “You already know who I am then, is there any point in introducing myself?”

“No, Jack,” the guy jokes. “The names Ryan but I go by Chip too.” Jack’s frown is so unique to his father and it urges Chip to continue. “Chipped my bottom tooth when I hit the net the moment I jumped into Dauntless. It’s quite a funny story actually. As I landed, my first flew up weirdly into my mouth with the momentum and tapped my bottom tooth. Usually it’s the top, but no, nothing is ever normal for me.”

“I can relate to that,” Jack mentions.

“I called out something like ‘I chipped my tooth!’ and they wrote down Chip. Voila.”

“They didn’t let me choose a new name. It was already Jack the moment I jumped.” And if he had his second chance, he’d call himself Ardvard to really piss his dad off. He keeps himself concentrated on folding his clothes and putting them in the drawers so he couldn’t show his frustration.

“You also didn’t choose to be here, did you?”

Jack doesn’t like the fact his emotions must be so readable, narrowing his eyes at this chatterbox next to him.

“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Chip puts his hands up in apology. “I won’t talk anymore and let you fester.”

At the bottom of Jack’s rucksack, he pulls out his headphones at long last, placing them over his ears and playing music while falling back on top of the sheets, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Chip merely scoffs and shakes his head. If he wanted to sulk for his entire time here, it’s going to be a really long month for him.

Sundays are usually Eric’s day off. He’d maybe go to the gym for a little longer than usual, eat with his family at lunchtime, cut his hair, watch Sarah in the shower, maybe toss himself off afterward with plans to screw her later. But no. It’s different today, and for the first time, he doesn’t know whether he should continue on with the usual by the way Sarah blanks him 

He doesn’t like it.

He watches her flit through the kitchen, cleaning each surface twice; even after she touched or moved anything. He even watches her fill the washing machine with annoyance while his coffee grows cold on the table in front of him.

Eventually, April brings the distraction he needs. In baggy sweats, she places herself next to him with some terribly pale face. He pushes his cold coffee towards her. “Heat it for me,” he commands. She does groan in agitation but does it none the less, only to slouch back next to him straight after.

“Mom, I need something to eat.” April uses her whiny, soppy voice full with hopefulness.

Sarah barely looks at her. “Do it yourself.”

Eric and April share a glance. He then lifts his chin, taking a breath before speaking. “I think the kitchen is clean, sweetheart.”

“It won’t clean itself. And April, before you go anywhere, you will tidy your room.” Sarah still doesn’t acknowledge them when she passes, disappearing into Jack’s vacant bedroom.

“Don’t tell me she’s sulking over Jack actually doing something with his life,” April whispers, beginning to lean forward tiredly on her forearms. Eric whacks her to make her sit up straight.

“You were drinking last night?” he asks.

“Of course.” She yawns and it pisses him off. “It was Saturday night.”

“Cut your shitty attitude, go shower, and then go to the gym. You’ve missed breakfast which is your own damn fault.” He sips the coffee quickly. “And that means now, blondie.”

Whether his daughter sensed the tense atmosphere or not, he’s more than happy she doesn’t serve him backchat. He couldn’t deal with her mouth and a wife that has legit gone crazy, and by the sounds of it - throwing the vacuum against any solid surface she could possibly find.

April doesn’t shower, leaving the apartment exaggeratingly yawning no more than five minutes later with her hair in a bun and a large sweatshirt, casually mumbling, “Chow for now.”

Still festering in domestic annoyance, he notices the cable of the vacuum is plugged in the hall, so he casually strolls over and kicks it out, ceasing the endless white noise. As Sarah appears, he smiles viciously. “It’s me.” She doesn’t share his enthusiasm and as she turns he grabs her arm. “What are you doing, Sarah? You’re stressing over nothing.”

“I’m keeping myself busy.” Her cheeks are flushed pink, hair stuck to her forehead. It’s in her eyes though that he can see everything that she’s not saying. She actually looks kind of repulsed by him - that’s not entirely unusual...

“You want to-”

“Haven’t you got somewhere to be?” Sarah’s so blunt it takes him by surprise. She plugs the vacuum back in and he pulls it out like a spoilt child.

“You don’t want me here, fine. I get it. Be angry at me all you like but it’s not going to change anything. Fucking deal with it.” She ignores him, the worst thing she could possibly do. “I’ll go fucking somewhere else!” He flings his hands up exaggeratedly in the air while storming to the bedroom to grab his jacket and collect his phone. He’s still putting it on when he reappears, just as, she again, plugs the vacuum in and disappears into Jack’s room.

That’s when he loses it.

This was always a problem. He was two sides of a coin; one shiny, one in absolute filth that no amount of soaking could clean. He never thought about what he did before he did it, and could never confess the guilt he would feel afterward.

Eric yanks on the stretched cord that lead into the room, not realizing his strength as the vacuum comes crashing out of it, and Sarah lands on all fours in the doorway.

She was fucking holding it.

“Sarah, shit I-” He steps closer as she rolls back onto her ass and leans against the inside wall.

“Get out.” It’s whispered so low he doesn’t know whether he thought it instead. She wipes at her face, still not able to look at him. “Get out, Eric.” The calmness of her voice is more threatening and telling than her words.

He wanted to stay and argue. He wanted to try and get through to her that this wasn’t anything to be worried over. He wanted to say he was sorry and imagined them forgiving each other and moving on. Instead, he does nothing and leaves his little wife be, along with a small fearful voice nagging in one ear that perhaps this was beginning to spiral out of control - out of his control. And he had no idea what he could do about it.

Wedged into a communal shower, the water running black beneath their feet, Jack still finds himself chuckling from time to time. The steam creates a mist high above their heads, voices echoing. He couldn’t have found better people to be with if he tried. Their team effortlessly formed a unique friendship in just one day alone 

“It’s supposed to be the introductory day, instead my ass has been flogged worse than my initiation. In fact, worse than anything I’ve done yet.” Chip scrubs at the thick lines of dirt under his chin with a bar of soap. “I can take beatings, yelling, gun practice for hours on end, but those fields are something else. Those Amity’s must be ripped.”

Jack lets the water pour over his head for a long while as Chip continues rattling on next to him. His eyes slide to the right feeling eyes on him. He’s being watched unsubtly by a girl maybe a year younger, freely letting him see everything; the way her hair drenched over her shoulders and leading to her breasts, the toned abdomen glistening under the water. She smiles at him once he realizes he is staring a little too long and he forcibly smiles back before turning his head to the wall in front of him.

“You have interest…” Chip whispers suggestively.

Jack merely rubs a hand through his short hair, clearing any shampoo left. “Nah…” he drawls. “I need to focus.”

“She really likes you.” Chip is making this conversation too obvious by continuously glancing over to her as he turns under the water. “Jennifer or Jenny, I think she goes by.”

“She could be called ketchup for all I care.”

“You got a girl back home?”

Jack shuts off the shower, grabbing his towel hanging next to him and wrapping it around his waist. “No,” he snaps a little harshly. “I wasn’t sent here to pick up girls.”

His friend shrugs. “May as well have some fun while you’re here though, right? Maybe you should-”

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut.” Snatching up the bottles of his shampoo from home, he looks Chip right in the eye. “Concentrate on your own business, not mine.”

Again, his friend finds himself holding his hands up. “Jeez, okay…” And Chip watches Jack leave. “Chill…” He shrugs to the girl who disappointedly looks away.

Sarah’s too busy in her preparation for her second meeting with Erudite; papers fanned around her in the boardroom, to notice Blake Hammond watching her from the open doorway. 

There’s a bit of a ruckus from the other meeting rooms and offices; people skimming past, so she doesn’t have the sense to look. But he does. He watches her bite the end of her pen, then down to a flattering pair of heels, letting his eyes run up her patterned stockings to the hemline of the classical A-cut dress she wears that had risen up ever so slightly.

“Knock knock.”

Sarah jumps, her head jerking over towards him. “Oh, Mr Hammond!”

As she stands to shake his hand, he smiles pleasantly at her, closing the door behind him. “Please, call me Blake.”

“Betty was supposed to fetch me when you had arrived. I’m sorry…” she trails off as he rushes to pull out the chair for her to sit back down, grabbing the seat closest to her for himself.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told her not to bother. Seemed a little too formal.” He remembers the folders in his hand and places them in front of him. “The plans have been drawn.”

“That’s brilliant.”

“It took a while as something far more important came to my attention. Regardless, I tried to get them drawn up as soon as I possibly could because of the issues we had in the last meeting; a lack of information, and I didn’t want it to appear any less important or as if I am wasting your time.”

Sarah shakes her head. “I wouldn’t worry.”

“Good. Well, I’ll dive right in. Of course, I am here for the preparation of the expansion, but also-”

“It still hasn’t been decided if this is actually going to go ahead yet,” she reminds him. The last thing she wanted was him to ride too high on his horse.

She expects some sort of subtle tantrum, but instead, he graces her with one of his unique smiles and unnerving her to no end with a confident stare. “That’s a given.” His words are too smooth, too low. She eventually has to clear her throat and focuses on the papers in front of her. “What I was going to say, is that there is a more damning problem I’ve stumbled across. It’s not the most pleasant of subjects, but I think you will agree that is indeed the most urgent.” Blake pulls out a small-scale map and passes it to her.

It’s a complete maze of runways and the layout of the factions. It’s hard to distinguish exactly what he is referring to. She hates to admit it. “What am I looking for? You can’t expect me to see what you see by handing me an unnoted map, Mr Hammond.” Sarah lays it flat to allow him to clue her in.

A smirk plays on his lips that she doesn’t see as he leans closer. “Our three factions; Erudite, Dauntless, and Candor have the same waste system under the cities grounds. Abnegation’s is veered off on a single system on a much smaller scale, and Amity runs with the land in the opposite direction.”

“...Okay.”

“The system has sat underneath us for countless years, adapted to our city.” With his two index fingers, he positions off a section on the map. “The problem is here. This is the evacuation.”

“That’s beyond the wall.”

“Yes. It’s collapsed,” Blake states clearly. “We need to close it off and redirect it… here,” he points it out. “Before we have a sanitary crisis.”

Sarah now believes she is not fit to deal with Erudite and wishes Eric took this damn project on. “This is a state of affairs that needs to be considered by all the factions. This isn’t an individual problem we can head all the decisions for.” It’s the best response she can come up with under the pressure.

“Your husband, Mrs Coulter, is certainly one person who can head this movement, or at the very least brandish it vital. I mentioned this in a briefing, and it’s actually humorous if I think about it, but the people of Erudite are calling for me to front the repairs and take over some of the cities responsibilities.” He leans back in his chair and puts a hand to his chest. “I don’t want to encroach on your husband's domain. Believe me, I really really don’t. I’m new to this game and my persistence was fighting for what my faction wanted. But this is beyond what we want. This affects multiple factions. I’m just the nose who stumbled upon it.”

Sarah swallows dryly. “So, what do you want me to do about it?” With such a harsh question, she still manages to make it sound pleasant. “Surely if it was that important you would insist on meeting with Eric?”

“I just assumed Erudite business is run through you now. You were both adamant.” Blake is leaning so far back in his chair with a look of expectancy; as if she was about to suggest something completely miraculous. Sarah only feels like she is floundering.

“I will speak with Eric. I’ll make it a priority.” Even she doesn’t recognize her own voice, and with his twitching lips, he also knows that she is at a loss.

“Photos!” Blake suddenly remembers. “I took the opportunity to gain photographic evidence so there is no delay - unlike the last problem we had. A lady like yourself shouldn’t have to venture to the source of the sewers, ma’am.”

“That’s very considerate of you.” As she studies the photos of what looks the mouth of a cave crumbling on one side, she feels his stare.

“Myriad…” he suddenly mumbles causing Sarah to slowly peer up at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to name the expansion and new parts of the buildings Myriad. I may even name the entire project that. Has a better ring to it, wouldn’t you say?” he asks. She is at a loss for words. He chuckles before adding, “...Almost like the shade of your eyes, what a coincidence. All the myriad shades of blue.” She can’t help but blush, her cheeks tinging noticeably pink. “I’m sorry if I have embarrassed you. I just found it quite fitting. Screams Erudite, don’t you think?”

“Shall we concentrate on the blueprints for the expansion?” Sarah rushes.

“Certainly.” Blake flicks through his papers. “And shall we name the sewer problem Roses?” he mumbles with his eyes still downturned to the sheets in front of him. “I have never been taken with the smell of them.”

“That’s a matter of perception.”

While she is blunt; her tone anything other than amused, he seems to be. “You’re very much right.”

“This guard malarky is a piece of piss,” Chip comments while they watch the buzz of factionless life from inside the pathetic excuse of a fence. “Do you ever think, when the factions were being made, Amity was truly the leftovers; you know, like factionless, so they made another faction to accommodate. 

Chip still peers off into the distance as Jack snaps his head over to him. “You know what, you think too much, that’s your problem.”

“But who really decided that? ...This is the factions, we shall name them this and stuff them with people with these traits.”

Jack kicks a stone out in front of him. “I… mate, I really don’t care. What’s done is done.”

“What do you care about?”

Now that is a tricky question. All of Jack’s thoughts had been on showing he was just as capable as Eric thought. That he could survive without being close to home. And that he was eager to follow his father up the ladder to leadership like he always wanted.

That was a farce. Really in his mind, he’d gone along with it because after initiation and the build-up, life wasn’t so planned out and simple as he thought. He wasn’t satisfied. He didn’t like the idea of leaving home at first but came to see it as a chance to find himself.

However, he still felt lost. “Surviving the month,” seems to be the only logical reasoning he had at the moment. Steeling his jaw, he keeps his sight out in front of him.

“What’s it like being a Coulter kid?” Chip continues regardless of his friend's hostile appearance.

“Privileged.”

“And your mom’s a Stiff. That’s unusual-”

“Don’t talk about my mom.” He’d heard it all before; all the provoking insults, all the slurs against her, and it was partly why he said privileged; intentionally mocking himself over something that had been said before. They couldn’t be any more wrong. “I’m out of here,” he says suddenly, sauntering off towards the main gateway.

Chip looks to and fro between their small chosen group, signaling for them to stay there as he races to catch up. “That’s against protocol! Jack, stop!”

“Stay here then. I’m still patrolling. I’m just doing it over there, through the woods.” He smirks so much like his father over his shoulder. “Taking in the scenery.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “Need a piss too.” As long as Mark or their intakes instructor didn’t see them, no one would bat an eyelid. They were too busy splintering the groups on different activities to pay much attention anyway.

While Jack walks calmly, Chip keeps throwing a look back to the camp, stumbling to keep up and steadying the gun hanging from his shoulder. “I swear, I will point fingers if they find out. I’m not lying, so don’t expect me to.”

“Whatever.” Jack shrugs. They reach the tree line and he thunders straight through, finding a spot to unzip his flies. Whilst he’s pissing, Chip is still a nervous wreck.

“What if there are people out here?”

In annoyance, Eric’s son leans an arm against the tree, still occupied. “ We shoot ‘em. I don’t know, depends.”

“On what?”

Jack smiles to himself, zipping his flies and turning to his friend. “If they shoot at us first.” He begins hacking his way through the undergrowth, ascending a natural bank with the sound of Chip clumsily following. Reaching the top, they come to a lazy pace and Chip soon begins to relax, only occasionally mumbling to himself.

Amity had it good, and so did the factionless now. Jack’s mesmerized by the very tops of the trees swaying above him. Through the parting of them, small dashes of light were thrown down, highlighting bright blue and purple wildflowers. Below him, by his feet, moss grew on fallen logs, some type of mushroom clinging to the base of trees. In passing, he dipped his finger in the sap of a tree, memorizing the feel of the bark under his hand, the waxy layer on small leaves or the furs of the stems. Finally, he crouches down to the track of an animal, a content, honeyed smile on his face from the relaxing atmosphere around him. “The animals are still free, even behind the wall,” he murmurs, completely forgetting that Chip is behind him.

“Thanks.” Confused, Jack peers over to his laxed friend still standing, steadying his gun from swinging as he turned. His face must say ‘For what?’ because Chip runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair before continuing. “You made me remember that there is more than just us here.” Jack doesn’t reply, turning back to measure the size of the print to his outstretched hand. “That we’re lucky to be here now. Well, I’m lucky. If you hadn’t of wandered off I’d still be watching a dusty track road and rubbish skimming the floor.” Jack stands up to look for a trail in hopes of finding whatever it was that had passed through there only shortly before they arrived.

“Stop talking. All anybody and everybody does these days is just talk; nonsense, shit, who has more than me, the weather. Be quiet.”

“Be quiet and listen to nature,” Chip suggests with a blissful sigh.

“No, just shut the fuck up. You don’t have to listen or see or feel what is around you. A quiet mind brings it.”

“Is that why you use headphones?” Chip asks.

“Does it matter at all why I really do anything?”

“You are the most wayward person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, you still talk endlessly to me.”

Chip shrugs this time, peering down to the ground. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Jack’s eyes are a deep ocean when he decides to look back up from the forest floor to him, his expression altogether smothering what really rippled through his vast mind.

“We should head back.” The tall Coulter boy stands to his full height but decides to walk side by side this time then trailing off ahead. They walk wordlessly, Chip having taken some incentive from their conversation. Descending the bank they had traveled across for a change of scenery, the break in the trees is ahead of them that would expose the furthermost corner of the factionless camp.

Jack turns his head to Chip as they walk out into the warm rays of the sun, and briefly smiles.

A few shots ping from the floor and off a nearby tree that startles them both, Chip throwing his hands up to a group of Dauntless they hadn’t noticed. “Friendly!” he shouts at the top of lungs. “Jesus Christ!” he pants, nervous laughter breaking his composure, turning to Jack to comment.

Jack Coulter isn’t looking at anything other than his hand pressed to his right shoulder, bringing it away to look at the crimson spilled between his fingers. “I’m hit. I’m hit. They shot me.” His face blanches and he tips backward, losing his footing at the same time Chip grabs him.

“Man down!” Chip calls out to the Dauntless patrol, pulling the strap of Jack’s gun from him and applying pressure, using most of his weight. “You’re good, man, you’re good.” He pleads with the other patrol to hurry up with a swift glance then back to his fallen friend. “Just a flesh wound…” he comforts him.

Sarah doesn’t know the people Eric is talking to. She allows distance between them while waiting for whatever conversation they are having to end. It’s also not the first time in her life she has peered through the window of the gym and training room. Many years ago, when she was just a girl of eighteen, she remembers coming to find Eric here. It’s a weird sensual feeling; a fleeting moment of familiarity, all that might have lived before deemed itself suddenly brand new. She wanted to believe the fingerprints in the dust of the small lip of seal of the window were hers. It was a strangely comforting idea 

When Eric dismisses the conversation, that’s when she makes her break. It’s a sullen, sweaty smell and lighting, various grunts from around the room that she ignores. Eric sees her coming, opting to drop the weights into their holder after only seconds of using them and shows his broad back and admirable lines that she knew of that still managed to pang the small muscles in her stomach.

He’s somewhat breathless when he turns and puts balled fists onto his hip, his vest considerably loose around his neck and a stain of sweat looping down his chest. “Wife,” he addresses her, but it’s not exactly kind.

“There’s… some things we need to talk about. I was hoping to catch you in your office but…” Her brows furrow, glancing at anything but him and crushing the folders to her chest. “...you weren’t there, so I thought you’d be here. So now I’m here.”

“Well, that ain’t obvious,” he snorts to himself.

“It’s something very important. Erudite want some answers-”

“Fuck Erudite. I’m not in the mood to talk right now.” He casually bats the air, opting to sort through the weights and lifts one in practice. “I’m done with work today. I actually thought you may just want to speak to me in general because you’ve barely uttered a word for a day or so. That was a stupid fucking idea obviously.”

“I’m trying-”

“It seems I’m always fucking trying but it’s like hitting a steel gray wall.”

Sarah sighs through her nose. “Please don’t talk over me.”

“Well, I’m getting bored of it. I’m bored of this - shitty tip-toeing.” He scoffs to himself. “In fact, I can’t even tip-toe, my shoulders are too bogged down with other people’s shit and attitudes, along with your…” He flicks a hand up and down her. “Personal issues, or whatever the fuck this is. A day is enough. This is enough.”

“This is enough?”

“Yeah,” he calls out over his shoulder. “It is.” But he’s beginning to sound less confident, trying fruitlessly to distract himself with a plain stand of weights.

Sarah drops the folder from Erudite to the floor. “Then I have had enough of this.” As she turns he’s quick to close the distance and grabs her arm, dragging her back as she fights feebly, her heels scuffing the floor.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

“Then don’t expect me to deal with things the way you do. This may not be a big deal for you, but you could respect me enough, at least, to comprehend exactly how I’m feeling.” She shrugs his hand off of her in a final act of defiance. But before she can fathom what he’s doing, he bends down and scoops up her foot, removing her heel and forcing her to cling onto him with her balance off. “Eric! What!”

“I don’t like these.” He inspects the shoe, then flippantly lobs it over his shoulder. 

Sarah purses her lips, poking at his piercings above his brow while kicking off the other shoe to regain her balance. “I don’t like that!”

Eric pulls her hair out. “I don’t like that fucking bun, never have, and you still wear it more often than not.” He smirks incredibly close to her face, probably intending to intimidate her.

“Your hair looks stupid longer. Cut it,” she pants with the command, blowing hair from her face.

“The thing you do with your eyebrow is condescending,” he mentions and she has no idea what he’s talking about. What thing?

“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk! Your nostrils flaring are.... are.” Her nose scrunches up and she continuously stutters.

“Sarah syndrome strikes again,” he claims. “But while we’re being utterly honest…” his voice drops low and he leans more into her space. “I have to admit, I like it when you do that.”

“Don’t patronize me! Don’t glide your way out of this with your scrambled words…” She looks to his arms. “...and body. That’s not how these things work.”

“How do these things work? What fucking things?” Only minutely he glances behind her, then licks his lips. “...You, er, you checking me out?” Sarah glances behind her to a group of people leaving, and then at the clock above the door. The large room has grown vacant, probably completely aware of Eric and his wife bickering and opting to leave.

“No, Eric.” She waggles a finger, backing up, still barefoot and hair loose. She knew what he was doing; he was twisting this conversation, distracting her. “Don’t!” Sarah hits a stand of exercise equipment behind her. Scrabbling around it, she makes it only to the nearest pillar that ran parallel throughout the large room.

She would gasp if she had time. His hands clamp onto her upper arms, spinning her, pushing her hard enough against the pillar to keep her pinned, but not enough to hurt. “I saw your email about whether I’d spoken to Jack. I have.” He eases up a little, his words softer than before and eyes searching; a sense of normality settling as they stared at each other. “You could’ve asked me that yourself.”

“But we had a fight…” She says delicately, tilting her head in a way Eric loved. A fleeting image of a time when Sarah was younger ignites his blood.

“I don’t know whether this is obvious to you by now or not, but I fight with everybody.” He twirls a strand of her hair around his larger fingers, stroking the side of her cheek, then neck and shoulder, brushing down her cleavage for a moment. “You trust me, don’t you? You trust me to look out for our son and do what’s best? Let me take some pressure away from you.”

Sarah tries to look away but can’t help fluttering back up to him. “That’s the thing, Erudite-”

“Fuck Erudite for tonight. Tell me first thing tomorrow. Just tell me what I want to hear now.”

She rubs her lips together before answering, “Okay, I trust you.” And his smile is radiant. But as she leans towards him, her head cradled sweetly against his chest with strong arms binding around her, that radiant smile drops.

Maybe he should have mentioned that it wasn’t really Jack who he spoke to, but Mark. That there had been an incident where Jack was shot from friendly fire and their son was extremely lucky that the bullet went straight through, missing his vitals, and currently residing in Amity’s infirmary.