A/N: Hello! This is just a really short Divergent one-shot. I got the idea suddenly and it seemed the kind of thing that could have happened. Contains spoilers - if you haven't read Allegiant yet, stop right here! For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer - Divergent is owned by Veronica Roth, not moi.
Title: Inked
Description: Divergent one-shot set three years after the end of Allegiant. Four receives a letter from Tris, intended for him after her death, but kept from him for three years.
His face was solemn, set with intent. He approached me silently, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. He, with the same expressions, same mannerisms, same appearance as the only girl I would ever love. The brother who had hurt her, betrayed her, and been forgiven. The one she still cared about enough to sacrifice her life for, despite how little he deserved it. He stood before me and I looked him in the face for the first time in the three years since I had seen her body - fragile, cold, and lifeless. I looked him in the face and saw, reflected in it, the pain I had never stopped feeling. I will never know if it was this that made me extend my hand and clutch the folded paper that he offered to me. My arm, acting like part of another being, opened the letter.
"Tris." I whispered, a catch in my voice, as I recognised the handwriting.
"She asked me to give this to you, before she…" Caleb tailed off weakly, tears brimming in his eyes, so different to hers in their pale green colour, but so like hers in softness and emotion. Overwhelmed with a hollow longing, I looked down and read.
Dear Tobias,
If you are reading this, I am dead. I don't know how long I've been dead, but I do know that you are probably still hurting. I wish you wouldn't. Remember me, remember that I loved you, but stop hurting now, Tobias. You've done enough of that for a lifetime.
I should have told you that more, but I do love you. So much. You were always better at that than me. It was always you who said it first, always you who opened up. You once told me I had – what was it? – 'saved' you. I never had a chance to say that you saved me too. Or maybe the chance was there, I just never took it. But you did. Before I met you, Divergence was abnormal, ugly. You were Divergent and you were perfect, all at once. When I was with you, it made me believe I could be that too and sometimes, I was. At least you would tell me I was. Because you were always good at that.
You must, by now, be wondering why I'm writing this, and when. Well, we've just been separated on our different missions. The war will supposedly end in a few days, inside and outside of the city we still see as home. I just wanted you to have some part of me to keep with you, in case I die. Which is a weird thing to say, because the only reason you'd have for reading these words is because I'm dead. I should really stop reminding you of that, but I don't think you ever forget anyway. I wouldn't, if things were the other way round.
I hope I died for a reason though. I hope, because of my death, the killing will end. I hope I will be the last to fall, at least for this battle. I was probably doing something selfless, or brave, and it got me killed. After all, "there's a fine line between bravery and idiocy". I probably crossed it. I remember you saying those words, clear as day. The chances of you, the strong Dauntless trainer, noticing me, the plain Abnegation transfer, were beyond one in a million. But I always thought you were beyond one in a million. And you probably think that of me.
But now I'm gone, and I've left you behind. For that, I am sorry. If it ever gets too much, you still have Christina. Because of me, she understands. Because of me, she has lost so much – more than is fair for the most evil of people, let alone the most honest and courageous. Even facing death, I can't forget that.
What I'm getting at, really, is thank you. That's all. Thank you for trusting and loving me, and only me. You gave me 'special', you made me feel beautiful. I will never be able to show my gratitude for that, except with these words, in this letter. And, because I will never be able to say it again, I give you all of my love here.
So, Four, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. One for each of your fears. If you ever face them again, know I am with you, just as I was when I saw them first. You will get through this, just like you got through them. It may have been easier with me there, but it was still possible without me.
My eternal love,
Tris Prior
P.S. Be brave Tobias. Be brave for me.
Underneath the post-script she had drawn, by hand, a solitary raven. I knew, straight away, that that raven was me. The fourth in a list of people she had left behind, forever tattooed onto her collarbone, but also her memory. And I wept. I wept for that confused little raven. He was alone, yet he was loved. He was afraid, yet could be brave. He was far from comfort, yet he had a home.
But his wings would never take flight again, and his voice would never sound. Because he would forever remain, no matter what he did, roughly inked onto paper, not skin.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a review, you know, if you want.