A/N: Hello! This is an independent one shot. The idea is taken from the movie A Beautiful Mind, which deals with John Nash's life with schizophrenia from his point of view. The construction of subjectivity in the movie was wonderfully done, and I've been thinking of using it for a fic since I saw it. The plot of this story is basically that of the movie (awkwardly) transposed on Divergent.

I left the the ending open as I like when the reader gets to decide how it ends. I have my idea, of course, but I leave it up to you.

Disclaimer: Divergent belongs to Veronica Roth.

What I am accused of makes no sense. I am not responsible for the death of anyone in Abnegation, and the Divergents killed on my orders were all murderers, like most Divergents are.

The attack on Abnegation did not happen; the people who were being killed on the security cameras were not real. The plan was to pretend to send an army to kill them, because it would stop Divergents from targeting them. The plan was good. They would be hidden, declared dead, everyone would think I had done it, and they would be safe until the threat of Divergents was over.

One of my only regrets is to have used Tris Prior for all the testing. She was Divergent, but she was innocent, as far as we knew. But it was necessary, because Divergents as a whole were a threat, and I needed to understand her, the most Divergent person of all, to understand and control them all.

Now that the truth must have come out, people should know they are alive, that the only murders on my orders were for the greater good, to save the faction system, to save the city. So why am I being accused of all this?

My trial is today. People are throwing things at me on the way there, everyone really does believe I am a murderer. Why hasn't the truth come out? A yelp escapes me as a projectile connects with my shoulder, but I am being dragged forwards and follow, ignoring the attacks as much as I can.

I stand in the middle of the crowded room.

"There is no doubt that you are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, Ms Matthews."

"They're not dead," I say.

"That's an interesting defense," Jack Kang says mockingly. "Stop trying to make fun of us. Honesty is appreciated. Like I said, there is no doubt you were the leader of the attack against Abnegation."

"But I did not order for them to be killed!"

This can't be real. Did they die in some other way? Did the false attack fail and they were murdered anyway? I wasn't part of all the procedures after ordering the beginning of the false attack. I was told it had worked well, that they were all hidden in a safe house.

"You organized a mission to kill Divergents," the Candor leader continues. "So my only question is this. Did you feel justified in organizing these violent attacks and murders, in nearly starting a war?"

"Divergents were dangerous. They had murdered so many people and they could do so much more damage, I had to stop them."

"They killed no one."

"They did, the Bureau against Divergent Violence had proof that they did."

"The what?"

"It was a secret organization, but they were supposed to have exposed themselves by now. Avery said they would!"

"Who?"

"Avery Grant, the director. He said they would expose themselves to protect me from the backlash of stopping Divergents, and that they would tell everyone that I didn't kill Abnegation, that I only tried to save them."

"You're being ridiculous. Stop this."

"No, please!" I am practically screaming by now. "I didn't kill them, none of this is my fault!"

I look around myself to a sea of belligerent expressions. They are ready to attack, ready to scream for my death. My eyes fall on Tris Prior, the only person in the room without spite and disgust in her expression. She looks confused, and there is a strange hint of something like horrified understanding on her face.

I seize the opportunity. "Tris, please! None of this happened. I'm sorry I had to experiment on you, but I had to save the city. Please!"

I need to convince them. I struggle against them, against my restraints. I am conscious that my wrists are bloody from the chains, that I am on my knees in the middle of a crowded room, a position I would never have been in before. Their hatred drowns me and I feel like I'm going to collapse. But it doesn't matter, because if they don't believe me, I'll be dead within the minute.

"I would like to talk to her alone." Her clear voice cuts across the room. Tris. I sigh in relief as a light breeze of hope flows through me.

"Ms Prior, you can't seriously be asking me to let her out of here alive, even temporarily," Evelyn protests.

"Here or elsewhere. I would like to talk to her. Alone." Tris repeats coldly.

"She'll try to kill you."

"I can defend myself easily against her, Evelyn. She's not armed, but I am. She's not trained for fighting, and I am. Don't insult my abilities."

"Fine," Evelyn says, exasperated. "But don't kill her, her execution needs to be public."

We are lead out and to a room which seems to be an unused prison cell. As Evelyn leaves, Tris calls her back. "Evelyn, can you get someone to check who this Avery Grant is?"

Evelyn nods and leaves. Tris turns to me.

"What is this about? You know it's not going to work."

"It's the truth," I reply, and my voice sounds a little strangled. Too much is at stake, it's difficult not to panic.

"My parents are dead, Jeanine. I was there. I saw them die, both of them."

"It wasn't supposed to happen! They said I was saving them." Tears are streaming down my cheeks but I can't stop it, I don't care to. This can't be real.

"Jeanine, this organization you mention – the bureau – does not exist."

"It does, but they're entirely secret. Nobody else knows, I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. People had to think I was behind it all."

Just at this moment, Evelyn comes back. "Tris."

"Yes?" She approaches her, and after a minute of murmurs, Evelyn leaves and Tris comes towards me again.

"Jeanine, Avery Grant does not exist. He never did."

"He does, he was the one who gave me the information–"

"I can't believe…" Tris looks distraught. "This is horrible. You – you didn't know what you were doing, did you?"

"I did, they told me all about you, about Divergents, I had to save the city." My tone is frantic as I am desperately rejecting what she is implying. I know what is coming, but I have to deny it or everything – my past, my life, my identity – will turn out to have been a lie.

Her voice is gentle when she finally pronounces the words that will change everything. "Jeanine, they – the bureau, Grant – they don't exist. It was all…" she drifts off, then whispers, "all inside your mind."

I fall to my knees.

"No. No, this can't be."

"There is more than enough evidence of your wrongdoings, Jeanine. Everyone knows you ordered the murders of Divergents, and the attack on Abnegation. People close to you know and confirmed it. Security cameras recorded your actions like everyone else's. You did it."

"No…" I'm not in control of anything anymore. Apparently, I never was. Nothing is like I thought it was. Nothing. I barely manage to turn to the side before I throw up. I feel Tris' hand on my back as I start sobbing, desperately hoping that Avery will come to explain, yet deep down, knowing that he can't, because he never existed.

The next few hours are blurry. I sob on the ground for what feels like hours and throw up again, I am pulled against someone's chest as I cry, as I try to deny it and scream for some kind of recognition that I did not make everything up until, at some point, I lose consciousness.

I wake in what looks like a hospital room. Tris is standing a few meters away. I try to move and immediately realize that I am tied to my bed. It all comes back to me. I am a murderer. I ordered the extermination of a whole faction, and at least half of them died. Hundreds of people. The parents of the girl who is standing in front of me.

"When am I being executed?" I ask her. My voice is barely a whisper.

"You aren't. Not yet, at least. It's being debated."

"What?"

"Your office has been searched, as well as your apartment. While there is no doubt that you killed them, there is also no doubt that you didn't think you did, and that you genuinely believed in the existence of the bureau. Your office is… not what anyone expected. It proved many things."

I stay silent.

She looks at me intently. "The hallucinations were powerful, weren't they?"

I nod shakily. "I thought…" I start to say but the words die in my throat.

"I know," she says softly, softer than I ever heard her speak. "All the papers you drew up with the evidence, all the secret work you did for the bureau, the plan to save Abnegation… I've seen it all." She takes a deep breath. "I witnessed in your favor, Jeanine."

I look up sharply and stare at her before shaking my head. "You shouldn't have. I did all this. How many deaths am I responsible for?"

"You aren't responsible, Jeanine."

"How many?" I ask her more firmly.

She sighs. "Between five and six hundred."

I close my eyes. I want to cry, but I feel too empty, it all feels so surreal, like a nightmare I am going to wake up from. I feel the mattress dip down as she sits on the edge of my bed. As she touches my shoulder hesitantly, I open my eyes to look at her.

"I hated you, but now I can't anymore, because I understand why it happened. You weren't yourself. You weren't rational. And for these reasons that made me forgive you, you need to forgive yourself."

"How could I? How could I ever forgive myself?" My tone is empty, dead.

"You're sick, Jeanine. Whatever part of you did this is not who you really are."

"I don't know who I really am. It doesn't matter anymore."

The reasons don't matter, I broke so many lives. I tore the city apart.

I can't live with myself.