Rating: M (Language, Sexual content)
He was scarred from his past and from his service to his country, but not one of those scars compared to what he held inside. She was the one to see beyond that, to soothe and heal him. She was the one he would never be good enough for but would spend his entire life trying to be. Even if it cost him everything in the process. Four/Tris AU Modern Day (M)
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A/N: Here is my attempt at a Fourtris story. I have a few friends that have been trying to get me to go to the 'Fourside'. So here it is. There will be a follow up story back with my favorite badboy, cause...it's Eric. So of course I will. But for now enjoy a little Four and Tris.
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Prologue: Four
There is a saying: If these walls could talk.
I wondered about my childhood home. If those walls could talk what would they say? Would they speak in low pained whispers or would they resemble the wails of some haunted house? Keening the loneliness, pain, anger and despair that had been the soundtrack to my young life.
I realize that given my start, I might be leading a life that is cliche. I know given everything that had happened before I was headed to an early grave; self inflicted or forced. Either that or time behind bars. Running had been the best decision I had ever made in my life. It hadn't been the easiest by a long shot but it led me to where I am today.
From the outside we had looked like the perfect little family. Pops was the Deacon of the church and respected city councilman. Mom was the perfect little housewife. Always poised and ready
to show just how perfect she was. Never a hair out of place on her well manicured image.
And image was everything to them both. Image and Power, their drugs of choice.
What everyone didn't see was the beatings, the drinking, the venom spewed by the pillar of the community. Mom was no help even though she suffered the worst of the beatings at first. She was checked out long before she split, leaving me to the abuse.
By the age of sixteen I knew it would never get better. No one would believe me either. He was too good at charming and conniving. When he started to spread rumors that I was troubled, disturbed, I had enough.
Man did that shit cause all kinds of issues for him when I took off. I didn't just take off though. This was the century of information and technology overload. The old man had no idea about webcams or how the internet really worked. So I had started to record some of his finer moments. When I was set to take off I released them. Not directly to the authorities. No, I used the nosey gossiping mamas. Sending out emails to those in the PTA and booster clubs.
I lit the fire to the bridge but didn't stick around to see it burn. I was aware that being a minor if anything came about from that little shit storm I started, it would mean going into the system. I said fuck that and decided to take a chance on my own.
There were hard times for sure but I got lucky. Met up with a guy who owned a computer repair store within the first year. He took a chance on me and let me stay in the small shed that was behind his house, turning it into the smallest home ever. I worked in his shop to earn my keep and he paid me under the table.
George knew people. Had connections that he used to get me sorted after he got me to open up about what had sent me running. He pointed out that if I wanted to make anything of myself then I needed to finish school. I didn't relish the idea of going back to an institution so instead we worked to get me my GED. I don't know how he did it but he also was able to get me emancipated. With Pops having been arrested and Mom MIA, it hadn't been too hard.
When I hit eighteen I took the next step. One of George's friends, Amar, became a close friend and mentor to me. With his guidance I realized that I didn't want to go the college route, even though I wanted to delve more into technology. Programming, hacking, coding, web design. You name it I craved to learn it. Luckily there was a place I could get training and on the job experience.
I did six years service in the Marines. I found family there, brothers, that made me feel like for the first time I was wanted. That I was valued and needed. That lasted about as long as they could get anything out of me. The accident and explosion changed everything.
With a pat on the back, a ceremony and a medal; I was thanked for my service but told my time was over. Physically there was nothing wrong with me. I was stronger than ever and had been lucky to have minimum of wounds. Mentally and emotionally, the scars of my past along with the scars hard won during my service added up.
Honestly, in retrospect, I had it easy. My PTSD was nowhere near the levels some of the other guys from the VA have. I couldn't see that though. I could only feel sorry for myself in losing the only place I had ever felt truly at home. I could only mire myself in the loss of my band of brothers.
I went back a jaded and pathetic shade of who I had built myself to be. Once again George and Amar were there to guide me through it. It started out with George taking me back in and getting me to accept the help the VA offered.
When he discovered that I was having issues with being in any kind of closed vehicle, he put me on my first bike. I hadn't connected that my attacks as soon as I got into a car was connected with my PTSD. As soon as I got on a bike I knew though. In a car I felt confined and trapped. Just like I had felt when the bomb blew and I had to stay in the upturned transport listening to my buddies die, waiting to see if I was next.
On a bike I never felt so free. All of that disappeared and I felt in control again. I didn't know that simple thing would lead me to my real home. Amar had long been a member of his own motorcycle club. I wanted to patch into his club but he had other ideas and a better place for me.
He knew I hated the city. That I craved the small town feel and simple life I grew up in. He also knew that I would never be down for some of the more illegal activities that his club took part in. That is when I was introduced to Dauntless MC and Max.
Max was a generation member and current President. His grandfather had established the club after he got back from serving in the navy. His father took over when he came back from serving in the army and Max himself took over after his father's death when he came back from his time in the Marines.
The club was filled with VA's, other generation members or just the misfits we seem to collect. I knew I was home the minute I stepped foot into the clubhouse. Now three years later I have worked my way up from prospect, Intel/Technology to Sergeant in Arms. The third highest officer position there is available in the club. They call me Four after an incident in a job where the truck I was in rolled four times and completely demolished it. Jaws of life had been brought in but I walked away without a fucking scratch.
The guys couldn't believe it and my luck. So the name Four was given to me. It wasn't like I was ashamed of my real name but I preferred to go by the name my new family gave me.
We do good work. We take care of each other, our families and our county. There are several business we front and all of them legitimate. That isn't to say that from time to time we don't have to handle business in a way the government wouldn't exactly approve. But it's never for profit and only protection. Usually when we have been forced and have no other recourse.
Everything in my life before now led me here, to my family and brothers. I would do anything for them. Even laying down my own life.
But like something out of an old noir movie….it comes to down to one dame...one girl I shouldn't want but can't resist anymore….and it could all go up in flames.
