Hello there! I have returned to the world of fanfiction choosing the Divergent series as my challenge! I hope you enjoy this story. It's from Tobias' POV and he is 35 years old. Happy Reading!

(All characters beside the original ones are property of Veronica Roth. No copyright intended. Just glad to be able to write my story within her world!)

I close the door to my apartment and slide the key to turn the lock. It's a cold winter morning, fog swirling in the air looking like airborne snow hanging in the sky. I flex my fingers in my gloves to keep the blood flowing as I cross the dead street, heading to my office. I always take a vacant route to work, to clear my thoughts and focus on what I have to talk about as a politician, taking in the city's view and noticing problems that are in my power to fix. It's a nice walk beside the lake which is currently frozen solid. A soft snowflake falls on my cheek and I smile and indulge in opening my mouth and let one fall on my tongue. When it snowed in Abnegation, we were never allowed to play in snow outside, a selfish act of having fun. Even if we were, my father Marcus would never allow me, though I'm sure the snow would've been a nice numbing tool to help with the marks from the belt. I shake away the thought. I haven't seen my father since I was eighteen and there have been rumors that he had passed away. It didn't affect me much.

The grass is covered in a thick layer of snow, a white canvas against a gray sky. Not a single footprint ruins the blanket of snowflakes. I smile as it somehow reminds me of Tris' hair and I imagine my fingers running through it. Her memory only makes me happy now. I'm no longer sad about her passing, though I do wish she was here with me. Seventeen years doesn't make the loss any easier, time makes the wounds fade a bit and it becomes a little more bearable. There is no one else in this world that can affect me the way Tris did and I've accepted it. I may be alone in that aspect of my life, but I'm not completely an outcast like I was before. I still have my friends. Christina, a new mother and married woman, visits me from time to time, checking on me. Zeke and Shauna, married as well, live not too far from me and I wave at them as the pass by. I even visit Caleb and Cara from time to time. We all go out to dinner a couple times a month. We have stopped talking about Will, Uriah, Lynn, Marlene and Tris in a negative, mournful light, no longer speaking about the pain and how much we miss them. Instead, our topics are lighter and happier than before, commenting on the changes of our world and our lives. Sometimes we'll recall a funny story or two that involves those we did lose, like Zeke's story about the first time Uriah went zip lining and got his pant stuck on the harness. He had to walk back to Dauntless in just his underwear. Every so often when a anniversary of their death or what would've been Choosing day hits, it's nice to open to those who do understand what I've been through, who harbor the pain like I do. We raise a toast to those who are gone and keep living with their memory. Shauna and Christina, as well as my mother, worry that I'm lonely but I enjoy the seclusion. They constantly try to set me up on dates with their female friends, but I always decline. Sometime I do long for company, but no one has ever drawn me to them the way Tris did. After I scattered her ashes on the zip line, I seemed to scatter any harboring pain and anger about the whole situation. Our city was changed for the better because of Tris. She's the reason I am able to do the job I want, be able to say and do what I deem as right, that I can be any characteristic I want. Even getting to wear whatever color I want. I'll miss her till the day I die, but I am also thankful and understanding of her sacrifice. As a council member, succeeding Johanna Reyes after her death 8 years ago, I was able to place funding for a memorial wall for those lost during the war. The wall is made of brick with names engraved in each block. Sometimes when I'm restless at night and go for a walk, my feet lead me to the wall right to Tris' brick. Her memory and legacy flow through my mind daily and peace has found me. I'll love what she did to help this world. I'll love her forever.

I turn a corner and pass the factionless segment. The technical term is actually "homeless" by my faction termed tongue still calls them the factionless. Not all things from the past were fixed and there are still people who struggle with finances and starve. Part of the reason I take this route to work is to check on their situation. I'm still working on that with my office, trying to figure out ways we can help them. I offered an idea to have the old Abnegation houses that weren't torn down and no one wants to live in to become a homeless neighborhood. There is no Abnegation faction to help them anymore, but some of the older former members still spend their time doing volunteer work. It may have been a priority in their faction, but now it is their choice to help others. It seems to sit better this way. I take a quick glance at the group of people, huddled around fires that bloom upward from large trash cans. I hear a cry and my eyes float in the direction of the sound. My instincts almost take over to start running, but my limbs are stunned and stuck as I see a thin blonde headed girl running after a man. She pulls on the blanket the man must have taken and rings him around to face her. My jaw drops when I see her tiny fist make a perfect shot at the man's left cheek bone. He crumples and she gathers the blanket, looking around quickly to see if she was in more trouble, but no one leaves the comfort of their fire and ignore the outbreak. I almost move out to scold her for causing unnecessary violence but my lips quirk up in a smile as I see why she did what she did. She walks to a small corner of a wall and hands the blanket to a crying mousy haired boy not much older than four. An older woman comes up and takes the little boy in her arms who is tightly wrapped up in the blanket and mutters what looks like a thanks to the girl. She nods and sits against the wall, her chest rapidly moving up and down. She closes her eyes, trying to calm herself. I look at her for a moment, hidden behind a light pole a few feet away. She has bright blonde hair caked with dirt and light blue eyes. The first thing I think of is Tris, but the girl's eyes are a little darker, her lips a little fuller. She also has a hooked nose that resembles mine more than Tris'. Could this have been what our child could've looked like? I shake my head at the ridiculous thought and continue observing the girl. Even from here I can see her collar bone and shoulders protruding from her skin due to malnourishment. Dark circles and cover the skin beneath her eyes and her cheeks are sunken in. Small bruises paint her skin as if she had faced Peter in the ring at Dauntless. She is wearing a thick pair of pants and a tank top despite the cold and my heart beats a little harder with sympathy. My stiff traits show and I make my way towards her, unraveling my scarf as I walk. I know she would never come up to me, since, as Tris once said, I'm as approachable as "a bed of nails" so I decide to approach her. As I walk, no factionless touch me as I walk straight through their hub and towards the girl. They recognize me as a council member. The girl looks up as she hears my feet and her eyes are unwavering as they meet mine. A lifetime in the slums of Chicago has made her brave. And tough as well, I think, noticing her red swollen hand that struck the man's face. I crouch down on the balls of my feet and hand her my scarf. At first she shakes her head, but sees my glare and takes the item without protest. I clear my throat and talk easily. More than a decade of political work has made talking easier and less taxing. I smile softly. "Hi there. I'm Tobias Eaton.. I saw what you did for that little boy. Was he your brother?"

She shakes her head no.

My smile widens. She did that for no reason. "You are a very brave girl. What's your name?"

And my mouth turns dry and I lose my balance when she speaks:

"My name is Beatrice."