It's been 27 days.

27 days that I've endured the night and survived. I fought every one. I fight for every breath, every thought. Every second of every minute.

And I don't even know what I'm really fighting for.

I can't name a victory that is to be won from this. Another day? Another hour? As if that is to grant me any sort of peace. No, I win nothing. I've simply just managed to make it a little bit longer, ready to fight for it all again just a few seconds later.
There are times I would just like to give in. End it, this raw pain that claws inside me, a beast I can't tame.
But I don't want to, because unlike simulations, the pain is real.

It is my proof that she existed.

Sometimes, I even pretend that this is all a dream. That I'll wake up in a panic and be in a bed.
That she will be there.
That she'll be alive against me.
And I used to like keeping that hope, tucked away, but it has been broken over time, bits of it turning to ash as realization replaces it, sharper than glass, hotter than fire:

Tris is gone.

She is not coming back.

I bite my lip and glance out the window. Today, the world is awash in grey and dark brown, dull and lifeless, as if it has lost some of its color because of her absence. The tires roll over heavy stones beneath as I turn onto an uneven road that passes through city limits, back into Chicago.

I know I shouldn't be here. It feels wrong, but there is something that I need to see.
The day is silent, the clouds heavy, pinned by the tears they have yet to be shed, the silence weighing like a fog over my mind. This is the perfect opportunity for thoughts to threaten to take over, threatening to reveal pasts I don't want to think of.
Luckily, though, over this month, I've gotten exceptionally good at not thinking. I've gained the ability to block unbidden thoughts out temporarily. I stay in this state generally for as long as I can. Because if I don't think, it's not real.

If I don't think, the pain will stop.

I stay in that place now as I drive into the city, time nonexistent. I drive until the train tracks come into view and I park the truck on a desolate part of the upon a time, I would have been more careful, but as it turns out, in order to be careful, you have to care. Which I don't.

I approach the train tracks and wait, closing my eyes as the roar of the machine closes in and I close my eyes to keep the memories out.
Any with her.

All with her.

Touching her tattoo.

Holding her against me.

Telling her I thought I loved her…

All of it I keep away.

The train turns, barreling toward me and I don't think as I run towards it, welcoming the rush of adrenaline, the spike of thrill flooding my veins. I leap, my hand grasping for the metal rung, the wind causing my hair to whip around my face, momentarily blinding me. Without seeing, I latch onto the railing and pull myself inside, my feet landing heavily against the wood.
For a second, just a second, I feel elated. The pain evaporates and I am left standing inside the train. Instinctively, I turn towards the entrance and smile.

But then the memories come back and the smile from my lips fade .

She isn't here.

I'm not going to hear her feet hit against the train floor.

I'm never going to hear it again.

I swallow and look away.

The Dauntless compound hasn't changed, yet it feels different. Because it doesn't have her. Because down every hallway, I glimpse her walking towards me. Because on every stone, I see traces of her touch.

Absentmindedly, I reach out and graze the wall, expecting it to be warm, like I am touching her.
But no, the rock is cold.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the flood behind my crude dam, but it cracks and some memories flood in.

Tris falling into the pit.

Tris, reaching her hand out to me.

Kissing her in the chasm.

Holding her in my bed.

Her promise never to leave me.

It's all Tris.
Tris, Tris, Tris.

I shove off the wall and begin running, like I can physically escape my memories. I don't look over the railing to the watery turmoil beneath. I don't look down another hall, where her bed used to be, or where mine was. Not where Tori gave tattoos, not where Uriah used to talk with Zeke.
Nowhere, but forward.

I only stop running when I reach the simulation room. Instantly, I slam the door and lock it behind me. Then I walk over to one of the metal tables, searching through the small compartments until I find the one containing the only thing I can think of giving me peace.
Or pain.
Probably both.
But I'm not concerned as I plunge the syringe into my neck and push it down.

I expect to first see Marcus, brandishing his whip, but it isn't him.
It's the lady.
The one I have to shoot.
She hasn't changed, but I have. I know more than ever that this isn't real. That killing her does not qualify as taking a life, whether Divergent or not.
I grab the gun. Aim.

"…Isn't real," Tris voices in my head.

I close my eyes and shoot.

Walls. Walls close around me, white and bland. This one isn't so bad, but I still feel my chest tighten and my throat close. I try to remember to breathe. I try, but it doesn't work.
My panic rises.
I almost can't breathe.

But then, I picture her, my hand my hand over her heart, racing beneath my fingertips.

"Feel how steady it is?" She asked.

"It's fast," I replied.

"Yeah, well, that has nothing to do with the box."

I gasp and the walls fall away, replaced by a steep ledge. There are floors between me and the ground that seems to shrink from beneath me. I see an image of myself falling and splatting against it and I fall back a step.
Silently, I curse. "Almost there," I say.
Slowly, I inch back to the ledge and with shaky fingers, spread my arms.
I allow only one thought into my mind, the only one that can help me.
My eyes close and as I allow my body to fall over, I think of ravens.

I land on concrete. Hard, like the breath has been knocked out of me. At first, there's nothing.

Empty.

It is the only time since my first simulation that I don't really know what to expect.
All there is is sidewalk and vacant building, lacking the shade to convince me it's real.
I begin to wonder if the fear is isolation and abandonment when someone small steps out from behind one of the buildings.

Short and blond.

Fierce and brave.

"Tris," I say, the word leaving my lips in a strangled whisper.

I don't care if this is real. If this is fake. All I care about is that she is here and more real than my mind did her justice for in the last 27 days.

"Tobias," she says and walks toward me.

I am all too eager as I wrap my arms around her, feeling her skin against me, her heart resting atop mine. I feel the shattered parts of me being coaxed back together and decide that if I never came out of the simulation, I would not complain.

"I missed you," I say, something thick swelling in my throat.
I feel her nod beneath me. Hear a small sniffle, like she's crying.
I look down, suddenly realizing that I need to see her. Everything. For as long as I possibly can.

But if this is a fear like I hoped, I still do not know how to identify what I am afraid of.

"I'm sorry," she says and I squeeze tighter. I bend down and kiss her. I kiss her over and over again, until the feeling in my body is back. Until I almost feel normal again.

"Sh, it's okay," I say, though it is not true.
Of course it isn't okay. Anger is a live thing I carry around now, full of things I need to say, to a person that is impossible to tell them to.
And this is the closest I'll get.

"Why did you leave?" I ask, my voice breaking slightly, but I clear my throat, touch her cheeks. Her lips. Her eyelids. Anything my fingers can find.

She shakes her head. "I had to."

"That is not true. You did not. We would have figured something out," I say. "Tris, we always figure something out."

She grabs my hands and squeezes them, looking directly at me the same way she has done so many times. So many times I took for granted. So many more times I could have had.
"I never wanted to leave you, Tobias. But I had to. I…I couldn't let Caleb die when I could possibly live. I didn't know about David."

Even in a simulation, hate surges within me and all I wish is for that man's death, whether with his memory or not.
"I don't care! You left. You promised me! You promised and you broke it. Or was I really just that selfish?"

"Of course not!" she yells back and it is a relief to hear it again. "I wanted to be with you! But I also knew that you'd be okay."

I look at her, incredulous. "Okay? You thought I would be okay? Does this look okay to you?" I challenge. "Here I am in a simulation, just so I could see you again when you're already de"-
Suddenly, the word won't come. My throat tightens so much that I can't speak, until it is just an effort to stand upright. "You're….You're gone, Tris. And I don't"—

I bite my lip. Hard until I taste blood.

She wraps her arms tightly around my waist. "It won't be forever. We're just…we're just taking a break."

Of all the things to say. I smile, but it is forced. "A break."

"Yeah."

"So then, why haven't I woken yet?"

She smiles, but it is sad.

"Tris?" I lift my fingers and place them over the birds across her collarbone.

She sighs, a slow exhale of breath. "Because….Because you are afraid to forget me, and you have to let me go."

I let that settle in for a moment, taking in her face. Her eyes that, even in death , have not lost their fire. "Let you go…?"

"For now. That's what this is," she says, placing her hand against my cheek. "You have to want to leave. You have to want to live."
I look away. "But I don't…I don't know what to do," I say, thinking about the pain, the torment that I'd rather die instead of return to.
Her voice breaks. "Since when do we ever?" Tris asks. "Tobias….I never wanted to leave, but I had to. And now you have to. Because people still need you."

My hands shake and I clutch at her shoulders, desperately trying to convince myself that this is real, that I have no place I need to be. That I don't have anyone depending on me.
"But I'm—I'm still scared."

"But you are also brave, Tobias." She kisses my hand. "You've been brave for me. And now you need to be that for others."

I nod, never taking my eyes off of her. "Will I be able to come back here?"

Again, she smiles that sad smile, trailing her hand down my arm. "I don't want you to."

My vision blurs, most of my body is shaking, but I refuse to break. "I love you, Tris."

Standing on her toes, she leans in to me. "Beatrice," she whispers. "And I love you, too. Be brave, Tobias. Be brave for me."
And then I meet her lips fiercely with my own, for as long as this will last. I feel her burn against me, bright and strong, her and I raging together by a flame whose heat I will have to go on without.

"I love you, Beatrice," I say.

But she is already gone, her flames washed away by the sound of rain.