Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent Trilogy or any of its characters, rights belong to Veronica Roth.

Hello all :-)

For those of you who have been following my other story 'Jaded', you'll all know that's coming to an end and I've been planning this new story for a while, so here it finally is.

The summary pretty much says it all, but I just want to add that I've rated it T for scenes of violence (later on), minor coarse language, and adult themes. I doubt that the rating will change, but it's hard to say when I haven't written the full story yet. Of course, I will let you all know in advance if this fic gets bumped up to an M rating.

I also want to say a huge thanks to BK2U for not only editing this first chapter, but for helping me pull all my crazy ideas for this story together and get it in some kind of order.

Chapter 1

The field is vast, where we met,

On the hot summer's day.

The field is vast, where we said goodbye,

On the hot summer's night.

Summer nights have always been her favourite. Beatrice sets her notebook down on her lap, clicks the top of her pen, and pokes it through the blonde bun at the back of her head. She likes to write, mainly poetry, although she isn't really very good at it. Kicking the shoes off her feet, she crosses her legs and leans back to perch on the wooden porch swing. She swings it by jolting her body back and forth slightly, being lulled by both the motion and the gentle creaking.

A small smile etches her face when she takes in her surroundings. The honeybee farm on which she lives is familiar, quiet, and peaceful. The sounds of crickets, rustling bushes, and hooting owls mingle together, ringing through the blanket of darkness that's only slightly illuminated by moonlight. The stars shine through the clear sky, adding to the felicity of the place. The land here is simple, vast, yet riddled with memories and possibilities. Their colonial house stands directly in the middle of it all, shabby and in desperate need of repair. It has stood here since the very beginning, way before the Prior family arrived. Facing the house is an acre of empty field. At the bottom of that field, behind the tall trees, is where all the magic happens. The family tends to call the area 'The Sheds' since there are a bunch of outhouses where the tools and bees are kept, including a couple of small guesthouses. If you walk down there at night, and listen really closely, then you'll be able to hear the gentle sounds of the small babbling brook that streams along the outskirts of the family's land. It leads to a larger and much deeper patch of water downhill, where Caleb and the other kids used to play in the summer. Beatrice never did, though.

"Beatrice, it's time to get a bath and go to bed," Edith says. She's standing in the front doorway, the light from the hallway surrounding her figure causing her to look almost angelic. She has a sweet voice; a sweet nature, too.

"Can't I have five more minutes, Grandma?" Beatrice begs, attempting to put on the best, most innocent smile she can muster. Edith laughs lightly, stepping out onto the porch to take the notebook out of Beatrice's lap. She flicks through, reading what the young girl has just written.

"No, but you'll have plenty more time for dreaming while you sleep."

"I wasn't dreaming, I was writing," she says, pointedly. Her family doesn't take the things she engages in seriously. They say that Beatrice is a dreamer but never a doer, and sometimes they're right. Sometimes, her head is stuck in the clouds and it takes one hell of a hefty force to drag her back to planet earth again. Perhaps they think she's a little dim, but that would be because they've never looked close enough to realise she's just looking for some kind of escape.

"Writing is for school, and you're finished with that now," Edith says. Beatrice thinks it's unfair that she had to finish school at sixteen. Her parents pulled both her and her brother out so that they could start working on the farm. She thinks it's even more unfair that their stupid town allows that to happen. But it's a common practice with the farm children around here. The town they live in is small and old-fashioned, and so are the mayor and the governing body. Most of the time, Beatrice thinks that the rest of the word has forgotten that they even exist.

"Fine," she huffs, sitting up from her seat and kicking her shoes off before she walks into the house.

"That's it," Edith smiles. "Early day tomorrow; the new kid is arriving at noon."

—0—

The next morning, she wakes up to her brother plopping down onto her bed, attempting to shove breakfast toast into her mouth. She protests, mumbling and whining whilst burying her head deeper into her pillow and pulling the blankets up further. Caleb's always been rather irritating. "We've gotta get up and go to the store," he says, tugging on her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because, I offered for us to go so that Mom and Dad wouldn't have to. Mom's waiting here for a delivery and Dad's heading out of town to direct the new maintenance guy into the village."

"Has he never heard of a map?" Beatrice snorts, pulling herself out from under the covers and picking up yesterday's clothes from the floor. She pulls on her shorts and slips a hoodie over her pyjama shirt.

"You know that maps are pretty useless when it comes to finding your way to The Three T's," Caleb smiles. The real name for the small town that they live in is Abnegation. It's situated in the rural Deep South, near the border between Mississippi and Alabama, secluded and relatively unheard of except for the people who live there. It was founded and named by a few families several generations ago. Since they were little, though, Beatrice and Caleb have called it a much better name— The Three T's: Tiresome, Tiny, Traditional.

"Where is he from?"

"Chicago, apparently. But he's spent some time travelling around since then," Caleb shrugs.

"It's a little weird. I don't ever remember someone new coming here, unless they were just passing through or looking for gas."

"Tell me about it."

Within the next couple of hours, the two siblings successfully complete the grocery shopping at Al's store. They go there twice a week; the place is run by a father and son team, Big Al and Little Al. Although Little Al isn't exactly little anymore. As always, Caleb carries the heaviest bags. She'll never admit it, but the fact that he insists on doing that whenever the family goes shopping irritates her. Beatrice would love to snap back and tell him that she's capable of carrying her own weight, not to mention that she'd like to prove he isn't the only selfless one around here. She'd happily carry the heavy bags just so neither he nor her parents would have to. Their feet ache on the walk back, her brother muttering "inbreds" under his breath when they pass the kids tumbling out of the church. Beatrice knows that he just doesn't like them because of their insanely traditional and old-fashioned views on life, plus their adamant rejection of the modern sciences. Now, though, they're both in the kitchen, filling the refrigerator and the cupboards and throwing out the spoiled food that they never got around to eating. Once they're done with that, Caleb scurries out of the kitchen and Beatrice is left to face the pile of pots sitting in the sink.

"Caleb, I need your help with the drying," she shouts from the kitchen. She stands in the doorway for a minute, frozen, listening to the sound of her brother's footsteps stomping around upstairs. Soon, he comes jogging back down the stairs, albeit slightly out of breath. "What were you doing?" She asks, confused.

"Just had something I needed to check on the computer in the attic," he walks past her casually, pulling out a chair from the pine table that sits in the middle of the kitchen.

"That old thing? Surprised it still works," Beatrice laughs, walking back in the room to plug the sink and pull on a pair of rubber gloves. They can't really get their hands on the latest technology around here, unless they decide to travel out of town, which their parents hardly ever let them do. She's been out of Abnegation once in her life, and that was to see a specialist doctor about a problem she had with her foot when she was a kid. She doesn't really remember it.

"I did a little tweaking with it, updated some software, it was no biggie."

"How? And why would you bother?"

"That's none of your beeswax," Caleb says, eyebrows raised with a smug little smirk. Beatrice could quite happily throw a wet rag at his head right about now, but all she ends up saying is "you sound like dad when you say that."

Her whole family seems to have a strange obsession with bees and honey and farming. Throw all three into the equation and you've got one very euphoric set of people. Soon enough, the rubber gloves start to irritate her hands in the sweltering summer heat. So she pulls them off and dips her bare delicate hands into the soapy water, picking up a china teacup on the way out. She covers it with soap, careful to use the sponge rather than the scratchy brush to scrub this piece of kitchenware. When she turns around to say something to Caleb, cup still in hand, the door flies open, causing her to practically jump out of her skin and drop the china teacup. Caleb watches it fall to the ground, as if in slow motion, his face agape when it shatters in pieces against the tiles.

"Beatrice!" Caleb exclaims, almost angrily. She drops to her knees, her ears ringing, panicking over the now destroyed family heirloom.

"Not to worry, Caleb," Beatrice hears her mother, Natalie, say in a soothing voice. "It was just one of many." Beatrice is still picking up the scattered pieces of the teacup on her hands and knees when she sees an unfamiliar set of large brown boots shuffle into the kitchen in front of her. She looks up from the ground slowly, to eventually be met with a pair of navy blue eyes towering over her. "Kids, this is Tobias, he'll be working on repairing the house this summer," Natalie says. Tobias outstretches a large hand towards Beatrice, who hesitantly wraps her milky slim fingers around his warm palm. He pulls her up easily enough, and even when she's standing up straight she only reaches his chest.

"Beatrice," she nods, her voice sounding steadier and firmer than she thought it would. She pulls her hand away from Tobias, whose expression remains blank.

"I'm Caleb, it's a pleasure to meet you," her brother says, leaning forward to shake the taller man's hand. Again, Tobias' expression remains pretty blank, only offering a handshake in return and a slight nod of his head. The four of them all stand in awkward silence for a moment until Andrew trails into the kitchen. "Hi Dad," Caleb says.

"Why don't you all stop bothering Tobias so I can give him a tour of the place," Andrew says with a smile. He and Tobias walk out of the door without another word.

"He's handsome, isn't he?" Natalie says, pressing her hands against the counter in order to push herself up and look out the back window. She watches Tobias and Andrew walk across the field on their way to the sheds.

"Mom," Caleb utters out of pure disgust, his nose scrunched up just like Beatrice's. Natalie laughs at them, and throws Beatrice a small smile when she notices the blush on her daughter's cheeks. She walks out into the hall, rooting around in the linen closet, and comes back into the kitchen bearing towels and a set of bed sheets.

"Going to set up his guest house?" She asks Beatrice.

"Guest shed, Mom. It's a shed," Caleb says with amusement.

"It's not a shed. I think 'log cabin' would be a better description."

"No, it would be a more appealing description. Definitely not an accurate one."

"I could watch you two argue this out all day," Beatrice says abruptly, interrupting their little charade just to knock Caleb off his high horse. "But some of us have better things to do than argue about semantics," she smirks at him.

"Go on then, no need to start teasing each other," Natalie hands Beatrice the linens and ushers her out the front door. She looks around once she's outside, but can't see her father or Tobias anywhere. She treks across the grass field and through the line of trees, automatically feeling at peace when she can hear the faint sounds of the bees and the smell of the foliage rotting from the dry heat on the ground. The wooden door on the little guest house takes some effort to open, since no one's stayed in here for about a year. Once she kicks it open, a thick cobweb falls on top of her head and she bolts into the middle of the room in disgust, slapping and swiping at her hair to get rid of the spider's food trap. Once she's calm and collected, she sighs at the state of the place— thick with dust and clouded by a musky scent. First things first, she takes the plastic sheet off the bed and fits the sheets, wondering how on earth such a tall man is going to fit on this twin bed. There's two beds, so she ends up pushing them both together to give him more room. Then she gets a damp cloth out, ridding the layer of dust and grime from all the woodwork. The small kitchenette is the hardest to clean, since whoever was in here last was clearly a messy cook. It doesn't take her too long to get the job done, and once she's finished and admiring her handiwork the door opens behind her. She whips her head around to come face to face with Tobias.

"Your dad told me this is where I'm staying?" He scratches the back of his neck before straightening his shoulders back up to look at her sternly.

"It is. Fresh sheets, and I just cleaned it all for you," Beatrice says, walking back over to the kitchenette. "You have to flip this switch in order to turn the gas on, then this switch for the heater - not that you'll need it in this heat - but just in case. Um, and if the water isn't working then go out back and fiddle with the pipes and taps. I'm sure you can work it out."

"Thank you...Beatrice, was it?"

"You're welcome," she sighs. "And yes, it is, thanks for remembering," she says, snarky as ever. But when he continues to look at her with a blank expression, she nearly swallows her tongue, regretting her sarcastic little outburst. Her mother always scolds her for her attitude, having explained to her many times that sarcasm is always at someone else's expense. Perhaps her mother is right.

"The name just doesn't fit you, that's all," he says. His voice is deep, yet quiet and subdued, giving the impression that he is reserved. Beatrice herself has only been taught to be reserved—her parents scold her when she back-talks or speaks out of turn. She may look shy and keep her head down, but her voice is surprisingly deep and steady for such a small girl, projecting confidence. Who knows what her personality would develop into if she was left to her own devices.

"Well, maybe one day I'll find a new one."

"Maybe you will," he says. She stares at him for longer than is really appropriate, her blue eyes searching his darker ones. She clears her throat when her lips part, nodding her head slightly before brushing past him and heading out the door. If it weren't for the fact that he had been staring back just as intently, she'd probably be a little embarrassed.

—0—

Flicking through her closet and drawers, Beatrice pushes her school uniform aside since she won't be needing it again. She pulls out a nightshirt, slipping it on before crawling under the sheets. She's about to shut her eyes when she turns over to face her windows and sees the glow of a light emerging from beyond the trees at the end of the field. It's going to be strange, having another person holed up here. Thinking about the mysterious maintenance man gives her a slight headache, for reasons unknown to her. She thinks about what he said regarding her name. No one's ever been that straight with her before; never been that honest. The people in this town are cautious and reserved around one another, only exchanging pleasantries and well-wishes. Her grandmother had explained that it's just the way things work around here, the way people want things to work. Her great-grandparents were lost and poor, and travelled into the town one day because they were told that here they'd be offered help. They came across the abandoned farm, and eventually turned it into the successful honeybee ranch that it is today. Because of this, her family has always respected the town for welcoming them. However, Beatrice doesn't feel that way. She regards it as some sort of cult, forcing its selfless and simple-living ways on its children. Her friend Christina always tells Beatrice "you're meant for a much more exciting world than this one." Perhaps she's right. Beatrice smiles into her pillow, like she does every night, excited for her dreams to come and take her far away from here. But after today, her smile is just a little bit wider.

My tumblr: yabooklover20

Also: you'll probably notice I changed Edith Prior so that she's Tris' grandmother. This was done in order to suit my storyline.

I will most likely be posting once a week as I have been doing previously, I'm spending a lot of my free time writing this story, so showing your support will be rewarding and much appreciated :)