Disclaimer: Disclaimed. SOTD: Florence And The Machine/Heavy In Your Arms.

Prologue

"TOBIAS!'"Screamed a voice, all too familiar to me. My knife shot out against my opponent's—pale-faced with light hair—throat, and he fell to the ground; my eyes were searching the crowd. "TOBIAS!"

There she was. Short, slight, caramel-haired, her eyes a sea of gray.

The war went on around us, and I dodged a blade.

Tris was running, too. She was much shorter than the other warriors, even the girls, but then, she'd always been small.

Always.

"Tris!" I shouted. My feet carried my forward faster; I needed to protect her, needed to help her, needed to sheild her.

Why was she here, I was thinking, but I'm not Erudite. I don't think I ever would have found out, if she didn't- Anyway, I'm telling this in order, right?

I was only around fifteen feet away from her when he stepped out of the crowd. My feet tried to stop, but I only ran faster. "Tris! BEHIND YOU!"

She only turned a bit. Not even all the way, before Eric placed the gun to her head. I slowed, walking non-threateningly to them.

Don't kill her, don't kill her, I was thinking.

She whispered something pleadingly, defiantly. His face redened, an one hand grabbed a knife, lowering it to her stomach.

"Don't touch her!" I yelled, but he wasn't paying attention to me.

"Maybe just a little off the top," he said. "I hear they get long hair, you know-"

I tackled him, grabbing the knife. A shot rang out, but seemed to just meld in with the battle chaos around me.

"It's your fault, you know." Eric said. "Bye, Stiffy!"

The knife went through his head, and his eyes went flat. I spun, and saw her, lying on the ground. What was she doing, half my brain said. Why was she lying down, she was gonna die.

But the other half said that she was already dying, anyway.

My hand smoothed her hair back. "Tris," I said. "Tris, honey, we have to go."

Her lips formed a watery smile. "Tobias," she whispered. "Tobias, I'm pregnant."

"What?" I wasn't convinced; it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

Her hand trembled as she grabbed my wrist; she pulled my hand from the extra gun in my belt and settled it on her stomach, gazing into my eyes. "Tobias. I'm pregnant."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .

My hand carressed the glass between me and my daughter.

(Her name doesn't exsist, I made it up) We came up with her name while Tris was pregnant; spelled Islode, pronounced, Izz low dee.

"Four," said a voice from behind me. Caleb. "Four, it's Tris-"

"What about Tris?" I asked sharply.

"Someone slipped death serum into her IV-"

"Why did she have an IV?! You said she was healthy!" I began running to her room.

"No, you don't understand! She fought the death serum."

"So? Then why did you tell me?!"

"It's David. He saw that it didn't work, and so he finished the job with a gun-"

"Move. Move." I growled, and pushed him away when he didn't. I ran to her room. "Tris?" I asked.

She wasn't there.