A/N:Thank you for all the encouragement to continue this story! I truly appreciate it. I want to give a warning that this chapter has more mature language, so . . . yeah. I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think :)

~Chapter Two~

She walks toward me, her blonde hair shimmering in the sun. She is alive and whole and so breathtakingly beautiful. But I know this is a dream, because she is not alive and whole. I know that I should not take her in my arms, that I should not press my lips against hers, and that I should not get lost in the beauty of her face. I know, at least on some level, the pain this will cause me when I wake up, but I can't bring myself to care. And in that moment, I do take her in my arms. I do press my lips against hers, and I do get lost in the beauty of her face. I shiver with longing as her hands run along my back—as her fingers slip through my belt loops, and as she pulls me firmly against her, her mouth crushing hungrily against mine.

"Tris," I whisper against her lips, curling my fingers in her hair. God, how I miss doing that. "I miss you."

"I know." she whispers as a reply. "I miss you, too."

I look down at her. "It's been four years, Tris. Four years since you died. Am I crazy for still not being over you?" I ask.

"Think." She says with a smile.

I furrow my brow. "Think? Think of what?" I ask. "You? I think of you all the time, Tris. That's the problem. Four years and I still can't seem to let you go and I don't know why. I'm sure this can't be normal."

Tris still wears her smile like she didn't hear a word I just said. "Think," she urges again. But before I can question her further, her eyes grow wide and she looks around nervously. It is only then that I notice our surroundings. The grass here is way too green and the buildings are way too pristine. The windows are not broken like many of them are now, and they reflect the overly bright sunlight on us. It hurts my eyes. Maybe this was what our city looked like before the Purity War. When I look back at Tris, she is looking up at me. "Never enough time," she breathes, and then quickly reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck."Think, Four." She crushes her lips to mine just as the loud pop of bullets fill the air.

I bolt upright as another round of gunfire goes off. Shit! My heart is hammering as I roll off the couch and press myself against the floor. I begin to crawl toward the end table where I keep a loaded gun hidden when I hear the gunfire again, only this time . . . this time, it doesn't sound quite like gunfire. In fact, it doesn't sound like gunfire at all now. Rolling onto my back, I feel my face flush and I'm happy that no one is around to witness what I had just done. And I don't even want to think about the amount of teasing I would get if someone had. Pulling myself to my feet, I cross to the front door where another series of pounding reverberates from the oak wood. This had better be an emergency or I'm punching whoever is on the other side. Unlocking the door, I irritably yank it open.

"Man, you look like shit!"

My fist snaps forward and connects painfully with the person in front of me.

"Ow!" Zeke cries out, rubbing his arm. "Shit, Four! Why the hell did you do that?" He is one of the very few that still call me by my Dauntless name. I can tell he's trying to sound upset, but the grin on his face is a contradiction to his tone. "Don't you know I bruise like a peach?" he asks.

"Good," I smirk. "That's what you get for interrupting my beauty sleep."

Zeke snorts. "Man, either you need a few more hours or a refund. What happened to your eye?"

Instead of answering, I make a rude hand gesture at him before turning and walking back into my front room. I leave the door open behind me. I can hear Zeke laughing as he shuts it and follows. My apartment is still as sparsely furnished as it had been on the first day I moved in, but I don't mind. I prefer it this way. Less to clean. Throwing myself back on the couch, I prop my feet up and rub my brow where I had hit it on the rock yesterday after the ill-timed jump with Christina. My heart lurches at the thought of her name, and guilt begins to creep over me. Biting the inside of my cheek like I had done as a child, I press down on the cut over my eye and focus on the pain. It's definitely tender and probably bruised. I'm also sure that I'm making it worse, but the pain helps to ebb away the guilt. Only when I'm positive that the guilt from my actions yesterday isn't going to strangle me, I relax and allow my hands to rest on my stomach as I watch Zeke grab one of the mismatched chairs from the kitchen and bring it into the living room. He turns it backwards and straddles it, resting his arms across the back. Zeke was the first one of Uriah's family members to forgive me for his death. It had taken him all of two hours to do so, though it took a bit longer for the unspoken awkwardness between us to dissipate.

"What's up?" I ask. "Do I have parking tickets I'm unaware of?"

Zeke's brows knit together with confusion. "Parking what?"

I laugh. Zeke is the captain of the police force in the city—a job he took effortlessly to. In fact, he has had no problems at all with transitioning to our new way of life now that the factions were gone. It's like he is made for this new world we are creating. "Parking tickets," I say again. "Back before the Purity War, that's what the police did—stuck pieces of paper on cars that weren't parked properly."

"Are you bullshitting me?" he asks, his eyes skeptical as he cocks a brow.

"Nope. Read it in an old history book that Matthew sent me from the Bureau." I smile as he frowns.

"And what was the point of these tickets?" He asks.

I laugh. Were we really discussing parking tickets? "They were just a police man's way of letting the owner know that his car was either parked incorrectly or parked in the same spot for too long."

"Oh!" Zeke says with comprehension. "Like a stern note."

I bite back the laughter and look him dead in the eye. "Yes." I say with conviction. "Exactly like that." Zeke is quiet for a moment as he contemplates what I said, and I roll my eyes hoping he doesn't see my body shaking with laughter. When I'm sure my silent laughing fit is over, I look up at him and see that he is looking down at the floor deep in thought. I revert back to my original question. "So what's up?"

"Oh yeah!" he says, sitting up straighter with a smile. "We've reached it."

I spring into a sitting position instantly, my eyes open wide and my heart racing. Since the slaughter of the Abnegation by the mind controlled Dauntless, little had been done about the neighborhoods that were hit the hardest and had received the worst amount of damage. This was partly due to the pesky fact that we had all been on the run. However, once everything had settled down one of the first things Johanna pushed for as a new government official was to start getting the destroyed neighborhoods cleaned up, and salvaging what could be salvaged. One of the first problems Johanna faced as a new government official was the refusal of the remaining Abnegation to allow this to happen. They saw these neighborhoods as sacred grounds. Quite frankly, I was just surprised to see so many of the Abnegation people refuse to allow someone to do something. Apparently being hunted and massacred had changed their outlook on some things—including how far they let their selflessness go. It took a lot of negotiating on Johanna's part, who insisted that cleaning up the destruction would inevitably help them heal. She also suggested building a memorial for them. It took a couple years, but six months ago they finally agreed. Johanna had put together a group right then and went to work that very day. Six months later, and they had barely made a dent in the devastation that that one moment had caused.

Zeke, and many other Dauntless, being overwhelmed with the guilt of being the ones that caused the destruction, had volunteered all the time they could to helping when they heard. Zeke had even taken over being leader in the cleaning and salvage crew so that Johanna could go back to work in the office. He had asked me back when they first started if I wanted to help, but the idea of returning to that section of the city was not something I could bring myself to do, so I stayed away and buried myself in my work. Long ago I had donated Marcus' house to some of those that lost theirs, so I didn't feel too bad for being selfish. Evelyn didn't want it either, so she had been fine with giving it away, too. Curiosity eventually got the better of me though, and about a month into the cleanup, I pulled Zeke aside to ask him a favor to be kept between us. Let me know when they reach Tris's old house. And now it seems that time has come.

"Did anyone," I stammer. "I mean . . . has anyone—"

"Relax." Zeke says, cutting me off. He runs his fingers through his dark hair. "I blocked it off. I went inside just to get an idea of how bad the damage was, but I let everyone know that no one else is to go in there for any reason. But . . ." I can see that he's nervous now. He doesn't look away from me. "Four, listen . . . it's in pretty bad shape. From the looks of it, there is a lot of fire damage upstairs and one of the walls has completely crumbled." He takes a breath. "Most of the damage came from bullets, though."

His news does not surprise me, though, knowing that Tris's parents had already run by that time, I can't help wonder who might have tried hiding in there only to be found. I shake my head. Probably better to not think about it, actually.

"Also, going upstairs is probably out." Zeke continues. The fire destroyed most of them. What it didn't destroy created a jagged pit of death between the highest remaining step and the top landing."

"Since when do Dauntless fear a jagged pit of death?" I tease with a smirk.

But Zeke did not smile back. "Since it was decided that there were no Dauntless anymore, that's when." He answers, and I run my hand through my hair.

"You don't believe that, do you?" I ask.

"Well," he says slowly, rubbing at the stubble on his face. "That's what we're supposed to believe isn't it? I mean . . . it was the Factions that separated us in the first place, putting us at odds with each other."

I say nothing at first. Getting to my feet, I stretch. "I'm going to jump in the shower real quick." Zeke merely nods, and launches himself onto the couch. I stop in the hallway. "Hey, Zeke?" I hear him grunt in response and I continue. "Being proud of having been a part of Dauntless is not a bad thing. It's our past after all. If you want to believe that even a small part of you is still Dauntless, then that is your choice. No one can take that away from you." I don't wait for him to respond because I know he won't. Instead I turn and head into my bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Standing in front of the mirror, I wince as I look at my face. There is still dry blood on my brow, but it looks like the cut itself has closed up. It was the bruise that made it look worse than it actually was. Dark purplish-black, it runs from the middle of my eyebrow down to the outside corner of my eye. I sigh and turn the shower on, hitting the wall that houses the pipes twice in order to cut off the familiar high pitch squeal emanating from behind it. Pulling off my shirt, I check my chest in the mirror for any other bruises or cuts, finding only a couple light ones. My body is lean but muscular, as I have made sure to keep myself in shape despite no longer having the Dauntless routine. I have also gotten more tattoos in the last four years as well. On my left shoulder blade, sits the Roman number for four (IV), and on the other side of the Dauntless emblem, sitting on my right shoulder blade is the Roman number for six (VI). When I saw them in the history book, and saw how they were the same but inverted, I knew I had to get them. Bud, the tattoo artist, had also been nice enough to touch up the top of the Dauntless emblem for no extra charge, as it had apparently dulled a little.

My left arm has what Bud refers to as a half-sleeve because it goes from my shoulder to my elbow. It's a tattoo of the very top half of the Hancock building with six black birds circling around it. I remember being blown away by the amount of color and detail Bud had put into it, making it almost looks real. Also, if you look close enough you can just see the zip-line disappearing beneath the clouds. The six birds were both a representation of the three birds Tris had gotten, as well as a representation of those I had lost: Tris, Uriah, Tori, Lynn, Will, and Marlene.

Stepping into the shower, I let the heat of the water wash over me, unknotting my muscles. It's then that I remember the dream I was having right before Zeke woke me up by hammering on my door. That was the first time that I have ever known I was dreaming while in the dream. It is also the first time we both acknowledged the fact that she is dead without her actively dying in the dream at the time. Think, she had said. But what the hell does that mean? All too soon the shower water turns cold and I push my thoughts aside in order to quickly grab the soap and scrub myself clean. I jump out of the icy water shivering and wrap a towel around my waist. Think. Looking into my dark blue eyes that gaze back at me from my reflection in the mirror, I think about what I am about to do and about what Tris would want to do if she were here with me. I sigh. I know exactly what she would want to do.

Dressed in a pair of black boots, blue jeans, and a black short sleeve t-shirt, I pull a jacket on and attach my knife to my belt as I explain to Zeke my plans. He thinks I'm nuts. I can see it in his eyes. All the same, he agrees to meet me in the Abnegation sector near Tris's old house.

"You're a better man than I," Zeke says as we leave my house together. I say nothing. At the corner he waves and turns right while I turn left. I can feel the apprehension building now as I head out to do what it is I think Tris would want. I focus on my breathing, listening as each breath enters my lungs. I listen to the early morning birds, and to the sound of my boots hitting the broken pavement with each step I take. How long has it been? Two and a half years? I grimace at the realization of it. I had tried in the beginning. I really had. But in the end, it was just too fucking hard. I couldn't do it. Some things were just too unforgivable. Even now, the closer I get the more I can feel my anger begin to set in. My heart is beginning to beat faster, and I wipe my hands on my jeans. I can do this. I reach my destination within a few minutes. Stopping in front of a door, I take a deep breath and knock.

It is only seconds before the door is pulled open and I'm looking at what is left of her.

"Hello, Caleb."

It is obvious that he has only just recently woken up. He wears gray flannel pajama bottoms and a blue t-shirt that was inside out as if he had hastily thrown it on. I don't know what I was expecting to see when he opened the door—whether I thought he would look more like Tris now, but he didn't. But then, I had never thought that Tris and Caleb looked alike. Where Tris had blonde hair and blue eyes, Caleb has brown hair and green eyes. Between those two different contrasts and their different personalities, it was enough to make anyone stop comparing them to each other almost instantly. In fact, it wasn't until after her death that I had started noticing the few traits they did share. They have the same hooked nose, and their mannerisms are at times the same, like when nervous they both tended to fidget. They have the same smile too, though Caleb has dimples where Tris did not. Regardless of their similarities—though they didn't help—the thing that had really kept me away from him for so long was the fact that I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to forgive him for being such a coward. For letting his sister go to her death while he sat back and watched.

Caleb's eyes narrow when he sees me, and he runs his fingers through his Abnegation short hair. It would seem that old habits die hard for him, too. "Tobias," he says in way of greeting. I'm not surprised by his guarded expression. The last time we actually spoke to each other was just after Tris's death when he told me her last words to me. I had wanted so much to make peace with this coward of a man that I had even lied to myself in order to believe it. The last time I saw him though, was after I had zip-lined at the Hancock building. He had been waiting at the bottom and had given me a cautious smile that reminded me so much of Tris when she chose to smile through her frustration, that I had to look away. It wasn't until I got home that day, that I became angry with him for having her smile.

Now I meet his eyes evenly and shove my hands in my pockets. There has been enough time between us that my once instant desire to bash in his face—to make sure he never smiles like her again—is not nearly as strong as it once was, but I take no chances. "Hey," I say, testing the tone of my voice and pleased to hear that it is level. Caleb leans against the door jam, making it clear that he does not intend to invite me in. I can't say that I would have accepted anyway. I launch quickly into why I'm here. "So I'm sure you're aware of the clean up and salvage crew that's been working in the Abnegation sector for the past six months?" I say. Caleb nods, and I continue. "A few months ago, I asked Zeke to let me know when they reach your parents house. Well, they've reached it. I intend to go over there today and see what's there—"

"You made plans to go ransack my house?" Caleb frowns, crossing his arms.

I brittle at his words and my hands ball into fists in my pockets. "No," I say tersely. "I just want to make sure there is nothing there that I think Tris would want to—"

But Caleb is cutting me off again, his eyes flashing as he points angrily at me. "You have no right to barge into my old home just because you dated my sister for a couple months! She was my sister! And if there is anything there that is worth keeping, it will be me that keeps it! That is my house! My birth—"

I move swiftly, the years of being Dauntless engrained in my muscles even now. Grabbing Caleb by the shirt, I shove him back into his apartment and kick the door shut behind us. Spinning around, I shove him hard against the wall and watch with savage pleasure as his eyes widen with fright and his head cracks against the plaster with the force of my movement. "Do not act as if you ever gave a flying fuck about your sister." I spit into his face, finally saying the words that have been burning within me since her death. "Don't think I have forgotten how you delivered her to Jeanine to be played with like a lab rat and then killed, or how you all too willingly allowed her to sacrifice herself so that you could live."

"I already told you I didn't—" Caleb's protest is cut off with a yelp as my hand snaps forward, sinking my knife deep into the wall just next to his cheek. I am only vaguely aware of having released it from my belt in the first place.

"I don't want to hear it," I growl. "You are a selfish coward. Even your parents would have been ashamed of you, so do not speak to me about that place being your home." I can feel him shaking under my hands. I'm shaking too. "And if you ever speak of Tris as if she was your property again, I will kill you." Reaching up, I jerk my knife from the wall and take a step back. "You're lucky I even invited you along." I say, glaring at him. "And I only did so because I think it's what Tris would want me to do, not because I think you deserve a damn thing that might be hidden in that house."

Even though I have released him, Caleb doesn't move. Crossing his arms, he looks at his feet. "I can sit here and try to make you believe that I didn't want her to sacrifice herself for me till I'm blue in the face," he says to the floor. "But it's been four years. So if after all this time, you still don't believe me then there is no reason to try anymore. You've made up your mind, so I won't bother to try and change it." When I say nothing, he looks up at me. "I'll go get dressed."