Chicago looked a lot different at night.

There was something comforting about the destroyed, empty streets, about the silence that followed her every turn she made. She's always wondered what it must have been like three or four centuries ago, before the war, when everything seemed much simpler. From the pictures she got to see and study at school, she could tell that life was a lot easier than it is now. Well, life wasn't meant to be difficult. The Factions System was meant to make everything easier but really, it didn't.

Not that it didn't work for a while... but nothing ever lasts forever, and it didn't take long before power started to get to people's heads. People like Jeanine, for example. But she was just the top of the pyramid. Evelyn was a Jeanine in the making. If only she had known... but truthfully, how could she? Yet, she still feels responsible. She still feels that she should have done something.

Maybe Four was right, and she ought to have taken her role as one of the leaders of this new, Factionless world... but Tris had never wanted power. She wanted a great deal of things, but she didn't want power. She wanted peace without struggle, she wanted to have a normal life, or as normal as she could get to, anyway.

But even now, when she's here alone in the darkness with nothing but the computer in front of her guiding her to what was left of her home, she felt as if she could never achieve what she wanted.

There would be war.

No matter how much she tried to prevent it. There would be no peace without struggle, and somehow, she felt like Jeanine still had a part to play in all of this. And that, she keeps telling herself, is why she's here. That is why she's so determined to find her. It's not because she wants to kill her... Tris is smart enough to admit that to herself. If she wanted Jeanine killed, she would've gone it the minute Chicago was freed from her grasps. But instead she watched Jeanine, subconsciously protecting her from Evelyn and all the countless enemies she had made in Chicago. But what had escaped everyone's mind, apparently, was the fact that she also had friends.

Jeanine was who she was for more than just her intelligence. She knew how to manipulate people, and she knew how to exploit those who wanted the same as her. The ones who believed that Divergents were the root of all evil, that what they were doing, what Jeanine planned on doing, was after all, going to save them. Some sort of humanitarian mission.

It was ridiculous, but perhaps that was what made Jeanine so powerful.

The fact that she believed that what she was doing was right. That the countless deaths she was accountable for were all for the greater good. And surprisingly, even if Jeanine was the one to blame for her parent's death, Tris felt sorry for her. Sorry that she couldn't see just how wrong she was, even if now she knew the truth.

And yet again, she finds her mind occupied by nothing other than Jeanine Matthews... like a virus that refuses to leave her system. And that is how most of the trip goes, her mind racing about Jeanine and about what she was going to do once she found Jeanine... but all of that was wiped away when she finally arrived at her destination.

The little computer voice announced: "You have arrived at your destination."

Her heart stopped, as she pulled back, lowering the bike until her feet touched the ground and she took it all in.

When she had left Abnegation with Four, it had been chaotic, at best. She remembers seeing the images in the lab where they were controlling the Dauntless. But this... what she's seeing now... Tris removes the head gear and the helmet she had been wearing, tears pooling in her eyes.

This had once been her home, not long ago. Part of her still felt like it was. That no matter what she did or how much shit she went through, she'd always be Abnegation at heart. She had learned to embrace that side of her, as small as it sometimes was. And it was all gone, now. Most of it had been bombed away, burned, destroyed. There was little left, except ghosts of houses, of families, or memories. She grabbed her pack and started walking, her hands covering her mouth as she spotted... decaying corpses against destroyed walls, and it looked more like a nightmare than anything else.

She supposes that this was what the people who had known the world before the war would have felt if they walked into Chicago and what remained of the great city, now.

It hits her hard, harder than it should, and she has to take a minute, lean up against a wall and try not to freak out too much. But that was easier said than done, right now. She kept thinking of her parents, of Caleb. Of the easy life she had before everything had happened, before she had chosen Dauntless... but if she had stayed in Abnegation... she would have ended up dead, too, she's sure of it.

And the scariest thing is that she doesn't really mind that possibility.

After a few minutes, she shuts her eyes and allows hatred and anger that makes her incredibly focus to take over her, so she can start hunting. The head gear was put on again, so she could see heat signs in the dark, the way that animals did, before.

Jeanine was really, really smart.

Tris doubts that anyone would think to come looking for her here, out of all places. Jeanine had destroyed Abnegation after all, and there was nothing left, in here, yet it seemed like the perfect place for her to hide until she found something better, and Tris knew, she would find something better. There were a lot of places in Chicago no one knew about. Places that Jeanine, no doubt, did. But here... here is where she would hide.

And Tris freezes for a moment as she hears faint voices coming from one house. One of few houses that were still standing. Damaged, yes, but still standing.

It was her house.

The house she had grown up in.

And Jeanine was in there.

She knew that it was Jeanine. The Factionless were Evelyn's people know, and they were all living in Erudite. It had to be her. Something inside of Tris told her that it was her. And she wasn't alone. She wouldn't be, of course. By herself, she was completely defenceless... that much had been proven to Tris when she had easily overcome Jeanine before. She still wears a bandage wrapped around her hand, and no doubt she'll have a nasty scar to show for it.

The day a Divergent stabbed her hand.

It would be funny, if it weren't.

There were too many things on the way for her to get an accurate reading of how many people were inside the house, but she could tell that there were at least... three, whether Jeanine was one of these three or not, she couldn't tell.

And she wouldn't be able to, until she attacked. But she couldn't go on like that, she needed some kind of plan. She was outnumbered... but, she knew her house better than Jeanine and whoever was with her did, and that would be her advantage in this. Throwing the strap of her gun over her shoulder, she climbed up the back of the house to the roof, and opened the service hatch door before quietly sliding through, shutting it behind her, and landing quietly on the ground of the attic, listening in to any movements nearby.

But she was alone in this floor, which was good.

With her smaller gun in hand, she slowly made her way out of the attic, taking deep breaths in and ignoring the urge to stop and drink in the memories all around her, screaming at her. This place had been her home. She could see places where she and Caleb would play, when they were younger. Places she had laughed and wept at. Places her mother had hugged and held her, places her father had told her stories and sung her to sleep. Places where she had been happy, for she had had a happy childhood. Parents that loved her, a loving brother.

How did it all go wrong?

But that wasn't her focus right now, and Tris had been well-trained. Well, more sort of forced into training through experience. She stopped at the stairs, where she could make out some of the voices better.

"...you can't expect her to stay here forever! This place is a wreck! It smells like death in here, not to mention, we can't even fucking use hot water or electricity because that would bring attention to us! You promised us a better life, Jeanine. This is not better living."

A male voice, one she didn't recognise. "He's right. We have to move, soon." That was a female, older.

"Listen to you two fucking whiners-" A third man began, but he was cut off by that voice Tris was so familiar to. Sometimes she'd hear that voice speak to her inside of her head, that cold, calm voice.

"I don't think any of you understand your role in this. Did you expect this to be easy? They want my head, and they won't stop hunting me or anyone associated with me. If you're not happy and you think you'll be able to find something better by yourself, please, do try. Send me a postcard once you find this house with hot water and electricity that won't lead Evelyn and her rats to you."

That was Jeanine, alright. A tired sounding Jeanine, but Jeanine, nonetheless.

She could take three people. She was armed, agile, and strong. She had survived through worse odds. It was all about waiting for the right time...

But she didn't have to wait long. Not even half an hour after that little conversation they had exchanged, she kept listening to the three people talking between themselves, but Jeanine was quiet, and Tris knew she was still in the room. She'd be smart not to risk to go anywhere, even if it's another room of the house, by herself... but, soon enough, she heard one of the men say he was coming up to the bathroom, and that was when Tris got ready.

As he came up the stairs, reaching the top, she wheeled herself onto her hands and flipped him over by wrapping her angles around his head. He was bigger than her, so she had to act quick. Be faster than him. Hit him before he knows what's happening. She leaned forward, and started hitting him on the head with her elbow. She only needed to do it twice, before he went out, and she made sure he didn't make much noise as he fell on the floor.

And now she was faced with a choice: he was unconscious, but still alive. And he was Dauntless. So she had to either kill him, or leave him be.

If she didn't kill him now...

But she had time to do it later, so she tied him up with a few things she found in what remained of her home, and locked him inside the bathroom.

One down, two to go.

Killing people didn't come that easy to Tris, but if she had absolutely no choice... she could do it. And somehow live with herself. These people weren't good people, or so she tells herself, but she could at least give them a chance. Tell them they could run away and find a way of getting back to something instead of killing them, that Jeanine wasn't worth it, but could she trust them that way?

Maybe she could, maybe not.

But either way, she had to take care of the woman and the other man that were still downstairs with Jeanine, and she had to move now, before Jeanine got suspicious. If she got suspicious, she'd flee, and then Tris could lose her again.

So she started down the flight of stairs, as quiet as she could manage, avoiding the steps which she knew would creek the loudest. They were all in the kitchen now, so the room where we'd sit by the fireplace on cold winter nights was empty. She took a deep breath in, and got ready to move towards the kitchen, but that was when she saw the other man standing there, smiling down at her with pearly white, scarily sharp teeth.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Tris fucking Prior."

Fuck.

"I seem to be at an disadvantage... I have no idea who you are." He laughed at her, shaking his head as they started circling each other, naturally, the way that animals used to threaten each other before attacking... before, her gun in hand. He had one in his hand, too. So it was a fair fight. Aside from the fact he had at least sixty pounds on her. But she had taken down men stronger than that... hadn't she?

"Isn't that just peachy," he smacked his lips, before grinning again. Tris found it very, very creepy. "You always thought you were a special fucking snowflake, didn't you?"

No, she wants to say, but he reaches for her with a knife that came out of nowhere and she dodges by an inch. "Fucking everything up with your righteousness!" He tried to stab her again, but Tris rolled onto the floor and swept him off his feet with her legs, and before she knew it they were both throwing punches and trying to take each other down. He was bigger and stronger, but she was faster, and despite her nose bleeding, she was wearing him out, until he got too tired, and she tackled him down, gun pointed at his head.

Her finger was on the trigger. "I don't want to kill you."

"Oh, but I do."

She looked up to find the woman with the gun pointed at Tris, and Jeanine was nowhere to be seen. Shit. She had only a minute to think, before the woman shot at her and she rolled to the ground besides the big man, who was shot on the side of his head. Better him than her, she tells herself as she stares at his empty face, blood splattered all over her own. As she jumped to her feet, she saw Jeanine running out of the house in her heels and the dress she had worn the day she had been arrested, and Tris didn't have time to play any more.

But the woman wanted to play, and she was good. Almost better than Tris. But not quite.

Another gunshot, and then she was racing outside the door with the gun in hand, running after Jeanine. She chased her to the bike, which she was just about to hop on before Tris jumped on her and tackled her to the ground with such force, the impact knocked the air out of both of their lungs.

Jeanine was grunting underneath her, and Tris was bleeding and bled on, breathless and sore all over. There were two bodies back in her house, and a guy who was unconscious on her bathroom.

"Maybe you are as Dauntless as you try to be, Beatrice," Jeanine choked the words at her, and Tris laughed. She laughed, hoarse and in between coughs, as she rolled to lay on the mud besides Jeanine, staring up at the starry sky.

"You're not going to run again, are you?"

Jeanine coughed, groaned a bit more. "No. I don't think I could. I'm not trained for such things."

"I'd have to shoot you otherwise..."

A laugh was her response.

"Wouldn't you love that, Beatrice."

A/N: I suck at writing action scenes but hey, I tried.