Beatrice wanders aimlessly through dark streets of the Abnegation section of the city, instinctively hopping over the cracks and potholes that litter the uneven pavement. A warm glow of light pools out from the windows where families are gathered, but she ignores them and keeps walking. It doesn't take long to get out beyond that relatively small circle of safety. She wraps her jacket tighter around herself and blows out puffs of air that disappear quickly into the night. The sky is clouded and starless, although if she makes a point to look for it, she can find the steady on-and-off of the Hub's artificial heartbeat, its red pulse possibly the one thing that unites the entire city.
She walks underneath that steady, comforting light, matching her steps to its tempo, not feeling anything. It's only when it suddenly stops that she realizes what that must mean. Midnight. She's been out here for hours. Her parents must be worried. She stops walking, and her exhaustion catches up with her all at once, an ache in her legs, a heavy weight that drags her eyelids down. The train whistles pull her home, because, at least for tonight, she is not selfish enough to walk away.
Sunlight streams into her bedroom far sooner than she's ready for it. She groans, rolling over and blinking her eyes open, but her body will not allow anything as self-indulgent as remaining in bed. She strips yesterday's clothes off and drops them carefully into the basket of laundry she will wash later, then takes a quick shower under lukewarm water and dresses. Her parents have already gone to work, another thing to feel guilty about. It was her turn to make breakfast. She finds a bowl of fruit and a full coffeemaker waiting for her in the kitchen, with a note from her mother that manages to convey worry with no words other than "Good Morning."
Beatrice pours herself a mug of coffee, black, the only way it's offered in Abnegation, and drains it without tasting anything. She fills her bag with food and clothes for the factionless and heads out, grateful that the service hours required by her initiation process will keep her too busy to think, and that the norms of her community will prevent most people from trying to talk to her. She sleepwalks through the day, through dinner with her family, letting the habits ingrained in her carry her, shrugging off questions. She could do this, fall into the role everyone expects of her until she forgets why it doesn't work. But her stomach churns with the same general anxiety that's haunted her for most of her life, sharpened into one word that stabs her every time she allows herself to think about it. Divergent. No matter how desperately she tries, her Abnegation eyes are drawn to the lights of the passing trains, searching for some kind of color, something to pull her up before she drowns in the neverending gray. She wonders if this is how Caleb felt, what might have happened if either of them had been brave enough to talk about it. Is he... Divergent, too? Or has he always known where he belonged, and known it wasn't here?
She shakes her head, and makes a decision, the same one she repeats every day: today is not the day she leaves, but it's not the day she stays either.
She stuffs her knuckle into her mouth and chews on it as she walks, shadowed by the train tracks that run above her head. She follows them, even without meaning to.
"Beatrice." She spins around, her heart beating faster, a smile illuminating her face for the first time all day. Tobias' presence recharges her, and she laughs, runs, dares him to follow her. She pulls herself up the rickety maintenance scaffolding to the overhead tracks. Tobias follows, slower, carefully. He hovers nervously, a step or two behind her, as she balances along the metal catwalk.
"You okay?" she laughs, hopping from tie to tie. She is not supposed to do this. Tobias won't care.
He nods, but the motion looks uncertain, like he has to force himself to make it, and his eyes are still wide, trained on the open space beyond the track, the gaps she jumps over without fear. Beatrice frowns, suddenly, belatedly, aware that he really isn't okay.
Tobias blows out a breath and picks out a careful path to the narrow concrete slab where she waits. When he sits down beside her, he pulls his feet up against his chest and stares over the edge. "I just don't like heights, okay," he snaps, his voice turning the admission into a challenge, daring her to say something about it.
She wonders how she's never noticed before. Nearly every time she's met him, it's been in the places where she feels free: rooftops, construction scaffolding, and the empty tracks of the L.
She shrugs, and jumps down, landing roughly but catching herself with a grin. She grounds herself before she can regret it, because she may be comfortable up there, but he isn't. And she wants him to feel safe, with her, as safe as she feels with him.
Tobias climbs carefully down the ladder and glares at her. "You're insane," he accuses.
"Look who's talking."
She'd meant for it to come off as a lighthearted joke, like his, but there is a sharp edge of accusation to the remark.
"Still think I should've joined Dauntless, do you? Because it's so fucking brave to run away."
"You think the shit you pull is brave? How..." she draws in a deep, shaky breath. "What happened last night?" she manages to ask, with a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"It wasn't... bad," Tobias insists, stumbling just slightly over the words.
"Tobias..."
"For fuck's sake, Beatrice. You're not my mother!"
The word explodes between them, like a firework, like the crack of a belt. The void of silence left behind squeezes her chest so tightly she chokes on it. Tobias stares at her, neither one of them will look away.
His mouth is still slightly open, as though he can't quite believe what he just said. Evelyn Eaton died when Tobias was nine years old, and in the nine years sine then, Beatrice has not heard a single person talk about her. Especially not Tobias.
Abnegation instinct tells her to apologize, but this isn't her fault.
"I care," she says instead. "I care about you." Tears sting her eyes as she launches all of her anger and fear directly at him. She can't keep it bottled anymore, it'll rip her apart. Maybe Tobias is right, maybe he is braver than she is. Because she should stop, and she knows it, but she can't. Maybe she'd have fit in as a Candor after all. "You sure as hell don't make it easy, but I do," she mutters. Her gaze has dropped away from him, to the weed-strewn lot at the borderline of the factionless sector, just across the broken street from where they stand. "It's a damn good thing one of us does," she snaps, to the graffiti-strewn concrete wall.
"You think I don't care?" Tobias demands. His voice is quiet, but it holds her. She couldn't walk away if she wanted to, and her stomach clenches, because she's heard that tone before. He sounds like his father.
"I don't know what to think," she admits.
She needs to move, to get away from him, to get away from this. She walks without caring where she's going, feeling Tobias' eyes on her the entire time. She wants him to walk away, she wants him to follow her... she doesn't know what she wants. She's always been better at asking questions than answering them.
"Beatrice, wait." She stops, immediately, her heart sinking as she does so. Following orders. She's more Abnegation than she thought. Tobias fumbles for something hidden beneath his loose-fitting, dark gray jacket. The bottle, hidden inside it's crumpled paper wrapper, draws her eye immediately. Smooth, heavy glass, reflecting the city lights.
"Is it good?" she asks warily.
Tobias laughs, a sudden, genuine burst of sound that startles her. He shakes his head. "No," he tells her honestly. "It's awful. But I bet you'll like it anyway."
He offers her the bottle, since they have nothing to pour the liquor into. She copies his movements, tilting it back to let the drink slide down her throat, until she nearly chokes. Her eyes water, and she grips the bottle tightly and glares at Tobias. But the alcohol fills her with a warmth that starts from the middle of her belly, and spreads. Tobias wraps his arms around her and she leans against his strong chest, neither of them caring about the rules against this as they pass the bottle back and forth.
"Still think you belong in Abnegation?" he teases, as the world spins around her.
"Do you?" she retorts.
He shrugs, and throws the bottle against the concrete as hard as he can. It shatters, sending shards of glass to rain down over their booted feet.