It took me several hours, but I finally found Tris, and it immediately explained why I couldn't find her – she'd snuck up to the roof. Obviously, she thought that my fear of heights would keep me from looking up there. Although I did make sure that she wasn't in the house before I checked up there, I'd had full intentions of checking up there. It was, after all, her own daughter's favourite place whenever she needed to calm down.

When I crawled out onto the roof, trying my best to ignore the way the wind kept trying to pull me towards the edge, I found Tris up there – completely oblivious to the fact that the wind had turned her blonde hair into a messy tangle that somewhat resembled a birds nest – looking at the photo album.

"So this is where you disappeared to," I said as I sat down beside her. Tris started – obviously she hadn't heard me approaching – and looked up, relaxing when she saw that it was me.

"Sorry," she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face as best as she could. "I just needed a little time to think."

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, wondering if she even heard it, or whether the sound had simply been lost in the wind.

"Yeah," Tris replied, shrugging her shoulders as she turned the page on the album. "It's just . . . it's impossible. It is completely impossible."

"It is possible," I said. "You have holes in your memory, Tris. Why can't this be something else you just don't remember?"

"Because I would remember something like that," Tris said, clearly irritated. "I would remember giving birth!"

I looked down. "You didn't."

All Tris' frustration with her memory melted away to confusion at my comment. "What?"

"Technically, you didn't give birth." I said. "From what Cara told me, by the time they got to you, you were already dead, but they could save Clara."

Tris' shoulders sagged in relief and she closed the photo album. "I thought I would remember that, too. Dying, I mean."

"That's what I don't get," I muttered, shivering against the cold air.

"What?" Tris asked.

As I stared out at the Chicago skyline, I leaned back on my hands. "I don't get it. You were dead, Tris. You died. Cara looked me in the eye and told me that you were dead." I swallowed thickly as Tris stared at the side of my face in shock. "They saved Clara from your body. I saw your body. I spread your ashes. What happened?"

Tris, at a loss for words, shook her head and stared out at the skyline. Her fingers tapped against the photo album as she muttered, over and over and over, "Serum. Serum. Serum. Serum." She was frowning at the skyline and suddenly her free hand slammed down against the roof as she cried, "Paralysis!"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"The paralysis serum that Peter used when Erudite tried to kill me." Tris said.

"Erudite tried to kill you on many occasions. You'll have to be more specific." I told her.

Tris didn't seem to get the joke and sighed. "When I went to Erudite Headquarters and they studied me and then they tried to kill me."

"Okay. What about the serum?"

"It made it seem as if I didn't have a pulse, Tobias. What if, whoever saved me used that on me?" Tris asked.

I considered it. It seemed to be a completely logical, educated theory.

"Cara," I said quietly, encircling my knees with my arms and interlocking my fingers. "If anyone in Chicago would know what happened, it would be Cara."

Tris nodded, and as if she could read my mind, which was telling me to go breaking down Cara's door, even at two o'clock in the morning, said, "We'll go and see her tomorrow. There's no point in doing it now."

I nodded, and after that, we were both silent for a long time. Even the wind had died down, so that the only sound in the still night air was the sounds of our breathing, until I asked softly, "Do you remember being pregnant?"

"Now that I know that I was . . . yeah, I do. It's weird. It's like I have to wait for someone to tell me that something actually happened for me to remember it. And I think not knowing that I was pregnant . . . that stopped me from remembering a lot of things." She hesitated. "Does Clara know? About me."

I shook my head. "No. I keep . . . I keep telling myself that as soon as you knew, I'd tell her, but . . . Clara's difficult. You have to pick the right time or she'll take it the wrong way and be your enemy for months. Not that it'll make much difference."

Tris looked over at me, her eyes bright in the moonlight. "Can you tell me about her? I have a daughter and I . . . I know absolutely nothing about her."

I struggled to find the right words. "Clara is . . . like I said, she's difficult. She doesn't really think before she speaks, and she tends to get in fights a lot at school."

Tris laughed. "She sounds like a Dauntless."

"She's Divergent, actually." I said.

"What?" Tris asked, turning to look at me. "How would they know that?"

"Matthew and Caleb, back when we were still rebuilding the city, they produced this test. It's kind of like the aptitude test, but it's designed to determine whether or not you're Divergent. It's compulsory for the eighth grade to take it."

"But why – "

"It's good to know who is and isn't Divergent, Tris." I pointed out.

Tris lifted one shoulder into a shrug. "So Clara's headstrong and she's Divergent."

"She also doesn't like me very much."

Tris laughed, but then stopped when she realised that I wasn't. "You're joking. She has to love you, Tobias. You're her father."

"You're her mother and she doesn't love you," I said.

"Yes, but I haven't lived with her, clothed her, fed her and protected her for the past sixteen years," Tris pointed out.

"I also can't get it through my head that she isn't a little girl who needs protecting anymore and that she's old enough to make her own decisions," I shot back.

"If she really felt that way, she wouldn't have called you when Marcus showed up here," Tris said calmly.

I had no clue what I was supposed to say to that.