"Tobias... your financial information came in this week for the payment plan we talked about. Why didn't you tell me that you've got a lot of money sitting in the bank?" By the end of her inquiry, his back is rigid and his dark blue eyes are icy. "I don't have money."

"You have plenty. You recently won two very big settlements, and they are being deposited into—"

"I'm done here," he says shortly. He stands up and stalks out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

"Tobias? Hey, I—what's wrong? I thought you weren't coming home for an hour..."

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"O-Okay, then," Tris stammers, confused. "Um, dinner?"

"No."

Tris watches him stomp into the bedroom, confused. He'd seemed cautiously optimistic when he left for therapy earlier. She rubs her growing belly, and her little one thumps against her hand in response. That always makes her feel better.

She goes into the bedroom after him, slipping in quietly and closing the door. He's sitting on the bed, head in his hands. She carefully grabs his wrists, setting his hands on her waist. She pushes back on his shoulders until he straightens, and then she sits in his lap. They always sat like this during their visits when he was still in prison. She had thought that his moods and unwillingness to talk about his problems would go away now that he wasn't there anymore. But something that has been ingrained in a personality for so long doesn't just go away overnight, and she wonders if this slight reminder of when things were simpler between them will make him feel more comfortable.

Regardless, she knows that he won't talk when he's brooding like this. So she waits. Kisses his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. And waits. Her hand massages his tricep, and her other hand gently kneads the knots out of his neck and shoulders. She smiles when he finally buries his face in her shoulder, indulging himself in her comfort. He inhales deeply, and she feels the tension finally drain from him.

She still waits; if she asks first, he might angry again.

After another moment, he finally speaks. "The therapist asked me about payment today," he mumbles. "She knows about... about the settlements. She wants me to use that money to pay."

"And what do you want?"

"To forget it exists," he snaps. "I don't want Janine Matthews's blood money. I'm not a Dauntless anymore. I... don't think I ever was."

"I never saw it like that," Tris says thoughtfully. "But I guess I understand where that could be... upsetting."

"I hate that I even have it."

"Well then why'd you sue for it?"

"Because that bitch ruined my life," he snaps. "She killed people and..."

"And she owed you," Tris says.

Four looks up at her.

"It isn't... blood money. It's... something she and her blasted company owed you for what they did. Don't you think?"

"Then why does it feel like she's somehow paying me off from beyond the grave?"

"Why does it bother you so much that you feel like she is? I mean, she's not. But if she were, why is that a bad thing?"

"Because I don't work for her anymore. I'm through with her, her traitorous asshole son, and Dauntless, and prison, and everything! I wish I'd never met any of them!"

"Well look... just cause you have the money doesn't mean you work for her. It's actually quite the opposite. I mean... Janine's company paid you because she messed with your life, killed someone you cared about and made you take the fall for it. They paid you because they know what happened to you was so, so very wrong. That's all it is, okay?"

He frowns, and his shoulders sag. "It doesn't seem that simple."

"We'll get through this, you know."

He smiles into her skin, kissing her neck. "Optimism."

"That's right."

"I'm trying," he says, and his voice is sad. "I'm trying as hard as I can."

"Okay, well... not to put the pressure on, but my brother and Christina brought up points that we need to talk about."

"Such as?"

"We have barely got a nursery set up. We need a car to get the baby to and from appointments—and I know I've been dragging my feet on that, but... we really can't anymore. And... once you're in school, you're going to have to cut your work hours, and I won't really be—"

"I get it. Besides, there's the issue of how I'm going to pay for school too. I just... dammit, I just don't want to be the spoiled rich asshole my father was, okay? I... I didn't work for that money. All I did was sign for it. I want... I want to work for what we have."

She smiles widely. "I have an idea, if you're interested."

He looks up at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"Let's hire somebody... like, a professional financial adviser or something. And have them invest some of the money you got from your settlements, so it isn't like you're just wasting it like a spoiled rich person, you're actually putting it to work. Then, you can put some more of it in to like an emergency fund. A savings account where it accrues interest, so that it keeps growing in the case that one or both of us ends up sick or out of work or something. The rest of it we can use to buy a house and cars and for you to go to school... maybe, you can use some to open your own bar someday, like we talked about, remember?"

He nods thoughtfully. "That sounds like a solid plan, I think."

"And... also, pay for therapy."

His jaw tenses just a little bit, but then he gives her a sheepish look. "I guess I owe Dr. Poehler an apology, don't I?"

She smiles. "I know this is weird for you. But yes, you need to apologize. And then you need to get to work on that stuff we just talked about so that we can really start the rest of our lives off right."

He hums thoughtfully against her skin, distracting her entirely from her train of thought. He smirks when he feels her shudder, and next she feels his tongue dance over the skin on her neck. "You still like distracting me from serious conversations with sex, don't you?" she mumbles.

He shrugs, unrepentant. "Maybe I like lightening the mood."

"I love you, and you're sexy, but we have to talk about this."

"Well, we're in agreement. If you want, I will buy you a car. This weekend, even. That mustang that you designed online, plus, if you want, a car that would be for you and the baby."

"Well, we have to hire the—"

"I have tomorrow off. I'll look into it then. Maybe Christina can help."

"Christina has court in the afternoon, try to catch her in the morning."

He nods and licks her skin again. "Is the serious conversation over yet?"

She laughs and lets him lay her down on the bed.

When Zeke 'The Rock' Pedrad first met Four, he was quiet and moody. When he found Four in prison, nearly seven years after he went in for murder, he was very much the same. Brooding, silent. Intimidating. But Zeke knew better. They'd been friends for a while, and he knew that Four did shots with the best of them, cracked jokes like a regular comedian, got business done like he professional he was. Four was practically the ideal Dauntless. Fearless, intelligent, intimidating, unyielding. He should have been the one nicknamed 'Rock' but alas, he'd already been given a freakier name. Not that being called a number was scary, but the fact that the guy got stabbed four times and didn't even blink was sort of frightening. And that he managed to walk several miles until he reached a hospital. He had a feeling Four could get his throat cut out and live to tell.

In his mind, the bloodied throat morphs from pale skin to olive skin; blue eyes turn brown, short hair lengthens into the mass of curls his brother always had. When he was little, he used to tell Uriah that he looked like a Chia pet.

He swallows. He doesn't want to blame Four and his girlfriend for his brother's death, but some part of him can't help it. If he'd just kept his mouth shut... no. Four didn't deserve to be in this hell hole. He does, but not Four. Four didn't do anything wrong. They were just trying to do the right thing. Uriah died trying to do the right thing. He wants to be proud of them. Instead, he's just... sad.

He fights back tears. Christina said that, per Uriah's will (Uriah had a will? What the fuck, he was only twenty-eight! What single 28 year old has a will?) the ownership of Pedrad Custom Auto Mechanics had been transferred to him. He had thought constantly about selling it, but he couldn't do it. It was all he had of his brother. Today he would find out if he could reopen his brother's business or if he would have to leave it empty.

He shuffles into the hearing room, wrists cuffed in front of him, head down. He wants this to be over already. He sits in his designated chair, stares at the table, and waits. Other people shuffle in; he hears the clicking steps that belong to the fancy shoes of the people on the parole board. He hears the heavy, boot-clad steps of guards and officers. He listens with a heavy heart for the familiar steps that would belong to his brother, but he knows he will never hear those again. Instead, there are quiet dress shoes and the sharp clicking of heels. He looks around, questioningly, and then hurries to stare back down at the desk again. Four and his girl are here. Are they here for him? Will they speak for him? His mother came to the only other parole hearing he's had, but that was a while ago. He doubted Ma would come today; she probably blames him for Uri being gone.

He wants to cry again, but he restrains himself. Maybe if he looks just sorry and depressed enough, they'll let him out of here so he can mourn his brother in peace.

Four looks different. He looks... younger. His hair is just long enough to start to curl now, and his expression is a different type of calm than normal. It isn't stiff and intimidating like his normal expression; it is collected and peaceful. Well, he's glad that at least one of them has their shit together.

He studies the girl carefully. She's short, with long, blonde hair. She's clearly pregnant, although probably not ready to pop like most people usually picture pregnant girls, with stomachs out to here and a strange gait to accommodate the extra weight that is settling uncomfortably between their legs. She is rubbing her round stomach anxiously. Four's hand is at the small of her back, and he whispers something to her. She visibly relaxes and smiles at him gratefully.

Her eyes are strange. They are blue-gray, almost white, but dark at the same time. She meets his gaze evenly for only a moment, and then her eyes water and she looks down. In that second, he knew he'd never blame her for what had happened. He watches her tears fall, and his own vision blurs in response. He closes his eyes for a moment and focuses back on the desk.

The meeting is called to order, and people speak about his behavior during his time in this hellhole. People that were affected by his crimes speak against him. When it's time for someone to speak for him, he sees her stand.

Her words go completely unheard. He watches her talk as if the whole world were underwater. She's saying something about his baby brother, but like hell if he knows what. Her voice is clear and strong, even though her face is red and kind of splotchy with tears. Finally she sits, wiping at her face with the back of her hands. Four kisses her temple before he stands.

He listens with amazement as Four pours out more of his thoughts and feelings in three minutes than he has in the past ten or eleven years or whatever, and he reads the sincerity in his face and posture. "I miss my friend," Four concludes, his voice more tightly controlled than he's ever heard—a sign that he's getting emotional. "I know him well, and I've known him since before we were inmates, and I know that he has changed for the better."

He looks down again. He hopes that Four is right.

"So do we finally have a verdict?" Four asks impatiently.

Tris giggles. "Let her talk, will you?"

"Okay, okay." He makes a show of zipping his lips and tossing the key away.

The nurse laughs. "We've only tried to see the gender once. This little one was hiding before, but I've got a good view now."

"And?"

"Congratulations," the nurse says. "You have a boy. See, here? And right there." Tris tries to contain herself, to keep still long enough for the sonogram technician to take the necessary stills and make her notes, but as soon as she is released, she shrieks and launcher herself into Four's arms.

He holds her close, but he isn't smiling.

"Tobias?" She looks up at him questioningly. "Hey... what's wrong?"

He shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Nothing. This is just... overwhelming."

"Yeah, kind of. We have to start setting up stuff!"

He finally laughs. "We haven't even closed on a house, Little Sparkler."

"But... we will. I mean, you talked to the financial adviser, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. Everything should go through for the end of the week, and then we should have the budget for a house in a good neighborhood. Okay?"

"And what did Danielle say?"

"We'll talk about it at home, okay?"

"Well, okay." She is quiet as they leave the doctor's office, and most of the way home, and when she speaks again, Four is surprised at the tone of her voice. "I... can I ask you something?"

"Anything, baby," he says, is eyes concerned.

"What do you think about Uriah Caleb?"

He smiles at her, rubbing her belly. "It's perfect."

"Uriah Caleb Johnson."

"I love it, baby."

"You do?"

Four's smile is sad. "I... I know that he meant a lot to you, and I know you miss him. He'd be thrilled that we're naming our son after him. Thrilled and honored."

Tris smiles too, even though tears have gathered in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Of course."

"So... in other news, we're having a boy. Uriah Caleb Johnson, that's the name we picked."

"Congratulations," Danielle says, smiling. "Uriah Caleb, huh?"

"Yeah. Uriah was one of her closest, most trusted friends. You know, she didn't even want to replace her car because she didn't want to get a new mechanic. And, you know... Caleb... well, I think she always thought she'd name a son after her brother."

"And you're okay with the choice?"

"Of course. I like the name. Plus, it means a lot to her, and I want her to be happy. And it means a lot to me that she's had people in her life like Uriah. I... I never met him personally, but he seemed like the kind of person that, if I'd known him before I went to prison, I might not have ended up there."

"How is she handling it?"

He shrugs. "She spends a lot of time with her art. A lot of it has to do with him, these days. But she's excited too. I left her drawing studies of herself through the pregnancy."

"She's dealing with it in a positive way, then."

"I suppose."

"And you? Do you still have nightmares about your time in Dauntless?"

He swallows. "Um... sometimes. I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay," she says easily. "Then let's talk about how you handle it when they happen."

He shrugs. "I wake up. Sometimes Tris is awake... she'll talk to me until I'm calm again. Otherwise I just go in the kitchen. Drink a glass of water. Go back to sleep. I'm not going to lie, they... they bother me, a lot, and I..." He draws a breath to steady himself. "I wake up, and she's there, and she is alive, and everything is okay again. I just... need to keep telling myself that everything is okay when I wake up."

"And how well is that working for you?" At his uncomfortable silence, she smirks a little bit. "Well, our time is up. I know you aren't ready to talk about your nightmares yet, but next week we'll talk a little bit about how to help you with these dreams more. We'll have to talk about them eventually. But for the next couple of sessions, we'll just focus on what happens when you wake up and preparing you to talk about what happens in them, okay?"

He nods slowly.

"Hey, congratulations on your boy."

He nods, but doesn't say anything.

Danielle sits back down. "What is it?"

He shakes his head. "No... not yet."

She nods. "Okay. I will see you next week."

"See you next week."

"Um... hi. Tobias had to work, so..."

"Right."

Tris studies the man in front of her nervously. He has dark olive skin, sad, brown eyes and hair cropped so short it's almost like a military style. His arms are huge, and so are his shoulders. If she saw him on the street and didn't know him, she would probably cross the street to get away.

His huge shoulders are slumped, and his eyebrows are drawn together. "You guys really don't mind me crashing your place for a while?"

"Not at all." We owe you, she wants to say, but she bites her lip and clamps her jaw shut.

"Thanks."

She gives him a tentative smile, which he returns just as awkwardly.

They ride in silence to the apartment in Christina's car, which Tris borrowed for the occasion. When they arrive at the apartment, Tris shows him around. "So, this is where you'll be staying. Our room is right here, and this is the bathroom. I'm going to make dinner for us, but Tobias won't be back until after midnight, so..."

"Um, actually I'm not that hungry."

"Oh—okay. Well, I'll be down the hall, if you need me, and... stuff." She beats a hasty retreat, relieved to have the awkwardness end, but his voice stops her.

"Uh... Tris?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

She nods. "Any time, Zeke."

He watches her retreat and sits down on the couch in front of the television. He watches for a while, not particularly interested. Instead, he's more interested in the soft music coming from somewhere. He finally turns off the TV and goes to investigate.

He gently knocks on the door, and when he hears no response, he slips in quietly. This room is mostly empty, except for the island-like table in the middle, an easel, and Tris, sitting on a stool with one foot on the ground and the other hooked in one of the bars. Her hand moves gracefully across the page in front of her, and he realizes that it is soot black. "What the hell?" He can't stop the words from escaping his lips.

She jumps, her eyes wide as they fly to his. Then he notices that they are red rimmed and glassy. She was crying. "Did you need something?" she asks hoarsely.

"Are you okay?"

She nods, smiling a little bit. "Um... yeah. I was just finishing a charcoal drawing."

"Can I see?" He moves further into the room, standing behind her. "Whoa," he whispers.

She sniffs. "He was dancing with this girl he had a massive crush on... Marlene. I don't think I'd ever seen him smile so much since I'd known him."

"I-It looks... just like him."

She looks down. "I was... drawing it for you."

He frowns. "What? Why me?"

"Because..." she swallows. "It's my fault he's gone..."

Zeke shakes his head. "No." He wishes he could sit down, but there are no other stools or chairs around. He decides to just sit on the ground. "I... I wanted to blame you. And Four. I mean... I think about it, and to be honest, I still get mad. But you know what? Uri always said that you were his best girl, his baby sister, and that he loved you. I... don't think we'll ever know what happened for him to end up dead, but I'm willing to bet that it was because he didn't want you to get hurt. He cared about you, and that means that he fought for you. And you were doing the right thing, and I can't... I can't blame you for that. For doing the right thing." He glances up at her. "You don't regret it, do you? Getting Four out of jail."

She shakes her head.

He shrugs. "Then it was the right thing to do. And I know my baby brother enough to know that he wouldn't have fought for you if it weren't right."

"Thank you," she whispers after a long silence.

He climbs to his feet and kisses the crown of her head.

whoa. Heavy shit right? I finally decided about the first child. Uriah Caleb Johnson is the name they chose for their soon-to-be-arriving baby boy. What do you think?

Four's getting his act together in therapy and promised to work on his money problems, hired a financial consultant, is getting ready to tackle his issues head on. But what's the deal? Why is he so damn hesitant about Tris's pregnancy all of a sudden?

Zeke is out of jail. He's out on parole, and he's going to have a heck of a time readjusting to the outside world, especially now that he can't rely on his baby brother... or can he?

Super thanks for all of your patience and encouraging notes as you waited for this update. Hope it was worth the wait.

~temporary insanity.