Author's Note: Hola my friends and anyone who still hangs with the Divergent fandom! Sorry for my absence, sorry for the not so interesting update, sorry for being a goob. I love you all so very much and smile like an idiot every time I get that ding on my email telling me that you guys are STILL reading this story. I can not thank each and every one of you enough for how much you make my life better. I love you all, thanks for sticking with this, and I will try to be more active from now on!

(Also, guess who just finished their first year of college! And by just, I mean a month ago! ))))

Also, if you have any ideas – through 'em at me!

LOVE YOU, PLS REVIEW MY LOVES!

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, my dudes. There are beautiful instances in this world, like cake and sunsets and the smell after it rains, but me writing something as badass as Divergent would require a miracle times 10.

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"Come back to bed."

It's a quiet request, but a firm one. Tobias turns from his position in front of the window, his strong arms gently pulling his crutches along with him.

Tris stands wrapped up in the comforter from their bed, head tilted in concern. Tobias watches as her hair almost shifts colors with the moonlight falling onto her face. He's still mesmerized by the sight of her, and the way her eyes dance against the darkness in the room around her makes him fall just a little more in love.

"Come back to bed," she murmurs again, the frown on her face deepening as a draft sweeps through the living room. She pulls the covers closer to her body, the fabric molding to her frame, and Tobias quickly closes the gap between the two of them.

Tris lets her head fall against Tobias's broad chest – lets her eyes fall closed as she feels the steady thump thump thump of his heart against her cheek.

The break-in had left the two of them weary at best, both of them coping in different ways. Tris hadn't let Theo sleep anywhere but in their room, and Tobias always found himself peering out the damn window every night, retracing his steps from that day, wondering how on earth someone could have blown past the security measures he himself had programed into the system.

It's a cycle of worry – a pattern of sleepless nights and tension filled days – and Tris swears Tobias has become a bit of an insomniac with the amount of work and training he'd been submerging himself in. Tobias can see the toll it takes on Tris, too, and his heart clenches as he feels her yawn against his chest.

"C'mon," he murmurs, lips pressed in her hair, "Let's go to bed."

He leads her to their room and pulls her into him, hissing at the way her cold feet feel against his own. She lets out a small snort and Tobias smiles into her neck, and it's the sound of her breathing and the feel of her pressed against him that pulls his eyes shut for what feels like the first time in a long time.

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Tris is only half awake when she hears Tobias's voice. It's distant – almost as if she were underwater – and for a second she's and initiate discovering her fear landscape for the first time and she's drowning, and it's dark, and she can't breath - ,

She starts, bolting up right, taking in large, ragged breaths. Her head is on her knees and she's counting each breath and she's too preoccupied with pulling air into her lungs that she completely misses Tobias's quiet muttering and the muffled agreement of a familiar voice through the phone.

"Tris?" Tobias's hand is on her back, and she feels the bed dip as he sinks down on the bed. "Tris, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, a little too enthusiastically, managing a "Nothing, nothing. Just a stupid dream," before raising her eyes to face a weary Tobias.

It's become a sort of game between the two of them to see who could have the most nightmares a week, and Tris only prays she's winning because while her nightmares leave her shaking and gasping for air, Tobias's find him delving into the darkest corners of his mind.

He has a small frown tugging on his lips, carving crevices in his face, but Tris has come to learn that it's one of his best manicured features, and she presses a small kiss to his cheek before sliding off the bed and striding over to Theo.

"What's on the schedule today, Captain?"

Tris offers her husband a small grin and a quirked eyebrow, trying to pull his mind away from whatever is leaving a worried expression plastered on his face. She sees a flash of a smile flutter across his features as the baby on her hip makes grabby hands for him, and she settles Theo into his father's arms before throwing herself back down on the bed.

"Well my darling," Tobias starts just as sarcastically, lifting Theo up and blowing on his tiny tummy, "Since it's only 5 in the morning, you should go back to bed."

Tris makes a sound of protest, but she and Tobias both know that she isn't the type of person to turn down any sort of sleep, pregnant or not. She settles for staring up at Tobias – at the small baby in his arms – and follows the way the muscles in her husband's arms work as he bobs their son up and down.

Tobias watches Theo too – watches how he grabs at his pointer finger – and he's entranced by how strong his small grip is. Theo pulls his father's hand towards his mouth, and Tobias can't help but let out a small laugh at the way Theo gnaws enthusiastically on his finger. It's wet and slobbery and his hand is all twisted up from the angle Theo's pulling from, but he swears it's best thing in the world. Tobias lets his thumb brush back and forth against Theo's chubby cheek and Tris reaches up to poke at the other.

"He's so chubby." Tris props herself up on her elbows, lips spreading wide in a smile as Theo turns to face her. "Look at his little rolls."

Tobias does, at he can't help the way his grin widens and his chest floods with warmth.

"My boobs did that."

Tobias laughs loudly, nearly scaring Theo, and he tilts his head to his wife.

"They did," she insists, nodding at him with wide, serious eyes. "He was so tiny when he came out." Her voice softens as she stares at her son. "And now look at him. He's a pudge ball. All because of my boobs. I swear I think they're magical or something.

"Oh, they definitely are."

Tris falls back to the with a laugh, giving Tobias's arm a small squeeze.

He looks back at her, admiring the way her hair falls around her face like a halo, and for the first time in a long time, he feels somewhat at ease.

Tris can feel it too, but where Tobias has learned to take each emotion as they come, she finds that happy feelings run tangled with bad ones, and she closes her eyes as she tries to push the sensation of an impending catastrophe out of her head.

Tobias sits there for a few more minutes, gently rocking Theo and watching the rise and fall of his wife's chest. She's showing, he can see that, but the bump is still so small that if he didn't know he could easily misjudge it as a trick of the light.

She's asleep again – he can tell from the way the worry has smoothed itself from her features – and his quietly places Theo back into the crib before throwing the comforter over her. Half of him wants to crawl back into bed with her – circle his arms around her and breathe her in and block out all the fucked up things going on.

He's always been a bit of a masochist, though, and soon enough he's pulling away from the little family he and Tris had made from scratch and out the door to the training room.

Because, while Tris finds comfort in being tucked away from everything going on outside of their little, self-made home, Tobias craves the burn of his fists against a punching bag – anything, really, to release the tension that has been twining itself around his body like shackles.

It's bad enough that he can't go on runs like he used to – bad enough that he can barely move his bad leg without wanting to just stab a dose of morphine into his body. Leave it to the world's fucked up sense of humor to also instigate the chain of furtive and dangerous events that have been unfolding around the compound.

And Marcus.

That had sucked.

Tobias shakes his head as he pushes into the training room. He's glad to see it's empty, and he forgoes flipping the light switch, letting the dark wash over him as he lets the crutches fall to his side and rely on his own balance and good will to keep him from falling.

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Tobias collapses against the wall near the door of the training room, body dripping with sweat as he slowly sinks down to the ground with a sigh of relief. His good leg burns from the weight of keeping his body upright, and it's with a determined frown and a stone will that he manages to settle himself on the ground without screwing it up even more.

In hindsight, the whole workout idea was not his best one, but he's had dumber ones before – especially with Zeke – so he pushes down the guilt he feels in his stomach and instead focuses on the pain radiating in his leg.

Tobias glances around the room, his eyes training in on the punching bag that is still swaying with a steady creak creak, and he follows the almost therapeutic motion back and forth.

A few minutes pass like that before Tobias snaps from his daze, glancing around the room in front him.

It's dark, that much he can see.

Yet it's only when a water bottle comes flying at his face that he realizes there's someone else in the room with him – only when he hears the muffled footfalls that he recognizes another body settling itself down next to him.

Tobias can feel his heart leap out of his chest. In the time he's lived in the Dauntless compound, he's only been startled a handful of times, and about ninety nine percent of those times were Theo related.

"Glad to see your reflexes aren't declining with old age."

The other one percent came from his bad habit surrounding himself with idiots.

Eric's voice is sharp and sardonic against the silence of the room, and Tobias rolls his eyes so hard that he can almost feel them snap into a permanent stand still facing the ceiling.

"I'm the same age as you."

Tobias turns his head from the tattered and worn walls, eyes falling once again on the steady sway of the punching bag. He hates the way the ache in his leg washes over him far more than any other bodily pain he's endured, and he can't help but feel agitated at the way Eric bobs his knee up and down from his slouch against the wall.

"Mate, you've got a kid. That ages you like, what, fifteen years? You're lucky your metabolism's not shot yet."

Tobias snorts, the closest to a laugh that he'll give Eric, and finishes off his water in a few quick gulps. He grabs the bottom of his shirt, mopping the sweat on his face, and turns to look at Eric's dark profile.

Somewhere between the train crash and now, Eric and Tobias had formed some companionable bond. It isn't exactly friendship – Tobias still can't stand the idea of spending an afternoon talking sports or drinking beers with the guy – but it's something so far from their initial dance of disdain and anger that Tobias is convinced they are falling dangerously close to the "friend from work" category.

"I'm actually younger than you," Tobias says, brushing over Eric's words as he racks his memory for the listing of initiate birthdates that had been posted back when he transferred.

Eric just rolls his eyes this time, folding his arms across his chest as he looks ahead to the same punching bag. Tobias takes this time to glance over at him, his eyebrow raising in question. It's not exactly a scenario he ever thought he would picture himself in.

It's almost comical, in fact, the way they sit so casually slumped against the training room walls. Tris had kept a hand pressed against Tobias's forehead the first time she had seen him offer an almost amiable nod in Eric's direction, convinced he was coming down with a whole other sort of flu.

'It's not like he smiled at him, Tris.' Uriah had said.

Christina was the one to point out that any acknowledgement from Tobias that wasn't a brooding frown counted as him "damn near beaming, Tris, take him to the infirmary."

Yes, Tobias and Eric's budding acquaintance-ship was nothing short of unpredicted – Tobias could have sworn Eric was planning a genocide murder spree just a month ago - but it was one that he was certainly glad had come to be.

Because, sometime after he had reluctantly spoken with Eric about the break-in at his home, the two had become somewhere short of trusting of one another. It started with little things, like Eric holding the elevator for Tobias, or Tobias actually remembering to count Eric when it was his turn to grab coffee for meetings.

Soon enough it was an almost agreeable Eric that was confiding in Tobias about suspicious shipments that he had been told to sign off of from Erudite, and a fairly trusting Tobias asking Eric to review security footage with him from the night he and Tris had entered their home to find an open window.

Tobias doesn't dare to bring up anything within relevance of Divergents – he's not an idiot, regardless of Tris says– but the more and more he and Eric fall more away from enemies and closer to friends, he becomes more and more expectant to hear the topic slip from Eric's mouth.

Sure, Tobias still wants to bash Eric's smarmy, incorrigible face in whenever he says anything particularly too colorful, but Tobias also knows that some people are simply inherently git-prone, and that it isn't something entirely too easy to bash out of someone.

They chat for a bit, still only acknowledging each other in quick, condescending jabs, but there's an unspoken air of "truce" that wasn't present before, and while Tobias is glad it's there, he's also not too fond of the reason behind why it is there.

Erick makes a move to leave, but before he does, he slips something small out of his pocket and quickly slides it over to Tobias. His hands catch it before it hits his cast, and he looks to Eric in question as he makes out the object to be a small flash drive.

The heavily tattooed man opens his mouth to say something, but with the way his eyes flicker almost instantaneously from the security camera above the weight rack and back at Tobias, it's only a quick nod and a "9 A.M., all initiates in the Pit," that he gets.

Tobias stays there for a little while longer.

The painful throb in his leg becomes more and more present as the endorphins from working out slowly start to subside, and soon enough he's wishing he had listened to Tris and had seen a fucking therapist instead of punching out his emotions.

His deep breaths turn into a drawn out groan as he pulls himself up with the help of his crutches, and he clenches his jaw tight when he realizes that he does feel as if he's aged a 100 years.

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Dauntless always turns into a madhouse when it rains. Tobias wearily watches as the Pit slowly fills up, bunches of children filing into the compound with frowns etched deep into their faces. He sees the group of initiates – new Dauntless members, actually – flood into the Pit as well, and he's relieved to see Devina and Jordyn amongst the grumbling crew. They had been out "celebrating" their successful integration into the Dauntless community, and Tobias knew full well what happened during those celebrations.

He doesn't know when he came to view the two as little sisters, but the way his fist clenches when he sees one of the former initiates – the boy from Jordyn's fear landscape - staring at Jordyn makes him realize that the transfer he could only wish would be thrown out of Dauntless is the same one he would now take a bullet for.

The boy catches Tobias's gaze, and quickly looks away when Tobias takes a step towards him.

If anyone else had found it odd that every initiate had made it into Dauntless, no one had said anything. And, while Tobias actually likes the fact that every initiate, sans one, has a home in the Compound, the new development of keeping all initiates isn't something to celebrate – he sees that in Eric's face at the celebration. Almost everything about Dauntless is changing and, if what Gwen was explaining at meetings had any truth to it, then the other factions are too.

His hand palms at the flash drive that sits in his pocket, and for a second he is so wrapped up in all the doom and gloom of the ever crumbling world around him that he almost misses the flash of familiar blond hair – of an unmistakable set of eyes.

Even though they are set deeply into the face of an older man with a permanent crinkle around their corners, there's no mistaking the way they glint grey in the dim light of the Pit. They're Tris's – or identical to hers, at least – and Tobias doesn't miss the way his heart speeds up with nerves nor the way his hands start to sweat when he realizes that he's meeting Tris's parents, officially, for the first time.

It's comical, almost, the way he stands with his feet rooted to the floor, thoughts of "Holy fuck I hope they like me" running wild behind the stoic expression he maintains for the rest of the world.

In fact, if he could just shut out everything else going on right now, Tobias would almost feel normal.

Soon enough, though, he's swearing to himself because, while Eric had promised to discretely transport Tris's parents to the compound by car – a favor Tobias can't thank enough – Eric still had to maintain the role of being somewhat of an ass.

They had a reputation to uphold, afterall.

Apparently letting Tris parents – Tris's clearly abnegation parents – wander the compound like hopelessly lost puppies amidst the swirling sea of drenched Dauntless members was his way of doing just that.

"That dick," Tobias mutters under his breath, eyes straining as he tries not to lose the Priors in the bashing and smashing of Dauntless adolescents. He finds Eric's face quickly – it's the only one that is looking directly at him with a smirk etched firmly into his face – and Tobias flips him off before stalking off in the direction he had seen Tris's parents disappear.

He mentally prays to whatever god is lounging up in the sky, undeniably thankful that he finally was able to ditch the crutches for good.

Tris had been a bit apprehensive about his metal supports going – something about him being ten times more reckless and thirty times more stupid without them.

Tobias had responded by spinning her around the living room that night, dancing to the quiet music flowing from Tris's little record player, smile so wide because he finally, finally could hold his wife close and tight without white hot pain searing through his body.

Sure, Tobias was in a hell of a lot of pain after that, Tris bringing him a glass of water and painkillers with a humorous "I told you so" plastered on her flushed face, but if the smile that stayed planted on her face the rest of the night wasn't worth it, he doesn't know what is.

Tobias rounds the corner of the compound, nearly colliding with a whirl of grey. He's steadying himself against the wall before he realizes who it is, and when he does it's like he's a little boy again, surrounded by larger figures in black and the distant sobbing of family friends claiming how much they had loved Evelyn Eaton.

The memories are gone in an instant though, because Tris's mom's smile is wide, and her eyes rake over Tobias's own face before gently pulling him into a hug.

"Hello Tobias."

It's a whisper, and it's not the name his goes by anymore – at least publicly – but its something that has always been linked to Tris ever since he met her and he feels his body fill with warmth.

"Mrs. Prior." He nods, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Call me Natalie, it seems we're family, after all."

Tris's father stands behind his wife, staring apprehensively at him. Tobias is taller than both of them, shoulders wide and chest broad, but he still feels like the small and vulnerable boy that had grown up craving a family like Tris's.

He knows that Tris's father still views him as a traitor to his faction – that, deep down, he blames Tobias for Tris's own inspiration to transfer factions.

Marcus had been friends with Andrew, after all, and from the little that Tris had divulged about her parents' views, he believed Erudites' accusations of Marcus was nothing but a bullshit political move.

It stings, sure, but not as much as a seething fist to the face, or a belt to the back.

Natalie nudges her husband, pulling him forward a bit and into the light.

It's only then that the two of them see the brace that runs menacingly up the entirety of Tobias's leg.

"What happened?" Mr. Prior's voice fills the empty hall.

"Train crash." Tobias's answer is short, his eyes flashing around the hallway for security cameras. He can see the way Mr. Prior's eyebrow arches upward, waiting for him to elaborate, but Tobias's quite "Not here," and the way his jaw clenches elicits a small nod from Tris's father.

Mr. Prior's eyes are still hard and his posture is anything but welcoming, but he still steps forwards and sticks out a hand.

"Andrew."

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Tris isn't home when Tobias's opens the door, and part of him is relieved. He's not ready to share Tris just yet – not ready to share his son – and even though he knows it's selfish he also knows there's a reason he left Abnegation.

He moves towards the living room, flipping on the lights and instinctively glancing to the large, round window behind the couch.

"Do you have pictures?"

Tobias turns to face Natalie, thoughts clouded and jumbled and all things unhinged.

"Huh?"

Natalie laughs at the blank expression on Tobias's face, and gestures towards the bookshelf.

"Do you have any pictures? Of Theo?"

His mind snaps clear at the mention of his son, and Tobias can't help the small smile that spreads across his lips.

"Course, upper left side," he says softly, nodding to the giant photo album Christina and Tris had set about compiling.

He watches as Natalie pulls the book from the shelf, brushing her fingers against the cover before slowly turning the pages.

He was terrified, when he first told Tris's parents about them being married – about Theo. He knew they were young. It never failed to surprise him how much growing up he still had to do in every new step he learned with Theo.

He thought they'd be angry, and with the way Andrew stands stone faced and apprehensive in the living room, he can see that he isn't exactly happy. But when his eyes fall on the photo of a newborn Theo, nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut, there's a smile spreading wide and fast across the older man's face, and Tobias knows his son has won him over.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face, and turns towards the kitchen. He stretches his arms out as he walks, broad shoulders burning with the motion, and leans against the counter top as he watches Tris's parents fawn over every picture.

The act is so normal – so mundane – that he's content for a moment, and he lets his mind drift off to Tris and Theo, to a little baby girl with bright grey eyes and a stubborn, pink pout, to tea parties and toy car raises, and millions of bath times and -,

BANG.

The door flies open, and Tris is standing there, arms full of squirming baby, face flushed and hair askew. She has an amused look on her face, and she rolls her eyes when Tobias raises his eyebrow in question.

"Quite an entrance, love."

"That," she starts, bending down to pick up the plastic bottle that had fallen to the ground, "Was your son. He's in a bad, bad mood." She smooches her face against Theo's cheek. "Gets it from you, apparently."

She bats away Tobias's hands when he tries to help her pick the bottle up, instead placing Theo into his waiting arms.

Tobias snorts when Theo calms down almost immediately, trading the flailing arms and angry glare for snatching at Tobias's finger. He pulls it into his small mouth and gnaws on it innocently, eyes wide and staring intently at his father.

"Traitor," Tris mutters, rolling her eyes at Tobias's wide smile. "Shauna thinks he's teething but - ,"

Tris's eyes go wide as her gaze falls on something behind Tobias, and for a second she's back in grey and feeding the factionless and giving up her seat to a stranger on the train.

Tobias can see the tears forming in her eyes, and as much as he wants to pull her into his arms, he knows that the comfort she has been craving for the past few weeks is something that he can't give her. So he sits there, arms cradled tightly around Theo, and watches as Tris's shoulders start to shake.

"Mommy?"

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