I am so so sorry it took so long to get this up! I have been so busy. But here you go :)

Note: I do not own the novels/world created by Veronica Roth.


It was so emotional to be in that room with my family. My father eventually broke down, bringing my body close to his, resting one hand on the back of my head, solid against his hard chest. I felt bad, I knew Marcus must be here, which meant for Tobias his tormenter could end up face to face with him by the time the day was out.

Every time there were footsteps out of the room, he would involuntarily flinch ever so slightly. You wouldn't pick it up unless you were watching closely. I couldn't take my eyes away from him. I was so thankful to him, from getting me away from my impending death. I was ninety percent sure that I was happy to be away from Eric's games. My mind still wandered to him. I reacted to him, with anger, hatred and sometimes with what I thought could be pleasure.

We crowded in the room with the cots, everyone seemed to be awake, hunched over in their cots as the sun rose outside. The attacks had calmed down after that night, the darkness was dangerous - more dangerous than the light. They plotted during the day, tended to their own soldiers. It was safer in broad daylight, something that was unusual. They didn't want to be spotted easily, I got told. It was more effective for an army to attack when light wasn't present, where we may not be prepared, sleeping in our beds. In prime position to be slaughtered.

A large steaming pot, filled with cabbage soup boiled over as the lid was lifted off. The smell wafted through the room, the grumble in my stomach showing just how hungry I had become. I needed more nutrients than normal but how was I meant to explain that? I didn't want to worry my parents, tell them I was carrying one of the enemies child. I could just imagine them breaking down, this wasn't how they wanted grandchildren. You never saw someone my age with a child, fresh out of initiation. That came when you were in your twenties. Heck, maybe it was different in Dauntless, where the old don't exist. I never once saw someone with even one grey strand in their hair.

Metal bowls clanked against the ladle as soup was poured slowly, one bowl at a time. We were all so eager to eat. There was a small portion of bread served with the soup, trying to bulk it out with what rations they had left. They had been reduced to raiding houses for food in the daylight.

Tobias came to sit beside me, carrying two bowls. Passing the first bowl to me, he organised the cutlery once he had settled in. I took the spoon to my mouth after filling it with the green hued water. It chunked against my teeth in my hurry to eat.

It was filling, warming my stomach. I let out a small sigh, the treatment here was such a stark difference to my refinement in Erudite. I had finished it within minutes, pushing the bowl to rest upon my knees. I looked around the room, the same urgency for food displaying on the faces of everyone here. It was a fear for when your next meal would be, or if you would even make it.

Tobias reaches out, quick as a flash, swapping my plate for his. His still contains around one third of the soup with a couple tears worth of bread. His fingers touch to his lips when I look sideways at Tobias, with a small smile on my lips. He has a mischievous smile.

I hope my smile to him says all the thank yous that I could ever create. He was always thinking of others - when he wasn't under a simulation. We hadn't yet talked together properly about the simulation, or what happened to me when he wasn't set to watch me as a guard.

"Eat up, Bea-Tris" my mother says, patting my soothingly on the back.

She comes to sit opposite is on the empty cot. Her bottom lip quivers. Her gaze turns to Tobias.

"It has been a long time since I last saw you. You looked so young at the choosing ceremony, yet your face was aged with all the trauma you had gone through."

Tobias keeps quiet. I know about his mother, how she died. It was very out of the ordinary when it first happened. The screams of his father in the street calling for help wasn't something that happened in our normal lives. But Tobias never had a normal life after that.

"Your father is here somewhere - Beatrice's father has collaborated with him on the fight against Erudite. You understand how much they can become ranting old men when they get talking about that faction," she says with a coy smile.

I try to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. My mind flashes back to the simulation, the sound of leather cracking against bare skin. I don't know how Tobias had remained so calm, not changing in posture. I certainly couldn't have if the tables had been turned. His hand is tight against the space between us in the bed, crinkling the fabric up under his fingers. My own hand finds his. He releases the tension in his hand, allowing our fingers to fit together. It is almost as if they were created for each other - molding in to each other perfectly.

"I'm sure he is far too busy to see me," I can almost here the words he refrains from saying. He so badly wants to say, 'and besides, I don't want to see him.' But Tobias would never be so rude, at least I could never imagine him being rude. He was so composed. Perhaps he would be rude to Eric if we ever saw him again.

"You are his son, he can make time." My mother says in a firm voice, that has an in approving tone to it - she doesn't approve of our fathers locking themselves away, or of the war.

"Thank you Mrs Prior but honestly, it's okay."

My mother purses her lips, her eyes narrowing at him with a strange scrutiny. She gets up, her eyes finding our hands cupped together. The strict face she just moments ago had, lightens.

"I always knew you were a good boy," she says in a motherly tone. "but don't hurt my daughter."


Are you happy for some FourXTris? :)