A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! As a reminder to anyone who might not remember, the Amity bake peace serum (which is essentially pot) into their bread. At this point in the story, Tris and Tobias don't know that, but you can definitely see the effect on Tobias' mood across the chapters they're in Amity.
"Insurgent" Chapter 2 – Voting
I wake up early, feeling unsettled all the way through me. But at the same time, my body lets me know that it's hungry, which is hardly surprising given I didn't eat all day yesterday. So, I return to the cafeteria, taking extra servings of everything they offer and sitting at a table by myself. Not many people are up yet, anyway, and I'm not at all inclined to socialize.
It shouldn't surprise me that the food is good – fresh, of course, since it's grown here – and clearly designed to give pleasure to whoever eats it. I help myself to additional toast and eggs before deciding that it's probably time to wake Tris up.
Breakfast was definitely a good decision, I realize as I walk the cheery corridors of this faction. It's remarkable how much better I feel now. It also seems to wake up the thoughtful part of my brain, because I'm halfway to Tris' room when it occurs to me that she could undoubtedly use a pain-killer to help with her gunshot wound.
So, I change direction, heading back to the infirmary where they helped Tris last night. A young woman in yellow is quick to come to my side, asking what I need. She looks sad when I explain, as if she doesn't like the thought of anyone being injured. It's actually kind of nice to be in a faction that cares about others so much, without everyone being required to ignore themselves in the process the way the Abnegation are.
She returns with a nurse, who is equally kind as he gives me a container of pain medicine, along with instructions on how to use it. As I'm leaving, he even directs me to a stockroom where I can acquire Amity clothing, commenting gently that I'll probably feel more comfortable here if I'm not wearing Dauntless black.
It's a considerate statement, and I select a dark red T-shirt, swapping my filthy black one for it right there, since no one else is in sight. I opt to keep my jeans, though. They're still okay to wear, and I'm hesitant to change those in the stockroom, just in case someone does walk in.
By the time I finally make my way toward Tris' room again, the hallways are filled with people. The entire faction seems to be awake now, buzzing with conversation about their visitors and about the meeting that will be held in a half-hour to decide if we can stay. That's not much time, and it reinforces the need to wake Tris up soon.
Fortunately, she seems to already be up, since she answers my knock immediately.
"Come in," she calls, and I open the door, stepping only halfway in. She's still sitting on her bed, and I don't want to invade her privacy.
Leaning against the doorframe, I tell her, "The Amity are meeting in a half hour, to decide our fate." It sounds kind of funny now that I voice it aloud.
Tris shakes her head as she stands, moving over to me. "Never thought my fate would be in the hands of a bunch of Amity."
"Me either," I admit freely. I feel oddly chatty today – and considerably more relaxed than yesterday. Maybe that's just Amity's influence. They're all so friendly here.
The thought reminds me of where I was fifteen minutes ago. "Oh, I brought you something." Taking out the bottle I got at the infirmary, I prepare a dose for her, adding "Pain medicine. Take a dropperful every six hours."
She doesn't hesitate to take it, squeezing it into her throat and swallowing quickly before murmuring, "Thanks." The response makes me feel Abnegation, knowing that I helped her by bringing her what she needed without being asked.
Hooking a thumb into my belt loop, I ask her, "How are you, Beatrice?" The full name feels right at the moment.
She apparently disagrees, sounding incredulous as she says, "Did you just call me Beatrice?"
Her tone makes me grin. "Thought I would give it a try. Not good?"
"Maybe on special occasions only. Initiation days, Choosing Days…." She looks like she wants to continue, but then her expression turns sad again, and I know she's thinking about the family she used to spend those holidays with.
"It's a deal," I agree, trying to rescue the moment, but it's clearly lost in the aftermath of her parents' death. So, instead I repeat, "How are you, Tris?"
"I'm…." She shakes her head. "I don't know, Four." The use of my nickname surprises me, and I wonder vaguely if it means she's mad at me, or is keeping something from me. "I'm awake. I…." She stops, shaking her head again and looking as if she might cry. And I realize I was stupid to ask her that. Her loss is still too raw for her to be ready to talk yet.
Caressing her cheek, I lean down and touch my lips to hers. I intend it to be gentle and comforting, but she wraps her fingers around my arm, holding me in place, and I can't help but deepen the kiss. It's difficult to get myself to pull away again.
"I know," I reassure her, trying to focus on what we were discussing. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked." She doesn't answer aloud, instead just watching me for a long moment. Her expression brings out memories of the losses I've suffered, and the grief that accompanied them.
But there are no magic words to make this better for her, so I simply add, "I'll let you get ready," and I step away, closing the door behind me.
Caleb heads to Tris' room at the same time I do, and we end up walking together, silent as the Abnegation so often are.
When she answers the door, I think for a fleeting second that we have the wrong room, and then I find myself staring at Tris. She's wearing dark red pants that have been rolled up multiple times and a gray shirt that is much too big for her, but that's not what makes her look so different.
"You cut your hair," Caleb states, raising his eyebrows in shock. It's certainly a true statement. Tris' long hair has been shortened to a bob that runs along her jawline. It dramatically alters her appearance, though I can't say it's either good or bad. She's attractive both ways.
"Yeah," she answers her brother. "It's…too hot for long hair."
Caleb and I both know that's an excuse, I'm sure, but neither of us calls her on it. "Fair enough," he mutters before we begin the long trek to the greenhouse where the Amity will be meeting.
It unquestionably is hot outside, and humid, too – almost stifling as we walk through the dazzling green that is this faction.
"Does everyone know you're Marcus' son?" Caleb asks. "The Abnegation, I mean?"
The question makes me bristle, though not as badly as I would have expected. For whatever reasons, I do seem to be in a good mood today. "Not to my knowledge," I answer calmly, "and I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it."
His Erudite side emerges in his response. "I don't need to mention it. Anyone with eyes can see it for themselves." The comment should make me frown, but instead he does. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Eighteen."
"And you don't think you're too old to be with my little sister?"
The idea is ridiculous, and I can't prevent my snort of laughter. "She isn't your little anything." Tris may be small, but she's easily stronger, smarter, and more mature than the two of us put together.
"Stop it," she snaps, cutting off any response that Caleb might have made. "Both of you." I hadn't thought we were arguing, really, but we have almost caught up with the crowd ahead of us, so she's probably right to tell us to be quiet.
We follow the group of people in yellow into the enormous greenhouse. Its circular shape surrounds a massive tree, and I find myself looking around at the plants and trees that fill it. There is life everywhere in Amity.
Johanna Reyes stands on the raised roots of the incredible tree while the others begin sitting on the ground around her. They'll listen to her talk first, I recall from Faction History class, and then they'll discuss the issue until they reach a consensus. I remember wondering when I was younger if a system like that could possibly work, but today it feels natural – as if it's the only reasonable way to make a decision this big.
Beside me, Tris stops walking, her face frozen in sadness for a moment before she masks it, and my hand migrates to her lower back, guiding her gently to an area behind where the Abnegation are sitting.
Leaning close to her, I murmur, "I like your hair that way." It draws a small smile from her before we both take our seats. She leans against me, her arm pressing along mine, and I know we're both comforted by the touch.
I'm distracted by Tris, so I don't see how the gathering officially starts, but suddenly there's complete silence.
"We have before us today an urgent question," Johanna begins, "which is: How will we conduct ourselves in this time of conflict as people who pursue peace?"
I expect her to continue, but somehow the Amity know that she's done, because they immediately break into hundreds of small conversations. It's an impressive sight – an entire faction talking as individuals, yet all discussing the same subject with the same goal of reaching accord.
"How do they get anything done?" Tris asks, obviously less enamored of the process than I am.
"They don't care about efficiency," I explain calmly. "They care about agreement. Watch."
And she does as the process continues. Gradually, people gather into larger groups, joining into fewer voices that represent the conclusions the various individuals have reached.
"This is bizarre," Tris comments.
A few days ago, I probably would have agreed with her. But everything feels different in Amity – sweeter and more hopeful. Smiling a little, I respond, "I think it's beautiful."
She gives me a look, and I laugh as I add, "What? They each have an equal role in government; they each feel equally responsible. And it makes them care; it makes them kind. I think that's beautiful."
It's true. I would have loved having a voice when I lived in Abnegation. How can I deny that to anyone here, particularly with the former leader of the city sitting nearby and reminding me of all the wrong he's done in his life?
Tris sighs, skepticism written all over her face. "I think it's unsustainable," she tells me. "Sure, it works for the Amity. But what happens when not everyone wants to strum banjos and grow crops? What happens when someone does something terrible and talking about it can't solve the problem?"
I can only shrug, knowing that's exactly the situation we face. "I guess we'll find out."
The heat sinks through my body as we wait, making my limbs feel heavier. My stomach begins to rumble, too, as breakfast wears off and yesterday's lack of food catches up to me. Slowly, it begins to dent my good mood, but I sit as patiently as I can, drawing on my sixteen years of practice growing up.
Eventually, the Amity send representatives of each viewpoint into a single circle in the center of the room, one that includes Johanna. I watch as they talk, their voices too quiet to overhear.
"They're not going to let us argue with them, are they?" Tris asks. The question seems to defy everything about this faction. Argument is despised here.
"I doubt it."
Tris fidgets as the last group finishes its discussion. I'm still hopeful as the participants take their seats again, leaving Johanna standing alone in the middle of the greenhouse.
"Our faction has had a close relationship with Erudite for as long as any of us can remember," Johanna begins. It's a slightly worrisome start. "We need each other to survive, and we have always cooperated with each other." Beside me, Tris shifts nervously. I can't blame her.
Johanna's voice is slow and careful, but it carries easily through the room as she continues. "But we have also had a strong relationship with Abnegation in the past, and we do not think it is right to revoke the hand of friendship when it has for so long been extended."
Tris wipes her forehead, perhaps in relief or perhaps from the heat. But we both stay silent as Amity's representative announces their decision. "We feel that the only way to preserve our relationships with both factions is to remain impartial and uninvolved." The words sink coldly into me. "Your presence here, though welcome, complicates that."
As many times as I've been betrayed in my life, it seems like it should eventually get easier to take. But somehow, having the faction of the kind turn us away in our most desperate hour…. It seems almost as bad as what the Dauntless leaders did in choosing murder and mind-control.
Johanna's voice seems slightly strained as she continues. "We have arrived at the conclusion that we will establish our faction headquarters as a safe house for members of all factions, under a set of conditions. The first is that no weaponry of any kind is allowed on the compound." Great – we'll all be sitting ducks when our enemies come after us.
"The second is that if any serious conflict arises, whether verbal or physical, all involved parties will be asked to leave." It's an absurd expectation, the idea that I can't even stand up to Marcus without getting kicked out. But it's nothing compared with what Johanna adds next.
"The third is that the conflict may not be discussed, even privately, within the confines of this compound." The statement seems to echo through me, destroying the respect and affection I felt for this faction just a few minutes ago. They're choosing to wear blinders so they can ignore the effects of their own decision – can pretend that no one is dying for lack of their help. It's beyond disgusting.
"And the fourth is that everyone who stays here must contribute to the welfare of this environment by working. We will report this to Erudite, Candor, and Dauntless as soon as we can."
Johanna's eyes move across the crowd, landing on me and then Tris. "You are welcome to stay here if and only if you can abide by our rules. That is our decision."
It's a cowardly and despicable conclusion, and all I can do for a moment is stare, amazed that anyone here could consider themselves to be kind while supporting it.
"We won't be able to stay long," Tris whispers, and I just nod.
"No, we won't."
A/N: I'm having trouble finding time to write time at the moment, so it will probably be at least a week before the next update. Sorry. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. :-)