Thank you so so SO much to Bamberlee for editing this final chapter!

Thank you to those who recently started reading and those who have followed since the beginning. I appreciate your extreme patience :)

Thanks to everyone who gave this story a chance!

"How many people have you killed, Eric?"

I drag my gaze from my hands, pressed down on the thin fabric of the pajama pants I have on, up to Dr. Erin. She pushes her glasses up as she waits. The notebook is perched on her lap, pen poised between her fingers, and the grueling agony of therapy grates on.

"Do you remember? It's okay if you need a second. I know you've been hunting people for a long time."

I don't need a second.

"More than I can count." I answer heavily, because I have to.

I could ignore her, but if I did, my session would end in sedation; the heavy pull of whatever drug she chose would take over, and I'd either be out cold, or if she could swing it, mumbling answers eeked out from truth serum. I could struggle. I could fight until it hurt, doing my best to keep my past where it belonged, but here, it would come up one way or another.

The past always did.

"How many? Can you give me an exact number?"

She waits patiently. Her head is cocked to appear sympathetic, and her lips are pressed together into a thin line. When I don't answer, she shifts in her chair, inching closer.

"Twenty? More than that? Twenty-five?"

"I had orders. Every time," I grit out. "Just like you have orders to ask me these asinine questions, I had orders to carry out whatever was sent to me. The only difference is my work made a difference."

"I see." Dr. Erin scrawls something down. I hate that I wish I could see it, but my guess is it was psychobabble bullshit. "Did you regret any of them?"

"No."

Yes.

It was rare, and highly unlike myself, but every so often, a weariness caught up to me. It happened when I least expected it, or when my fingers dug into someone's neck as I shoved them to their knees. The flash of anger, not just at whoever my victim was, but at myself for continuing the monotony of my life. These moments made me human, stripped away the uniform and the power, and reminded me I could be one of them. I could be the one pleading for my life through teary gasps or staring up in a desperate attempt to change my fate. I was only safe because of my authority, but there would come a day when I would not be safe.

"You were fine with taking the life of someone? Or did the orders make it easier?"

I blink at her.

A fallen leader, locked away for his endless crimes, orders or no orders. It was always easy to end their lives. The only doubt rose up when I truly thought about what I was doing, in the privacy of my own home. I'd signed up for the job, and at some point, I assumed my conscience would fade away.

It did.

Mostly.

"Yes."

"You idiot."

I glare at Four, not at all pleased to see his angsty expression waver to uncertainty. This isn't like him. He is as selflessly arrogant as he can pass off, and he liked to be brave. Being brave made Four who he is; his past was as violent as he pretended not to be and acting above it made him strong. He isn't my ideal choice for a leader or even a soldier. He found himself to be too smart and too good for what was going on, and he grew sloppy when he was impatient.

Which is why, he'd just shot Niles right through the head.

"Why did you shoot him?"

"He came right at me," Four answers tightly, and his eyes flash with a rage he's going to pin on me. "Why is he here? He came looking for you. He thought I was you. He kept saying we needed to talk."

I roll my eyes.

Niles' body lies on the ground of Dauntless, in a pool of sticky, burgundy blood. It spills around him, seeping into the ground in an unflattering stain, but no one will notice. Soldiers will stomp over where he took his last breath without a second thought.

"Eric, why is he here?"

Four's tone is sharp, too sharp for someone panicking over shooting a visitor, and I refrain from sneering at him.

Just for now.

"He's not here for me. He's here for Violet. He was the one who turned the story around on her. You were there when Derek told us –" I stop talking, because it seemed like ages ago that Four and I had killed Derek. Something stabs at my mind, and I vaguely wonder if Owen is alive. I wonder if he got ahold of Niles and asked him to go looking for her. It wouldn't be a long shot to guess she was with me, or to think he could show up at Dauntless and find one of us. "How the fuck was I supposed to stop him?"

"This is all your doing," Four reminds me, his words as jagged as his personality. He seemed to be suffering these days, swaying from partner in crime to Harrison 2.0 at a moment's notice. "If you hadn't been who you were, none of this would have happened. You can't keep anyone safe. We're all at risk because of you."

"I'm wounded, Four. Really. You killed someone who helped put a girl in a mental institution for life. Let's not pretend this is a direct result of my leadership." I stare at Niles' body, crumpled and lifeless except for the slow gush of blood coming from his head, and I shrug. "Clean this up. If anyone asks, say he was the delivery boy."

Four's stare is darker than my sneer. He recoils, not at the body before him or the direct orders, but at another life lost because of the situation we are in.

"Fix this, Eric. You've taken out almost every leader in every faction. You're out there appointing people we've never even heard of. You—"

"Which one is it Four? Am I taking leaders out or appointing them?" I let out a bark of humorless laugher, and I hope Rustin is doing his part. Someone must have filled Four in, because he looks less pleased than one would imagine. "You want me to fix this, fine. I will."

My words come out like the threat they are, and he knows it.

"Prove it." He sneers right back, sinking right down to my level of petty rage as he stalks away to find a mop.

I weigh my options while I walk.

They are few and unappealing.

I can fix things, and in some ways, I have. I've already placed someone in charge of Amity. Rustin, given his moderate intelligence and general desire to keep things safe for his son, will do just fine as a leader. It's not a hard job at all, and it's unlikely the faction will be affected. With minimal interruption, they will continue on with the life they know, and if anything, I could press upon Rustin to side with the Dauntless faction.

Candor is a little more difficult.

Covering up for Jack would be more complicated. With Niles out of the picture, it lessened my predicament somewhat, but I needed someone in power who knew their job was to keep their nose clean and who didn't mind reporting to Dauntless. Most importantly, I needed them to fall under Dauntless rule. A careful alliance would be best, but I didn't have time to create one, nor would many trust me. My options were limited there, but I'm sure there was a scorned secretary who'd take the job.

Erudite would prove to be a challenge. Since Four had been moonlighting as Jeanine, we'd prolonged the inevitable of them discovering they had no one overseeing their faction. I figured I could appoint someone, or perhaps stage a mock election for their newest puppet and be done with it. The candidates I selected would also need to understand their power wasn't ultimate, but an extension of ours. I would be making Dauntless the superior faction, and we'd have careful but definitive control over what information was sent to the factions.

With Tori, Reggie, Four, and Tris in Dauntless, things would be reasonably fine. I could handle whatever caught my interest, but my interest was lessening with each passing day.

I turn the corner sharply, and my uneasiness is so heavy I feel it in my bones.

Dauntless is my home. My sanctuary. The only place I once thrived, under a wave of thoughtless violence that felt right. But now, it feels like burning betrayal. Each hallway is a space I've outgrown, and each member demands attention I don't have time for. The ache of the day is intense; I no longer want to clean up mess after mess or procure a body count so high I stop keeping track. The thought of trudging to Erudite, where my face would still be recognized as a mass murderer thanks to the ghost of Jeanine, is wearisome. Going to Candor makes my head hurt. Going to Abnegation, fuck, sitting by Marcus Eaton while he tells me how selfless he is, makes me want to stab someone.

Each step reminds me I'd chosen to come here. I'd picked control over living an anonymous life in Erudite, and I had no choice but to deal with it. By the time I reach my apartment door, my mind feels blank, overloaded with my vain attempts at covering my tracks. I fumble with my keycard, and the dull ding as it unlocks feels appropriate.

The asylum might have tried to suck the life out of me, but in some incomprehensible way, Dauntless has succeeded.

"Is everything okay?"

Violet, lovely and small and curled up like the space is too big for her, waits in my bed. She is pale in the darkness and paler with each second of silence I offer her. I don't answer her right away, for I have no answer.

Things are most certainly not alright.

Not long ago, I'd been sure I was going to tear her underwear off in an attempt to prove I was human. Violet is very human. I'd watched her break apart into pieces, only to be put back together until she resembled herself. Against all odds, and multiple attempts to destroy her, she'd survived. She'd gone from no one –not even a name, but a number and a patient ID –to someone I felt a burning desire to keep safe.

Which is ridiculous.

I'm not safe.

It was being proven time and time again, I'm not a person anyone would think is safe. My reputation hadn't improved since being at the asylum and it never would. I could replace every leader in every faction, pave every road with the best and most honorable intentions, and devote my life to proving I'd changed, and it wouldn't make a difference.

I couldn't even be so sure I had changed. Maybe I only wanted Violet because I knew the euphoric feeling of being with her would make me feel alive. I wanted the same rush I'd gotten from watching the life drain from someone's eyes, and I knew I needed something new to feel it.

I needed her. I needed her beneath me, breathing and sighing and groaning my name, to prove I had survived, just like she had. More than that, the glory of getting out of the shithole alive, it would remind me who I had been, an Eric who took what he wanted and didn't care who he left behind. I could have her on a very basic level, and know I'd won.

Maybe when I saw Four, angry and furious over his own life, I saw myself. Maybe this was the very reason I chose to settle things with my fists over anything. My dislike of him was everything I didn't like about myself, and in order to change, I had to realize my mistakes.

This is a new struggle, a tug of war over which Eric would ultimately survive: the one who didn't care, or the one who couldn't care, and he was at the root of it.

But he's not here now.

Violet is, and she's good.

She'd always been good.

I was the one who'd messed up, confusing basic human emotions with survival.

"It's being handled."

I answer her tightly, still unsure of what else to share. Dauntless is not her responsibility, and neither is the blood Four is currently mopping up.

"You look strange," she stares, unblinking, and her dark hair is endless against the pillows. She looks at me carefully, too intense and too knowing. The asylum gave her this trick: she can see through the bullshit the same way I saw through it. Dr. Erin may have prompted and goaded answers out of me, getting them by any means necessary, but Violet doesn't need a cupful of peace serum or a heavy dose of sedatives.

She just needs to rise up on her knees and reach for me.

"I'm not –"

Before I can remind her I am not the Eric she wants –not the one from the asylum, looking out for her and defending her when she couldn't – her hands touch my face. They move greedily, slipping back toward my temples, then further, so she can coax me toward her, not aware of the existential crisis running through my mind.

"I know who you are. Trust me. I went through therapy with you." Her words are light and well meaning, and my lips crack into the barest of smiles before I can stop myself. The sulky rage dies a thousand slow deaths and she pulls me down, into my own bed. "I watched you throw macaroni at Bella. And glitter at Pete. And you kept Owen away from me."

I drop my head toward her.

I don't deserve the goodness she has to offer. There is little left in either of us, yet somehow, she always has enough to share.

"And I watched you kick Bella when she yelled at you for having a fiancée."

I snort at the memory. It's one of my favorites from our days there, a brief reprieve from the monotony of being trapped inside cements walls. I'd been working out to keep myself busy, and Violet had nearly collapsed from the stress of thinking I was engaged. It wasn't all that long ago, but it might as well have been years.

"Violet, I'm not…this won't…"

My protest isn't at all what I want to be telling her. Deep down, I want to collapse on top of her and tell her this is all too much. Despite my best efforts, everything is a single second away from cracking. One wrong move and the web I've spun will fall down. Each faction will be left in total disarray, starting with the one we're in.

She deserves more than being released into an absolute mess.

"I got you out of there, but things are bad. I took down almost all the leaders. Only Dauntless and Amity are okay. Candor has no one overseeing it, and Erudite is starting to get antsy. Abnegation should be fine… but –"

I stop when she shakes her head. She pulls me closer, my knees on either side of her legs, and her hands moving to my neck. When she's satisfied I'm not leaving, her fingers skim down my side, while I kick off my boots. The second one hits the ground with a thud, right as she reaches for the hem of my shirt.

"You don't have to save the world, Eric. Let it fall apart. Let someone else take care of it. When you left, it was the worst day of my life. I thought, nothing could get any worse, but it did. It got a hundred times worse because they blamed me for you being gone. When I was so sure it was all over, and I knew they were going to try and kill me, you showed up. You were there right as everything burned down, without ever knowing it."

Her fingers return to my face, touching my cheeks and skimming back toward my ear.

"I never asked you to save me, but you did. No one here is asking you to save them. Your job is done."

Her lips touch mine as my eyes burn. I forget all about trying to fix everything or keeping up the façade that things are fine. They aren't fine. In order to save Violet, I'd destroyed everything around me, and now, I have to let it all go, or keep fighting.

In the end, I choose to let it go.

In the morning, when the sun has barely risen and the sky is streaked with pink and orange, I take Violet to Amity.

My duty to the factions I'd sworn to protect bites me in the ass.

I sit at a table in Candor, interviewing some of their officials. Most are low ranking, but mildly important, and I listen to them drone on and on about how they would do as a leader. Some are okay, most are decent, a few are terrible. The fun part about Candor is they won't lie. It doesn't mean they'll tell the absolute truth; they twist their words or scenarios to fit their narrative. In their mind, they are the heroes of their faction and the others are the villains. I'm tempted to slip them a dose of truth serum, just to hear them tell me their dirtiest, worst secrets, but when I lowly toy with this idea out loud, Four kicks my shin as hard as he can and hisses for me to pay attention.

I flip him off when the girl in front of us finishes talking. She wobbles on heels too high for her, and her optimism teeters just like her walk. She's young, impressionable, and convinced batting her eyes at Four will get her the job.

"You should go walk her out. I think she likes you," I snicker, scrawling on the paper in front of me and ignoring the dark and vicious stare he throws me.

"Eric, shut the fuck up."

I like him more and more these days. I guess I'd never truly disliked him, I just didn't like his high and mighty attitude. I found it impressive he'd even chosen another faction to try and fit into, and even more impressive that he spent his days holding a grudge against me. Flattered, even.

But now, he's pissy because my attitude has rubbed off on him.

"Tsk, tsk, such foul language in front of a lady," I mock him by circling the girl's name violently, and she throws us one final, too young, grin. "Sorry, his blood sugar is dropping. He gets cranky. Four, did you bring your fruit snacks?"

"Okay, if you don't shut your mouth I'm going to –"

Before he can tell me exactly what he'd like to do to me, we're interrupted by Reggie joining us. He sits down beside me, knees cracking and his exhale loud, and he elbows me. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, noticing his grim expression and general lack of enthusiasm for his fifth hour in Candor. "There's another forty of 'em outside. Tori and I were thinking maybe you shouldn't have posted an ad for a new leader and just interviewed a few who you had your eye on."

"We tried that plan. The two we liked have records worse than Eric and the rest suck." Four downs cold coffee in a single gulp and he shakes his head. "This isn't working. They don't want us involved in any way, but we have to be. We can't let them turn corrupt again."

Four has a point, but Reggie ignores him in favor of looking at me.

"Shit, Eric is your record really that bad? I thought you redeemed yourself when you rescued Violet?"

"I did. And Four, I'm honored you included me in your ranting, but my record was erased. Don't forget about that," I throw him a blinding grin and he shuts his eyes. "And yes, it improved once I saved Violet. She's now living her best life in Amity, amongst the cows and other farm animals, and here I am, hoping Tina doesn't break an ankle trying to make it up the stairs."

"Do you ever stop talking? I'm aware of your record. How could I forget that you sent out a memo clearing your own name? You truly are special," Four mutters, and I snicker along with Reggie.

"Damn, I liked Violet. I was hoping she'd stick around."

"Me, too, Reggie. Me too. I guess wide open spaces won out over living next door to Four."

"For fuck's sake Eric –"

We all stop when the next group of hopefuls wander in, and I return my focus to finding Candor someone to take Jack's place.

It's distracting.

I keep it up, because once I stop, the punch to the stomach of missing Violet will come back full force.

Erudite is even worse.

I'm less welcome here, but everyone has to pretend to be polite. They eye me warily, like I might leap across the table and shoot them in the head, but they don't say anything. A few dare ask why we are in charge of finding a suitable replacement for Jeanine, and when Four doesn't answer, I do.

I nastily inform them to show us their presentation or get the fuck out.

They all listen. By noon, we have a few rough potential leaders and matching headaches. My suggestion for stopping and eating lunch is ignored, and instead, Four drives us back to Dauntless like the truck is about to catch fire.

He parks the truck as shittily as ever. I climb out looking at how close we are to another vehicle, and I watch him stomp away, his shoulders near his ears and his hands clenched into fists after a day of listening to the men and women of Erudite try to prove how smart they are and worthy of leading Erudite to greatness.

I cheerfully inform the docking bay staff to feel free to ticket Four for his parking violation.

By the time the whisky is burning my stomach, I give in and call her.

In the most embarrassing parts of my day, which is proving to be almost always, I miss Violet. I miss her more than I could have imagined, and each time is worse than the last.

Together, on a night when I most certainly did not take her clothes off and she most certainly fell asleep on my chest, we'd made the very logical decision for her to live in Amity. After years in a mental institution, Dauntless felt just as claustrophobic to her as the hospital had. She might have a sprawling faction beneath her fingers, but she was paralyzed by the darkness and stuck waiting for me to return.

No matter how many bright spaces we found, or how many times I promised her it was safe here, she didn't belong. She'd been kept in the dark for too long, and I was being selfish by wanting her to stay with me. She craved sunlight. Fresh air. Grassy meadows and lazy clouds. She needed a community not run by Four and Four Jr., and a support system greater than me. I was stretched thin while I tried to fix things, and thinner with each day that passed. By the time we selected a leader for Candor and Erudite, the first being awarded to a woman who hadn't batted her eyes at Four but was willing to work with us and the latter being an older gentleman who'd spent most of his time working in their labs, I felt paper thin.

My brain felt fuzzy, maybe a much-delayed withdrawal from whatever I'd been injected with, or my own harsh reality that Dauntless no longer suited me. My body ached constantly, demanding I talk to Violet or fall asleep next to her, and it made my stomach hurt. My chest hurt. I felt insane, so much that I felt like I was losing it. I wasn't sleeping. It was hard to read things, and when Four talked, I swear his words were spoken in a made-up language I dubbed Fourlish.

He hated me so much when I told him this. It happened on an important day, when the replacement took over for Jack and we were there just to make sure things ran smoothly. He was yapping on and on about something, and I didn't hear a word he said. I politely asked him to leave me the fuck alone, because he was making no sense. When he demanded to know what I was talking about, I watched his eyes darken so intensely I thought he might punch me, but instead, he wearily told me to please go see the nurse when we got back.

On a day when I stood at the edge of the chasm peering down at the water, the thought of jumping into nothingness appeared. It snuck up on me out of nowhere, teasing me to take a step closer. Lean a little more. See how it would feel to fall, for a few lovely seconds, as the faction floated around me. It would feel freeing, oh so good, and my brain warmly urged me on. I don't know how long I stood there, pure exhaustion burning the last remaining nerves I had, before Tori grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back. I stared at her, woozy from the lack of sleep and the warm drink I'd downed, and she took me to the infirmary.

The nurse told me I was going to crash at some point, or maybe I already had, but I didn't listen. I threw away the sleeping pills, went home, and stared at the ceiling. It was there I realized my brush with this depression was because I'd lost the only person I'd ever cared about. Gone was the only human being I'd ever felt comfortable with, and while I could go visit her, she was happy in her new faction.

I was not.

The only thing that made me feel better was drinking and paying with Four's ID card.

"Hi!"

Violet answers excitedly, so much that it causes an actual pain in my chest, and I can picture her on Pete's couch. I'd dropped her off with every fiber of my being screaming to turn around. Rustin promised he'd look out for her. He was doing a fine job overseeing Amity, and she was his first project. He was proud she wanted to stay, and even more proud she seemed excited to be there. I kissed her on the forehead before I left, so nauseous I could barely look at her, and I pretended it was temporary.

I convinced myself she'd be back.

No one would willingly live in Amity for very long.

"I miss you so much, Eric. How are you? Are things…are they better?"

Her optimism is sweet enough my eyes close. Before I'd left, I made her a deal. I promised once things had calmed down, I would come and find her. I'd take her out of Amity if she wanted, or I'd come visit for a few days. I'd figure out a way to see her, and the promise was often the only thing keeping me going.

"They're…they're alright. We found leaders for Candor and Erudite, so things are a little better. I don't know how long it'll take to get them going." I swallow down the rest of my drink and I force myself to drink some water, too. "How are you? Is Pete…is everyone treating you well?"

"They are! Pete is good. He's really happy I'm here. Everyone is…well, they're nuts. The peace serum helps. Rustin suggested Bobby and Aidy try it after they got in a fight with some of the livestock. It helped, a lot. I haven't taken any. I don't really want to. I…just can't after…"

She pauses, and the ache in her voice is impossible to miss.

"You don't need to take it. You're absolutely fine without it," I promise her, remembering her words about wanting to feel something pop right back up. She's a burning memory of when we stood in the showers, and she confessed she'd quit taking the serum so she could feel things again. "Everyone is… nice?"

"I've never met nicer people in my life. They're all…they like everyone. It doesn't matter who you are here." She stops again, and the sound of footsteps echoes behind her.

"Hey, Violet, you ready to come look?"

I don't recognize the voice.

It's male, cheerful as ever, and close to her. He says her name again, trying to get her attention despite her talking to me.

"Who is that?" I sober up immediately, and I can see her smile.

"It's my neighbor. He's showing me how to set up a bird feeder."

"At night?" I hiss, and I have half a mind to drive there and tell him to go home. "Violet –"

"Eric, he's married. He's almost sixty, and he and his wife make bird feeders for everyone. They brought me one as a welcoming present and he just brought the bird seed over. She's here, too." Violet sounds like she's stifling down a rare laugh, and my horror subsides. "You know…you know that I want to see you, don't you? I asked if you'd come by."

"I know. I will. As soon as…"

"As soon as when? You said you would when you found leaders. Can't you leave Four in charge?" She's gutsier now, but still as quiet and lovely as ever. I can see her dark eyes pleading at me over the phone, begging for just a few hours together. "He's…capable, right?"

"I'm sure he's capable of something," I mutter, and I push the bottle away from me. My stomach turns over, and I shake my head at the person I've become. "I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Okay. I hope you can visit soon. Goodnight, Eric. Be safe."

"Good night, Violet."

I hang up before I can confess everything to her, because I'm slowly losing the battle keeping me here, and that stings just as much as her being gone.

Candor's first order of business is to try and charge Four with the murder of Niles.

In a shocking turn of events, I manage not to laugh when Four slams the papers down on the conference room table and points his finger at me.

"I told you to fix this. Not have me fucking indicted for saving your ass."

His expression is anything but amusement. Next to me, Reggie chokes on his coffee from trying not to laugh, and even Tris shakes her head like she can shake the hint of a smile off her face.

"Four, it's not accusing you personally. You're just listed as the main leader. They just want to know what happened to Niles. His records show he was coming here, and he never returned to Candor. He's being presumed dead with…well, with you as the main person he'd be visiting." She explains this with all the logic in the world, but it's not good enough for Four.

He shoves the papers further at me and he hisses like the snake he is.

"I'm telling them you did it. I've had enough of this bullshit. You involved me and now I can't get out. I can't even begin to explain –"

"I'll respond," I take the papers from the table and I skim them.

The new woman in charge is named Lynn, and she has a valid argument.

Too bad I have a better one.

"I'll do you one better, and I'll handle Matthew in Erudite, too. He's asking if we'd like to attend a seminar on the long-lasting effects of the serums. Fascinating stuff, I'm sure. I'll RSVP yes for everyone."

"You aren't taking this seriously," Four glares, and I can't argue with him there.

"I'll fix it. Just for you," I wink, and I stand up. "Now, while this has been fun, I have shit to do. Someone email me the meeting notes."

"You haven't even responded to any of the emails I sent you! And stop using my ID to pay when you go out. You have your own card, you know. How did you even get mine?"

Four's protest makes Tori laugh. It makes me laugh, too, but I'm too far away for him to respond. I walk out of the conference room with absolutely no more patience but a clear mind about what I need to do.

Who knew that admitting what you wanted was far scarier than pretending you didn't know?

I fix everything the best I can.

In the evening, I inform Lynn she can kindly fuck off, because Niles was part of a murder case and he'd covered up information pertinent to what happened. I explained, in great detail, what had happened to Violet. I made sure Lynn knew if she pushed this any further, she'd meet the same fate as Derek: I'd bash her head right the fuck in, and not a single person would try and stop me.

She was no one in Candor, even as their leader, and I could prove it.

Her response was immediate. She understood; she dropped the charges immediately, and issued a death certificate for Niles, along with recording him as being part of Violet's case.

I appreciated her intelligence.

Matthew was the same. He was absolutely solid, older and wiser, and determined to rebuild the tragic reputation his own faction had earned. He loathed learning Jeanine was experimenting on members of the factions, and he was horrified when he realized the institution was still open. His first order of business was to cut its funding, and his second was to turn the hospital around. He revoked the licenses of all the remaining doctors working, and personally placed a new staff, though most were hesitant given the uncertain future of the place.

It was a huge undertaking given how hidden the whole operation was, but within a few weeks, Hidden Hills Sanitarium was rebranded as the Erudite Education and Research Hospital. Its long-term patients were given the care they'd been lacking, and anyone who would be brought there, for whatever reason, was no longer at risk for being used as an experiment.

During the early hours of a bleak Wednesday, I went with Matthew for a tour while the building was mostly empty. He wanted me to see it before it would be officially reopened, offering me the chance to see what he'd done.

I almost refused.

I only went because I knew I had no excuse not to go, and it felt cowardly to tell him no thanks. The whole drive there was dead silent, and I spent a lot of time in my head, trying to remember the first day I was taken there.

My arrival was much faster this time around. I parked out front, and I took a single second to look up at the massive structure. The outside was the same. It stood mocking me, a prison for anyone who stepped foot inside, with all sorts of horrors lurking in the shadows.

The outside had been repainted white. A few new hedges had been planted, all along the front, creating a maze-like effect if you were to wander around them.

Inside, things were new.

Shiny, whiter, and oddly elegant.

Setting foot in the lobby made my spine hurt. Despite the upgrades, the place gave off the lingering hint of unease, like the trauma and torture had settled into the foundation. It was an apprehension I'd never known before, but I knew why. I had visceral memories of the place, and my body recognized them before my mind did. While Matthew talked to a lone receptionist brought in only for training, I saw Jack standing there, bleeding out as we checked him in. While we walked through the hallways where I'd been dragged along, drugged out of my mind into compliance, I saw Violet, clutching the doorframe as she made herself invisible. I saw Bobby's eyes widen at the thought of a new friend. I saw Bella, sizing me up to determine if I was a threat or not.

On a numberless floor selected by Matthew, I walked past the room I'd stayed in. The door still hosted the faintest hint of Bella's manic meltdown, and it was pushed wide open, beckoning me to step inside. I refused. I caught a glimpse of lighter walls, painted to bring some cheeriness into the place, and two beds flanking a large dresser. There was no one in there, only the ghost of myself, staring out the window trying to figure out how to get out.

Matthew led the tour with great confidence. He'd spent a lot of time researching what had gone on here, and he'd brought me back not as proof that it had worked, but that it hadn't. In his mind, I was the same Eric who'd been brought here; I was violent and brutal, manipulative in how I was orchestrating this entire operation, and best of all, indifferent despite their therapies.

He took my silence as proof nothing they'd done had changed me. This made his project worthwhile; he'd stripped away a place of horror, a horror that didn't even work, and turned it into something good.

I stayed silent. I was led through the art room, the same as it was before, but rid of anything to hint that once the factions' most unstable members occupied it. There were no macaroni sculptures or senseless drawings, no piles of glitter or decade old projects left to rot. There was only sunlight filtering in through large windows, and toys for the children who would spend more than a few days here. Matthew went on to talk about the new projects the hospital would take on, and how its doors would be open to everyone.

I left when he and the assistant director started discussing something budgetary. Matthew is smart; he'd slashed the budget to nothing, staffed the place on a shoestring salary, then re-funded it when the faction approved. It was a quick turnaround, and for a second, I wondered if he was too smart.

I couldn't bring myself to care.

On my own, I wandered the cafeteria. The tables were set up differently; the tablecloths were gone, but the air was still a few degrees too warm. I paused by the table I'd once sat at, Violet crammed beside me, softly whispering which foods were safe to eat, while Pete mocked me. I had grasped him by the throat without thinking, violence over everything, just to shut him up.

I kept going.

I stopped in the brand-new rec room, still hosting the library and some new games. My eyes raked over the countless books, now neatly arranged, and the stiff, clean furniture. Gone was the small couch I'd sat on, but still there was the memory of trying to figure out what day it was. How long I'd been trapped here. Staring out at the endless trees, realizing this window was at the rear of the property, and there was no way leading to the main road. Shoving Owen away from Violet and being injected since the orderlies thought I was the one instigating the fight.

Like the most haunted of all places, the room felt alive. It breathed as I walked over to the bookshelf, boots echoing over brand new tile, and I swear I could feel it light up in delight as I skimmed the book titles. It knew I was looking for something, but I didn't know what. I touched a few of the spines carefully, though the act of leaving my fingerprints felt like actual proof of my time here, before pulling my hand away. I paused in front of a title jutting out, like someone had pulled it out just for me, and when I opened it up, I nearly dropped the book.

It was one I had flipped through while sitting by Violet. The words were familiar, a foreboding peek into my future I wouldn't understand at the time, printed in stark black and white: perhaps living through these petty days will get us ready for the dangerous ones.

It had come true.

I'd spent my time baiting the doctors working on me. I was forced to tell my thoughts, whether I wanted to or not, and it was shown I was overpowered here, but only if they wanted to. Most of the time, we were left alone to go crazy by ourselves. Their preferred method was our own mind; after depriving our senses and making us compliant, it wore on us. Time had no meaning, days had no rhyme or reason, and each slip into oblivion was setting us up for their next treatment. All of that built up to Bella stabbing me, and my eventual return to save Violet.

What followed was dangerous; the quick and swift destruction of the factions as we knew them.

I touched the words for a solid minute. I read them, over and over, until I heard her say my name. Violet's voice was soft, purposely silenced to keep her from revealing her deep secrets, and sweet. She said it again and again, until I looked up.

I fully expected her to be there, right behind me, asking if I was ready to go. Matthew must have invited her, somehow finding out the names of former patients and following up on who was still alive.

There was no one there.

An empty room, with new furniture, and a doorway with the tiniest crack in the frame. My sanity swung wildly in the moment and the floor undulated beneath my feet. For a few harrowing seconds, I wasn't just losing, I had lost it. I waited in anticipation for the staff to return, for them to announce it was time for the next round of medication, or I was being taken to see Dr. Branger.

For one nauseous, dizzying, hotly terrifying second, I knew I'd never left.

I was scared to move, to break the matrix I believed I was in, because I'd open my eyes to the same room I'd never left. I'd see the same staff, Keenan cheerfully asking if I was alright, or the same nurse trying to feel me up. I'd be dragged to group therapy, to one on one therapy, to art therapy, then plunked down to be injected and prepped for whatever treatment they wanted to try out.

My hand flew to my chest, slow and uncoordinated, and I pressed deep where Bella had stabbed me.

The room immediately focused. The book grew hot in my hands, and I threw it aside. I heard Matthew talking as he walked, proudly telling the director how he believed he'd found a variety of books good enough for someone from any faction, and I took off. I went right toward the door, right toward him, nearly knocking him over when I stopped. I glanced down at just the right moment, and I felt the horror from earlier.

There, amongst the fresh paint, was a smear of blood. Logically, it was probably from someone who'd worked to redo the building this very morning. It was an accident, a nicked finger or a scrape as someone rushed to finish the work before the place opened, but it felt like it wasn't. It gave off the impression the building itself was bleeding, seeping out the secrets Matthew had instructed someone to cover. I heard him say my name, surprised to find me in here, and I pushed past without answering.

I walked quickly; the lights blinked and fritzed, always humming and buzzing. Even in silence, the building was taunting me. It reminded me of my time inside its walls and goaded me to give in to the chaos it offered.

I stormed past the nurses' station, redone to announce they were willing to help at any hour, with whatever anyone needed. I caught flashes of eyes peering out from rooms I knew were empty, and I heard my name repeated, whispered and chanted, as I found the elevator. I jabbed the button repeatedly, seeing Four's face as Dr. Branger was shot in front of me, and I saw the orderly who dragged me to solitary confinement, laughing at how easily I'd gone down. I glanced back once, seeing the darkest part of the hallway expand, slinking closer as it tried to catch up to me.

Hidden Hills might have a new name. A new color scheme. A new mission of hope and honor, and good, dedicated doctors who wanted to help people, but it couldn't cover up what had happened here. In some ways, I'd gotten off easy. No one had erased my mind or shocked me until my teeth chattered. I never wandered around in a daze, having been drugged until I was barely functioning. I had existed here as a political ploy, all because Jeanine needed someone to take the fall.

Had I returned on her terms, I surely would have lost it.

No one would have ever believed a word I said. My reputation would have been tainted beyond belief. My sanity would be questioned by friend and foe, and almost no one would trust my motives.

Not that they did before.

But she was setting me up for the next time she needed a scapegoat. Once her right-hand man, I would now be an easy target, the perfect person to pin her crimes on.

By the time I reached the lobby, my head hurt. I stalked past the receptionist, brightly calling out for me to have a good day, and I kept going. I stopped only at the truck I'd driven here, and I pressed my palms over my eyes. I waited until the throbbing dulled enough for me to open them, and I grabbed my phone.

A single phone call later, I congratulated Matthew on his work and told him I had no doubt he'd successfully turned the place around. I drove off while telling him I was needed elsewhere. I turned sharply, having only driven here with Four and once by myself, and I stopped to look back at the sprawling sanitarium I was leaving.

It spanned out like a creature of the night.

Its wings extended further than I could see, it rose up high, tiny windows gaping at me, begging me to come back. I stared for a long time, until my phone did ring and the snappy voice of Four asked how the tour was, and I couldn't answer him.

I hung up, and I drove until the image of someone lingering in the window was gone from my mind.

"It's you!"

She opens the door with a happy grin. Her smile is wide, but it falters the minute she sees me. I had to admit, coming here was a surprise to myself as well. I hadn't been planning on driving anywhere but Dauntless. Four had called over and over, the timing between each call growing shorter and shorter as he grew more and more worked up. His messages popped up one after another, and the only one I listened to was snarling and furious, demanding to know why I wasn't answering him.

He sounded unlike himself.

I finally called him back, mustering the barest appreciation for his dedication to getting an answer, and I told him I quit.

I told him Dauntless was his and not to let the thrill of power go to his tiny head. He roared back a surprising answer of NO, but I didn't care. After walking through Hidden Hills, I had no desire to return to darkness.

I told him yes. I told him I'd fixed all his problems, given him a team who would back him, and now, my time was up. I hung up, tossed the phone aside, and drove the rest of the way in silence. I parked at the edge of Amity, forced myself to grit out a hello to Rustin, and I kept going. I didn't even know where Violet was or where she lived, but it wasn't hard to find.

Her porch had violets all over it, mixed in with other bright flowers and leafy plants. I couldn't name them, nor did I care to, but I bet she could. She opened the door a second after I knocked, and I was stunned to see how healthy she looked. Normal. Happy.

Her hair grazed her shoulders, no longer chopped off by someone with kitchen shears, and her eyes were bright. Her dress wasn't anything that screamed Amity, but prettier, like she was determined to make up for lost time.

"What's wrong? You look awful."

Her fingers found my face, and she pulled me into her home. I noticed she was nearly unrecognizable now with her own happiness. I would feel jealous, a first for me, but I could barely see straight. Her own home was large, spanning out to places I couldn't see, and I felt dizzy at all the space. I forced myself to think straight, all of this too much at once.

"I went to tour…I had to go back to Hidden Hills. It's being reopened as a hospital. Everything is there. Everything is…it's… it's dark and..."

My words are jumbled, and I struggle to articulate what I want to tell her. I want her to know it still exists, but worse, so do its secrets. No matter what Matthew knocked down or rearranged, it would always be there, just waiting to sink its claws into its next victim.

Maybe that was how they won.

Maybe they had made me insane.

"I think you need to lie down," Violet insisted, and it was the last thing I heard. I make it a few more steps inside and my whole world goes dark.

The sunlight filters in, slow and lazy.

I open my eyes to warmth, both flitting in through the window and around me. Violet is asleep, her back pressed against my chest and her hands splayed out. My arm is thrown over her in an attempt to keep her close, and her head is below my chin.

"Are you awake?" She mumbles softly, but in her own quietness. "It's early for you."

I shake my head no, refusing to move from this moment.

The first time I ever slept beside her, I broke every rule in a handbook no one had given me. Patients were not supposed to sleep together, nor did I ever think I'd find myself sharing someone else's bed. Not like that night, lulled to sleep by her being close, and the slow, drawn out realization that I liked being close to her. My defense of being exhausted and cold wore thin when I soon realized the only time I felt good was when I was with her.

Today, on this bright and sunny morning, it's the forty-sixth day I've woken up next to her.

Over a month ago, I showed up on the heels of an absolute breakdown. I had left Hidden Hills feeling like it would come alive to find me. I'd driven to Amity in a daze; my brain slowly processing each second of my tour there, and its gleeful conclusion was the hospital would never close. Something there wouldn't allow that to happen, ever.

The logical part of my brain tried to tell me I was being ridiculous. It didn't even matter it was re-opening. No one from the hospital's asylum days still worked there. The outdated equipment was gone. The furniture was different. There was no more isolation or mandatory exercise class. The only thing that remained were memories, and a few patients who would spend their last few days under much different care.

By the time I found Violet, my sanity swung so wildly that I shut down. I stumbled into her home, large and lofty and entirely too big for one person, and I collapsed. I wouldn't remember any of what followed; Violet called Pete to help get me to her bedroom, and once I did wake up, she coaxed me into the shower. I washed away the lingering feeling of being haunted, and I dressed in borrowed clothes. She smiled when I picked out the darkest colors, and once she was sure I was alright, she led me to bed.

I ate dinner with her curled against me, doing everything she could to make sure I was okay.

I wasn't.

It took a few days for me to shake what happened. Pete came by daily, and he brightly informed me he knew what was going on. My issue was I thought I was fine. I'd never once processed what had happened after being committed. I played it off like being sentenced there hadn't gotten to me, and in turn, trying to pretend it hadn't happened was what nearly did me in.

"Everyone's a little mad, Eric. Even you. You tried to kill me the first time you met me. But you know what, we still ended up best friends anyway!"

I smirked around the toast and tea finding out he was right. Once I let go of feeling like I had to prove my sanity, everything turned out just fine.

Four showed up in a sulky mood, and he brought me my things. There was disbelief all over his face as he handed me boxes of black clothing, books, things from my bathroom, and a gun issued to me. He didn't believe I was staying. He dully reminded me Dauntless never gave up, and I sneered and pointed out I wasn't giving up, I was choosing to step away from somewhere I didn't want to be. I didn't care if he thought it was illegal or that he believed I should stay and help Dauntless or he'd send Reggie to come physically take me back there.

I didn't want to spend my days alone.

So, for forty-six days now, I'd gone to bed beside Violet, and I'd awakened beside her. She was usually up before me. She quickly adjusted to life here, liking to wake up when the sun did, and growing tired as soon as it set. Her life here was quiet, but safe. There was an air of balance here, far unlike what was going on in Dauntless. I spent my days with her eating breakfast and my afternoons walking through the woods.

Every so often, I stopped to look up. I felt the creep of a shiver, and the faint ghost of seeing the same treetops from high above. Violet didn't like this. She'd take hold of my hand and tell me these trees were different. They weren't the same ones I'd stared at from the hospital windows, nor were we anywhere near the new hospital. Her reassurance was immediate and constant.

By day forty, the feeling stopped.

"Do you want me to make you coffee?" Violet turns over to look at me, dark eyes and now tanned skin glowing up at me. She looks so much different than I remember, and I like to think I have something to do with it.

She looked angelic the first time I kissed her in her own kitchen, and devilish the first time she told me to lose the shirt. She didn't want anything from me except for me to be close, but each passing day things were changing. Even now, her fingers sneak up my chest, skimming over where I'd been stabbed and to my collarbone, and she moves closer. "I can make breakfast, too. Rustin brought over some eggs."

"I'll help you," I open my eyes to look at her, and she smiles.

Rustin was a good man. I'd thought lowly of him at first. I believed most from Amity were morons, given their days were spent petting sheep and fixing chicken wire. The longer I spent here, the more I realized I was wrong. Rustin was smart, and he kept a sharp eye on not only Pete, but the faction. He is nearly as vigilant as the Dauntless soldiers, doing his best to keep everyone safe, and his friendly personality hides his determination to succeed.

I found I liked him enough to willingly make sure he stayed alive.

"Okay, in a minute. I don't want to get up yet," she yawns, not entirely tired, but entirely content with her new spot. She slides her legs closer to mine, and her eyes close. "I just want a few more minutes. Ten, maybe twenty."

"Five," I bargain, not meaning it. I could stay here all day if she wanted.

"An hour."

She laughs against my skin, pure and good, and I know I made the right decision in staying. Some would think it was cowardly to leave. I'm sure the soldiers got a good laugh knowing one of their leaders had defected, to Amity no less. My reputation, if I cared anymore, would be shot.

"Two hours," I yawn as she wiggles closer, wondering if this would come crashing down at some point. I'd done everything in my power to make sure it wouldn't. I'd grudgingly taken a job helping Rustin, and in turn, often felt like I ran the Amity faction. I knew more than he did about overseeing one and working with him was easy. It was a comical move, but I felt productive. "We could order breakfast."

"From who? Bobby?" Violet's fingers tense and curl, and they slide up to slip behind my neck. "He can only cook pancakes and every time he eats them, he threatens to kill someone."

"Sounds about right," I snort, and I shut my eyes tightly.

I wouldn't let any of this crash down.

I am Eric, former leader of Dauntless, and I would now make Amity the safest place there is. Even if it were just for Violet.

Especially if it were just for Violet.

Because it is, and I no longer have any qualms admitting this.

By the time the leaves begin to die, Violet is a whole new person.

Not physically. She's not any taller, and her hair isn't any different except sometimes she has someone trim the ends. Her clothes slowly shifted from generic, oversized dresses thanks to years of someone choosing the garments she could have, to softer, more jeweled tones. The transition should evoke an eye roll from me, but my own wardrobe is laughable.

Four had brought me my things, much like a sulky ex returning gifts in hopes you'd come back. My dark shirts and pants worked, until they didn't. Until Violet fit in and I still stuck out, and it was clear I was resisting their way of life. Rustin was the first to bring me a few colors other than black, and I expected to have my skin rot off the first time I slipped them over my head.

Part of me didn't care.

The Eric from Dauntless was slowly fading away, but only as much as I let him. I was still me; I was short tempered, swore more than was acceptable for such a quaint faction, and terrified the small children wanting to show me the frogs they'd found in the ponds. I was still tall and intimidating, I still loathed the social aspects of the community, and I made it very clear there would be no singing on my watch.

But I gave in easily, because it soon became obvious Violet liked it here.

She bought me everything else I needed: the sturdy boots, similar to combat boots but a different color, and the flannel button down shirts. Gloves meant for chopping wood and splitting logs to keep us warm. Lighter shirts for helping her pull vegetables. I stopped shaving when the nights got cold, and she looked up at me like she'd never seen me before smiling in utter delight.

Adoration was easy here.

It came quick and heavy, lusty as she pulled me on top of her while a fire burned in a room far away. Her house only had one fireplace, but she swore I was enough to keep her warm.

"Rustin said you were a huge help today," she whispers these words into my neck, and I grunt as she works to unbutton the shirt. The colors are foreign and almost illicit with their boldness, but there is some comfort in the red and black plaid. "He said you were a natural with the horses."

I roll my eyes. It's good natured, but he's right. The animals, most of them, like me. I'd walked through the stables with a scowl, and almost every horse patiently moved forward to be rewarded with my attention.

"He's lying," I retort, ignoring her smile and her fingers reaching the bottom button. "Tomorrow I have to help him move some garden. I don't know anything about growing squash."

"You'll learn. I hear it's fascinating."

I lose my train of thought when she says this, because she reaches for the button on my pants. They're work pants, worn and soft yet protective in case I had to trample through the stables, and currently all too restrictive. She looks up at me while she works the button free, and when she reaches for the zipper, I hold still.

"What are you doing?" I want to knock her hands away.

It's not that I don't want to have sex with her, if that's where this is going, but I'd quickly learned her only experience was me. Kissing goodbye in a mental institution was hardly the ideal romantic scenario most were hoping for, and sharing a bed in Abnegation wasn't much better. Our nights in Dauntless were fraught with worry; I was worried she'd want to leave, and she was worried I'd want her to leave.

Since being in Amity, the most I'd done was kiss her on our porch and sometimes help her kick off her pajama shorts.

"I'm taking your pants off. Is that okay?" She glances up with the barest of hesitation, and it's only because I'm struggling not to rip them off myself and she knows it. My frustration was never brought up, and I didn't want it brought up. I woke up aroused more often than not, but I was willing to wait for her.

It looks like she's decided tonight is the night.

"Yeah, yeah that's…fine." My mouth goes dry, and the senses I'd willingly ignored light up like wildfire. The throbbing arousal becomes painful, and it's worsened when she does unzip my pants. The ache is unbearable as I lean away to pull them off, and she stares at me from the mountain of pillows she insisted on having.

"You're much larger than I was thinking," she blinks at me, and I raise an eyebrow at such a clinical observation given I still have my boxers on. "I mean, without your pants on. I sleep next to you every night but in person, you're so much more."

She makes everything right in the world with these words, and when she reaches for my hips. She pulls me down on top of her, and I've failed to notice her pajamas are nothing more than one of my shirts. I reach for the hem of it, and she chews her lip for the barest of seconds.

"What's wrong?"

I'm fully prepared to stop. Lifetimes ago, I would have gotten up and stalked out, or told her not to waste my time. Now, I'm fully prepared to sink into the sheets and go to sleep.

"Is it going to hurt?" Her eyes find mine, dark and lovely and brimming with all kinds of emotions I was scared to admit I sometimes felt, and she blinks. "I don't want this to be bad. I know you've probably done this with lots of others before me. I haven't…he…"

Owen ruined a lot of things for her, but not this. I wouldn't let him ruin this.

"It's not that many. I worked in Dauntless all the time. If I did bring someone home, they meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. I couldn't even tell you their names," I blurt all this out because her hands move to my thighs, and before I can even try to conjure up the name of the last girl to grace my bed, Violet's hands slip up higher. She skims them over the inner side, below the edge of my boxers, then she pulls them right down. "I…"

I lose my sense of coherence.

Her hands take the length of me into her grasp, and there's an awkward second of fumbling until she figures out what she's doing. In an embarrassingly horrific moment, I nearly come from the sensation of her touching me. She strokes the length up and down, slowly at first, then faster when she realizes how it's affecting me. The feeling spreads a warmth through my legs, tense and taut, and I realize my hips are moving on their own. I could come in her hand in a few seconds if I don't stop myself, and I walk the line between wanting badly to let go and having some dignity.

"I won't hurt you," I promise her as I cover her hands in mine, and I nudge her back. I pull the shirt off her and I'm rewarded with soft, glowing skin and warmth I've never known. She's not as tough looking as the girls who had once caught my attention, but she's not as fragile looking as she once was. I'm relieved to see she no longer looks like she's vanishing into her own skin, and I'm even more relieved when she smiles as I slide my fingers into the waistband of her underwear. "I promise."

Naivety was never my thing.

In Dauntless, the girls I had slept with offered me nothing but opportunity. I try to remember a few, out of morbid curiosity on my own part, but I can't. They were equally opportunistic. Fucking a leader meant great things for them, especially if they wound up pregnant or could make our time something they could use against us. I always made sure nothing happened. I purchased the expensive and contraband-like condoms. They were frowned upon, for repopulating our factions was important, but I never fucked anyone without one. My only goal was my own personal satisfaction. A few girls tried to touch me, digging sharp nails into my skin or reaching out to touch my face, but I refused. The primal need to procreate was lost on me, and instead, I focused on getting off and getting them out.

Which is why I find myself fumbling with Violet once she kicks her underwear off, and she lies before me with nothing on. I let her reach up and touch my face. She swipes over my cheekbones and presses at the faint mark where the piercing above my eyebrow was. I'd taken it out the first time it got caught while I was pulling a rough shirt over my head. I'd taken the large gauges out once the farm animals took a notice to them. It was an odd treasure for them to want, but I quickly learned a chicken could fly, especially when it set its sights on my earlobes.

Violet didn't care. She liked these slow changes, and even now, she smiles in pleasure as she slips her fingers into my hair, then gasps when my fingers slip between her legs.

She's warm and wet, easily turned on by my hideous Amity approved clothes and the longer hair which was defying my attempt to part it. She'd offered to trim it but I couldn't be bothered.

She pulls on the longer strands while I take my time sliding my fingers through her slick folds, and when I find the exact spot I'm looking for, the reward of her dropping her head back is enough for me.

She's a lovely sight as she comes undone. Her chest rises and falls with each gasp, and she wiggles to coax my hand back where she wants it. She groans my name, then tries to say it louder when I slide a finger inside her, and I feel her tense up. She scrambles to touch me. Her hand flies back to my erection, stroking faster this time, sloppily as her eyes close.

"Eric, I…you should…you should stop or…."

She comes before she can stop herself. The look on her face is fascinating; her lips part, her throat is exposed, and the raw connection of how it feels to have done this to her is like no other high. I touch her until she shoves my hand away, and she slowly returns down to Earth.

"Um, that was…that was better than Aidy said it would be. She told me you'd know what to do."

"Oh good," I mutter, still hard, now weeping at the thought of being inside her. Her grip tightens, resuming its manipulation, until I stop her. "Just who I was hoping would be confident in my skills."

"You are good," Violet giggles, sounding light years away. She grasps on to pull me down on top of her, and her legs press against the outside of mine. "I'll make sure to tell her…you're….um, ohhhh."

The realization of what I feel for her is now. It's the very second I push inside her, and the very second I realize how tight and warm she is. There's a flash of possessiveness knowing I'm the only one she's done this with and it'll stay that way. I move slowly, resisting the urge to fuck the living daylights out of her, for every reason in the world.

Mostly because I want to remember this.

She moves her hands to my back, sliding down and grasping on wherever she can. Her own hips move, seeking out friction and drawing me toward her, and she says my name over and over. It's gasped, groaned, and giggled when it feels good for her all over again. She laughs when I kiss the juncture of her neck, and her eyes fly open when I pull her upright. A second of moving around leaves her straddling me, and the view is even nicer than before.

I kiss her roughly, my teeth hitting hers, and I know I won't last much longer.

"I wanted to tell you, I've been meaning to tell you…" I kiss her again and again, frantic, desperate and determined to tell her this was all worth it so long as she was happy. "I think…I think…"

She looks at me, her hair a mess and her arms around my neck, and she nods. "I know. You love me, don't you?"

There is no arrogance in her words. They are hopeful, eager as I struggle to keep my eyes open.

But I do.

I nod, pressing my head to hers, and I touch my lips to her for one quick moment. "I love you. I've loved you since the day you told me you wanted to feel something. You are the only reason I didn't drink myself to death in Dauntless."

"I love you, Eric" she answers firmly, bold and confident in this declaration, and just in time.

The feeling of her on my lap, my dick buried deep inside her, feeling every single movement and sigh and gasp, becomes too much. I come hard. My hands grasp her hips as I slam into her, and she follows a few seconds later. The bliss of it all is like having my mind erased: for a few seconds, there is nothingness, a void where thoughts don't exist and all sensations are overwhelmingly pleasurable, then only her.

She collapses against me, boneless and sated, and her head hits my chest. I grasp onto the back of her head to steady her, and my own heartbeat refuses to slow down. When I can think again, I lie both of us back, and I fumble to pull the sheets up.

"Are you okay?" I try to form a complete sentence but my body has other ideas. I'm suddenly so tired I'm ready to crash, and Violet is so warm and soft against me that I have no desire to move. Luckily, she nods her head, and her whimper of my name is out of sheer content. "Okay, good. Good. I still love you."

"I love you, too. I don't think I've ever loved anyone else," she mumbles, curling into me and making herself comfortable. Violet pulls me close, shaking her head no she doesn't need any water and yes, she's fine, and I fall asleep with the oddest feeling in my chest.

It's a different kind of ache, a good ache, and it stays there as she sleepily asks if we can do this again soon.

We do.

We fall asleep first, but sometime, before the sun rises, I get to tell her I love her all over again.

I say goodbye as the flames eat away at the darkness.

Violet and I stand with the others, some our neighbors and some new to the faction, and we all watch as the fire grows larger. It doesn't take long for it to destroy everything that's been tossed in; my ID card melts, the ghastly picture of myself shrieking as my sneer is destroyed, and so does the point card. The nightgown I rescued Violet in is thrown into the deepest part and it burns with a howl.

The others have tossed in things from their former factions; the new transfers from Abnegation burn their ugly, grey clothes. The few from Candor burn their jackets, stiff and black and meant to give them power while they argued in court. The very few from Erudite, a couple of young kids who'd clearly run away here together, burn everything they've brought. Old clothes, fancy shoes, and their books. I feel absolutely nothing but respect as they willingly give up their old life for a chance here. Pete throws in his macaroni sculpture, his lone souvenir from his time away, and Bobby throws in a spatula his mother had given him. Aidy throws in nothing but contempt, though she winks at me when Violet takes my hand in hers.

We stand silently as we say goodbye to our past. The fire burns away all of it, cleansing each one in ways we didn't know we needed.

I watch as the fire roars to its highest peak, then falls back to the embers. Rustin gives us a final chance to say goodbye, and when he's certain everyone is okay, he tells us he's proud of everyone tonight. His words are important; new members will shadow both him and I for weeks, and the reassurance they belong is what will make our community work.

It's already working. Everyone lingers, unwilling to go home just yet. Someone passes around hot cider and hot cocoa, and we accept. I sit down beside Violet, in a chair someone has made, and I pull her close into my side.

In a few months, winter will have truly arrived. My last winter was spent locked away at the asylum, but this one will be spent at home, with her. In a few months, when the snow is piled high and the snowflakes do more than stick around, I will have no official or personal association with the Dauntless faction.

Four showed up a day ago with the greatest gift of all: an official decree of my banishment.

I read it with a smile. While harsh and dismissive and damning, the document granted me all the freedom in the world. As Eric Coulter, member of Dauntless, I was still tied to the faction. Even if I lived elsewhere, there would be a chance I'd be asked to return. If Four died, if Tris fell down the stairs and broke her neck, if Reggie drank too much or Tori did leap willingly off the chasm, I could be asked to return to oversee the faction. If there was a war, an uprising, or even just someone declaring they wanted to take down their army, I would be called back.

Or arrested and brought back.

Dauntless never give up, and they never cut ties, either.

But Four did.

He gave me the out I needed to make sure I couldn't come back. Whether for his own sanity, or because he knew it would be a cold day in hell before I wandered inside the cavernous hallways, he chose to give me a new life.

Which is why, in a few months, when I marry Violet, we'd become official members of the Amity faction.

This took some careful moves on my part. Violet didn't exist anywhere, and she'd once told me she had nowhere to go. She had no faction, no family who wanted her, not even a last name. I never told her her parents were still alive, and I decided it would only cause more hurt to know they had no interest in seeing her. When she softly told me she'd happily stay here, but she couldn't be official since she wasn't on record as being alive, I offered her my last name. I knew I'd need some time to make it happen, and to my surprise, she willingly accepted without a second thought.

I put in a call to Four, grinning when I heard his unfriendly voice. He listened, then warned me it would take a second to find the records from the asylum. Most had been sealed or destroyed, and there was a high chance Violet was declared dead. If so, he'd have to create a new record for her, with the help of Candor. Much to his chagrin, Lynn still didn't adore him the way he hoped, but out of anyone, he'd be able to get her to process the paperwork as an urgent matter. At the same time, he'd declare me a lost cause. I'd finally have closure and acceptance from people who didn't care about my past, and I no longer would be linked to a faction I wished to never see again.

I'm not entirely optimistic.

There might be a day when Four returns.

Perhaps years would pass and he would come back, but he'd have to find me. I wouldn't be as recognizable as he remembered, nor as willing to walk back and help him with whatever issue came up. It would be something major, something he couldn't handle on his own or with the help of the others, and it would be a cold day in hell because he'd come to me.

But if he did, I'd have the choice to say no.

And I would.

I reach over and pull Violet even closer, kissing her temple and leaving my head there. These days have shown me everything I'd been blind to for so long. I've come to terms with all of this, and it is clear I have no reason to ever leave here.

I need nothing more than Violet, and she needs nothing more than me.

I pull her closer still, sipping our warm drinks as Rustin and Pete tell the story of how someone tried to take one of the pigs home. The night air turns even colder, the sky blackens until the stars are bright and numerous, and the fire slowly begins to die down.

We stay like this until the coals turn black and cool and my old life disappears right into the sky.