TOBIAS POV

There is a hole in the center of the Pit, a mosaic of stone shards that once made up the flat ground. The Dauntless are intrigued by the reminder of the bombing rather than repelled by it; a child dashes under the rope that is supposed to deter people from entering the area, a teenager shoves his friend in the direction of the site with a laugh.

From up here, on the ledges that are situated beneath the Pire, it seems as if everyone has forgotten that we almost suffered a casualty-heavy attack. When the height becomes too much to ignore, I train my gaze across to the parallel walls and upward to the glass ceiling.

"Do you think this is the right idea?" Mike asks. "I mean, what Zeke mentioned about possibly attacking Candor first might be something to think about."

I shake my head in disagreement. "It may be unexpected for the factionless, but if they begin realizing that we are liberating every faction, then they will put all of their power in Erudite. If we take it first, then they won't have any reason to waste all of their resources on Candor because they don't have much strategic use," I explain.

Most of the conference room believed my reasoning, though a select few were hesitant to go along with any idea outright. This is the turning point of the war, and driving the factionless out of Erudite will shift this war back in our favor. So I could understand, especially with the bombing a couple of days ago, why some people had doubts about whether we had devised a perfect plan or not.

If we slip up, Evelyn's next bomb won't miss. We outsmarted her once, and we have to continue our winning streak if we are going to survive.

"You're probably right," Mike sighs. "It's just sick that we can't plan for any of this without considering their next sadistic move."

My jaw tightens as I think of the most recent inventive terror, a factionless man wandering through the Pit, strapped with a bomb. I can't know every person in this faction, but I recognize many of the faces I pass each day, and something was wrong about his appearance. It was me who pointed him out as we stood at a safer level above.

He wasn't positive about his decision. Evelyn's brainwashing suddenly wasn't enough when we aimed our guns and told him not to take another step. But the delay was only momentary, and someone's bullet struck the bomb before he could make it any closer.

All I could think about, as the explosion rang through my ears for hours following, is that the mother who tucked me in at night, who traced imaginary shapes in the air with me on our doorstep when I was a child, is responsible for this. Somehow, she became a monster.

And I don't know if that was instilled in her before she left me or after, or if Marcus had anything to do with it. But I believe that if someone coerces another person to become a walking bomb, then something was always wrong with them.

Does that change the fact of who she once was in my eyes? Does that change the fact that the child in me doesn't want his mother to die, even though the adult does because he doesn't recognize her?

I shake my head and swerve away from the subject. "They shouldn't be expecting this. They won't have something like that planned," I try to convince Mike, and myself. "We're leaving them an escape if they want it; they won't be desperate enough to lash out."

Mike scuffs his shoe against the stone. "Let's hope."

The conversation diverts from the upcoming fight and to more menial duties. That is when I decide to ask my personal favor.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Tris and I are engaged—"

"Congratulations," he interrupts, genuinely glad to hear but unsurprised, almost stating it as a fact.

"Thanks," I say uncomfortably. "I know this might be strange to ask, but...I was wondering if you would be able to officiate our wedding."

There are a few people in Dauntless who are qualified to witness and validate a marriage, it turns out, but leaders are never bothered with such trivial tasks, of course. However, we both agreed that while we didn't want any of our friends there to blow things out of proportion, we didn't want a complete stranger either. So that is how we decided to approach Mike.

He shrugs. "Sure. I don't mind."

It is relieving enough to make my shoulders relax. I don't know who we would have gone to if he had refused. "Thank you," I tell him. "We appreciate it."

"When did you want to do it?"

"As soon as this war allows," I huff. He laughs briefly. "Anyway, I don't know what a Dauntless wedding entails, so if you find out, could you let me know?"

But Mike is already educated on the subject. "Actually, I happen to know a little about it. You'd be surprised," he says slowly, a faraway expression on his face. "You sign the paperwork first, and then the official will say some words that you agree to. After that, you cut each other's hands."

I raise my eyebrows, unfamiliar with the tradition but also repulsed by the idea. "Like the choosing ceremony?" I ask.

"Exactly." At my clearly displeased look, Mike adds, "I think there's a way around that part though, something else to substitute it with."

Nodding, I say, "All right." After a pause, I can't help but ask, "How do you know so much about this?"

His face falls a bit, darkening with the toll the past two wars have taken on all of us. "My sister, Jade. She got married a couple of years ago," he explains. "A lot of Dauntless don't get married, as I'm sure you know. And when they do, sometimes it doesn't last. But Jade was intent on doing it the right way with my brother-in-law."

I sense that she isn't alive anymore by the reverent way he talks about her. When he finally gathers the strength to speak, he admits, "She died last year. One of the mind-controlled Candor shot her."

It seems like I didn't know anything about Mike until now, as if he didn't have a background in my mind. He doesn't share much about himself or his life—although I suppose that neither do I, my life is just constantly on display.

"I want to end this war for her," he remarks. "I'm tired of people dying young and senselessly like that. Like her."

Like Dez. Like Lynn, like Marlene, like Will.

And I don't understand what it is like to lose a sibling, but I do know what loss feels like. Because of that, I don't offer him a mindless apology.

"She would be proud of you," I say. "Proud that you're a leader. Proud that we're going to put an end to it."

My muscles burn in resistance as I lift the barbell with a frustrated grunt. The weights on each end threaten to pull the bar down onto my chest, and that weakness makes me push harder. On a normal day, I would enjoy the sear in my arms, except now there isn't a rewarding ache. After being bedridden and internally injured, the pain is holding me back.

It makes me feel ill-prepared and even unsuitable to lead this attack tonight when I am so frail from wasting away. Maybe not frail, but there is enough soreness to remind me that I am not at my best.

Toward the end of my reps, my view of the training room ceiling is eclipsed by a pair of magnetic eyes and a lot of blonde hair.

"You know, most people don't exercise before a battle," Tris points out.

With a groan, I set the weights down and stare back up at her as I catch my breath. Considering the room is empty, she may be on to something. But most people don't have the same pressure riding on them, weighing down their already low confidence.

"I'm not most people," I say simply.

I sit up, noticing that although she seems to have emotionally recovered from our conversation earlier—in which I told her what shallow reasons Evelyn had to mindlessly murder Dez—there is still a fierce flicker in her gaze that proves me otherwise. She had stormed out of the apartment after the blow, and I haven't spoken to her until now.

And we both know that she isn't finished.

"I'm going tonight," she tells me, without a doubt.

Closing my eyes briefly out of pure frustration, I reply flatly, "No, you're not."

"Why is it that my brother can go, but I can't?"

"You know the answer to that, Tris." Obviously, I don't care about her brother. It isn't about use rather than risk, but sometimes when Tris is set on what she wants, she doesn't use rational arguments.

She crosses her arms. "I've been thinking about this the past few days," she admits. "After what happened at Amity, I was dead-set on revenge. Then I reined myself in because I promised you I wouldn't...act like I did during the first war, and you reminded me of that when you were hurt."

Ashamed that I had that mental breakdown, I avoid her eyes. It doesn't mean that I wasn't telling the truth. We have both given our lives to this city in more ways than one, and despite having no other choice but to lead, I am weary of worrying about her and scraping by near-death situations.

"But then you told me about Dez." Her voice breaks on her friend's name, and she doesn't say anything for a moment as she collects herself. "I have as much reason as most people to go. And that has nothing to do with suicidal tendencies."

I shake my head and rise from the bench. "I'm not letting you get yourself killed—"

"What about you?" she accuses. "Why is it that you get to take on that risk, and I'm supposed to be okay with it?"

Dragging my hand over my face, I explain, "I'm the leader of this faction. What am I supposed to do? Sit this one out?"

Tris's face softens. "You're supposed to let me come so that I can help. The more people there are, the bigger advantage we have." She reaches out and gently grasps my wrist. "I'll stay behind with Caleb. We can worry about finding the prisoners."

That does not change my mind. Anywhere outside this compound is a war zone—though just the other day even this faction was—and Erudite is a place where there will positively be a large factionless presence. How can I guarantee that she won't get struck by a lucky bullet in the chaos?

"I don't want you to come," I tell her sternly, my eyebrows pulled taut. "We're engaged now. And by agreeing, you proved that you want a future with me. How are we supposed to have that if you die?"

She tears her hand away from my arm and glares. Clearly, that wasn't the right thing to say. "You're right," she bites back. "We can't have a future if one of us dies. I would know."

I would flinch with sympathy if we weren't in a tense stare-off.

She continues, "Remember what else I said when you asked me to marry you? I said that we were a team. Wherever you go, I go too."

Then she treads heavily across the training room, yanking the door open with more force than necessary and leaving. And I know that I have failed to convince her.

TRIS POV

Caleb's fingers are jittery when they clasp the gun I offer him. And it isn't from the cold.

"You know how to use it right?" I ask. "If you had to."

He gulps, testing the unfamiliar weight in his hands. "I think so," he says.

"I don't think you will have to," I try to assure him. "Uriah and a few others are coming with us to the seventeenth floor. They will take care of any guards."

The Dauntless around us stamp impatiently as they wait for the train to pull forward, their breaths freezing in the air. It does eventually, at a much slower pace than we are all used to before it screeches to a complete stop.

I look around for Tobias, but I can't see him above anyone's heads. He must know that I am here, waiting to board the train headed to Erudite at three in the morning.

Uriah claps me on the shoulder and joins our group of two. "Who's ready to save some Noses?" he says.

"I am!" Christina chimes in as she saunters over to us.

Despite our conversation about joining the war effort the other day, I am surprised to see her here. "Are you part of our team?" I ask.

She frowns. "Unfortunately, no. They want me to help clear the labs."

We discuss our duties and the overall plan as the Dauntless pile onto the train. It is when we are about to board that I see Tobias making his way over to us. I duck my head, somewhat ashamed, but it doesn't stop his advancement.

"Ready?" he asks.

Uriah sighs. "As ready as we'll ever be."

Tobias steps closer to me and grasps my arm. "Can we talk?" he requests quietly.

I peek up at him, realizing that he didn't come over here to chew me out for defying him. His gaze is full of anxiety and regret as he silently pleads with me. Nodding, I let him lead me to the first train car.

"We're not going into this on bad terms," he tells me. "Never again."

"Of course not," I agree, relaxing my shoulders.

He pauses in front of the train and searches my eyes. Then he leans in to kiss me, his embrace keeping out the frigid night. I melt into him, pressing my forehead to his shoulder when we pull back.

"I wish you would listen to me." He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his brief grin tight and sad. "But if you did, then you wouldn't be Tris."

It pains me to be on an opposite side from him on this matter, but the truth is that there has always been something inside me warring to do the right, courageous thing, to protect the people I love. However, with my Abnegation upbringing, I forget to consider myself. And I think that is a part of my conflicting personality that I won't be able to overcome.

Jeanine once told me that one part of my brain was abnormally large, indicating that I often engage in what she called "reward-seeking behavior". Her experiments couldn't possibly have figured me out, though she must have gotten that single conclusion right.

Because the reward I want is seeing my family through war. If that means throwing myself in harm's way for them, so be it. I equally admire and despise that part of myself.

Maybe that is another lesson to take away from Dauntless: sometimes there is both a positive and negative side to bravery. Like in Tobias's choice to fake his death. He saved thousands of lives yet crippled both of us in the process.

"I'm not doing this to spite you," I say.

He sighs. "I know."

Once he ensures that everyone has boarded, he leads me onto the first train car. The leaders among many others are here, all packed together in the dark. I accidentally bump into someone when the train jolts into motion, but I can't see them, so I mutter an apology that I'm not sure gets caught.

Tobias tries to distract me—and himself—from the fight that lies ahead, somewhere down the train tracks. With his lips close to my ear, he tells me, "I talked to Mike today."

There is a ghost of a smile on my face that he probably can't see. "What did he say?" I ask.

"He agreed. The problem is that Dauntless weddings normally entail cutting each other's hands."

I wince at the reminder of dragging the knife across my palm at the Choosing Ceremony, followed by the sting of my parents' ghastly expressions. Not only would I not enjoy that pain again for obvious reasons, but even worse is the idea of doing it to him.

"I don't know about that," I admit, making my hesitation clear. Our marriage is supposed to be about carrying on, and nothing says remaining in the past like hurting each other. I don't want more scars involved during our wedding of all times.

"That's what I said," Tobias assures me. "He said he would find an alternative."

I remind myself that none of this matters if tonight's plan goes sideways on us. My stomach sinks with nervous anticipation the closer we get to Erudite, and I watch as we pass shadows of buildings, as there are no streetlights to illuminate the city anymore.

"Please be careful," I whisper.

He detaches the gas mask I have hooked onto the strap that carries my submachine gun. "Same goes for you," he replies, guiding it over my head.

The train screeches as it pulls to a stop a block away from the Erudite compound. As soldiers begin piling off, he cradles my head and plants a kiss against the mask, where my forehead would be. I close my eyes.

"I'll be a floor above if you need me," he says. "You should go find the others."

I keep a hold on his arm as we both step out of the train. "I love you," I say.

He pulls his own gas mask on and squeezes my arm once. "I love you, too."

Then I watch as he swings his rifle around from his back, jogging to the front of the army and toward the bright lights of the compound. With a deep breath and some convincing that this will turn out all right, I drag my eyes away and find my group.

"When are we going in?" Caleb asks, his voice hushed.

I glance to the top of the building, but I can't see the guards from here. Our intel told us that there would be factionless stationed on the roof, though I don't think they will be able to see us from so high up in the dark. The strategical issue with Erudite is how unbelievably bright they keep their lights on, even in the dead of night. That prevents them from seeing outside until we are too close, and that is about the time that the guards on the roof will notice us as well. By then, we will already have broken through.

"We're letting them clear the ground floor first," I explain. "Then we can take the elevators. Or the stairs, depending on what is available."

The shouting is mostly muffled by the glass, but the doors keep swinging open as the first floor is flooded with Dauntless. And inevitably, booming gunshots follow. Uriah, Caleb, and I stand back with a few other soldiers until the path forward is clear for us.

"Okay, let's move," I say.

Upon entry, the first thing I notice is the bodies. Always the bodies. They are not as abundant down here, but I know that with all the floors combined, this will go how it usually does.

Dauntless soldiers shove the few frightened Erudite that are allowed out of their homes at this hour against the wall, searching for weapons. When they are satisfied, they corral them to the corner of the room, a few feet where Jeanine Matthews's portrait used to hang.

I step over a fallen Dauntless soldier. He is the only one to have died thus far.

We reach the elevator bank, where virtually most of the army stands waiting for transportation. Whenever the door dings open, the groups in front scramble to get on, eagerly anticipating the morsels of revenge that lie upstairs. Several groups have just given up and decided to make the climb up many flights.

"Let's just take the stairs," Uriah suggests, right as the alarms start blaring through the building.

That sets everyone in a hurry to get a head start. My group rushes for the stairs, at first with a burst of energy, which progressively dies down the farther we get. The Dauntless above us divert onto their assigned floors until there is nobody ahead. Eventually, Caleb runs out of breath on the eleventh floor, and we are forced to pause at the landing.

"Why did we bring him along?" a nameless soldier asks, though his face is flushed too. A few others mumble in agreement.

"Wait, everyone shut up," I demand. Above us, there are thundering footsteps, and over the next few seconds, they grow louder. "Nobody should be coming down," I point out.

Uriah meets my eyes and nods. "Pire!" he shouts up the stairwell. There is no answer, but the footsteps pause for a moment with confusion. "Pire!" he tries again.

"Chasm" is supposed to follow the code word; we were all briefed on what both the call and response should be, and clearly whoever is up there doesn't know that.

"Oh, shit," I blurt out, tucking tail and running back to where we came from. The factionless army above us pounds into the stairs as they follow where our voices came from.

Two floors down, I realize that this won't work. The group follows me through the door at the next landing, and we walk straight into a battle.

Screams reach my ears as we watch Dauntless run through the intersected hallways and shoot down anyone wielding a weapon. They repeatedly yell at the Erudite to, "Get down!"

"We need to find another stairwell," I tell everyone. "Come on."

We move to the perpendicular hallway, and just in case we run into cross-traffic, I shout, "Pire!"

"Chasm," someone acknowledges, and we cross safely.

"Okay, any idea where the stairs are?" Uriah asks out loud.

I spot an exit sign at the back of the next hallway. "This way."

The sounds of war are drowned out as we move along. At least until there is sobbing coming from the corner up ahead, and we all freeze at the sound, worried about a trap. Glances are thrown around as we silently nominate each other. Finally, I volunteer. With careful steps, I aim my gun around the corner, peeking once to find a Dauntless soldier curled up against the wall. A very young Dauntless soldier, one that I recognize, even with the bulky gas mask.

"Hector?" I call.

He sniffles before standing up straight, holding his pistol limply at his side. "Tris, I-I'm sorry..." he stutters.

My chest constricts. How did he even get here? Who let him through the ranks? How old is he again, thirteen? Fourteen?

"I wanted to do this. For Lynn," he admits, hiccuping. "I didn't know—"

I see myself in him: horrified, corrupted, cast into this hell at a young age. He should still be in school at this age, goofing off with his friends as they walk home. He should not be wielding a gun and trying to avenge his teenage sister.

I know better than most what he means. You think the blood and the death all around won't affect you anymore after you have seen it all. But it does, every time, even when you are determined to accomplish goals bigger than yourself.

"Hector," I say softly, taking a few steps towards him. I set my hands on his shoulders. "Go wait downstairs."

He shakes his head, tears still falling, ashamed of himself. "Don't tell Shauna. I wanted to be brave—"

"Sometimes there's bravery in not fighting. Go," I tell him. "That's an order."

With a weak nod, he agrees. I lead him back to the group, which have joined us in the hallway. Everyone is shocked to see someone so young in a war zone.

"Hector?!" Uriah gapes at him. "What the hell—"

"He's all right. We're not going to mention this to anyone," I say, an assurance to Hector and a warning to Uriah. "The stairs are this way."

Hector splits up from us once we reach them, heading down while we head up. This time, there is next to nobody here, just a groaning straggler, gripping his arm and heading downstairs for medical attention.

Whereas the other floors were emitting war sounds, the eleventh floor is quiet when we twist the door open. We anticipated it being abandoned like this, since there is no point in leaving a bulk of their military here to guard a few prisoners.

"Caleb, where are the cells?" I ask

Seemingly distressed by the sights and sounds around him tonight, he takes a moment to answer. "Uh, they're going to be down the right hallway."

"Okay, let's split up," I order. "Uriah, Caleb, and I will search for the leaders, and the rest of you go left. Once the floor is clear, we will meet back up and find a way to free everyone."

As it turns out, the leaders are being held in the first row of cells that we come upon, if the four guards stationed in the hallway are any indication.

When we are positive that they don't see us peeking, Uriah tiptoes quickly to the other side of the hall. I motion to him that I will take the two on the left, and he gives me a thumbs-up in response.

We fire simultaneously, taking them down somewhat easily. As I am reloading, my heartbeat in my throat, Caleb steps out from behind our shared corner. "I'll show you where—" he starts.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and I shout, "Caleb, no!"

I yank him back by his arm, just as gunshots break out. Uriah fires two shots down the hallway. Caleb stumbles with a pained yelp, crashing down on the tiles.

"Caleb?" I panic, my hands searching for an injury. "Where is it?"

He groans and touches his fingers to the spot on his leg, where his pants are barely torn and he has only been nicked by a bullet. I let out a sigh of relief and throw my arms around my brother.

I can't stand him. He has made so many colossal mistakes—yet my heart nearly stopped when I thought he was facing death.

"I'm okay," he promises, wrapping an awkward arm around me.

I nod, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

Uriah is also just fine. He shares my same relieved breath before I help Caleb off the ground. "Let's finish this up, shall we?"

We spend the next few minutes making sure that there is only a Dauntless presence here. The rest of the group meets us in the middle, and they station themselves by the elevators and stairwells while Caleb shows Uriah and I where the cell keys are.

These cells are not similar to the ones I remember. They are much newer, it seems. And bigger. That is probably why the factionless piled Jack Kang, Marcus Eaton, and the newest Erudite leader into the same cell.

The Erudite leader expresses his gratitude. Jack Kang makes a witty remark about knowing he made the right choice by letting me go when I was held prisoner in Candor.

And Marcus has nothing but contempt written all over his face.

"Guess you were right, I'm not completely useless after all," I comment.

His frown deepens. Because he knows he was defeated the last time we met, and he has nothing to say to defend himself with, especially not after I just rescued him.

There are several other prisoners here; Tobias had mentioned something about Candor running out of space. They are all Erudite, and from the looks of them, they could not have done anything worthy of prison time. A couple of them cry as they are thanking us, but this is just something we had to do. I wasn't going to let these people be next in line after Dez.

Judging by the lack of sound above and below us, most of the other Dauntless have finished clearing their floors as well. Which means Tobias will be coming down to check on us soon.

If he comes down.

To prevent myself from thinking about it, I put myself to work. I announce to the others, "I'm going to go check the cells down these last hallways, just in case we missed someone."

"I'll go with you," Caleb offers.

He limps beside me as we walk, losing ourselves in the Erudite maze.

"How's your leg?" I ask.

"It's not terrible. I just need brief medical attention," he answers.

Both of us are silent after the exchange. My body drags on with exhaustion seeping in every minute, and my ears still ring from gunfire. When I blink, there are bodies piling and piling, a never-ending buildup of death. Each of those lifeless faces will inspire misery to at least a few people, and it nauseates me to consider it, no matter the side they are on.

I turn into the next hallway of my own accord, and I freeze.

Somehow, my feet still knew these halls. They picked up a trail and carried me here, to the place I still see repetitively in my nightmares. These are the smaller, cramped cells. These are the cells I know.

This is my cell. I know it down to the tiny, jagged cracks in the wall and the grainy feel of the flooring.

"Beatrice?"

My throat tightens; my vision narrows. Everything darkens considerably as I tense up, my entire body slipping into that familiar, crippling panic. No, no, no, not now.

I scramble away from the cell, hitting my back against the opposite wall. My legs give out from underneath me. No matter how much I push myself backwards, there is still a wall, and it feels like the wall is forcing me forward.

Caleb tears off my mask and begs for an explanation, but it is lost somewhere behind the jumbled images and sounds and feelings of my time here. Jeanine's heels clicking on the tiles; the cold of the serum being injected into my veins; the screams of Tobias, who just wanted to see me one last time. And I find myself claustrophobic like him.

The shallow breaths only make my heartbeat faster as my blood desperately searches for oxygen. I think Caleb is gone now, and I don't know if that is better or worse, but I almost can't see my cell anymore with all of the buzzing, multicolored dots taking over my eyesight.

Peter's demanding hand is on my arm; Tobias's hand is against the glass.

This isn't real. This isn't real.

Although I was freed from my cell long ago, parts of my mind were not. And I will always be Jeanine's test subject if I choose to remain here, enslaved by my own fear.

TOBIAS POV

"On the ground, now!" I shout, aiming my rifle. "If you move, we shoot!"

The Erudite scientists obey and drop to the floor. We step around them, carefully checking every corner of the lab stations and flinching at every noise. A sniffle sounds from my left, and I flip around to aim, though there is no threat.

"Clear down here!" someone calls.

"Clear!" another soldier announces.

I barely catch the black pants on the person with the blue shirt out of the corner of my eye. It grasps my full attention when the person shifts, and three of us manage to shoot the factionless man before he can try to point his gun up at me.

With an unsteady breath, I stare at the bullet holes in his back, wondering how close I came to ending up just like him.

Fortunately, the action comes to a closing after that scare. From what I hear when we finish sweeping the floor, the other teams were successful in either wiping out or driving out the factionless. The damage is yet to be assessed, but the amount of casualties on our side has been low on each floor I have visited.

It forces me to stress about Tris as we sort through the Erudite hostages and the dead factionless.

"Four," Zeke says. He guides an older man with a graying beard forward, though it does not seem polite. "This is the head serum scientist."

It had almost slipped my mind that I wanted to find him in the aftermath, in case he could offer any information on the newest serum that the Erudite created for the factionless. By the way his eyes dart around to all of the weapons in the room uneasily, this interrogation won't take long at all.

"Good," I say. "I need you to tell me everything you know about the serum you have batched for the factionless."

He squints at me. "The suicide one?"

I roll my eyes. "No. The latest one."

The Erudite scientist has a lightbulb switch on in his head, and I can see it in his face. It puzzles me how sometimes the smartest people aren't smart in the simplest ways.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much about that," he answers.

I sigh, removing my pistol from my waistband. "Do you need something to persuade you?"

"No, no, no!" he exclaims, backing up into Zeke. "That's not what I mean. I do not know what the factionless leader was commanding us to make."

I stare at him.

"It was a gray color, a sort of silver."

"You're telling me you never bothered to find out what the person holding you hostage was forcing you to make?" I ask, utterly baffled. "After the first serum made people kill themselves?"

A flush overwhelms the scientist's face. "I-I didn't want to—"

Turns out most of the Erudite haven't changed. Sliding my rifle off of the lab counter I had set it on, I say, "Forget it. Thanks for bringing him, Zeke."

Before I can even take a step away, Uriah is bursting into the laboratory, searching for me. Suddenly, ignorant serum scientists are unimportant.

"Four! It's Tris."

My entire body reacts before I can think it through. I rush out the way he came, flying down the short flight of stairs as he follows behind me.

All I can think about is when she was shot, her blood staining my hands, her body trembling. Oh God, is that what I'm walking into?

"She's okay!" Uriah promises. "But I think she's in shock."

That eases my mind a bit. He tells me directions as we both run down the maze of identical, white hallways. When we reach the end of the last hallway, I know exactly where we are. And it isn't hard to guess what is wrong.

My cell is around the corner and a hundred feet forward. Hers must have been here.

Tris is backed against the wall, struggling to put more distance between her and one of the cells. Shoving Caleb out of the way, I fall to my knees in front of her. She stares straight ahead, but her face is so pale and her breathing is so erratic that I know she isn't really seeing me.

The first action I take is to haul her to her feet so that I can remove her from this place, hoping to put some distance between her and her former prison. Her feet don't cooperate, so I end up practically dragging her back the way I came. Once she is somewhat coherent again from the jostling, I set her down and place her hand on my chest.

"Breathe with me," I tell her. "Breathe with me, Tris."

For a moment, I think that she doesn't register my words, based on her rattling breaths. But gradually, her chest falls into a slower rhythm similar to mine. And her fingers cease their tremors, instead curling into my shirt.

It reminds me of a different time, when she pulled my hand to her chest. When she told me to feel her heartbeat and reminded me that fear is my mind's own prison, that there are more important emotions that would make it shy away.

"You got it?" I ask quietly.

She closes her eyes to shut the world out, offering a shallow nod. I find it incredible how she can recover from traumatic events so quickly, though I suppose she stores them in her mind, locking them up for years to come.

"Is she okay?" Uriah questions worriedly over my shoulder.

I stand up from my crouched position. "She's fine." And considering the fact that she is alive in the first place, that is more than I could ask for.

Caleb pipes up, "What just happened?"

Tris holds her head up with her hand, her elbow buried in her knee. Right now I can almost hear her berating herself, embarrassed about showing what she considers weakness.

I frown. "She will tell you when she is ready for you to know."

Uriah drags his eyes away from her. "How did we do?" he asks.

"Well, all of the factionless are either dead or on the run," I say. "I haven't gotten a casualty count."

He points out, "It's going to be hard to hold this place. It's massive."

"Which is why we are going to attack Candor as soon as we have gathered all of the information on their guards. That way, they will have to retreat back to their sector because they won't occupy anywhere close."

Tris blinks up at me, biting her lip. I hold out my hand, and she takes it, but she doesn't let go once she is standing.

"Time to evaluate the damage," I sigh.

TRIS POV

I watch as Tobias barks orders at Erudite and Dauntless alike, telling them where to go and where to put the bodies. Zeke figures out where to station the new guards who will be living here for the time being until we can switch them out. Meanwhile, Mike takes care of the prisoners.

The sun crawls its way into the sky, peeking between buildings so that it casts uneven rays through the glass and spills onto the ground floor. I rub my eyes at the reminder that it has been hours since the invasion began.

"I heard that we barely lost anyone," Christina remarks. "That's good."

My foot plays around with a shard of glass on the floor. "Yeah," I agree. "But what are the odds that it will go well for us again?"

We may have had another successful liberation, but that doesn't exactly mean anything for the future operations. Evelyn still has a serum, and we still don't have enough gas masks. She could be planning something we are completely unprepared for, like the bomb attack.

"Do you have to be such a pessimist all the time?"

"Sorry," I say. It is more realism than pessimism driving my mind.

For what seems like the hundredth time, she locks eyes with an Erudite man around our age, with light brown hair. An Erudite medic is patching up a wound he received on his torso.

It has been a long time since Christina has looked at anyone like that. So I give her a push in the right direction. "Go talk to him," I encourage.

She blushes almost unnoticeably. "I can't do that! We were just involved in a battle, and now I'm supposed to talk to him?"

"You did help save his faction," I comment.

There is a mental tug of war written on her face before she eventually makes a decision and straightens confidently. "I'm going to talk to him," she announces.

Christina strides away to talk to the Erudite boy before she can convince herself otherwise. Within seconds, both of them are smiling, and from here I can tell that he couldn't be another Bryce. What is with her and the Erudite type?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall shadow, and I know it is Tobias before I even see him fully.

"I'm sorry," I admit.

"For what?"

"Freezing up like that. I wasn't even sure if the building was all cleared, and I just had to shut down. It always happens at the most inconvenient times." Not to mention the humiliating fact that I panicked in front of two other people.

He stares down at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What?" I ask.

"I swear you're the only person I know who apologizes for things they can't control, but is too stubborn to apologize for the things they can," he says.

It isn't phrased like an insult, though it sure feels like one. Frowning, I look away towards a pair of Dauntless soldiers who are sharing ammunition.

He can tell I am offended by him targeting one of my unfortunate traits. So he pulls me into a hug and murmurs, "That is one of the many reasons why I can't wait to marry you."

His statement wins me back over, and I relax against him, sliding my arms around his lower back. He smells like gunpowder and sweat and exhaustion.

"What were the casualties?" I ask softly, my cheek pressed against his chest.

"Eight deaths, eleven injuries," he replies. "They weren't prepared for us."

And it would have been much worse had someone like Tori been in charge. I tighten my hold on him, the piercing sun forcing me to shut my eyes.

"I'm proud of you. For leading as well as you do."

For once, he accepts the compliment, although it will still take time for him to believe it.

"And I'm proud of you," he deflects. "For being able to face this place despite all that it means to you."

If curling up against a wall and hyperventilating shows anything but cowardice, that is news to me. Maybe one day I will be able to walk that hallway of cells without reacting the way I did. Maybe one day I won't even think twice about being tortured with serums so frequently that I couldn't distinguish which sights were reality.

But that day would only come after many years of healing. Time, unfortunately, is not on my side.

Beatrice Eaton is an unnatural signature, one that I will have to grow accustomed to. On my first attempt, I almost slip up and sign Prior on the indicated line. When I think I have the hang of it on the last document, my hands are so jittery with nervous anticipation that my signature is ragged and unpleasant to look at.

But Tobias's hand is warm, and it stills one of my fidgeting hands as we follow Mike up to the rooftop.

The exception to the Dauntless marriage law stated that if the two parties did not want to cut each other's hands, they could perform some kind of Dauntless act together. It seemed like a vague, silly law, but Tobias and I weren't going to complain. In the end, we settled on the idea of jumping off the roof and into the net, where we first met.

My hearing is muffled once we step onto the gravel of the roof. It seems stupid that I could be breaking out into a cold sweat about saying some words rather than leaping from a seven-story building. But both of us are cognizant of the importance of this moment even if there isn't a large gathering surrounding us.

There are three guards stationed on this particular roof, and they pay us no attention as we head for the back. I tug on the hem of my sweater, still unsure about wearing nothing special on this occasion. I felt like a dress was in order before we decided on the jumping part, and when I promised to wear one when we were celebrating later, Tobias had said, "I don't care about what you're dressed in. You always look good to me."

Whenever I imagined my wedding before I transferred, I saw myself in an Abnegation dress, just slightly embellished to celebrate the day but not to attract attention. I pictured a somber occasion, in which my parents attended and watched as my husband—a nondescript neighbor, maybe someone like Robert—and I exchanged rings and had what would have likely been our first kiss.

This is the exact opposite of that. Growing up, I thought that dream was what I wanted, but I couldn't have been more wrong now that I am here.

Of course I wish my parents were here, for my father to walk me down to the officiator, a traditional Abnegation practice. Even though they cannot share this day with me, I know that they would be proud of my decision, of how I constantly fought for Tobias so that we could end up here.

I glance over at him. I think—no, I know that they would have approved of him. He has a bold heart and a quiet demeanor, is more than protective of me. He is fair, harsh when it is demanded and gentle when it is just us. He is not just a survivor but a warrior, and I know that I was only ever going to marry him. Maybe that is why through our breakups, our goodbyes, and our scathing fights, we still came home.

Now, here we are.

"Ready?" Tobias asks.

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I answer confidently, though he senses my unease and doesn't let go of my hand when we start.

Mike reads the marriage terms that I don't really pay attention to, just legal words that I don't intend to break. The wind is gentle, blowing my hair with an icy breeze that freezes the tips of my ears. It is sunny today too, and I smile when I look over to see Tobias squinting against the weather, his hair tousled.

"All right, this is the time for rings if you have them," Mike declares.

Tobias slides my ring on first, and I grin widely when I see it for the first time. He wanted to surprise me, and although I didn't care what he picked out, I am struck by how perfect it is, a black band with a small, modest diamond. It is simple yet beautiful.

Then he hands me his own, and I slide it on his finger, almost giddy on the inside to see the thick, black ring on his finger. It is a stark contrast between his skin and the wedding band, and it makes me proud that it might call some attention because of that, that from now on he is permanently mine.

"Do you, Tobias Eaton, vow to protect Beatrice, to defend her whenever necessary, to fight beside her, to love her, and to uphold the conditions of marriage, from now until the day you die?"

These words are different from the Abnegation ones. The one time I witnessed a wedding, the vows spoke of duty and caring for each other. I guess that just demonstrates the divide between faction customs—but this is more representative of us.

Our marriage isn't about obligations; our marriage is about our innate loyalty, our unbreakable commitment, our enduring love.

"I do," Tobias promises.

And I see in his concentrated gaze that he agrees.

"Do you, Beatrice Prior, vow to protect Tobias, to defend him whenever necessary, to fight beside him, to love him, and to uphold the conditions of marriage, from now until the day you die?"

With my breath caught in my throat, I say, "I do."

Mike lowers the clipboard. "Congratulations," he tells us with a tight-lipped smile. "As soon as you step off that roof, you are officially married."

We thank him, joining hands and stepping forward to peer over the edge of the roof. Tobias curses under his breath at the extensive drop.

The jump was his initial suggestion, not mine. I shot it down for this very reason: there is no reason for him to torture himself so we can be married. But he convinced me that he would be fine, and he said that he refused to let fear dictate him anymore.

So I don't extend any pity or worry to him. I close my hand around his tighter, stepping onto the ledge and silently encouraging him to follow.

"On three," I say.

He stares straight ahead and listens for the countdown. And we fall.

A gasp is squeezed from both of us on the way down, our stomachs suspended somewhere in midair, and we slam into the net before we can dwell on it. As soon as I catch my breath, I meet his eyes.

We laugh.

His is irresistible, the way he grins so wide his teeth show. It is a real smile, a rare Tobias smile that lights up his entire stoic demeanor. His eyes are abnormally animated, the dimples that never show themselves now on display. And it is so infectious that it makes me beam right back at him.

I kiss him, over and over again. I kiss him until my lips can't keep up with the strain of grinning uncontrollably.

Happiness comes in fleeting bursts, so I know by now to cherish these moments. Though I don't think I could ever forget the way he looks at me today if I tried.

We celebrate alone, fully expecting our friends to throw us a more rambunctious, disruptive party later. For now though, I am perfectly content sharing a piece of the now scarce Dauntless chocolate cake with my husband.

By now the only source of light in the apartment is the cluster of candles illuminating the table, since the sun abandoned the sky long ago. I steal a bite of the cake with my fork, savoring the sweet taste that would have been forbidden in my old life.

"Don't tell Uriah about this," I say. "He will try to talk me out of that other piece of cake he owes me."

Tobias shakes his head, chocolate staining the corners of his mouth. He notices a second after I do and wipes it away. "I won't say anything as long as I get some."

Rolling my eyes, I go back for more. We sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the serenity of our wedding night and blocking out all else.

"Today wasn't what I expected," I eventually tell him.

"Yes, it definitely wasn't," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Abnegation weddings were much different."

I raise my eyebrows. "You've been to one?"

"Kind of. Evelyn wanted to support her friend at the time. We stepped out as soon as we could so we didn't witness much, but it wasn't enough to ease Marcus's anger for being late."

It makes me bite my cheek. From what he tells me, his childhood was always centered around his father's torment and his mother's abandonment. Next to no decent memories, only the stolen ones he kept to himself. And it makes me sick sometimes how he can share details of it all like it is a fact. Like it was a normal part of growing up for everyone because he doesn't know any different.

He shouldn't have to be recalling these memories today of all days, so I change the subject.

"I thought about my parents today," I admit, staring down at my lap where I am fiddling with my ring. It will take some time to become accustomed to it.

Tobias sets his fork down in between us. "What about them?" he asks.

"Just that I wished they were there," I sigh. "Although realistically, they probably wouldn't have been allowed to come if things were normal."

If the factions were fully divided and operational, keeping families apart, essentially. Maybe I could get behind the factionless cause to disband the factions if their objective wasn't tyranny. And if their methods weren't crimes against humanity.

"They would have come, even if they weren't allowed," Tobias says.

For the first time in a long time, I smile when I think of my mother. I see her shoving her way through Dauntless soldiers to be able to support me. He may not have really known my parents, but he knows enough about them from what I have told him; he knows that I get my obstinance and my care from somewhere.

Shaking my head, I amend, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that my parents are dead, and it doesn't matter that your parents are...what they are. What matters is that we're family now."

Officially, at least. As if he has a direct line to my thoughts, he remarks, "You have always been my family. The only one I could wholeheartedly trust, the only one who believed in me."

He crosses his arms when he leans forward, his dark shirt hugging his muscles. The candlelight glows against his eyes, and I don't know if he has ever looked more attractive than he is now.

"I love you, Tris." The powerful conviction in his voice conveys that he wants to prove it, but he is unable to with mere words. I am familiar with the feeling.

I rise from my chair, stepping around the table so that I can straddle him in his. My lips are against his when I lower myself onto his lap. Something changed in the timespan of just a few hours, and the way we kiss now is somehow more intimate than it ever was between us. Even though future disaster is barreling down on us, our kissing is leisurely, like we have nowhere to go anytime soon. A lifetime ahead.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his. "I love you, too," I tell him softly.

He stands with me still in his arms, trying to multitask with his lips and his movement across the room, the dark making it more difficult. Eventually his legs smack into the bed, and we both topple onto it with a laugh.

If the world was ordinary, I would have waited until this night to make love to him. Not because of Abnegation beliefs but because of my own, because I have enough self-respect to know that I should only be with someone that way if I can trust them emphatically.

But in a world centered around death and no second chances, we made our decision the night I left for Erudite. In my opinion, it does not change anything about where we ended up. Had we waited, we would have still been married and still would have loved each other the same way.

Tobias was always going to be it for me, and I knew, even in the desperate moments when I convinced myself of hate to spare myself from the pain of our bond being severed. That is why I was able to place my faith in him, in all things. That is why we were able to rely on each other so that we could end up here.

Despite our extreme circumstances, we spend the night as every newly married couple does, unwilling to surrender the closeness that comes with bare contact and raw emotion. We kiss until my eyelids fail me, until the candles burn into nothing and we are engulfed in a blanket of shadow.

It was kind of interesting to write the wedding scene. I wanted it to have some roots from a normal wedding, but I wanted it to be more Dauntless than anything. And I think each faction would have their own way of doing things, so that was interesting to think about too.

I also want to add that I'm so grateful for your support!