The Decision

by ClubLulu333

After he learns of Jeanine's plans for him, Eric chooses to transfer anywhere but Dauntless. When he picks Amity to spite his family, he finds himself in a world unlike anything he's ever known before. Will he be able to adjust to his new life, or will Jeanine find a way to make her demands come true? Eric x Everly, Frank x Tris

15. Chapter 15

Thank you SO much to Bamberlee for editing!

I got a ton of messages about the last chapter and people not being able to read it. I'm not exactly sure what was going on with the site or update but it seems like it's fixed now. If you still can't see it, my best advice is to clear your cookies and try to view it again. This chapter will make zero sense if you were unable to read the last one. If you still can't see it, send me a message.

Also, yes, I'm updating this early! There is no extra update on Sunday ;) See you all in a week!

There are only a few chapters left, so thanks for reading and reviewing. Have a really good weekend!

---

"Is she the only girl initiate?"

I stare at Four with disdain, and he stares back with an equally tense expression. It's easy to see he's unhappy. He's been summoned to my office for multiple reasons, but his list of initiates is the first issue on my agenda.

The names of those who've chosen to come to Dauntless is long and suspicious.

Several of them have flagged test results. They are marked with an asterisk, noting that someone has manually entered their results by hand. It's not entirely uncommon; every so often, the computers malfunction or shut down, and the test isn't exactly foolproof. Even as smart as Erudite is, there are still errors.

The other issues I'm supposed to go over are just as pressing. The first is our turnout. Despite the list being long, it's still a decline from last year's initiation class.

And the year before.

I try to remember that one, if there was something about it that stuck out, but I come up with nothing. My mind is a whirl of names, reports and demands from both Max and Jeanine, Lauren, and sometimes Quinten, insisting his budget be increased despite a drop in numbers, all mixed in with the deep, dark violence which lived here.

"No, she's not the only girl initiate. Her name is just the first one that was noted. However, there are a few discrepancies I'm sure you've noticed. Max asked for the names and told me to come see you to talk about them." Four shifts his weight, dropping his stare to my desk. "I know you're looking for –"

"We're," I interrupt sharply, reclining back in my chair and staring him down. "We're on the lookout for them, aren't we Four? I thought Jeanine was pretty clear in the last meeting, but maybe she wasn't. You tell me. Are you unwilling to help? Perhaps we should look into your records?"

There's a beat of silence.

Four's shoulders are stiff and tense, and when he drags his stare up, it's pinched. He'd sat in the same meeting I had, only because of his position here. He trained the class made up of transfers, while Lauren trained the Dauntless born. They got along amicably enough, though there was an unspoken competition over whose initiates ranked higher.

They're both a thorn in my side. Four is too tortured looking to appear intimidating, and Lauren is unimpressive. She hung around after the meeting to tell me Four was too close in age to train the transfers, and I tilted my head, not really caring. She wasn't wrong. Four is only a few years older than those picking Dauntless, and every so often, it showed.

His confidence occasionally cracked when he was reminded someone was always watching, and his other job –working in the control room –bored me.

There was something about Lauren that bugged me more. A familiarity to her that I couldn't place, almost as though she looked like someone I knew, but didn't.

"Understood. I'll keep you updated if I notice anything…unusual."

Four doesn't like what's going on. He's been asked to observe the initiates and report anything suspicious. Someone doing too well. Someone making it through too easily. Someone who doesn't belong here.

People he'd normally take under his wing, or perhaps give the smallest bit of leeway, though he'd always pretend otherwise. He isn't nice to them, but I know he wants them all to succeed here.

He leaves when I wave him away, vanishing into the maze of hallways and offices with a huff. A single door down, Rylan and Jason are laughing over their brilliant plan of using Four's picture for their dart board, and in the main entryway, Linda is taking coffee orders. Beyond all this, Max watches, observing silently as everyone goes about their day.

I return to my work –a list of names and factions needing my attention –and I forget about Four, looking annoyed at being asked to take note of anyone who doesn't fit in here.

I do think of him later, when I sign his report for his hours, and I deny his newest training curriculum purely out of spite.

---

Dauntless is vast.

I walk quickly, shoulders back and stare forward, and every so often, a member does their best to step out of my way. It brings me great satisfaction to see them scramble aside, stares glued to the ground and frantic greeting spilling from their lips. My reputation here is an unpleasant one, but it's well deserved.

As one of the younger leaders –older only than Jason and Rylan –my rise to power is impressive yet horrifying. It came along with a dark uniform, a pair of boots fantastic for stepping on the neck of whoever got in my way, and a permanent sneer. The faction brought me a sense of purpose, but it grated on every single one of my nerves. I found the members too much; too desperate to prove how brave they are, too obnoxious in their pursuit of being courageous, too juvenile to be considered the protectors of the factions. The Dauntless faction as a whole lusted after such basic, unimportant shit that it made me loathe them all.

The brightly colored hair, the garish clothing, the sex appeal oozed from brash attitudes meant to be seductive. Even the tattoos –often unsymbolic and plainly for show – or the piercings –numerous and shiny –weren't interesting to me.

I had my own.

On a day when my head throbbed and my vision felt heavy, I reclined back in Tori's chair while she traced dark blocks on my throat with a gun loaded with permanent ink. It was required; every leader had the same tattoo, and I was no exception to the rule. Uniformity, with the slightest hint of individuality. The maze tattoo on my arm followed, and so did the labyrinth on my calf, and the geometric patterns on my back. These symbolized nothing according to Tori, but I liked them because they were endless. They reminded me of my thoughts, and sometimes, the layout of the faction.

The piercings were a dare.

My earlobes occasionally ached with the burn of the gauges, and the metal above my eyebrow stung from time to time. The man who'd done them let out a string of swears when he slid the needle through, muttering that it was harder to pierce scar tissue than anything else. He asked a few questions, but I couldn't remember ever hurting myself there.

The other piercing –a single one through the underside of my cock –was a dare from Rylan. I willingly went along with it, smirking as he looked on with horrified disbelief, and I barely flinched. These few sharp slices felt good. It was one of the few times my heart rate picked up and my pulse quickened, yet it evoked absolutely nothing else.

I celebrated turning twenty-one with a metal bar through the most vulnerable part of my body, and the man told me it would hurt for a while.

I felt nothing.

I felt nothing except these dull, grating headaches that occurred every few months like clockwork. They hit full force: a viselike grip on my head accompanied by a wave of nausea and an intense desire to seek out darkness. They made things fuzzy; words blurred and my thoughts became slow, and sometimes, I felt like none of this was real.

The first one had forced me down to see Arlene. It occurred right after an altercation with a soldier who wouldn't listen. I settled the debate by my fist smashing into his face, and he eventually scurried away, moaning how I'd broken his nose. The headache exploded seconds later, so intense it forced my eyes closed. When I opened them to the dark of Dauntless, my mind felt blank. I stumbled down uneven steps into the infirmary, and I didn't bother checking in.

There was faint recognition when I sat down in front of Arlene, and her eyes stayed on me. She jotted a few things down, pressed her lips together, then left the room. I sat for a while, toying with my phone and sending Jason a few bored messages, and eventually, Arlene returned looking like she was ill.

A second later, a clear serum was injected, and I was given a few pills to swallow. Arlene enlightened me these headaches were noted in my chart as chronic and had persisted since childhood. I tried to dredge up the memory of having them, wondering how I'd forgotten this. I came up with nothing. In the back of my mind, I remembered a hospital. I remembered seeing Daniel at his work. I remembered being brought there with a broken arm, left alone until he was forced to come get me, and nothing past that.

She went on to inform me there wasn't, unfortunately, much that could be done. I was to come down and see her whenever the headache started, and she'd try to stop it before it got too painful.

I didn't think about it too much.

I accepted it as fact, and every two or three months, I went to see Arlene.

Today is no exception. I bypass the waiting room, barely acknowledging Molly looking up to check me in, and I head straight through the double doors. My phone rings as I head further into the infirmary, and I answer Rylan's call right as I arrive at Arlene's office. She waves me on to the room next door, and I hear her yell she'll be right there and to not touch anything.

"Where the fuck are you? I thought you were joining me for the shit show that is Macaroni Monday?" There is a loud crash wherever he is, and I hear him yell out a mild not all that apologetic apology. "Eric?"

"I went to see Arlene. My head hurts. I thought you were working?" I sit down on the exam table, and I sigh when I hear him brightly tell someone he'll miss them dearly. "Where are you?"

"I am working," he insists, and his voice is loud in my ear. "I spent my entire morning with Four, going over training equipment. As head safety officer, I'm supposed to make sure there's nothing in there that can kill them unless we want it to."

"Aren't you the only safety officer? And isn't that a position you created for yourself?" I lean back, eyeing the charts on the wall with mild interest. One talks about an airborne illness and the gruesome side effects, the other is an advertisement for a new birth control from Erudite that doesn't sound promising at all. "What did you decide about the equipment?"

"Well, we got in an argument when Four said it would be safer if I wasn't in there at all. I had to remind him I don't want to work there; I'm just supposed to make sure he's got enough punching bags and a functioning score board. Shit like that." Rylan's words grow choppy like he's running up the stairs, and there's a yelp as he rushes past someone. "Later on, he questioned my work ethic during our meeting with Max."

"He did?"

"At least that's what I heard. I wasn't actually there," Rylan pauses, and the next thing I know, the door to the room I'm in flies open. He arrives with a blinding grin, an unbuttoned uniform jacket, and a shirt with the words Role Model across it. "I overslept. But who cares? No one wants to hear Four talk about the level of wear and tear on our punching bags or if I do my job or not. Which I do. Weekly. Sometimes daily."

Rylan shoves his phone in his jacket and whirls around to examine the posters. He looks back at me, and I throw him one unimpressed smirk as he leans against the counter to offer a concerned stare. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Quit staring at me. And I'm sure Four is crushed you weren't there. Are you really bothered that Number Boy ratted you out?"

"No, it's not that. I don't give a shit about what he thinks of me or the meeting. I'm sure someone will forward me the notes. I just wanted to see how you are, since you said you had a headache bad enough that you were going to see Arlene." He watches me intently, and I eye him back. "You uh, ever thought about not getting the shot and trying acupuncture or something?"

I cock my head at him, and when I shake it no, my brain hurts. "Whatever she gives me only lasts a few months. I don't care. It takes a few minutes to kick in, then the pain is gone. It's fine."

"I guess," Rylan isn't convinced, but he gives up immediately, which is unlike him. "Hey, you wanna go to dinner with Christina and me? Tonight? She'd love to see you."

"No. I don't want to eat dinner while you spend all night talking to her, and she loathes the very sight of me. So thank you, but I'll pass." I grow impatient, both for Arlene to show up and get rid of the throbbing in my skull, and at this conversation. Rylan frequently pushed for me to be friends with Christina, but half the time, he only seemed interested in her because she was interested in him. They weren't exactly dating, and I'd already been subject to more of these awkward encounters than I ever wanted to.

Rylan, despite his charming personality and his hilarious antics, had the attention span of a bug trapped in a jar. He flitted from thing to thing, with wide eyes and a grin, and he rarely took anything seriously. If anything, living underground made him a bit frantic, like he knew he needed to get out but couldn't. Christina didn't help. She liked him, but his interest in her was minimal and depended fully on his mood. He'd go weeks without talking to her, and during that time, he'd sit and stare at his phone, sighing in pure agony at whatever he was looking at.

Or whoever.

I was pretty sure it was a picture of a blonde girl, though I'd never actually seen anyone who looked like her in Dauntless.

"She likes you. Sort of," he shrugs, and his expression darkens when Arlene arrives. She has two syringes in her hand, and he makes a face at both. "Arlene, Arlene, Queen of the Infirmary and Ruler of the Wounded. How are you?"

"Didn't I tell you not to come back down here? Unless you're missing a limb or you're bleeding profusely? Maybe not even then." She glares at him out of the corner of her eye, and she pushes up her glasses with one hand. "Eric, are you alright? Does your head hurt now?"

"Yeah," I answer dully, knowing what comes next.

A quick injection of whatever treatment Erudite had come up with, and two tiny white pills that would take the pain away temporarily, until the shot kicked in.

"Okay, same symptoms? Nothing…new has occurred? You aren't having any strange memories or things like that?"

I watch her face, but also Rylan's. He's staring at me intently, and he looks almost hopeful. The look fades when Arlene steps toward me and uses her hand to tilt my head. My neck is barely exposed, but she doesn't ask me to take off the heavy jacket.

"Any fever? Are you having a hard time sleeping?"

"No."

Yes.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it took me a few hours to fall asleep because my brain just wouldn't stop. It felt like I was missing something, and it looped round and round, trying to make a connection that wasn't there. It was always worse as the shot wore off, but it went away completely once the injection kicked in.

"Are you sure?" Arlene's hands are icy; she tilts my head further, and there's a familiar pinch as she slides the needle into my skin. "Any continued bruising from the last injection?"

"Does it have to be in his neck?" Rylan hoists himself onto the counter, and he kicks his feet as Arlene presses the end of the syringe. "What's in the second one? Is that for him?"

There's a dark burn, instant and hot, and it's gone as quickly as it came.

"Yes, it goes in his neck. It works faster this way," Arlene answers tightly, and when she steps away, she's not happy. She throws the needle into a bin marked Hazardous Waste, and her lips press together tightly. "Jeanine has sent a second serum she'd like you to try out. It's stronger. They claim it lasts longer. Your father worked on it."

She hesitates, and I look up at her, rubbing my neck where the itch is.

"But…"

"I don't think you should take it." She stares at me, and Rylan nearly falls off the counter trying to balance himself. He knocks a few things to the floor –some cotton balls, a roll of medical tape, and a stethoscope –but he flashes a blinding grin at Arlene as he hops down to pick them up. "If you'd like to try it, we'll administer it next time. If she asks, just tell her you had it and you feel the same. Unless you want me to inject you with it."

"You don't want to?" I chew on my cheek, finding this situation odd.

Arlene ran the infirmary as the ultimate authority. She was the one who decided which treatments were used, and she pushed Erudite to stay on the cutting edge of medicine. We needed soldiers to recover quickly. We had little down time, and major traumas were a setback. She lived for new medications. New advances in the medical world. Cutting edge treatments, like painkillers that lasted for days, or anti-inflammatories that worked at lightning speed.

Her hesitation over a serum they sent is telling.

"No. I don't think it's wise at this moment. It's not been tested past a few trials," Arlene answers with a hint of finality. "We'll try it in three months when there are more studies."

"Sounds good to me," Rylan cheerfully answers, and I throw him a dark glare. "Come on. I don't need you having marshmallows for brains. Who knows what's in it? Or why it's curing your headaches. I wouldn't get it."

"Rylan, you aren't even supposed to be in here. I thought I told Molly to call security if you came back." Arlene starts, and Rylan snickers.

"I am security. And you can't ban me forever. I apologized for blowing up your computer. I said it was an accident. Mostly. The fire wasn't even my fault."

"Come on. We'll go eat lunch. Maybe you should promise not to blow anything else up," I snort, and Arlene makes a few notes on my chart. She slams it shut, then smiles impatiently. "Thanks for the shot."

"You're welcome. Eric, have you talked to your father recently?"

I shake my head no, and I know she knows this. I have almost zero communication with Daniel. I spoke to Blythe frequently, but Daniel had cut all ties with me, and was incredibly short the few times we had spoken. I didn't care, and I got all the information I needed from my mother.

"Okay, I was just curious." Arlene walks us out, her dark scrubs a shader darker than everyone else's, and she takes the full syringe along with her. It stays capped, and she slips it into the pocket with her name embroidered on it.

She escorts us to the waiting room, then snaps for us to enjoy our macaroni and cheese.

"I most certainly will not. It's gross. And no one seems to care no matter how many reports I file," Rylan declares, and he takes off, several steps ahead of me, and for a split second, I feel a weird disorientation as I realize I have no idea where I'm going.

I watch him disappear through the exit doors, into dark black nothingness.

---

Around two in the morning, I wake up gasping for air, like my lungs are being flattened.

I throw the covers off me in an attempt to breathe. The room is dark. The bed is dark, the sheets are dark, and there's a sense of claustrophobia to it all. This isn't at all uncommon, and I should have expected it. After every single shot, this happens. I go to bed with the lingering memory of a headache, and as a result, I am subject to twisty and trying dreams.

They are shameful; in them, I am terrified and weak. I am not the Eric from Dauntless, but a different version of myself, one who seeks out soft and comforting things. They always start the same: a forest of violent shadows and canopies of twisted leaves, a lake of deep, bottomless black water, and a girl.

She's always just out of reach, watching me with large eyes.

My fury at seeing her every time is immediate. She is small and unassuming; she hovers just out of my grasp, dressed in a pale shade of pink, sometimes white. She watches as I try to gain some ground. I can't swim, can't find my way out of the woods, and can't make it to her. I don't know why I want to get to her, just that I do.

There are other moments, a slide show whirling past while I try to stand upright in the water, and each one fizzles away like it's caught fire.

A man I don't know, goading me to jump.

Another man, telling me he's happy, but because he doesn't have a choice not to be.

Yet another man, insisting I lead an army made up of no one.

Farm animals –goats, pigs, sheep, horses, chickens –all with ghastly faces, herded by a woman with a flower crown made of bones.

A tractor, with razor sharp teeth to rake over the crops.

Another man, standing by the girl, laughing at my misfortune.

The worst part of all is the feeling of loss. The dream is familiar; fireflies rise up around me, and a small boy runs past, trying to catch them. It takes a cruel turn into what feels like a graphic memory that isn't mine. The small girl writhes beneath me, saying my name while I slide my fingers between hers and press her hands up high, into a pillow. My hips slam into her tiny frame, burying me deep inside her, and each thrust makes her crack apart, visible breaks appearing on her skin.

The absolute worst of it, the part right before I wake up, is when she looks up at me.

For a single despairing second, I can make out her face. Big green eyes, long eyelashes, pink lips. Her hair is as black as Dauntless, and everywhere. She reaches up, and when her hand touches my cheek, my eyes open.

It is worse each time.

The first few nightmares were mild, but now they've increased in intensity. This particular one is gripping, because I swear I know the girl. I'm sure I have touched her, have hovered over her, have tangled my fingers into her hair. The feeling is sickening. I know I haven't, and I never will, but I want to.

When I sit up, everything hurts. I feel like my bones have splintered, like my skin is peeling, and my heart will explode. It's a side effect of the serums, one Arlene had warned me about every time but the last. Her speech was always the same: the serum would cure the headache, but could cause night terrors, insomnia, blurred vision, nausea, rapid heart rate, and the dreaded feeling of fatigue. She warned me to go straight home and lie down, or I'd end up crashing in the first spot I could find.

I scramble for my phone in the dark, and when it lights up, I click on the first name. She's not my highest choice to call, but I don't have many options. It rings once, then she answers immediately, despite the late hour.

"What's wrong? Eric, are you alright? Is something wrong?"

Blythe's voice is even and clear, like she was expecting my call. I swallow thickly when she says my name again, and I have a flash of regret at calling her. Each time I did, mostly for reassurance that I wasn't being poisoned, I felt stupid for trusting her. We've never had a great relationship; I loathe who she is as a person, and she loathes who I am. We've only recently begun talking because forever ago, she was sent to explain why my head hurt, and her cold, bony fingers pressed my temples with the barest hint of worry.

It was the first time my mother ever seemed concerned.

My father had looked horrified.

He was there, too. Daniel stood in the back of the room, shaking his head in a fit of fury as his assistant frowned at me. Daniel snarled at Blythe that this was wrong, and he told her he'd expose her for who she was and what she was doing if it was the last thing he ever did.

I stared up at her, confused at what he was saying and why I felt like I wanted him to leave, and Blythe's gaze turned from sympathetically pleased to icy. She threw him a quick, slick grin, and cordially demanded he shut up. His jaw went slack, and I hated him. I knew what he'd done and why they didn't get along, but I hated him all the more for being there and not helping.

His protest meant nothing and everything. I knew he'd left her for his assistant, a bitchy woman named Camille who'd also protested what was going on, and she and I had even less of a relationship. The two of them finally left when Blythe told them this was my choice, and she wasn't going to let them get in the way.

I understood none of it.

All I knew was my head hurt, it had been hurting enough to make me want to keep my eyes closed, and when I saw Arlene, she and Blythe were the only two willing to help. Arlene was hesitant with the treatment, but Blythe never was. She swore Erudite wanted only the best for me, and Dauntless would suffer greatly without my help. A single injection later, I felt marginally better, but not quite. I found her suspicious. Her actions were far unlike herself, but she was the only one to offer up a solution.

Even now, she's someone who's worked with patients who take the same serum, and she's able to explain every side effect.

"It happened again." I mutter, rubbing my eyes and trying to steady myself. "The same dream, over and over. This time it was worse."

"All serums contain a principle which can trigger hallucinations. The Dauntless faction uses the serums for their fear landscapes. They're created for this very reason. The pain relief is actually a side effect. It was discovered on accident," she pauses, and there is a scratch against paper as she writes something down. I realize she's working well into the night, and this seems odd. "Drink some water. Lie back down. If you need to, take tomorrow off. Jeanine will be there Friday. If the problem persists, we can talk about adjusting the dose. Perhaps you need a stronger version. Or perhaps it's a combination of the two serums. You took both, didn't you?"

I stay silent.

I kick the sheets away, and this time, the memory of my dream is so intense it has to be real.

The girl stands before me, slowly undoing the back of her dress. It's pink, as pink as the flowers, as pink as the sky, as pink as her lips as they touch mine, and she very softly says my name as the dress falls away.

I hang up.

I throw the phone aside, and I press my palms to my eyes until she fades. It takes some time until the ghost of her is gone, and only then do I attempt to fall back asleep.

---

I do.

This time, it's dreamless.

I wake up to absolutely nothing but a dozen missed calls and the creak of a door opening as the cleaning lady arrives, and I realize I've slept through my entire morning.

---

"Have you found any more of them?"

Jeanine is in a vicious mood. The ends of her hair are as precise as the stitching on her coat, and her nails are shiny. She clacks away on a tablet with lightning speed, pulling up report after report, barely taking her eyes off the screen. I stare warily, and out of the corner of my eye, Jason flashes me a strained grin.

Neither of us were looking forward to today.

While I had found Jeanine some of the names on the list –an Amanda hiding out in Abnegation, a Joey hiding in Candor, and someone named Brandon working right in her very office –we hadn't found many more of those she labeled Divergent. Jeanine's interest in them had slipped momentarily; she's been more focused on finding some artifact she believes is buried in the factions, but getting it was proving tougher than imagined.

Marcus Eaton had flat out refused access to the Abnegation faction.

Amity sent back a communal no; it was sent from someone named Jerry, and I had the feeling he was the chosen representative who got to respond.

Only Candor was willing to help because Jack thought it would buy him some leverage.

Unable to get anywhere but Candor, this led her back around to her favorite subject: Divergents.

"No. There's one in Amity we're looking for. Prior. Her test result was a few years ago, but it went unnoticed. They marked it as Dauntless, and she chose Amity. I'm heading there tomorrow," I answer, and I raise my eyebrow at my aunt. "I need to know if you're really testing her? Is that what this is about? Because you've had zero success with any of them. Perhaps it's time you think of something else."

"Are you questioning my methods?" Jeanine's insult is appropriate. She sits up taller, and her eyes narrow in disbelief. "Eric –"

"Hey, uh, I'm going to Amity tomorrow. I'll look for Prior. I think Eric is supposed to go to Erudite for your meeting. You requested someone from Dauntless and Ashley put in a second request for Eric specifically." Jason interrupts all of us, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. His long red hair is pulled back, and he looks unusually uneasy. "Right?"

"You go to Erudite. I don't need to see Ashley."

"Eric," Jeanine chastises again, as though an arranged marriage to her assistant is looming in the future. "Your presence is required there. Jason can handle Amity. They're hardly a problem. In fact, they've been absolutely silent lately, claiming they've been busy."

"They have an army," I answer off handedly, rubbing my temple and blinking, and they both look at me.

Jason's lips part, and Jeanine's head tilts.

"What did you say?" She leans forward, and her stare is razor sharp. "Amity has an army? Of what? Farmers who pick corn?"

"They don't…they definitely don't have an army. He's making a joke. Right? Eric loves jokes." Jason shakes his head at me, and his eyes are wide. "Tell her it's a joke, Eric."

His stare is so panicked that for a second, I fear they do have an army.

Which is preposterous.

"I was…making a joke. Jason will have no problem in Amity." I wait until both of them relax, and I clench my jaw down. "Are we done here? I have other work to do."

"Yeah, I think we're done. Nothing else?" Jason sounds hopeful, and I tune them both out when Jeanine begins talking about security for the fence. I zone out, watching as Jeanine's features blur together, becoming unrecognizable.

I must zone out longer than I'm aware, because she suddenly stands up, and grates out an unimpressed, unfriendly goodbye and hisses to check my email later tonight. I watch her leave, her heels clacking on a slick floor, and she slams the door shut behind her. Jason zeroes in on me and rolls his eyes.

"Really? Did you have to tell her Amity has an army?" He crosses his arms over his chest, and he shakes his head. "She doesn't need to know that. She's on edge as is."

"What?" I stare back in confusion, and my mind blanks. I struggle with this connection –another moment when I feel like I'm just missing a speck of information –and I hate it. "They don't have an army. I don't know why I said that. I was just…fucking with her. Amity is the weakest faction we have. How the fuck would they have an army?"

"Oh, so they don't have an army?" Jason raises his eyebrow. "Eric, do you feel okay?"

"Fine." I snap at him, and I shove my chair back. "I'm just sick of these meetings. She can find her own test subjects. Or better yet, I'll test Tris Prior myself. Where is she? In Amity?"

"Yeahhhh," Jason answers slowly, and his eyes widen in horror. "But uh, I recommend you don't go storming through there to find her. I'll bring her back tomorrow. I'll uh…"

"Oh no, I'll do it. God forbid Jeanine can't fuck with someone's brain on her own. Don't worry about it." I leave him sitting there, and the rage I feel is unparalleled.

It's also uncalled for.

This is my job.

I've done it since my initiation, and I'll continue to do it.

Until Jeanine has every last Divergent she needs and there's not a single one left.

I take the list with me, scowling as I storm back to my office, and Jason doesn't follow me.

---

"Did you get a haircut?" Quinten stares at me, one hand extended out to serve me my lunch. His eyes narrow, and I wonder when my hair became his business.

"Does it matter?" I snap, but he doesn't back down. He steps closer, inspecting my recently cut hair like he has a problem with it.

There are some members of Dauntless who aren't afraid of me. They are few and far between, but the man who runs the kitchens is one of them. He's taller than me, heavier, and has a very similar short and shaved hair style.

The only difference is our age and our uniforms. Mine is black, and his is white. The apron around his waist is covered in all sorts of spills, then bleached over and over, until they are nothing more than faint marks. His boots are a reddish color, heavy and sturdy, and he stomps around the kitchens looking ready to attack.

I almost like him. I find some common ground with the man: he's surrounded by a staff of people he doesn't like, he works long hours, and he's violent and unpredictable.

The similarities end there because he has a wife.

I've met her once. Today, she hovers in the background with his lunch, waiting for him to come eat with her. She's tiny; sort of skittish and quiet, and Rylan had informed me she was once factionless. Harrison had saved her from someone on some patrol, on a dark and stormy night or some other romantic bullshit, and he brought her and her kids back here. They look like her –small and blonde –and Harrison turned them all over to Quinten. I don't know if he was looking for a family, but suddenly, he had one. He looked ridiculous with the small children, though their pictures were pinned up in his office, and they made him dozens of cards telling their dad how much they adore him, and it's obvious he feels the same.

Now, he and his very small wife are having another baby, and it's made him even more ferocious.

He hands me my lunch with a suspicious glare, and I take it with an equally suspicious glare.

"Are you going to approve my budget increase or what?" Quinten waits until the plate is in my hands –a sandwich, some pasta salad, chips, and what appears to be a cookie –and he steps closer. His intimidation tactics are familiar. He gets right in my face, and I have no choice but to stand my ground. "You have some pull there. Tell them I need more dairy products. Milk. Cheese. Your buddy Rylan has asked if I'd make him some chicken noodle soup. I need more chicken, too. Pasta noodles. The initiate class added another sixty mouths to feed."

There's a wave of something I can't put my finger on, especially considering I certainly don't have any pull in Amity. We get the same routine deliveries as every faction, only ours often consists of produce and items meant to stretch through the faction. Quinten is smart with his food budget and clever with meal planning, but at a certain point, we always need more.

"My wife wants ice cream. I can't make it unless I have more milk. Approve it this week. I sent the request in yesterday." Quinten is a beast; his neck is the size of my arm, and even though I'm not at all weak, it's clear he could kill me if he wanted to. "If you don't, well…maybe don't eat all your lunch tomorrow. You never know what's in it. Jace was just down here with the rat poison. Would be a shame if some of it got in your food."

"Are you threatening me?" I stare back incredulously, not sure if I should be insulted he was threatening someone younger than him or pleased.

His answer makes me think I should be nervous, especially when his wife watches with wide eyes, and I know he's only asking for her.

"I am. Enjoy your lunch…Sir." Quinten emphasizes the word sir, and it's pretty condescending. "See you real soon."

I leave immediately, figuring I'll eat in my office, and somewhere out of his sight.

---

An hour later, I do approve his budget request. I figure the difference can be made up elsewhere. I decide we can dock Four's pay for a week, so Quinten's wife can have her ice cream.

I submit the approval to Amity, and I hesitate for only a second.

The names listed of people authorized to confirm my order are strangely familiar, though I don't know why.

Echo.

Tony.

Matt.

Forrest.

Howard.

Jerry.

Lacey.

Daryl.

I linger on the very last one, but eventually, I click out of the page without any real reason as to why I feel like I know him.

---

"How about this?"

Her mouth moves from my jaw to my neck and it must not register that I'm sitting motionless. I push her away slightly, unwilling to let this get very far, but my efforts catch her attention. Ashley struggles to get closer; she attempts to move onto my lap, and I grow irritated when she succeeds.

She's too close.

Too much.

Too desperate.

Her blonde hair is in my face, and her nails dig into my arm. Her shirt strains with every movement, and the short skirt rises up. Her shoes –high heels gleaming from a few feet away –annoy me. She'd kicked them off a second before leaping at me, and the only reason she is even here is because Jeanine brought her.

Jeanine had returned a day after our meeting, clearly displeased with how our previous one had gone. She showed up while I was eating lunch, and my afternoon plans of heading to Amity were cut short when it was clear she wanted to talk. My goal had been to leave by one, but at two, I was stuck listening to Jeanine and Max while Ashley took notes. By five, I was eating dinner with the three of them. It was brought up by Quinten, handed out, and I was trapped. I thought I had an out when Jeanine asked to speak to Max privately, but luck was not on my side.

Ashley followed me home.

She trailed behind me as her fingers crept up my arm, and I swatted her away. I would have shoved her into the wall, except I knew the cameras were on, and assaulting visitors from Erudite was frowned upon. Her presence was an unwanted surprise, but there was a connection I couldn't shake. I know her. I remember her.

I had fucked her.

The minute her fingers touched my forearm, I remembered her. Her blonde hair, her fitted clothes that were slightly too short for Erudite but she wore them because she loathed being told to cover up, and her determination to get me back into bed. Us together, back in Erudite, done with school and home alone except for a housekeeper.

There's a familiarity to her pressing herself against me, and the way she roughly attempts to undress me.

It should have been easy.

On my lap, she reaches for the zipper on my pants, not bothering with the jacket or my shirt. I force myself to relax, giving in to the weight of her, and the feeling of her hand on my stomach. She slides it lower, and I push her right off my lap.

"What the fuck, Eric!"

Her yelp of surprise is loud, and it matches her pissed off expression. Anyone else would have slunk away, but not her. She's not deterred in any way; she stands up once she catches her balance, adjusts her skirt and shirt, and throws me one dark, furious glare.

"It's been years since we were together. You left Erudite without even saying goodbye. Your mother promised –"

"Promised what?" I stare at her, and I stand up when she doesn't answer. My skin feels slimy, like this is wrong, and I can't shake why. It isn't anything about who she is. I don't care about her clothes or her brittle need to be liked, but that she knows me in a way I don't want her to. "What did she promise you? That you and I would be together?"

"Yes!" Her eyes find mine, searching for a speck of understanding. She finds none. "She said all I had to do was wait. And I did. I waited through all of it. She said she'd fix the paperwork. Even your stupid…"

"Stupid what?" I ask, suspicious and furious as ever.

But she doesn't answer me. She stops, and this time, she buttons her shirt up high with a heavy exhale.

"What did you wait through?" I bark, and I take a step closer. She shakes her head, and her fingers slip when she tries to twist her skirt back around and she takes a step back. "Answer me."

"Do you remember me?" Ashley blinks, and her demeanor cracks. She looks impatient now, and her gaze is everywhere but my face. "Do you remember us in Erudite?"

"Unfortunately," I hiss. "Is there something I'm missing? Because I definitely remember you and me there. I remember seeing you and…and…"

"Do you remember…her? Is that why you're not into this?" Ashley starts, but she clamps her mouth shut and swears. "Shit. Shit. Shit! I promised I wouldn't say anything. Never mind. Just…this isn't working. Not right now."

"Do I remember her? Who?"

"I have to go." Ashley backs away, and the panic subsides. "I'll see you in a few weeks. Jeanine is having you come to Erudite to visit the labs. You can come over there. I'll show you something. I thought this would be the same but it's not. You're you…but you're not."

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you going to marry me? How would that even work? Have they told you? Blythe said they'd find a way to make this official, but I don't think she can. She doesn't have that much power," Ashley rambles, and I write her off as being mentally unstable. "Is this what you want?"

"Get out." I refuse to humor her.

Or marry her.

I don't need to be married to anyone.

I shove right by her, and I walk down the hallway, past the living room, over to the front door of my apartment. I fling it open, and Ashley follows. She pulls on her jacket, and she pauses right in front of me, taking one long look at my face.

I feel her stare scrape over every inch of my features, until she rises up, moving her face close to mine.

"Two weeks, Eric. Things will be better then. I think something is malfunctioning and I'll let Blythe know and they'll find something better. I promise you. I'll fix this."

She presses her lips to mine briefly, so fleeting that I know it's a test to see if I'll kiss her back.

I don't.

---

"What's wrong? Are you not happy?"

Four days later, the look on Blythe's face is heavy with annoyance. She shakes her head at me, disgusted by my indifferent attitude, and to distract herself, she takes a large sip of wine.

Around us, the restaurant is as noisy as is acceptable for Blythe's preference for fine dining. Her dress is finely tailored, and so is everyone else's clothes. I stick out in the Dauntless uniform, and I haven't bothered to take off my jacket.

I'd shown up with zero enthusiasm. I'd rather have stayed home, but I'd agreed to meet her, and I knew if I didn't, she'd come find me.

Unfortunately, since the moment I got here, she's been hyper focused on my lack of desire to be alone with Ashley for more than two seconds.

"Ashley would make a fantastic leader's wife. She would be the first to be married to someone in another faction, and perhaps set a precedent for those in high ranking positions to be able to marry who they like. It's not ever been done before, but we're working on it. Besides, she's given you everything. Everything you could ask for." Blythe thanks the waiter as he drops off some dinner rolls and she looks at me. "She's very attractive. She's who you need in your life. Tall, thin, pretty. She'd make an excellent partner for you to bring to the Leadership Dinners."

I stare back blankly. The last thing in the world I want to do is marry Ashley. I don't want her anywhere near me, nor am I interested in having her live with me. The idea of sharing my apartment feels wrong, especially with her.

"It's interesting you look so miserable, because Jeanine said you didn't look very happy, either. She said you blew off the last meeting, you were distracted, and you made jokes about the Amity faction having an army." Blythe scoffs, and her posture changes. "Is it Ashley? I can get her to Dauntless. If this isn't working, which I don't believe it is, I can send her to you. Maybe it's the distance."

"No. I'm just tired. The shots were… a lot." I lie, cutting into the steak with more force than necessary. Our dinner had shown up a few minutes ago, and I had yet to take a single bite. "I don't think they really worked. I'm going to skip the next one."

"No!" Blythe nearly knocks her glass over putting it down, and she recovers within a second. "Eric, be reasonable. You'll be sick without it. Even your father agrees, and we all know he doesn't really give a shit."

"Have you seen him?" I chew the steak for a minute, and I swallow when Blythe looks irritated at my question. "Doesn't he care that without the injections, my head feels like it's going to explode?"

"He does not care past how he can use it to prove how brilliant he is. He's going to publish the study on the serums with you as the main subject," Blythe answers snippily. She exhales sharply, and her gaze is piercing. "You're aware of what he did to our family, aren't you? I've told you about his affair? How I found out while dropping off his lunch? I've done everything for him. Sacrificed my own career to further his. Don't tell me you've forgotten the sacrifices I've made?"

"I haven't," I swallow down a bite of potato, and I hope my lie goes unnoticed. Blythe is quick to pick up on everything, every lie and hint of untruth. "You remind me daily."

"Well, it's important you know what's going on."

Her words are ironic.

I spent most of my day in my office, running a list of names through a database. I never did go to Amity to find Tris, but Jason did. He returned empty handed, looking guilty and nervous, and his excuse was a thin one: she lives there, but she isn't the girl we were looking for. She lives a very quiet life, explained the computer had broken during her test, and she knows she was meant to live in Amity. He didn't look convinced, but I let him ramble, and when he left, I took matters into my own hands.

I started looking the names up.

At first, it was dull work.

I didn't start with Tris, but in alphabetical order. Name after name, noting where they came from and where they now live. Their scores in their new factions, or the jobs they'd taken. By the time I reached the D's, I was bored. Most of them were nobodies. They held boring, menial jobs that didn't place them above suspicion, but they weren't all that interesting to me. Young kids who didn't look old enough to even pick a new faction. Older members, having lived in a faction for years, unnoticed by everyone.

I got to the E's, starting with Ella, and scrolled through her profile. She was boring; bitchy looking, tall, lanky, and well-adjusted in Candor. Her test result had come back entered as Abnegation, but even I had some appreciation for why she'd chosen elsewhere.

I looked up when Rylan appeared with two coffees, and I set my project aside.

He talked on and on for a good twenty minutes, and by the time he was done, I realized something was off. I didn't really know what he was saying. I knew the words he was saying: the control room, Kacie, Four, a security breach, broken cameras, and Harrison, but I didn't really know. I stared back blankly, right as Harrison came looking for Rylan. He walked into my office like he owned the place, stared at me, and I had the weirdest feeling of two worlds overlapping.

Harrison was odd; he was older, rough, and impatient. He seemed to dislike the Dauntless faction an odd amount for someone who ran it, and he lacked any real warmth to him. I don't know why this was something that bothered me, but it did. I felt like he held a dislike for me, and I had no clue why. His eyes raked over me, and every time they met mine, he looked odd. He struggled to keep a neutral expression, and it always slipped to either mild, watery unease or pure hatred.

He joined Rylan in discussing Kacie –something about a meltdown of epic proportions on her part –and when they talked about CJ nearly dying on one of the patrols when a factionless man attacked him and Kacie's team missed this, I blinked in annoyance.

I don't remember this.

Rylan insisted I was there for it. He explained it was a year ago, when Four got that extra bad haircut and Arlene was convinced he was acting out but didn't think it warranted any sort of check up on Four and she couldn't force him to come see her no matter how much Rylan insisted, and didn't I remember that Jason fell down the circular stairs leading to the armory and split his head open, and Quinten found a squirrel hidden in the AC ducts, and oh I couldn't possibly have forgotten the Chads, fighting each other until one started crying and the other didn't know what to do except keep fighting. He kept talking, until Harrison slapped his arm hard, and the two of them shut up and changed the subject to Four insisting someone keep Rylan out of the training room unless authorized.

I was immediately and unfortunately suspicious. Things didn't add up here, and it couldn't just be because of the headaches. There were reports with my signature on them that I didn't remember signing. Awards I didn't remember receiving. Paperwork dated a year ago, sent to me to look at, with my signature approving or denying vital plans.

An initiation ranking with my name first, Rylan's second, Jason's third, and Four's fourth.

Four was another weird person I couldn't place. He didn't like me, and I didn't like him. The two of us butted heads on everything; I found his training requirements too lax, he found mine too aggressive. I loathed when I ran into him in the hallways and I thought he took too long to order his lunch. Every time I saw him, he stared with a weird look on his face, like his disbelief was so strong he couldn't hide it, and more than once, he'd muttered something that made me want to snap his neck in half.

Combined with the bad dreams, a headache that returned on schedule, and the pressure from Jeanine to bring her new test subjects, I had zero interest in anything related to Dauntless.

Or Ashley.

Or this dinner.

"Oh, I'm aware." I mutter. I take a long sip of the wine, too sweet and overpriced, and Blythe throws me a sympathetic frown.

"Eric, you know you're the only person I'd do anything for. Anything to make you…who you are. Right now, all that matters is you're in Dauntless, keeping things going. It'll get easier. I promise you." She reaches over to touch my hand, and I want to get up and leave.

Her touch is cold.

Her fingers curl around my wrist like handcuffs, and I set the wine glass down harder than necessary.

"I'm fine. Just…I'll find Jeanine who she's looking for. Tell Ashley to leave me alone. I'm busy right now." I snap, but it works.

Blythe leans back. She smiles widely, pleased as ever, and nods. "I'll tell her to ease up. She's just missed you. We all have."

I nod my head slightly, and I spend the rest of the dinner listening to her tell me all the things my father has been up to, including moving into a huge house with Camille, the one who was his assistant. Blythe further tells me how most people are happy for him but she's furious, and I find myself unable to feel any sympathy for her. There's something about the way she speaks about him, even though I know he's a horrible person, that rubs me the wrong way. We finish our dinner at the same time, and I hand the waiter a heavy black card to pay for it.

When he hands it back, I hold onto it for a moment, and I blink.

For a startling second, I swear it had turned gold.

---

"Hey, you're needed down at bay two. Something about the deliveries."

I rub my temples needlessly, looking up to see Jason leaning against the doorframe. He throws me a tight smile, and it's cautious. "You okay? I didn't mean to interrupt. I was sent to come get you. If you're up for it."

Two days ago, I'd lost it on him and Rylan.

They didn't deserve my fury but they'd been on the receiving end of it. I'd gone to dinner with him and Meghan, and Rylan and Christina. I sat there while the four of them laughed and drank, and by the time my hamburger arrived, my nerves were fried. It was unlike me; I honestly liked my friends, and generally found them enjoyable compared to everyone else here.

But that night pushed me over the edge. Rylan called Christina the wrong name, and her shriek of outrage was extra loud, even as he swore he didn't call her Courtney. Meghan spilled her drink trying to climb out of the booth to go to the restroom, and when I snapped that it got on my boots, Jason told me to chill. He tossed me a dirty look and a napkin and informed me my boots would be fine. Even Rylan threw me an eyeroll, and when he muttered I was being overly dramatic, I decided I'd had enough.

I left, shoving the table away from me, and snarling to have my food sent back, and they took off after me. I heard them calling out my name; both were desperate to get me to stop, and I nearly took out Harrison walking into Clyde's with a weary look on his face. They daringly asked for his help, and when I whirled around, it was the final straw.

I didn't know what was going on. I was miserable. I had everything here: power, a position lusted after by every low ranking member, friends who tolerated me, an apartment much nicer than everyone else, and a girl who wanted to marry me.

None of it felt right.

I didn't know what it was or why I was feeling like this, but I felt so off balance that I could have screamed.

I might have.

I roared Rylan's name, informing him his girlfriend's name was not Courtney and he didn't even know a Courtney, and he punched first. There had to have been some pent-up aggression on his part. He yelled that I was an asshole, and while he understood why, he was sick of being nice and hoping I'd lose the stick up my ass and he liked me better a few years ago.

Jason got in the middle.

It was more out of defense of Meghan. She had run over to grab him, and she stepped right in between Rylan and I, on accident. The moron yelped, and I wasn't sure whose fist hit the side of my face, or whose side my punch landed against. It was a blur of punches, kicking, someone yanking my hair, screaming, and Harrison losing his mind that we were about to destroy his bar. He grabbed me by the collar, nearly knocking me over as I was wrenched away from my friends, and his tirade of words should have pissed me off: he was furious, annoyed, thought better of me, and while he understood, no leader in Dauntless is to be fighting his friends over a spilled drink.

We were all given two days off to get our act together, and I roughly snarled an apology at Jason, Meghan, and Rylan. Jason and Rylan forgave me immediately, and Meghan told me to go fuck myself.

The two days passed quickly. None of us brought up the fight, and Harrison avoided me altogether. Things were still tense, but they were better.

Mostly.

Because now, Jason waits for me to argue with him, and I don't. I nod, and I click out of my e-mail. "Okay. You said the second docking bay?"

"Yeah, the delivery guy is here and he keeps asking for you. I'm not sure why or what they want, but CJ sent up word you might want to come down there." Jason smiles again and our fight fades away a little more. "Want me to walk with you? I'm going to get coffee so I'm heading that way."

"Sure."

I don't argue or insist I'm fine.

Truth be told, the docking bay is fuzzy in my mind. I can see it. I've walked through it. Parked a truck near it. Sneered at the soldiers working in it, hissed at them to get back to work.

But it feels like a place that doesn't exist, even when we do arrive, and I still don't remember ever coming here on my own.

---

"This is for you."

The delivery man is a little too eager for my liking. He shoves a box at me, a heavy one sloppily taped up to be as secure as possible, and he grins. It has my name and title on it –Eric Coulter, Leader of Dauntless –and the return label is handwritten. I squint at the name, and my jaw clenches down. The man and his friends wait for me to take the box, and I stare at them with disgust.

"What is it?" I glare at him, disliking his messy hair, the wild beard, and the plaid shirt. He grins even wider, back at me, unfazed by my stare. "Can you not hear me?"

"Dunno man, I was just told to hand deliver it to you." He rocks back on his heels, and he's lying. I'm aware his name is Forrest, because one of the guys next to him just called out his name, and the return label says the box is from Forrest. Why he hasn't said the box is from him is beyond me, and a complete waste of my time. "I run all the deliveries. People can drop off anything and everything. I just know…it's important."

"Forrest, are you sure about this?" The guy next to him half whispers, but I hear it.

"Relax, Ryan. It's fine. It's for Eric, and Eric should open it. It's time." Forrest nudges him, but his stare stays on me, feeling like it's going right through me. "It's been almost two years."

"What are you two morons talking about?" I grow bored with the men from Amity, and whatever they are vaguely hinting at. Both turn in my direction, and Forrest's eyes move up to my hair. "I'm gonna give you two seconds to explain –"

"Do you have to have that haircut? It's so…short. It looked better the other way. And the neck tattoo…it's definitely a choice." Forrest is daringly brave. He frowns, and our eyes meet. "I've been hoping you were doing okay."

I bite down on the side of my cheek, and my jaw is so tense it turns painful. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Forrest." He takes a step closer, just as tall as I am, but my exact opposite. His hair is long, so long it rivals Rylan's, and he's very fit. I have the feeling he could fight me if he wanted, but he's not allowed to. He smiles warmly, like he knows me and isn't afraid I'll pummel him. When he's so close only I can hear him, he says my name, and calls out for Ryan to make sure all the boxes have been unloaded.

"Open it when you have time. Everything you'll need is in there. My dad's been keeping an eye on you, but he said you're starting to lose it, and he thinks the serum isn't working as well. He said maybe you've built a tolerance to it. Maybe it won't work after a while."

"Maybe…" I flash him a condescending sneer. "You should get the fuck away from me before I kill you."

"Personable as ever. I'll forgive you, don't worry. I know this isn't what you want." Forrest steps back, but not before patting my arm. I wrench away, then step forward to beat the shit out of him, but he's quick. He throws me a nod goodbye, and he has the audacity to wave as he hops into the truck. "Hopefully, I'll see you soon. I have a kid now. He's a year old. I'd love to introduce you sometime."

"Get away from me," I snarl, and I have the urge to throw the box at his head.

I don't.

I turn on my heel to storm off, not bothering to see if the delivery has been completed or not.

I'm too busy wondering who his father is, and how the fuck he knows I'm taking a serum.

---

I contemplate not opening it.

For a few days, the box sits on my dresser, still taped up, mocking me every time I walk by. I have half a mind to toss it into the chasm and not give it another thought. I disliked the man from Amity knowing my name, though most people know who I am, and I really disliked him talking to me like we know each other.

We don't.

I'd never even gone to Amity.

Since being a leader, I'd gone to the other factions –mostly Erudite, often Candor, rarely Abnegation –but never Amity. Someone else always handled it or volunteered to go. I never once cared since I had no real reason to visit. I didn't have any grudge against the faction, but I did have some feelings about it. Blythe often spoke about Amity and how useless their faction is. She ranted about them being formed due to their theory of aggression being the downfall of mankind. In her mind, they're worthless. They might drop off produce and food for the factions, but past that, they are no one.

I'd adopted a shared sentiment, especially when I saw the delivery men and women. Everything about them became offensive when I thought of the way they avoided anger in favor of living in ignorant bliss. I saw them as failures, having picked Amity because it was easy.

It pisses me off, so much that I open the box out of pure spite.

It takes a few tries.

Forrest has taped it several times. I eventually slice it open with a heavy knife from the kitchen, and I stare in confusion for a solid minute. The contents make no sense. There is no letter of explanation or logic to what's inside, and I have no option but to pull the things out piece by piece.

The first is a plaid shirt. It's worn. The fabric is soft beneath my fingers, and has warm, varying lines of red, yellow, and burnt orange. There's a name written on the tag –Forrest's name to be exact –and I wonder if this is a joke.

The second item is a book. I flip it over a few times, ignoring the stirrings of a hazy, weird connection to the story of a man creating genetically engineered dinosaurs. There are other things beneath it, all vying for my attention: a hand drawn map of Amity, a second map with a path leading through the woods to a large cliff, some candy –chocolate shaped like pumpkins, a pair of work boots, and at the very bottom, a smaller box.

I open up that one warily.

To my surprise, there's a cell phone inside, old and outdated, and badly scratched. The charging cord is connected to it, along with a note instructing me to turn it on. I hesitate only because the second item is a ring. The band is dark, heavy as I pick it up, and shiny. It's not very worn, and I would almost think it was brand new.

I drop it immediately.

I return to the phone, figuring maybe it would give me some answers. I hold down the power button, and it takes a few seconds to turn on. When it asks for a password, I take a wild guess. I put in the same password I use for my own phone, and to my confusion, it works. The phone unlocks, and so does an entire world.

I select the icon for photos, and for half a second, I don't know what to think.

I'm rewarded with a bunch of photos from my life in Erudite. I never took many, but these are familiar. My parents' house, a few from school, one from a coffee shop, featuring Rylan attempting to balance his drink on the top of his head while a barista looks on in dismay, and a blurry one of Pamela, out at dinner at the same restaurant, having an arguably better time than I was, and the park no one goes to.

The subject matter changes quickly.

The next few reveal the Amity faction. A large sprawling forest, wooden home after wooden home, and a group of initiates walking. The one in the blue jacket looks an awful lot like me, and I idly wonder if someone else put the photos on the phone.

Two minutes later, I'm sure of it.

I see myself, a slightly younger version, sitting on a bed with the very same girl from my dreams on my lap. In the photos, she is shockingly small against me, but happy. Her hair is long and black, and it tumbles down against my chest. Her eyes are green, wide and bright, and in a few photos, she's looking up at me while I look down at her with a smirk.

It's clear we're remarkably close. There's a possessiveness to the way she holds herself, but especially in the way her body is positioned. It's obvious she feels safe with me, and the last one of that group has me looking down at her, smiling, like I know I'm keeping her safe.

The sight is shocking.

I almost don't recognize myself, but I have the sick feeling of knowing it is me.

The same blond hair, curling thanks to a longer length, and the same physique. Maybe slightly less fit there, but not by much. My arms angled to keep her close, my hands pressing her back into me, and the faintest hint of real happiness.

I try to make the picture bigger, and when I do, I realize it's a screenshot. I also realize someone else has taken a capture of some call and saved it. It appears they've uploaded dozens of photos, perhaps hoping I wanted them or needed to see them as proof of….something.

I keep going. I see the girl and myself in Amity, fuzzy and grainy like it was stolen from a security feed. The two of us walking hand in hand, down the dirt pathway. Rylan and me in the market, his smile wide and happy, and his face bruised and bleeding and a tiny pair of pants in his hands. The girl again, grinning at Rylan's reflection in a tiny box, then frowning in the next picture.

I keep scrolling through them, frantic to figure out what's going on, but there are only a few left. Four, Jason, and Rylan in Amity, posed in front of a bar named Harry's, looking young and happy and laughing at something. Thirty-seven pictures of ducks, including one wearing a tiny hat and vest and one with a tiny R taped to his back. A picture of a squirrel, eating nuts on a post. Two cows followed by at least ten more pictures of cows. Hundreds of cows. Rylan's face narrowed in disbelief as he gestures back at all the cows.

And finally, the girl and me, dressed in formal wear, at what appears to be a wedding in Amity.

Our wedding.

We're walking down the aisle, hand in hand, and it's obvious we're both completely content. The picture burns itself into my mind as I struggle to rationalize this, to make sense of it, but I can't.

I can only assume this is a joke, and a stupid one at that. In the picture of myself in a suit, my hair is longer, curling beneath a heavy crown of antlers. The girl's hands are holding onto mine, and her pink dress is shimmery and sheer. Her hair has pink flowers in it, and the flower on my jacket is pink. My expression is pleased, but not as slick as I would expect. It's more genuine, and honest, and the girl's grin is so ecstatic I can feel it radiating from the picture.

Behind us are tons of people watching, including Daniel.

I see him and Camille turned to watch us, both looking pretty happy, and Blythe is nowhere to be found. The world of Amity is rich: it's a landscape of characters and places I can't remember, but it feels like I should.

I click on one more photo, of the girl pressing her lips to my cheek, and I close my eyes.

"This isn't real. It's a prank. It's…it's Rylan."

I swipe through a few more; Daniel and Camille smiling at each other, and some man I don't know, holding a small child on his lap while the woman beside him beams. A cake. Me eating a bite of the cake. Another small child, covered in cake.

The girl and I look at each other, her hands on my chest, and her whole body primed toward me.

My head bent down toward hers, and the warm light of a fire behind us.

I throw the phone down, not willing to try and figure out what the fuck I'm looking at. It's not hard to piece together that the phone once belonged to me or is set up to look like it belonged to me. Judging from the evidence, I was once in Amity, but that's impossible. There's no way I was there, and certainly no way I was married to someone in another faction.

I decide to prove my own sanity by solving the case. I scrounge through the rest of the box quickly, coming up with two documents. They are copies, printed on shiny paper, and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me when I read them.

The first is a list of initiate rankings in Amity, with my name on top.

The second is a marriage certificate, declaring my marriage to Everly Coulter of the Amity faction.

It's signed with both our signatures, and Harrison's name is on there as a witness.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and I shove everything back in the box, throwing it as hard and as far away as I possibly can.

---

"Are you okay?"

Rylan looks up at me from a mess of hair. It was braided this morning, a look that Max hates but Rylan claims makes it easier to see, and now it's undone. It falls in his face on purpose because his beer has not been dropped off yet and he keeps yanking on it, creating a curtain of despair since he'll obviously die before getting drunk.

"Are you okay? You've been quiet for the last few days." Jason comments as he takes a bite of his mozzarella stick, and he makes a face. "Was it Max's meeting? Trust me, none of us want to help Four with the class. Why does he need someone watching him? What is he not doing? I volunteered but Max told me not to waste my time. You better hope he doesn't assign you to work down there. He said you need an attitude adjustment and spending time with Four might be the answer."

"Actually, something is bothering me." I answer slowly, and they both turn to look at me. "Can either of you explain this?"

For a moment, they are interested. They stare back, watching intently as I pull the cell phone out of my jacket. I set it in front of me, and Rylan shrugs.

"Did you get a new phone? How? I can't even get a new phone and I dropped mine in the sink the other day and now it makes a weird, crackling sound."

"Rylan, that's not new…that's…." Jason stops, because my look is pure malice.

Turns out, I didn't really appreciate the mystery I'd been handed, because I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't be certain I'd not lived in Amity, but I also couldn't be certain I wasn't being fucked with.

"There's no way it could be new because it has photos from Erudite on it. As well as some very interesting photos from Amity." I let both of them wait, and Rylan's eyes widen in faux innocence. He leans away from me, and he keeps trying to silently catch Jason's eye. "Including photos from a wedding I seem to be in."

"Oh boy," Rylan tries to slide out of his seat, and Jason kicks him. Hard. "Fuck, Jason that was rude! We both agreed you'd handle this if it ever came up."

"No, we did not agree on anything of the sort," Jason retorts. "You need to tell him. Or we both can. It was bound to happen."

Their banter is quick. Rylan refuses saying Jeanine will kill all of us, and he frantically waves over Lucy. He orders a dozen drinks and tells her to hurry because he doesn't have long now. I take his panic with a grain of salt, and I figure there's a very logical explanation for this.

"Tell me what? What was bound to happen?" I lean in on my elbows, and my expression is threatening. "Why the fuck did someone named Forrest give me a box with all this shit in it? A phone. A shirt. Some boots. A ring. A fucking marriage certificate to a girl I've never even heard of before! Is this some kind of joke?"

To his credit, Rylan alternates between looking relieved and horrified. He tries to pick a look, and he settles on deranged. He looks right at me, and his shrug makes me want to punch him.

"Well, you have heard of her. Just…not lately."

"Oh really? Go on, I'd love to hear…," I raise my eyebrows, and the malice in my tone doesn't go unnoticed. "Just exactly who the fuck Everly Coulter is."

He blinks, and he slides his stare from me to Jason.

I wait patiently, but I don't know what I'm expecting him to say. I'd already looked her up. I'd typed her name into the database, and she was the first and only result. Her picture was pretty; she was the same girl from the wedding, and the same one from my dreams, and just as short and tiny in her pink dress. The notes on the photo claim it was taken a few years ago, detailing her chosen faction as Amity, and her permanent residence as Amity.

It also detailed her marriage to me, and I was listed as her official spouse.

The weird part was when I clicked on my own name, there was no mention of a spouse. If I typed in my name, a photo of me sneering in my official Dauntless photo came up. There was no link to anyone claiming to be my wife, and certainly no notes on my time in Amity.

If I looked us up in Dauntless, there was nothing. Only my name, and the accounts associated with it.

"Who is she, Rylan?" I stare without blinking, not entirely sure I should believe him. "You seem to know her. In fact, you're in half the pictures."

"Well, I was there," he tosses back, and he finally sits up straight, resigned to fessing up. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you. You married her when you were nineteen."

He looks hopeful, and I stare back at him until he keeps talking.

"Everly Coulter is your wife. You had an official ceremony, and we were all there."

"No, she's not." I let out a bark of laughter, and Jason exhales heavily. "Are you drunk already? I didn't marry anyone, let alone a girl from Amity."

"Oh, but you did," Rylan looks everywhere but me, and he eventually meets my stare. "You don't remember it, but you chose Amity instead of Dauntless. You did really well there, and you were actually really happy. Toward the end of your initiation, you and Everly got married and we were invited. You helped lead the faction for a while after."

"Is this a joke?" I cock an eyebrow at him, and my jacket feels two sizes too small. "Do you think this is funny?"

"He's not lying," Jason interrupts. "I didn't meet Rylan until I came to Dauntless and I met you when he brought me to Amity to visit you. He and Four and I went through initiation here, but we went to Amity a few times. I saw you there, living with Everly. You guys had a house, and your life looked way better than ours. We were all going to move there once we finished here, but Jeanine threatened us into staying here. You showed up not much later, with Jeanine and your mom, and everyone here was told you'd been somewhere else and would be accepting the position as leader. We weren't supposed to ask any questions, and the only people who would be concerned were made to be quiet. Or…uh, handled. By your aunt."

"What are you talking about?" I hiss, and I lean forward. "What do you mean, I was in Amity and I just showed up here?"

"You don't remember because they keep injecting you with this stupid serum. Jeanine has been working on it forever. It makes you forget things. They showed you Everly and told you you didn't know her and never would, and in turn, you forgot about her. You forgot everything about Amity. The injections keep you from remembering. You get a headache when they start to wear off, and Arlene has no choice but to go along with it and neither do we." Rylan looks ready to throw up, and he shakes his head. "I refused for a while, but Jeanine said she'd kill my parents. She said she'd kill everyone we care about –Courtney, Everly's family, Everly's dads –"

"Dads?"

"Oh yeah, Harrison is her real father. Hank is her stepdad. No one told you because…even Harrison has to be quiet. The less you remember, the better."

"Are you being serious?" I stare him down, and his shrug is quick. "Harrison is her father? The man who keeps acting like I've personally wronged him?"

"I know, I know. It's a plot twist no one saw coming. Or maybe everyone saw coming. Who knows? But yes, Harrison is her real father, she contemplated coming here so she'd see him more, but you two met in line at the choosing ceremony and fell immediately in love and both picked Amity." Rylan declares, and he dares the smallest of smiles. "Now that you know, what are you going to do?"

I stare back, and for once, I'm not sure what to say.

I make a mental list of everything he's just told me, and I try to figure out where to start.

"You're telling me I picked Amity as my faction, I got married there, and Jeanine wanted me here. She brainwashed me into forgetting my wife, and now every time I get a headache, I'm injected with something to keep me from remembering any of this?" My words are so tense they could snap, and both Jason and Rylan nod carefully. "And Jeanine has threatened everyone who knows? What about the Amity faction?"

"Everly's dad is pretty well known there. So is her mom. They basically had no choice but to let Jeanine take you and go along with her plans or risk her coming for them," Rylan waits a beat, and I narrow my eyes at him. "I know it sounds insane and you have no reason to believe us. But wait…. there's more."

"What else could there possibly be?" I lean back in my seat, clenching down my jaw.

All around us, Clyde's picks up. The bar is crowded, but it never isn't. It's always alive, a living breathing entity beneath layers of Earth and carved out walls. There are few tables open, a single spot at the bar, and standing room only if you want to order a drink. The Dauntless faction loves a few things: being as fearless as they can present themselves, a good fight, and beer. Lots of beer.

Brought in from the only faction that had thought of a way to manufacture beer, Amity.

"Well?"

"You promise you won't punch me?" Rylan inches his chair back, and I make no such promise. "Jeanine isn't acting alone. She needed help finding Divergents and keeping you working for her. She needed someone who knew you, and someone who would be able to make this all work. It's not your dad. I know you think he's the one who didn't want to help you, and since he's in Erudite, studying brains, that he's in on it…but it wasn't him."

"No?" I tilt my head, waiting for the blistering explanation of who was responsible for such an elaborate scheme. "Then who was it? Someone in Amity? Who decided to drug me for the past two years? My wife?"

Rylan pauses, right as my phone lights up, and he nods at the name.

"Blythe."

---

My father sits across from me, in a stiffly pressed dress shirt and white coat, looking impressive. His tie is long discarded, and his shirt is unbuttoned slightly, as though the day had worn him down enough to warrant such a disheveled state. He takes his glasses off to rub his eyes, and when he slides them back on, he smiles.

Tightly.

"I have to say, I was a little surprised when you asked to meet up with me. It's been…a while."

Daniel is the last person in the world I wanted to talk to, but I knew I had to. I'd long held suspicion that Blythe's concern for me isn't real. Try as she may, she was never quite able to make it come across as authentic. It was always calculated: short, quick reassurance to dismiss any suspicion on my part, and carefully distanced mothering. She never wanted to know anything but if my head hurt, because according to Rylan, the headaches clued her in to the serum wearing off, and she couldn't have that.

She also kept precise tabs on me. In Dauntless, she had access to where I was, and she'd created an alienation that would keep me in the dark. Everyone around me was silent; if they wanted to live, or their families to stay unharmed, they'd be quiet. Even with the faction before blood motto, both Rylan and Jason were still close to their parents. They had the ability to visit frequently, and Blythe knew this.

Which is why it was easy for her to hit them where it hurt.

When my rage dulled down to a violent roar, Rylan gave me enough evidence to make me almost believe him. He documented my time in Amity in a detailed narrative, and turns out, the girl he was madly in love with lives there, as well. He'd asked her to marry him years ago, with plans of moving to Amity the minute he could, and the two of them saw each other routinely. They owned several ducks together, and he was biding his time until he found a way out or faked his own death. Christina was a legitimate friend of his, and while she wanted to date him, and tried, he had little interest in her because of Courtney.

Rylan went on to explain how he and Jason and even Four had come to visit me. Four had come along only so they could blackmail him, but there was some common ground between the three. They'd witnessed his shaky initiation –angry and withdrawn thanks to an abusive father who'd beat the living shit out of him before he chose Dauntless –and while not exactly friends, they had bonded over visiting me. He liked a girl who still lived in Amity, one who was apparently friends with my wife, and every so often, he left Dauntless to go see her.

My anger became wave-like, rising up fast but fizzling out when I couldn't figure out why I was furious over Four going to see someone he cared about. I didn't love Everly, and it took everything in me to say her real name. I said it once, spoken through gritted teeth and a tight jaw, and it felt wrong. But when I realized they all had ties to Amity, I couldn't ignore the thought that something had happened there. It became clear my jealous rage was over their words being true, and the gutting realization that I had been gone for two years, leaving behind a wife whom I'm married before Blythe could stop me.

According to Rylan, I returned to Dauntless when it started snowing, and I'd spent two years ruling a faction I never had any intention of coming to. He snickered when he said this, and he went on to inform me that, ironically, I never really had any intention of ruling Amity, either.

I'd been good at it, though.

From what I could piece together, I was an accepted part of the community and had been chosen to help run the faction.

It was still hard to be fully convinced.

All of this led me to call Daniel. I'd hesitated to reach out for a few reasons. The first being not wanting Blythe on my ass. I didn't know if my calls were traced or logged, and I'm sure my presence in Erudite would be suspicious. But the more I thought about it, sitting in my office staring at certificates proclaiming achievements I couldn't remember, I felt like maybe what Rylan and Jason had said was true.

When I was sure I would be uninterrupted, I typed in Everly's name again.

Her profile came up immediately. I learned she was twenty, I learned her official address, and the names of family members she had, including Forrest. I tried a few other databases, ones used to keep track of things like marriages and divorces, and mostly utilized by those in Candor. It took a little digging, and the use of Max's passcode, but I found it.

Entered into the factional database, permanent as ever, was our marriage.

"I have some things I need to ask you." I toy with the glass in front of me, and the coffee shop is quiet. It was his idea to come here. We both knew Blythe found the coffee too pedestrian for her taste, and too accessible given her status in Erudite, and it was unlikely she'd show up. "Are you working on a memory loss serum? Or did you?"

His stare drops to his coffee cup.

On his hand, is a gold band I don't recognize. I idly wonder if he's married Camille, or if it's a habit to slide it on every morning.

"I did. It was part of a study a few years back, maybe three or four. Jeanine and Jack had interest in it pertaining to the use of serums in the legal system. Jack thought perhaps erasing the memories of those committing crimes against the factions would be a better punishment, and Jeanine took concern that we'd have factions full of zombies walking around. A serum was created and my job was to study how it worked. I wasn't fully on board, but I didn't have a choice. It went further and further, until we were able to isolate a fragment that triggered specific memories. In large doses, the serum originally caused permanent, irreversible memory loss. In small, controlled doses, it caused the person to forget certain things or events."

"How does it work?" I do my best to keep my voice even, but my insides are burning. "How does it only affect certain memories?"

"It works differently on some, but on most of those who participated in the trial, it was caused by having them look at something after the injection. Say you wanted to forget clouds existed. You inject the person and show them a picture of a cloud. Have them stare at it. Explain it's a made-up thing, and it's not real. Clouds don't exist. Once the serum kicks in, any memory or knowledge of clouds is gone. It tricks the brain into thinking anything related to clouds isn't real. Even if the person went and looked up clouds, or it could be proven to be real, they wouldn't believe it." Daniel pauses, and his eyes find mine. "It was an interesting find, and our main concern was it could be used the wrong way. Not just in those found guilty and punished by the courts."

I loathe the way my chest tightens.

"But…we found it's not permanent, not even in large doses. Over time, I learned the serums were wearing off quickly and had serious withdrawal symptoms and side effects from being used. The first few batches were discontinued, and we worked on a new version. The results have been…split on both a scientific level and a moral level. Some people believe the lack of remembering is complete freedom, others consider it cruel to take it away. The most current serum was created a few months ago, and it's been proven to be permanent so far. Jeanine requested a few vials, but it's heavily controlled. My job was to study how it affected the brain, and how they could use it to their advantage."

"And you did this willingly?" I take in his professional appearance and his frown, and I try to remember him. Really remember him.

"I wouldn't say willingly. Part of my job is to study the brain and see how it functions. It was expected I'd be involved." He looks hesitant, and we both know why. "Is there a reason you're asking? Are you working on the serums?"

"No. The real reason I called you was to ask if I was ever in Amity? Did you go there to watch me get married?"

Daniel's eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut and looks around. "Is this…is this a trick? What are you really asking me?"

"A few days ago, I was given a box of things someone wanted me to find. Things hinting I lived there. I talked to Rylan and Jason and they both have this theory about the whole thing. They said Blythe has been drugging me every few months so I won't remember that I chose to go to Amity. Or that I have a wife there."

He recoils back into the plush booth. He looks distraught, and when he says her name, it's all the confirmation I need. "Everly."

"That's what I've been told."

Daniel's nod is sharp. He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, then looks at me. "You chose Amity to get back at your mother and me. Your mother wanted you to pick Dauntless, and I asked you to stay in Erudite. I was going to get you a job working with me or near me, and I was trying to make things better. When you picked Amity, I knew I had messed up and I tried to make it right. I went to see you, I…. I reconciled with Ian and I've gone back to see him almost every month. You were happy there. They were asking you to lead it. And…yes, I did go to your wedding. You do have a wife there. She's still there."

"Who is Ian?" I tilt my head, ignoring the panicky wave of realization that the last two years of my life were a lie. "What about Everly? Have you seen her?"

"Ian is my brother. He and his wife live there. You were just getting to know them, and he adored you. It was rocky at first, but he was incredibly apologetic about what happened when you first met and since then, he's been blackmailed into keeping quiet. Jeanine threatened to take away his son if he spoke up about your disappearance." Daniel looks pale now, his skin turning sallow even under the warm glow of the lights. "I see Everly every time I go visit or check on their clinic. I consider her part of the family, and…Camille and I make sure she's okay."

"Is she?"

The question comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I have little connection to Everly past knowing we were married, but I found myself wanting to feel something. I'd printed out the picture of her, along with a few from the phone. When I looked at them, I remembered nothing about her, but I could feel a weird pull. I stared at her for a long time, and if I closed my eyes until I saw bursts of color, I swore I could remember her.

Just enough.

Her hair grazing my arm, and her arms looped around my neck.

It always went away immediately; vanishing out of my mind like it was forbidden.

Now I know why.

"She's alright. You two had quite a large house there, and it's just her. I think her friends stay over to keep her company, and her family isn't far away. She hasn't remarried as far as I know, but I did hear Blythe has been sending her paperwork in an attempt to dissolve the marriage."

I nod, knowing this is what Ashley meant when she said Blythe would fix things in a few weeks.

"It's been going on for a while. However, Everly has refused to sign any of them. She's sent them back unsigned every time. I only know because I ran into Blythe in the hospital, and I got an earful about how unhelpful I am by humoring Everly's existence."

"I see." I lean back, glancing up as the barista sweeps by, asking if we need anything. Daniel shakes his head no, and the girl moves on to the next table, cheerfully asking if she can refill their coffees.

"She's very sweet. I visit her whenever I can. Last time I was there, she made me muffins."

"And you never once thought you should tell me any of this?" I shrug, and my jacket feels oppressive. It's not my uniform jacket, but a similar one I'd found in the closet. "You never once thought perhaps you should tell me my mother was erasing my memory or that I didn't actually pick Dauntless?"

He sighs. His smile is impatiently strained, and he doesn't have to answer for me to know he had no say in this matter.

"I was called to Dauntless the first time it started to wear off. I knew immediately what they'd done and why. Your aunt was furious you chose not to help her, and she believed you owed her for the time you spent in Amity. Blythe went along with the plan to get you to Dauntless, and I was only brought in to save face. By the time Arlene knew what was happening, there was no choice but to continue giving you the serum. If they stopped, you'd remember everything. I didn't really have a choice. When I spoke up, I was told to leave and how it wouldn't be safe for Camille and me anymore."

My phone rings.

It vibrates in my pocket as I sort all this out, but really, I'm only focused on if I'll ever know my wife again.

"So if I don't get the shot, I'll remember everything?" I decline whoever is calling and I don't look at the screen. "I'll remember…her?"

"Eventually. It takes some time for everything to come back. So in theory, yes. If you don't get the next dose of serum, at some point, you'll remember Everly. Arlene told me she didn't give you the newest shot. I think everyone is sort of…holding out hope that you'll eventually refuse any more injections."

I stare at him, blinking once as something dawns on me, and I figure I might as well use this family reunion to my benefit.

I ask him if there's an antidote, or a way to reverse the serum, and when he does answer, he puts my life right back into my hands.

---

"You're sure about this?"

Rylan eyes me from the passenger seat, holding onto the armrest as though I'm about to run us off the road or the truck will slide right into the snowbank. I'd driven, not having the patience for anyone else to drive, and it was a pleasant distraction from the thought that the past two years of my life were a lie. The idea was all consuming, making it hard to focus on anything else, except that I'd fallen for a girl in Amity, and she still lives there.

So, I'd been logical about it. I thought of all the reasons why I was needed in Dauntless, why Blythe and Jeanine were confident enough to think their plan would work, knowing full well Everly and her family could open their mouths at any time and tell the factions what happened. I thought of what my next steps should be and the risks involved, but all I could think of was seeing Everly.

"Did you try calling Jeanine? Blythe? Or you know, maybe your wife?" Rylan winces in exaggeration as I turn sharply, and I glare at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Are you really asking me if I called my aunt and mother to ask why they've been drugging me for the past two years? You know what? Sure, I'll call them right now. Why don't you dial for me?"

I sound violent in this moment, and I am. Once I had the confirmation I needed, my patience had vanished entirely. I left the coffee shop after concocting a loose plan. I thanked Daniel for his time and promised to be in touch. He looked stunned; he nodded, and said he'd call me in a few days to see how I was. His advice was simple yet far more helpful than anything else he'd ever said: figure out what I wanted to do and go from there.

And to stop getting the shots.

My gut reaction was to head down to Arlene and demand to be injected with the antidote. I had the option of letting the serum wear off, but it would be at least two months. There was no way to hurry it up, and I was impatient to take back control of my life.

Turned out, the antidote was a risk.

It was created by sheer luck, but necessary in case of a mistake. Arlene had a few vials, only because Daniel had secretly given them to her in hopes that this day would come.

It had.

Once injected, there would be no turning back. Not even the heavy blue stripe on my jacket could deter me. If anything, it was the motivation I needed to fuck Jeanine over one more time. I had decided that since she wanted to keep me away from the Amity faction and the life I had there, I would go find Everly. I wanted to meet her in person; I wanted to hear her speak, I wanted to see her face, I wanted to see if I remembered her.

I knew it would take some time, but I didn't have time.

I only had now.

I still had to make sure things were careful. Rushing would risk this getting back to Jeanine or Blythe, so I dutifully responded to a few messages, replied to a few emails, then found Rylan and demanded his assistance. He agreed immediately, but once we blew past the security gates, we both knew this would go one of two ways.

I would either see Everly and remember everything about her, including our marriage, or I'd see her and nothing would happen except she'd now be at risk if anyone asked if she'd seen me.

I still couldn't remember anything, especially who she was or why I had this burning urge to find her, but I didn't know what else to do. It wasn't that I was desperate to meet her or couldn't live without her, I just wanted to know why I'd married her in the first place.

"Do you think she'll like you? The last time Everly saw you, you weren't so..." Rylan pauses when I turn to glare at him again, and he flashes me a blinding grin with both eyebrows raised. "Handsome. Or violent looking. Has she ever told you if she was into dudes with facial piercings?"

"I guess we'll find out." I answer him, gritting my teeth together as we take the second turn toward Amity. I drive quickly, annoyed at the late hour and the heavy snowfall, but mostly antsy to find her.

It had taken me far too long to get here.

Once I'd written off Jason and Rylan forever, I realized I couldn't do this alone. I also realized they were both on my side. Jason and Rylan were incredibly apologetic, going as far as to say they'd only gone along with the plan because I'd seemed fine and they didn't feel like dying. If anything, I came to Dauntless like I owned the place. According to Jason, I was in shape, and I only continued to put on muscle like it was my job. I thrived at commanding the army, and I was at my best while sneering during useless meetings on trivial things the leaders shouldn't be handling.

Nineteen was young to start leadership, but I handled everything well, and provided a nice balance to Rylan's lack of work ethic and Jason's interest in the supernatural beings he believed haunted the faction. He was quick to tell me he still believed this, and now that I wasn't going to be drugged into not believing in ghosts, I could accompany him to the lower levels to check it out.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd never believed in ghosts.

"I find this whole thing risky. I'm all for it, but tonight is a big night for me. I was invited to a murder mystery dinner party. Though I suppose Amity has my ducks. And Courtney. I probably should have said her first," Rylan grumbles and I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds.

I'd made a mistake in thinking this would be easy.

To my utter rage, Rylan and I didn't get past the loading zone where the trucks should have been parked. We were stopped because the space was empty, and I was told there were no trucks available. I'd lost my shit when the guard finished explaining, cowering as I launched my cup of coffee right into the ground. He'd told us that six were out after the attack with the factionless. Two had windshields that were too cracked to drive. Ten were currently in use. Two were having the oil changed. Six were having their snow tires replaced.

I'd left in a fit of rage, determined to fucking walk to Amity if I had to, when Rylan pointed out this was fine. We'd eat a quick dinner, drive out when we could, and show up just in time to find Everly before nightfall. I threw him a dirty look, and Rylan reassured me that Everly was fine; she'd lived in Amity for years without me, and she could handle a few more hours.

I relaxed enough to go along with it, but barely. I chewed a dinner I didn't taste. I ignored the continued messages from Blythe, asking if my head was hurting or I was still having problems with the new shot. I attempted to call Daniel thirty times to no avail. I paced back and forth, sneering as members scrambled past me, and I swore violently at the one who accidentally bumped into me.

Just when my patience dwindled to nothing, Harrison showed up, in full uniform, announcing he had a truck ready for us. I whirled around in horror, and Rylan shrugged, slickly announcing he'd asked Harrison for a favor, because Harrison would do anything for his daughter.

Our goodbye was awkward as ever.

He took hold of my arm and lowly informed me that while he supported this, expected it even, it could blow up in my face. He let go when someone announced the other trucks were ready, and I had the feeling he was following us there. I watched him don a heavy coat and gloves, and he winked when he disappeared down a hallway.

"Were you really going to marry her? How would you marry a girl who lives in another faction?" I ask Rylan tightly, disliking the silence for once. I suddenly want to fill the dead air, and his mindless chatter will help. "Is Courtney aware you once wanted to marry her?"

His answer is immediate.

"Of course, she is! I'm still going to marry Courtney. I just have to wait until Jeanine is off my ass."

"Hopefully, that'll be soon." I snap, and I see the border of Amity in the distance. My stomach doesn't tense or turn over; I feel alive, for the first time in months. "I'll handle Jeanine. I have a few ideas."

Rylan eyes me warily, but his expression turns amused. "You know, I would probably feel better had I gone to the murder mystery party. At least I would know how to hide a body. Though there is someone in Amity who can help us if it comes to that."

I don't answer him.

I turn once more, running right over the shitty, half-assed wooden fence they'd put up, and I park right in front of the stables, ignoring the snow coming down in bursts, heavier than it has all month.

---

The stables are cold.

I glance around quickly, taking in the high ceiling, the wooden stalls, and the horses watching me with dark eyes. One in particular moves closer, neighing loudly when I don't pay attention to it. The air is heavy with the scent of hay and feed, and I wait for something to click into place. A memory of being in here, or a sense of déjà vu.

There is nothing.

Just a cold, dusty barn and not a soul in sight.

"Shouldn't we go to her house?" I ask Rylan, wondering why he'd brought us in here. The Amity faction is larger than I thought. When I jumped out of the truck, I was shocked to see sprawling homes and endless trees. Dozens of dirt pathways covered with fresh white snow, all leading to a main road which ran through the faction. I stared for a few seconds, eyeing the homes suspiciously, but no one was outside. The wind picked up as though it knew I was here, and it scraped against my cheek with each step, as if I shouldn't be here.

I was shocked to find Amity fairly quiet. The snowfall was heavy, and the faction was dark, nearly silent, except for in here. The horses are noisy, neighing softly as they demand attention.

"I don't know where she lives. I did, but I'm not sure now. Maybe Johanna has a map or something of who lives where. They have to keep track of it somehow," Rylan points out. "We'll look upstairs."

"Why didn't we just ask Harrison?" I grow impatient, but Rylan doesn't have time to answer. There's a creaking sound on the ceiling above us. We both look up to see an open space with railings running along the second floor, and I get the feeling someone is upstairs. "What's up there?"

"Johanna's office." Rylan rushes by me, and he takes the stairs two at a time. "I'll be right back. I know her password. It's literally the word Amity. I'll see if I can find a housing list or something. You wait here. Yell if you see anyone coming."

"Fine."

I return to stalking around the stables, staring down each horse, one by one. Most of them keep a careful distance, but the white one from earlier neighs again. I pause by him, and without thinking, I touch the side of his mane.

The horse stares back with the faintest hint of mistrust in his eyes. The name on his stall reads Karl, and he snorts in protest when I move my hand away. The two of us have a silent stare off, until a hint of someone announcing Rylan is exceeding his jurisdiction floats down to us.

"What are you doing?"

I turn, half expecting to find Johanna, but it's not her. It's not even Rylan, or an angry mob of Amity members here to tell me to get lost or to head inside because the blizzard is upon us.

It's my wife, watching me with wide eyes.

"Everly."

I react without thinking. I say her name loudly and she looks right at me. Her eyes find mine, and it's with great relief that I notice she's just fine. She looks tired and cold, but she's breathing, and it doesn't appear Jeanine or Blythe have done anything to her. She blinks in disbelief, and I stare at her, completely transfixed.

She looks just as beautiful as the picture, perhaps more so. Her hair is long and dark, her skin is paler than I would have imagined, and her gaze is glued to me. I take off, I reach her before she can say anything else.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, and horror blossoms through me. She steps back away from me, her feet nearly tripping over a saddle and her arms crossing over her chest. "Why are you in Amity?

I can't answer her.

I feel like I've been tricked.

Even though I've seen pictures of her, seeing her in real life is different. She is far smaller than I would have ever thought, less than half my size. I suddenly wonder how I wound up with such a tiny wife. I had imagined she'd be taller, or at least look like someone who could keep up with me. It would be very easy to yank her back to Dauntless, and I can almost imagine what it felt like to have her beneath me, her hands in my hair while she groaned my name.

"Eric, what are you doing here?" Her voice is strained as the wind slams against the barn, and it's obvious the storm isn't letting up. "How did you get here?"

I stop in my tracks, and it feels like a painful slap in the face when she tilts her head to look up at me. Large green eyes roam over every inch of me, and her cheeks are red. The way she says my name hurts; it's heavy with every emotion possible, including an agony that's tangible. It increases when she steps back again; her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the cold, and I can't help but notice she's half dressed in some flimsy nightgown and sweater despite the cold temperature.

The relief I feel is sticky and hot, and all consuming. I can barely process the fact that she's right here, right in front of me after all this time, and real. Rylan wasn't lying and neither was Forrest. I close the distance between us, not caring that I don't remember what I felt for her or what our relationship was like, only that I want her. I want her back. I want her with me, in whatever capacity, and I will make this time up.

I reach for Everly before I can stop myself, sliding my arm around her waist, fingers curling into the thin fabric at her lower back, and I pull her flush against my chest.

She is cold.

Really cold.

I can feel the chill as she reaches up, resting her hands on my chest. Her hesitation from earlier is gone as she gives in, letting me hold onto her.

For a wavering second, it hits me that I have held her like this.

I can remember holding onto her in the kitchen, desperate for reassurance that I had someone in my life who cared if I was there or not. The memory is fleeting –gone within a single second –and it stings. I've never felt a connection to anyone, but I have one with her. It's impossible to ignore, especially when she moves closer, like she's unable to back away even though she should.

"I know who you are," I blurt out the words lowly, and I forget that Rylan and presumably Johanna are still upstairs. I focus only on her in front of me, her shoulders shivering as she reaches her other hand up and into the back of my hair. Her touch is familiar, sliding over the sides slowly, and her lips part slightly when she looks at my eyebrow. "Forrest gave me a box full of my own things. Things from when I lived here. I know you're my wife. I know I married you and my dad still visits you and he makes sure you're okay and you've all had to keep quiet."

Her nod is slight. There's a shakiness to her, and it makes sense when she glances around. "Eric, you really shouldn't be here. She'll kill me. She'll think I asked you to come here. She'll send –"

"No, she won't." I shake my head at her, and my fingers curl into her back. "I'm going to fix this."

"How? Do you remember?" She looks up at me, and I look down at her. Her eyes look wet, and she blinks them a few times, refusing to let herself cry. "Do you remember me?"

"Not yet," I hate the way her face falls, and she squeezes her eyes shut in pure desperation. "But I will. Soon. Arlene said in a couple of days. Maybe by tomorrow…maybe –"

"Jeanine said you'd never remember me," Everly looks up, but she bites down on her lip like she's trying to stop herself from saying the words. "She said she'd make sure you forgot me. That you'd never step foot in Amity again. And if I tried to find you, she'd kill my family first, and me second. She even threatened Courtney and Sophia."

"She won't hurt any of you," I promise, and the rage I feel for both my aunt and my mother is indescribable. I see a vibrant shade of red, so intense I have to close my own eyes for a moment. "I have a way to fix everything."

"There's no way out of this. You've been working for her. You can't…you can't just leave…" Everly starts, but I cut her off.

I have her and that's all that matters.

Everly is obviously not safe. She's not safe so long as Jeanine knows she exists and the second I cease helping her, she'll come after Everly.

"I'm not leaving. I'm going to handle it all," I try to reassure her, but I've had enough.

I've wasted enough time as it is, and I refuse to waste a second more.

I move without thinking. My actions are practiced, like I've done this a million times. I bend my head down, reveling in the act of simply being so close to her, and a second later, my nose brushes against hers. I flash back to every time I'd kissed her, doing my best to show her how much she meant to me when I couldn't tell her. Doing my best to hint at what I felt for her, without actually saying it. I do the same now, though this time I can feel her heart beating, her pulse in her neck, and the way she exhales as my nose pushes against hers.

I wait no longer.

Her nails dig into my scalp when my lips touch hers, cold and soft, and I press harder.

For a moment, I feel triumphant.

The highest of all highs, rushing through me with enough force that I feel lightheaded.

I can also feel her against my chest, and that triumph turns frantic. Ecstatic. Overwhelmed with the urge to grab her and run. I wait for her to sink into me, giving in to the same relief that I'm feeling that I've found her. I pull her closer, desperate to immediately head home with her, and I start to lift her up.

Until I realize she's barely moving.

Her lips might be against mine, but it's like she's never kissed me before.

Or anyone.

I break away abruptly, and my stomach leaps into my throat.

"What's wrong?" I stare at her, her eyes are on mine, and they are wide with uncertainty. "Everly, what's wrong?"

She stays silent.

I set her down right in front of me, but my arm stays around her back. I can feel every breath she takes, and the last one is long and sharp.

"Say something." I demand, and the horror is right there. Right in my esophagus, threatening to claw its way up and out.

Her silence feels like forever, until eventually, she blinks.

"I…" Everly pauses and she suddenly looks miserable. "It's been two years, Eric. I keep thinking this isn't real. You can't be real."

She blurts out her words like she shouldn't say them, and I can see the exact second when she decides she doesn't care. She lunges for me. Her fingers leave my hair and take hold of my face, and she kisses me. It's as desperate and frantic as my own kiss was, but even more so. There's a whimper from her when my hands move to her hair, and she wobbles, trying to keep her balance and stay on her toes to reach me. I don't break away from her, and I can't bring myself to stop touching her. I hold onto her greedily, not sure how I'd gone two years without her.

Her lips are cold and soft, she's chilly beneath my hands but oh so close and pressed right up against my chest, and she smells like flowers and happiness and a time I want to go back to.

My brain tries to remember everything about her, every single moment we spent together, but it's difficult. There are too many. They smash together in a way that makes them impossible to tell apart, but I don't care.

I mumble her name against her lips, holding onto her tighter, and I remember the exact moment I met her. I can see her looking up at me, introducing herself as though I'd asked, and my life had never been the same since then.

"Please, please don't leave. Stay here. I miss you. I'll keep you safe. You can hide out here. Harrison can kill her…" Everly mumbles, and she waits until I nod my head.

"I'll kill her myself for what she did," I hold onto her tightly, and the moment is interrupted as Rylan and Johanna do come downstairs, still arguing over something, and they only stop when we both look over at them.

Rylan looks ecstatic.

Johanna looks stunned.

I wait for her to say something or yell at me to get away from Everly, but she doesn't. Johanna's stare does find mine, curious and unfamiliar, and when she does speak, I realize coming here was dangerous.

The storm is officially in full force, and until it passes, we are trapped in Amity.