AN: This chapter took so much effort to get down, but I'm finally happy with it and I hope you enjoy it.

Shout out to bianconiglio, who has consistently reviewed this fic, and makes me smile—and cry, maybe—every time. And ItsHardIKnow, your last few reviews have really made me chuckle. You both have given me a lot of motivation so thank you.

Tris looks up as she hears a knock on the side of her office door. Tori stands there with her hands folded in front of her. "Are you busy?" She asks, toe of her boots lining the floor, her head down.

She's momentarily caught off guard seeing the older woman standing in front of her—speaking to her. "No, I was just going to leave for lunch."

"Oh, it can wait then I guess."

"Wait…" Tris stops her. "We can walk and talk." She stands from her desk. Pushing her chair in, she heads for the door.

The older woman nods and they exit into the dead hallway.

"We need to talk about how this is gonna work," Tori begins, "If you're gonna take this seriously now..."

Tris is again taken aback. "Meaning…"

"Do you plan to get in my way? Cause let me tell you something… this is not the council meetings." Tori's tone is airy, but Tris knows what she means—she's not going to get her way. And if Tris plans to be trouble, then, she'll do what she can to get Four to turn as well.

"What are you talking about?" Tris asks, the two women reaching a winding staircase, stopping there. "I just want us to get the faction moving towards being normal again."

Tori stares at her. "No, you're obsessing over Coulter. And I'm not gonna let you waste time and resources—"

"Where is this even coming from?" Tris stops her, "I haven't proposed anything but better security for the factions—creating jobs and purpose—and I agreed with you on keeping the point system the way that it is." And that's the truth when it comes to her job. Tris uses her free time to focus on Eric and the details of his case. "So I don't know why you're bringing this negative attitude to me right now Tori. And besides that, you and I have never had issues until recently."

"You're defending the man who—"

"Eric didn't kill George," Tris cuts her off. "I understand that you want someone to pay but Eric didn't push him into the Chasm. Eric wasn't even in Dauntless when George was going through his initiation. And you know that. You gave him his tattoo!"

The regime that killed George was alive and well. Tris can understand Tori wants to blame someone. But she won't let Tori act as if it makes sense.

Tori stares at her for a long time it seems, fists balled at her sides.

"George never got justice," Tori says, eyes bleary with emotion. It's the same look of sadness Tris remembers the first time Tori told her what happened.

"Punishing the wrong person for his death isn't justice, Tori." Tris says. "The person responsible for this, Jeanine is dead."

"How can you trust Eric? He's been involved with so many lies," Tori says, the anger that usually blazes behind her dark eyes is down to a dull look of pain. She knows she's been projecting her pain, but it's easier to be angry now when her original suspicions of foul play have been confirmed. But she knows using Eric as a scapegoat won't help her heal. She just can't get past the lies.

"He was protecting his family." Tris says, answering simply.

"Faction before blood," Tori replies just as quickly. "He used to say that. Another lie."

"You would have done anything to protect George," Tris argues. "If you could go back, you wouldn't do whatever it took to keep your brother alive?"

"I wouldn't sell my soul to the devil herself to do it." Tori is unrelenting to that point. Tris nods once. She knows she'll never get Tori to agree but she hopes the older woman can at least understand. "Tell me what you know then," Tori adds. "C'mon, you're so certain Eric deserves to get out—tell me why."

"Jeanine killed your brother—she killed Eric's father and threatened his mother and sister."

"That was never proven," Tori says. She's heard the rumblings, and she'd denied that it tugged on her heartstrings. But she remembers being a young woman, how close she and her brother were. She can't imagine losing a parent to the war on divergence.

"So, you heard…" Tris says.

"You want him released on technicalities and sentiment," Tori argues. "He's saying he cares now… you took death off the table and the next step is his release. Eric knows that."

Tris laughs bitterly shaking her head as they descend the staircase. "That's not true. One conversation with him and you'd know that's not true."

"He's playing you."

"No, he's not!" Tris yells angrily. "Do you remember him as some evil person-"

"I don't know what to believe about Eric. And I don't care if you want to fight for his release. But I'll never accept it. I'll never believe another word that comes out of his mouth. You should be careful." Tori stares at her with her arms folded. "You and me won't have a problem as long as you put the faction first. For too many years we were used as pawns on a much larger scale of ignorance. And as much as I hate to admit it—We may have to work together."

Tris pauses, expression scrunching. "Now I'm confused."

"I know you and Four broke up… and even a blind man could see you were having your problems."

Tris snorts, shaking her head. They make their way towards the cafeteria. They climb to the raised platform where the leaders sit above and enjoy their meals. Food is set out at the center of the three tables. Tris doesn't usually eat up there. But Four usually does. And he's nowhere in sight. It's just them there today.

The mess hall is full of people throughout lunch hours. It's louder than usual today.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Tris bites, folding her arms on the table. Tori grabs a plate and starts to fill it—going for a burger and fix-ins.

She pauses, quirks one of her thin, straight brows and stares at Tris for a moment, "Relax. I don't really care if you and loverboy are together or not." She looks around, noting that she doesn't see Four. "But I just have a feeling…"

"This is about the council meeting…" Tris deduces.

"Four and obviously Evelyn knew the factionless were sick and didn't say." Tori goes on. "What else do you think he hasn't told us?"

"I was there when she took us to see the sick—he was just as surprised," Tris says, shaking her head. She finally goes to attack some lunch.

"You heard them at the meeting," Tori says. "You saw his face when you said she knew and didn't say. They played you."

"No," Tris disagrees. "Four wouldn't—"

"Fine… maybe I'm wrong… I don't think it would kill us to keep an eye on Evelyn. She has it out for you—not that she shouldn't." Tori adds smugly, looking down.

"Don't say—"

"You already thought it." Tori shrugs. "I'm just being honest. Look, you and I have our differences… since the day we met, you've been doing the opposite of what I tell you. Do I complain? No. I'm just warning you… like all the other times. Watch your back."

"What are you asking?" Tris asks in exhaustion, the conversation is going in circles.

"I'm telling you to be prepared," Tori says annoyed, "Haven't you been listening to what I'm saying?"

"You're kind of hard to follow right now," Tris says, voice raising slightly. "You just sprang a lot on me." Though, she can't lie and say she's not glad Tori is even speaking to her. For days, she's been locked in her office alone—feeling disconnected from her fellow leaders. She has an inkling that Tori is just looking out for her own best interest.

Tori snorts, shaking her head as she bites into her burger. She speaks with her mouth full "Well look, the way I see it, if shit hits the fan, I'd rather have you on my side." She admits it freely, swallowing thickly, "People will follow the woman who saved their lives. It's inevitable."

"I'm not a prop." Tris replies flatly, brows scrunched. "But I get your point."

"Good. We'll stick together if we have to."

"Four and Evelyn won't be a problem. If anything… Four would stop her before she ever got out of hand."

"I'm glad you see the good in every situation, but let's be realistic—he's probably just as capable of deceiving you as Eric is."

Tris exhales hard, openly spurned. "Eric isn't lying to me. And Four isn't being used as some lackey in Evelyn's evil plot. You're letting what's happened recently color your judgment."

"So, what are you doing looking into Eric's trial?" Tori asks, looking equally as bothered.

"What? That's not the same." Tris says, shaking her head. She places her hands on the table, heart beating hard in her chest.

"You wanted to believe he was targeted-"

"He was." Tris cuts her off. "You've all but admitted to it…" Tori is quiet, and Tris gives her a look, shrugging her shoulders. "Listen… we'll get along if we don't discuss Eric's case. And let's leave it at that. And if it makes you feel better—fine, I'll keep an eye out for suspicious behavior on Four's part." Part of her hopes Tris is just being paranoid. She's trying to not think the worst of Four. They broke up and he did cheat on her but it's a big jump from bad relationship history to evil plots. "Okay? I'll do my part for this faction…"

"Then we'll be fine," Tori holds up her hands before reaching for her lunch again. "Glad we had this talk."

They finish their meals in silence, both looking around the large room. Groups of friends are lively and talking amongst themselves. It's nice to see people trying to move on. Tris is glad life in the faction hasn't been more chaotic than she remembers it ever being.

Tori finishes eating first. "So, it looks like we're gearing up to initiation again. Everyone's preparing for it."

"Without an Erudite representative?"

"They'll have one by the time we get to aptitude testing." Tori replies, "I've spoken to Jack and Johanna about it, the seat is open if someone steps up for it. And we're going to enforce curfews—"

"And what? Force pledgers to go back home?"

"If we have to," Tori says, looking at her. "They're our doctors, teachers, researchers, they need to go back to living like we were before."

Tris feels her spine tingle with apprehension. It's been happening for a few days, starting with looking for defectors in their own faction, but she knows why they have to. "If we leave Erudite to be abandoned we're setting a precedent…"

"That they're all guilty," Tori continues. "Exactly… they tested Erudite. They are Erudite."

"So who's going to be their representative?"

"For the time being? They have no options. Their head researchers will report to the council and we'll keep an eye on their projects. Dauntless will have strong presence there. I'm putting together a roster. Any suggestions?"

Tris shakes her head, she can't deny that it's a good working idea for the time being. But she's not sure how long that will work. "And what about initiation?"

"We'll put some of the older members who have volunteered to oversee the initiative period." Tori says, "between you and me, I don't think anyone will be choosing to transfer to Erudite."

"Do we trust them not to screw with our serums?" Tris asks suddenly, feeling her eyes bug when she hears her own voice ask the pressing question. Tori seems just as shocked to hear that her fellow leader has that concern.

"We've cleared out Jeanine's followers," Tori says confidently. "They were all so confident in their ignorance they all but volunteered to be slaughtered."

Tris winces, images flashing in her heard based solely on Tori's choice of words. "So we're in a wait and see period."

"And that's why we need to be prepared for anything." Tori replies, folding her arms on the table.

"I don't want to ever discover the ways we'd live without that faction," It's a dark implication she makes—how an entire faction would be wiped away and how they'd move on. There would be no way to do so. They'd be stuck without the brainiacs. And it's scary to think about.

"They aren't the faction of standing they're used to being, it's an adjustment they all have to make. Or—" her lips make a flatline as she shrugs.

"Let's hope for the best."

"You do that. I'll stick to preparation for the worst."

Eric sticks hands in the same slot his meals are given to him, hands cuffed together in moments. He swallows thickly, shuffling away from the slot when he's cuffed. The wall of his cell slides open, and Doug—his perpetually obtuse guard—is standing and waiting for him.

"I've showered already," Eric says, fishing for an answer to his question—what's going on?

"Just walk dude," Doug has always tried to be commanding but always sounds as if Eric should just behave to spare his sanity. He threateningly waves at Eric with his baton, the electrode sparking menacingly. Eric eyes the weapon with pointed disgust.

"Threaten me without the help, Dougie." Eric prods with his chin. He knows the man well, the older guard is Dauntless trained as is every guard in the prison. Dauntless are all around. "Where's Jacob huh? He get the promotion?"

"Shut up," Doug hits him with the chargeless end, making Eric growl. He's not stupid enough to fight back. One day he'll get angry enough. "Your lawyer is here."

Eric stands up straighter, interest piqued enough to ignore the discomfort in his spine. He spits at Doug's feet. He didn't ask to see Joshua, and he knows immediately that Tris has something to do with this. "Prior." He shakes his head, but something in his heart soars—the other constricts. This won't end the way she hopes.

He's lead past the few other cells in the hall, through corridors, past the main cell block and into visiting areas. The doors buzz before they slide open, and he sees his lawyer sitting at the table in the center of the room. But it's Tris who makes his expression light up.

She exhales deeply and he can see the restraint in her movement as she walks over. She never takes her eyes off his. When she stops in front of him, she looks at the guards with him, "Take the cuffs off."

Doug looks at her like she's sprouts another head and a tail. And she repeats the command. "Prior—"

"Tris…" Eric mutters warningly. She's going to burn bridges here and then he'll never see her.

"Don't make me repeat myself Doug," Tris says, brow quirked. The guard huffs but steps forward and lifts the watch he wears to the lock of the cuffs, they release and he removes them.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Doug mutters. Eric is tempted to punch him. But he knows how stupid that would be. It would be worse for Tris than anyone else.

Tris stares at Eric as he rubs his wrists. As he looks down at her, she throws herself at him. He wraps his arms around her after a second of shock. He locks his arms together around her waist and buries his face in her neck. She melts into him without caring of being in a room with countless cameras, guards and Benning.

She hides her face in the crook of his neck, holding her elbows where her arms are wrapped around his shoulders. She needs to just hold him for a few more seconds for this to feel real. She doesn't care who doesn't like it. He holds onto her like she's his lifeline. She wants to cry but she doesn't.

Tris pulls away from their hug, a smile nearly splitting her face as Eric snorts. He rolls his eyes but still lifts his hands to cup her face in his hands. She closes her eyes.

"I told you to stop," Eric says, thumb rubbing under her eye. She snorts and opens her eyes, a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips—there was a time he really would have been mad she disobeyed an 'order'.

"I have something for you." She says, pulling him towards the table. She shows him the picture Stephanie drew him.

Eric brushes his fingers across the drawing, looking at Tris. "You saw them? How're they?"

"This is hard on them Eric." She says, knowing he'll appreciate the truth. "They love you and wanted me to tell you."

He tries not to be emotional about it. But fails. He quickly wipes his eyes, head down. It's hard to face the truth—leaving his faction of birth had been expected. It is the way their society functions. But this was out of the ordinary. Never being allowed to see him was hurting them.

Eric looks down at the heart, reads the words and can't help his smile. His little sister, her innocence…

Benning clears his throat and rises from his seat to round the table.

"Hi Eric," The Candor says, extending a hand for Eric to shake. "It's been a while. How're you holding up?"

"Better than anyone would have hoped, I'm sure." Eric replies, clearing his throat. He puts away his sister's drawing, inhaling deeply as he folds it and tucks it into the pocket of his pants. His brow quirks softly as he exhales with a shake of the head.

"Let's sit, huh? We have some things to discuss." Joshua ushers them to sit around the table, Eric only swings one of his feet across the bench to sit down, one arm on the table. He sits facing Tris and the nearest exit—the guard standing and waiting for him to do something dumb.

"What's going on?" Eric asks, shoulders hunched. He looks to Tris, he can feel her nervous energy. "What did you do?"

"I had some questions about your first trial," she sees no point in lying about it. Last time she saw him they talked about her getting him out. "I meant it when I said I'm getting you out."

He shakes his head just as she's about to open her mouth to speak, "Tris..." He covers his face with his hands, counting down from 5 to try and control the emotions swirling around in his head. But she pushes before he's ready to talk about it.

She breathlessly asks,"Why wouldn't you want to at least try—"

"I said no!" Eric bellows passionately and she stares at him as if he stabbed her. He softens as her defiant expression pairs with tearful eyes. "Why do you care so much?"

"Don't ask me that…" she says strongly. "You know why… you know. I.. Y-you get an appeal."

Eric knows what she wanted to say and stares at her even as she looks away. He takes her by the chin. "What?" She doesn't look at him, and he pulls a little harder. "What were you going to say?" She finally looks into his eyes, brows creasing as she looks at him. "Say it."

"That's enough…" comes Doug's voice in the background, "I'll cut this short, I swear to god."

"Shut up!" Tris dismisses him, and Eric looks back over his shoulder—hand still holding her chin.

"I screwed up." Benning finally says, changing the subject.

Eric's attention snaps in the opposite direction and he's looking at his lawyer then. "I beg your pardon?"

"I screwed up."

"No, I heard you… what the fuck do you mean you screwed up?" Eric leans forward, "is this not your job?" He stabs his finger to the table top. "You fucking screwed up? I'm sitting here cause you screwed up?"

Tris stares at him, knowing he's never voiced not accepting he's here because of his own actions. But the look on the lawyer's face—the fear—leaves her feeling more than a little smug. Eric knows what he's saying.

"Show him." Tris commands, and the Candor springs into action. He pulls out a tablet and taps on it. It's a high tech kind of thing she's sure costs a ridiculous amount of points instead of a regular—old world— laptop. Eric squints and reads the email. Eric's blood runs cold, but anger courses through him. Tris grips his forearm when his fingers twitch. "Karl Hennig sent it. The house at the main address assigned to him was condemned after the War. He's dead."

"My mother gave this to you?" Eric asks, glaring at Joshua. "You had this… and didn't tell me about it?"

"I defended you with—"

"That's not what I asked you, Benning," Eric shakes his head. He's breathing evenly, schooling his anger. "My mother… they threatened my mother and no one bothered to tell me." Tris looks at him—of course that's what he cares about. They could have used it to build some context for his actions, but he doesn't really care about that. They directly, boldly threatened his family. And his lawyer kept it from him. "Don't give me the I'm a Candor and I can't lie bullshit—did you set me up Benning?"

Joshua tilts his head ever so slightly and looks stunned by the question. "No," he answers, knowing he's telling the truth. "Why—"

"He's gonna fix it," Tris cuts in adamantly. "And you're not spending another day in here." Eric glances at her, chuckling. Her certainty is assuring.

"I can file a motion for relief from judgement, with that comes requesting a retrial," Joshua says, using maximum effort to cover a nervous stammer. Gone is the bold man who defended himself when Tris questioned him days ago.

"They'll throw out the verdict based on this one thing?" Tris asks, wanting to know the odds.

"Justice Byers is a stickler for her perception of fairness. This email is big enough to at least open the door for a whole other set of questions Eric didn't have the opportunity to answer," Joshua combs a hand through his own hair before pressing his thumb and index to his eyes. "If she feels the jury should have at least heard you? Then she'll grant the motion."

Tris is tempted to out him—to put him on the spot and make him answer for what he said when she asked him why he kept it from Eric. But she just stares at him, and he looks back at her as if he knows exactly what she's thinking.

"I'm not sure I want you to do anything for me, Benning," Eric says. He watches as the older man holds his breath. Tris looks between them, examining the open expressions on their faces. Eric is the man at the obvious situational disadvantage but it's Joshua who's on his back leg. Eric inhales, exhaling as he looks away. "File the motion," he says with a wave of his hand.

It takes a lot of effort on her part to keep from squealing. Tris looks to the nearest guard. "Set up transport."

Elizabeth holds Stephanie in her arms as she rushes across the street. The Justice building is always flowing with people, but she has to be in court to see her son and it's looking busier than usual. She rushed to get herself and her daughter ready that morning—narrowly missing the bus as they ran across the street to board.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Stephanie never got the chance to sit in the courtroom and see any of the proceedings during her brother's trial. Elizabeth had been too emotional—there would have been no way to corral the child, and Eric didn't even want her there. This time however, she was determined to be there.

"We're here to support your brother."

"We get to see him?!" She asks, shouting her question.

Elizabeth adjusts her hold on her daughter, fixing her on her hip as they walk inside. "Yes but we have to be quiet okay?"

"Or they'll take him away?" Stephie asks, pout already placed on her face.

"No, but we'll be asked to leave. And we don't want that."

"Right!"

Elizabeth stops a guard, "Can you tell me which courtroom is Justice Byers—"

"Keep down this hallway, it's the second courtroom past the bathroom."

"Thank you." Elizabeth sets Stephanie on her feet and they start to walk. "Best behavior Stephanie Elaine…"

"Yes Mommy," Stephanie says, holding her finger to her mouth. "Shhhh."

Elizabeth snorts, pushing their way into the courtroom. There are more people than she'd been expecting to see. On both sides of the room, Dauntless members are sitting in the rows, all of them looking interested. The Judge—an older woman with salt and pepper hair sits above the rest. She sees Four and bristles, remembering just how he'd looked at Eric with so much hatred, how he still does.

Elizabeth spots Tris sitting in the first row behind where Eric sits gazing off at nothing. Elizabeth feels Stephie tug her towards them.

Tris exhales and smiles, opening her arms for the little girl to climb into her lap. "Hi."

"Hi." Stephie whispers back, her childlike wonder making Tris smile.

Eric can hear them and knows he can't turn around to look but he exhales in relief.

"Your honor, a jury convicted Mr. Coulter of murder and crimes against the factions." The woman representing Dauntless—Mia Gregory—is a promising young lawyer. She's passionate about her job, her win rate is in the high 90s. And she detests Joshua Benning. Her white button down shirt is crisp and her black slacks are the deepest shade of black in the room. She's wearing a bowtie. "This is a waste of the courts time and resources."

"Well, hold on Miss Gregory…" the Justice holds up her hand, pen between her fingers as she looks down at her desk. "On what grounds are you filing this motion, Mr. Benning? Your client was convicted by a jury of his peers over 7 months ago."

Tori grits her teeth, folding her arms. She can't bring herself to look anywhere but the wall ahead. Being here was supposed to make her confront her anger towards Eric and call it what it was—inflated.

"New evidence, your honor." Joshua replies evenly, and Eric looks up at him, fingers over his mouth to hide his reaction to the bending of the truth—cardinal sin to the Candor.

"What new evidence?" Mia asks, "I wasn't—"

"A letter sent to my client's mother."

Four looks across the room where he sits as far away from Eric as possible. He scoffs as Tris looks at him.

"You're proposing I throw out a verdict based on a letter?" The judge asks skeptically.

"I respectfully request that you take a look at it," Joshua says, and Tris and Elizabeth fight their urge to scoff. There's quiet murmurings among the other onlookers. He hands one copy of the email to the bailiff and the other to Mia.

"Your honor, this only speaks to Mr. Coulter's motive." Mia says quickly after scouring it. Eric rolls his eyes but doesn't look over. "After reading this, he would have had another reason—if he even needed it—to commit his crimes."

Eric scoffs, making a face, mouth flattening as he sits back in his seat.

Benning looks at the presiding woman, "Justice…"

She holds her hand up, "I don't necessarily disagree with you Miss Gregory," Justice Byers says calmly after the few moments It takes her to read. The threat is clear and it leaves her with unanswered questions. It doesn't change everything. But it changes enough. She exhales in disappointment. "While I detest your actions Mr. Coulter and I strongly believe you made conscious decisions with no help from Jeanine and her followers, it's unbecoming of the Candor to not extend to you the opportunity to explain and tell the full truth. Only after that should a verdict be given in your case." Eric feels his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing to his ears as his adrenaline spikes. "So I'm granting your motion for release of judgement—vacating the previous conviction in which retrial is forthcoming."

Gregory squawks, voice lost, as she stares at the judge. There's an unexpected roar from the Dauntless that Eric would never have expected. He turns then, seeing the faces of happy and unhappy faction members. Four is staring at him, expression hard.

Joshua takes the moment as an opportunity, "Your honor I request my client be released upon his own recognizance—another day spent in confinement would only—"

"So ordered," Justice Byers drawls unhappily. She looks at Eric and his openly stunned expression. "The defendant will wear an ankle monitor and be confined to his faction. Breaching of the Dauntless zones will result in immediate remand. Do I make myself clear, Eric? You are also in no way, shape or form to have any contact with any member of Abnegation… same consequences apply."

Eric nods once, in too much shock to give a verbal reply.

"Opening arguments will commence in one week's time." Byers looks to Joshua, "I expect you to have your defense in order this time around Benning." She eyes the lawyer, glasses drawn down on her nose. He swallows thickly and her suspicions are all but confirmed. "I don't know why you'd take the risks you've taken with your clients case—nor do I pretend to know his motivations for letting you… but I don't take too kindly to surprises."

Joshua nods, feeling everyone's eyes on him. Normally he thrives with attention, but not today—not with the implications made. "Yes… noted, Your Honor."

"Very well, we're adjourned then," she says informally and the room rises as she knocks the gavel and exits the courtroom.

Eric turns to see his mother and sister just as Benning pats his shoulder. That doesn't register, only their faces. He just jumps the partition and gathers his mother in to his arms. Elizabeth sobs in relief, clutching her oldest child, kissing his cheek happily.

"Don't cry mommy," Stephie says sweetly, reaching for her mother. Eric takes Stephanie from Tris as she stands there tearfully and watches. They did it.

But she has the strong feeling that whatever is going on, they aren't done with it.