A/N: The penultimate chapter! Doesn't the idea of it just make you teary? I know it makes me feel like that! It didn't help that this one is shorter than most so I got it typed up literally in one day.

As I'm pretty sure most of you have guessed, we're gonna have a Melizabeth moment right about here. I mean, we left off with *Clears throat* "Meliodas," I say. Pretty obvious what happens next, right?

Haha, I'll stop now. I'm kinda sugar-hyped after eating a whole pack of jammy dodgers. Do you guys have that in the US and everywhere else? I'm gonna quickly Google it...Yeah, you guys do. They're so good, right? I LOVE those and Oreos, any type of bloody biscuit or cake really - they're my guilty pleasures for reading and drawing Xd

CarBarrier - Divergent Elizabeth more or less is always a badass! Going through Dauntless initiation changes a person, especially the recent wave of it.

Till next time,

D.L.D

*I do not own Divergent or any of its character and plot work. This is simply an adaption*

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Self-Sacrifice

Meliodas' head turns and his dark eyes shift to mine. His eyebrows draw in. He stands. He looks confused. He raises his gun.

"Drop your weapon," He says.

His voice rings in my ears, buzzes through my system like a hollow echo. I know that it is him, his voice, and yet it is not the same. It lacks the liveliness it normally holds, the usual strength and emotion that filled his voice. This one was more robotic, static, like it was his but an imitation of it. The same sort of voice that he used when talking to Ludociel. The same sort of voice that Zeldris used when talking to their father.

"Meliodas," I say the words slowly, carefully. "You're in a simulation."

Nothing wavers through him. My voice does nothing to affect him, move him. Instead he is the same, eyes dark, brows drawn, gun raised. Nothing familiar and comforting fills his alert face. Nothing makes me think for a second that he will suddenly recognise me, drop his gun and wrap me tightly in his arms. Right now, there is no doubt that he will shoot me like this. There is no doubt that he will harm me like this.

And he will regret it.

"Drop your weapon," Meliodas repeats, his hand firmly wrapped around the gun. "Or I will fire."

Vivian said that he didn't know me anymore. He doesn't know my face or voice at all. Vivian also said that the simulation warped Meliodas' friend into his enemies. That means I will be seen as an enemy; that means that he will shoot me down without hesitation if I give him enough reason to. So, in order to survive, I must do as he says. I must give him minimal opportunities to shoot me.

Calmly, I set my gun down at my feet.

"Drop your weapon!" Meliodas shouts and it causes me to wince. Shiver. He hasn't yelled at me like that ever since he called me pathetic and I slapped him. After everything that has happened, I never thought he would shout at me like that again. I never thought that it would scare me in the same way - shock my entire body into a state of panic, wondering if his actions will be as harsh as the voice that left his lips.

"I did," I say it quietly. Softly. A little voice in my head sings that he cannot hear me, cannot see me, doesn't know me. No matter what I do, he will never know it's me. Tongues of flame press behind my eyes. I can't just stand here and let him shoot me. I can't let him hurt me. He will regret it. He will regret it.

Fighting back the building tears in my eyes, I run at Meliodas, quickly grabbing his wrist. I feel his muscles shift as he pinches the gun's trigger and I duck my head just in time. The bullet hits the wall behind me, fast and certain. Gasping, I kick him in the ribs and twist his wrist to the side as hard as I can. I must stop him. He cannot regret it. He drops the gun.

I can't beat Meliodas in a fight, I know that already. But I have to destroy the computer. I have to free everyone from the simulation. If it means having to confront him, oppose him, then I must do it. I dive for the gun, but before I can touch it, Meliodas grabs me and wrenches me to the side.

I stare into his dark, conflicted eyes for an instant before he punches me in the jaw. My head jerks to the side and I cringe away from him, flinging my hands up to protect my face. I can't fall; I can't fall or he'll kick me, and that will be worse, that will be so much more worse. Kicking is always much worse than punching; kicking always strikes your most vulnerable parts. Shaking my head, I kick the gun back with my heel so that he can't grab it and, ignoring the throbbing in my jaw, kick him in the stomach.

Meliodas catches my foot and pulls me down so that I fall on my shoulder. A cry escapes me. The pain makes my vision go black at the edges. I stare up at him. He pulls his foot back like he's about to kick me and I roll onto my knees, stretching my arm out for the gun. I don't know what I will do with it. I can't shoot him, I can't shoot him, I can't. He is in there somewhere. Meliodas is in there and I won't shoot him.

Roughly, he grabs me by my hair and yanks me to the side. I reach back and grab his wrist, but he's too strong and my forehead smacks into the wall. Immediately, I feel the impact and my brain feels as if it's slipped, moved. My forehead throbs.

He is in there somewhere.

"Meliodas," I call out to him.

Did his grip falter? I twist and kick back, my heel hitting him in the leg. When my hair slips through his fingers, I desperately dive at the gun and my fingertips close around the cool metal. Flipping over onto my back, I turn and point the gun at him.

"Meliodas," I say it again, looking him directly in the eye. My face is calm, collected, while my heart is hammering away in my chest. "I know you're in there somewhere."

But if he was, he probably wouldn't start toward me like he was about to kill me for certain this time. He wouldn't look as furious as he does.

My head throbs. I stand.

"Meliodas, please," I am begging. I am pathetic. Hot tears pour down my face, and I sniff as I wipe my eyes. "Please. See me." He walks toward me, his movements dangerous, fast, powerful. The gun shakes in my hands. I cannot shoot him. He cannot regret it. "Please see me, Meliodas, please!"

Even when he scowls, his eyes look thoughtful, and I remember how his mouth curled when he smiled. I remember how it felt to have him grin at me, smile at me. When he did that, for a second, I didn't feel like such a lost person. I didn't feel like I didn't belong anywhere.

My hand continues to shake. I cannot kill him. I am not sure if I love him; not sure if that's why. But I am sure of what Meliodas would do if our positions were reversed. I am sure that nothing is worth killing him for. So if I die here, it was right to. If I don't kill him and the simulation continues, I have not done the wrong thing. I have done the selfish thing but I have not done the wrong thing. I have not done the wrong thing.

I have done this before - in my fear landscape, with the gun in my hand, a voice shouting at me to fire at the people I love. I volunteered to die instead, that time, but I can't imagine how that would help me now. But I just know, I know, what the right thing to do is.

My father says - used to say - that there is power in self-sacrifice. Even if I am doing it for selfish reasons, for my own selfish heart, it is still self-sacrifice. It is still a moment of selflessness.

Silently, I turn the gun in my hands and press it into Meliodas' palm.

He pushes the barrel into my forehead. My tears have stopped and the air feels cold as it touches my cheeks. I reach out and rest my hand on his chest so that I can feel his heartbeat. Constant and steady, it beats beneath my palm. Not once does it stray out of rhythm, race with wavering emotion. I smile. At least his heartbeat is still him.

The bullet clicks into the chamber. Maybe it will be as easy to let him shoot me as it was in the fear landscape, as it is in my dreams. Maybe it will just be a bang, and the lights will lift, and I will find myself in another world. I stand still and wait.

Can I be forgiven for all I've done to get here?

I don't know. I don't know.

Please.