A/N: Wow, it took me way too long to write this. But I'm back, two months and five thousand cases of severe writer's block later.

Oh, and Divergent is ABSOLUTELY mine! Yeah, I totally decided to write a spin-off and make Shauna the main character, definitely. Because it's interesting, of course.
No, I'm being sarcastic. Veronica Roth, sadly, never decided to explore Shauna's character and journey, so I'm doing it instead!

A note, I'm not bashing Shauna in any way. Keep in mind, Shauna has just lost Marlene, as well as use of her legs. Anger is one of the stages of grief. And she has a deeply ingrained hatred of Divergents, thanks to her mother. It only makes sense she would hate Tris, at first, at least, and even Uriah, for being what she believes to be the enemy.

With that said and done, onto the chapter!

It isn't in the nature of the Dauntless to offer consolation for injuries. Wounds are a part of life; you get hurt, you heal, and you move on and get hurt again. And the cycle starts over.

But her injuries aren't normal. They aren't the kind that can heal in a few weeks, that she can brush off and forget about once they're healed. They aren't the kind that can heal, at least not for a long time.

Perhaps that's why she receives so many sorry words, so many pitying glances, as she wheels down the hallways of the compound, with quite some effort. She's never been the strongest, and her arms aren't used to the exertion of pushing her whole body and a metal chair around.

She doesn't want them to look at her with so much sadness. She doesn't want their apologies. She doesn't want to talk to anyone, for the fear they'll ask her the unavoidable question, When are you leaving?

Because every Dauntless knows what happens to those who have become liabilities.

And that's what she is now; a liability, something holding the rest of them back. She doesn't have as much mobility anymore. She can't help them fight. She's useless to them.

Lynn walks beside her, glancing at her every minute or so. Her sister still looks horrible; Her eyes are perpetually red, and her usual toughness has all but disappeared.

She shouldn't be out of bed; both the doctors and Zeke tried to get her to stay in the infirmary. But she's already failed Dauntless, by going and getting herself paralyzed, and she'll be damned if she lets her sister down too, especially after what happened.

As soon as she enters the dining hall, everyone grows a bit quieter. She can practically feel the eyes on her, accusing, judging, as she pushes the wheels of the wheelchair.

Why are you still here? The question isn't spoken out loud, but she can feel the unvoiced question hanging in the air.

At that moment, she loathes the wheelchair. To the Dauntless, it is a sign of weakness, that she needs a wheelchair instead of walking on her own two feet. Never mind that she physically can't.

She notices that Lynn is making a beeline for Uriah and Zeke, who are sitting alone at the end of an empty table. Shaking her head, she grabs her sister's wrist to make her stop, and returns her hand to the wheels, spinning her chair so it faces another table. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see an exasperated expression flash over Lynn's face, but she follows her nonetheless.

She's glad; she doesn't think she can sit with the brothers, not after what she learned that morning.

The news was all around the compound; the demands Erudite had made, before throwing Kee, probably the toughest eight-year old she's ever met, her little brother, and Marlene over a cliff. The actions of Christina and Tris, both being hailed as heroes for saving Kee and Hector.

Personally, she wants to call them cowards.

Why didn't they call for help? Why didn't they take someone else up there with them? Why didn't they try to catch all three of them, instead of just two? Why didn't Tris utilize her oh-so-special Divergence in some way? Maybe if they had, Marlene would still be alive. Maybe her little sister wouldn't be so broken.

Some part of her, the part that is still thinking rationally, knows that holding such a grudge against them isn't fair. They didn't have the time to figure out who else wasn't under a simulation. Trying to catch more than one person might have resulted in one of them being dragged over the edge, too.

But the vicious, hurting part of her doesn't care. It hates them. Despite their supposed heroics, they couldn't save Marlene, perhaps the one person who most deserved to be saved.

Whispered names flew around the compound, too, of potential Divergents that could turn themselves in. Several names came up. Four and Tris were probably the most common ones. But another name eventually reached her ears as well; Uriah.

Hearing her boyfriend's brother, the boy she herself grew to love and trust, revealed as a Divergent, someone dangerous and untrustworthy, felt like a betrayal. The feeling was close to those terrible days in Candor, when she truly believed that Zeke had left them all for Erudite. Only, this time, there would be no one to pop out and yell Surprise! I'm not what you think I am! like Zeke did in Candor. Because there is nothing that can erase Divergence.

The frustrated and angry look on Zeke's face, the harsh tone of his voice in their discussion afterwards is seared into her mind.

"How do you know he's not working against us?"

"Because I know my brother, and you do too! He isn't a traitor, Shauna."

"Well, have you been watching him?"

"I don't need to! Because he would never betray us to Erudite! That's not who he is. Him being Divergent doesn't erase the fact that he picked Dauntless too, that he pledged his loyalty to this faction just like you and me!" He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I can't deal with this right now, babe. Just- try to understand, alright?"

She doesn't realize that she's been staring at the table, lost in thought, until the cafeteria grows almost dead silent. Lynn quickly gets up and leaves her side.

She scans the room, searching for the source of the commotion, and her lips turn downwards as her eyes land on Tris.

The frown turns into a scowl as she watches Lynn's feet come to a stop in front of her.

She watches as Lynn, not really looking at Tris, talks to her for a moment, before tentatively embracing Tris in a one-armed hug. The sight makes her want to snarl.

Tris is Divergent. And she's still standing in the Dauntless cafeteria, almost nine hours after Marlene's death.

She could save them. She could turn herself into Jeanine and keep the rest of them, the ones without freaky brains, alive. She could prevent anyone from dying like Marlene, her supposed friend, again.

And she's chosen not to.

Fury rises in her, hot as a blazing fire. Who will die next because of her selfishness? She wonders bitterly. Hector? Kee? Zeke? Her Candor friend, Christina? Lynn?

She pushes down the memories of the softness in Four's eyes as he watched Tris during initiation, the raw concern in his gaze in Candor.

Losing Tris would break Four, but it would save the rest of them. Isn't that a worthy trade?

Besides, if he doesn't want her to get hurt, he could always go. He's Divergent, too.

As if her thoughts have summoned him, Four walks in the room just as Lynn reaches their table again.

She chooses to ignore the former, focusing on the latter. "What are you doing?" She scolds her sister. "Have you forgotten what she's responsible for?"

"And what, exactly, is she responsible for?" Her sister's voice is bored, uncaring. It only makes her angrier.

"Have you already forgotten about Marlene?!"

She regrets the words as soon as they come out of her mouth. Lynn's face morphs into full-blown anger. She slams her fist down onto the table.

"Don't you dare-" Lynn's growl is very much beyond the point of murderous. "-use her name to justify your petty grudge against Divergents! I don't care what bullcrap Mum told you." She jabs her finger into Shauna's chest, rage practically rolling off of her in waves. "I'm not her biggest fan either, but, in case you forgot, Jeanine is the one who shot us all up with the simulation darts. She's the real enemy, and I'm sick and tired of you forgetting that!"

She feels frozen as Lynn continues her rant. She's never seen her sister like this before, not with her, at least. "And since you absolutely must know, I was thanking her for catching Hec. Yeah, I'm upset about Marlene too, but have you stopped to think that if she weren't there, we might have been mourning our little brother, too?"

She can't conjure up a response; she just gapes at her sister, who has tears streaming down her cheeks by the end of her little speech. The sight of her little sister, one of the strongest people she knows, crying, makes guilt shoot through her. Her job was to keep her company and help her feel a little better, not make her cry.

"Lynn…" She reaches towards her sister. But, for the first time, her sister flinches back out of her grasp.

"Don't." Lynn spits at her, her raspy voice still holding traces of venom. "Just don't."

So she doesn't. She just sits there, beside Lynn, wondering what exactly she's done.

"I can't do this, Zeke!"

Look at me. A voice inside her head laughs bitterly at her. Crying. Wailing. Breaking down.

She knows that she shouldn't be. Crying indicates weakness. Crying hints at cowardice. It isn't brave, isn't Dauntless, but she can't bring herself to stop. Not when she's been putting on a brave face for so long.

"They keep staring and saying sorry and giving me pity and- and-"

Zeke's hand strokes her hair comfortingly, quiet for once as she pours her heart and soul out to him. He doesn't crack jokes, or try to make her laugh, all things the regular Zeke, the Zeke that everyone saw, would. He just listens, and she's grateful for that.

Of course, she's still a little upset with him, for defending his Divergent brother so vehemently, but she supposes that Zeke still loves him, and that fact speaks volumes about who he is. And, she doesn't want to admit it, but Uriah's divergence doesn't bother her nearly as much as Tris'. After all, everything she knows and has heard points to the fact that he doesn't have an aptitude for the enemy faction, not like a certain transfer initiate- well, member, now.

"And I hate the stupid wheelchair and my stupid paralyzed legs and the stupid bullet that made them this way and the stupid traitor Dauntless that shot me and the stupid Dauntless leaders that made us all into killing machines and stupid Jeanine for starting a stupid war over the stupid Abnegation and stupid freaking power!"

Regardless of her lingering anger at him, she allows herself to sob into his arms. Because she needs him; her world is falling apart by the seams and there is nobody in the world who could comfort her better than he can, than he is doing.

"I can practically hear them asking when I'm going to l-leave and stop being a b-burden."

Her too-soft voice wavers as the words spill from her mouth, and she's still composed enough to curse herself for it. Zeke's hand stops moving through her hair, and, for a second, she wonders if Zeke is wondering when she'll leave, too.

"You know you don't have to leave if you don't want to, right?" He asks, voice solemn.

"But I do." She pushes her face further into his shoulder, willing the fabric to soak up a few more tears. "How can I be Dauntless if I can't walk?"

Zeke is silent. That's new. Her heart sinks, but she can't blame him for his inability to answer. There's a reason those who are getting old, those who can't move quite as well, are asked to leave.

She didn't think she'd be asked to for at least another forty years.

"I asked that same question." He says, abruptly, breaking her train of thought. "When I was talking to someone in the Pit. While you were… unconscious. And you know what they told me?"

He pauses, maybe expecting her to guess something. She doesn't. There is nothing to say, after all.

"They said you could."

What? She certainly didn't expect that. She finally lifts her tearstained face off of her boyfriend's shoulder, staring at him in astonishment, waiting for him to confirm that she's hearing things.

He doesn't. "They said you could get a wheelchair," he gestures to the horrid chair, sitting next to them, "and that someone could push you up the Pit's paths, and you could use the elevator to get up to the Pire. They said you didn't need your legs to fire a gun or slide down the zip line."

She stares at him. It's hard to believe that this person, who Zeke quite obviously refuses to name, believes that she can stay. Believes that she can learn to put up with someone helping her with things like traversing the Pit, things she was once able to do so easily, without thinking. It takes her a moment to finally regain her voice. "What did you say?"

Zeke's lips turn up into a smile. "I said that you wouldn't want me to push you, or help you with those things at all. You're too independent for that. But they said, and I quote, 'She'll have to get over it, then. Are you going to let her drop out of Dauntless for a stupid reason like not being able to walk?' And they're right. You're one of the strongest people I know, Shauna. Are you really going to give up on this now?"

"No." She doesn't hesitate. "I don't want to leave Dauntless. I don't want to leave you and Mom and Lynn and Hec. But- But what about the faction? I'm a-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, babe." He places a gentle finger on her lips to silence her. "To hell with the rest of the faction, you're not burdening anyone. They didn't take a bullet to the spine so they could bring back valuable information on a Candor-Erudite alliance. And I will give a concussion to anyone who suggests otherwise."

For the first time since she learned about her paralysis, she smiles a genuine smile. Small, but real. "I could do that by myself, you know."

"Oh yeah. I know. All too well, in fact." He fakes a wince, probably referring to the incident where she punched him in the head hard enough to give him a concussion, believing he was an intruder in her apartment, back before they had moved in together.

At the reminder, she giggles. It's such an innocent sound, so far from the sniffles and sobs that had filled the room only minutes before.

"Hey!" Zeke's voice is dramatically indignant, but not enough to cover his mirth. "Don't laugh at me until you get a solid right hook to the eye!"

That does it. She dissolves into peals of laughter.

And something in her heart mends itself in the process.

It gets easier after that.

It's still not okay - each and every moment is an uphill battle. Her reduced mobility changes every aspect of her life, in some way. There isn't a second when she isn't frustrated by her new disability, a moment when her eyes don't want to fill with tears as she discovers yet another thing she can't do.

But she's long left denial behind, is past anger, has mostly stopped her bargaining, and is pretty much out of depression, and that's progress, she supposes.

She only wishes that she could say the same for the war.

The day right after she argues with Lynn and pours her heart out to Zeke, she learns that Tris has turned herself into Erudite.

She tries to get herself to feel satisfaction, or relief, that Jeanine won't drop another one of their members off a cliff, because her demands have been met. But she feels nothing.

She doesn't feel guilty. Tris is Divergent. Tris is dangerous.

But she isn't sure if even the most dangerous of divergents deserve to suffer at Jeanine's hand, despite her cruel thoughts earlier. Not after what she did to Dauntless. Not after she splattered each and every one of their hands with blood.

She spots Four, in the dining hall for breakfast, seemingly arguing with the other leaders. She's surprised he's still here; she expected him to take off after Tris the second he found out about her absence. But then, she remembers his well-thought-out plan in Candor headquarters, the calculated calm with which he laid it out to the Dauntless, like a leader, despite the rigidness of his posture that all but gave away his apprehension to those that knew him.

Four seems Dauntless through and through, and she supposes it's easy to forget how rational he can be, too.

His face lingers in her mind, though; a bit angry, definitely not as stoic as usual, but, most prominently, desperate. Terrified. The latter is everywhere; engraved in the creases in his forehead, visible in the tense set of his jaw. But the fact that he didn't seem to be trying to hide it was perhaps the most chilling.

(I don't feel guilty. She has to remind herself, simultaneously ignoring the twist in her stomach at the sight. I don't.)

By the time evening rolls around, Four is gone, too.

She pretends not to notice, because noticing is caring, and she doesn't care about a Divergent.

Everything moves quickly after that.

They're informed of their new alliance with the factionless. Some of the Dauntless go down to Abnegation for further negotiations.

Three days later, they hear that Four and Tris are back.

(She doesn't feel a rush of relief at hearing their names. She doesn't.)

The next few days are uneventful, as they wait for the plan to be announced. Zeke takes her on a spin around the Abnegation sector.

They play a game, where Zeke pushes her as fast as he can, and then pushes himself up with the handles of her wheelchair (when did it become her wheelchair?), so they practically soar down the middle of the Abnegation roads.

She hadn't thought she could ever laugh that hard again.

The plan is announced. They wait. Four days later, Zeke leaves her in one of the Abnegation houses, with a sweet kiss on the lips, and a whispered promise to come back to her.

She watches him disappear, surrounded by his attack group, wishing she could go with him, keep him safe.

It's moments like these when her vehement loathing of her disability comes back in a new rush of fury.

But she can't do anything about it. So, she keeps her eyes on his shrinking form until he's only a speck in the distance.

His promise wasn't realistic, she knows. Not in the middle of a war. But she holds onto it like a lifeline.

You've never broken a promise before, Ezekiel Pedrad. Don't do it now.

It's many long, agonizing hours before the Dauntless return. Zeke is with them.

Crying expresses weakness. And yet, as she pulls her boyfriend close, tears falling down her cheeks, she can't help but think that maybe some things are worth being weak for.

Her happiness is quickly destroyed when she learns about Lynn.

Uriah is the one who tells her. His eyes are red once more, dried tear tracks shining on his face.

For a moment, she wants to slap him. To yell and scream at him like she did to Lynn, after she hugged Tris, that dreadful day after Marlene's death.

The war was fought over people like him, after all.

But it's that very same memory - of yelling at Lynn - that allows her to embrace Uriah instead. She and Lynn had long made up; it was never possible for the two of them to stay mad at each other for long, even if Lynn could have held the record for the longest grudges. But now, she wishes she had taken that time to hug her sister instead, to comfort her. Because she'll never get to do that again.

She hadn't known she'd had so little time left with her little sister.

(What if something happens to Uri next? Her mind whispers. What if you'll regret wasting this time with him someday?

For once, she listens.)

The next few days are full of black clothes, solemn expressions, and more tears. A date for the funeral is set, a guest list made.

Initially, she's angry when she's told that Uriah, as well as Four, Tris, Christina, and Tori won't be able to make it.

Of course she's heard about the video, how Tris exposed it to their entire city, the details of the outside world that it revealed. The factionless takeover has certainly not escaped her attention, with all the ruckus it's been causing. And it hasn't slipped her notice that Zeke has periodically been leaving, probably to help organize a resistance movement.

Well, she won't be the one to stop him. She's as loyal to the factions as the next Dauntless; Evelyn's idea of a faction-less world is, quite frankly, absurd, and definitely not the way things were supposed to go. In fact, she'd be jumping to help organize, too, if her wheelchair wouldn't only slow everyone down.

But what she hadn't anticipated was the plan to leave the city. And Uriah's involvement in it. She doesn't learn about it until ten days after Lynn's death, when Zeke sits her down and tells her of the group of eight set to leave in two days.

She fumes. She begs Zeke to go to the Allegiant and ask them to push back the date, because her family can't finish planning the funeral in a day and she can't fathom not having Uriah, one of Lynn's closest friends, there. And Tori - Lynn and Tori had an unusual kind of friendship, and she had wanted Tori to be there too. She had supposed that Four, Tris, and Christina, as Lynn's supposed friends, should be there too, for Lynn's sake.

But Zeke doesn't budge. And she's forced to accept it.

She can't contain the few tears that slide down her cheeks at the unfairness of it all.

A little under forty-eight hours later, she wheels forward with ease until she's in front of Uriah, her boyfriend's brother, her dearest friend's boyfriend, her sister's loyal companion. Saying yet another goodbye.

She can't help but wonder how many more people she'll have to say goodbye to.

Uriah is Divergent. Her mother's voice whispers in her mind, warning her about people like him. But she can't bring herself to care, as she hugs Uriah as tightly as she can, whispering pleas for him to be careful and take care of himself, wanting to never let him go. As she watches Zeke and Uriah hug each other even tighter, to the point where she isn't sure how they're both still breathing, their usual confident bravado stripped away. As tears slip down Zeke's face, the action repeated on Uriah's.

Finally, Zeke lets go of his little brother, moving to stand next to her, one hand on her wheelchair. Together, they watch, as Uriah offers them one more smile - bright, beaming, like usual, but rimmed with a new sadness - then starts running towards the trains.

They'll have to wait, and watch some more, for news from the Outside. She'll have to keep working on operating her wheelchair with more grace. Zeke will probably keep working with the Allegiant to overthrow the factionless and begin mending their city.

Their reality is ugly. Unfair. Perilous. She's never been the best at accepting things, but she thinks that, one day, she can learn to accept this.

But maybe, just maybe, she won't have to. Maybe they can slowly mold their reality into a brighter future, a new tomorrow.

(It'll take hard work, she knows. Likely more bloodshed. Lots more screaming. Definitely more tears.)

But she believes it.

A/N: I hope you understand why it took me so long, now! I had to consolidate at least half of the Insurgent book, plus the beginning of the Allegiant book, into roughly 4,000 words. And it was tough to imagine what Shauna's reactions would be to a situation like this. I don't have much experience with grief myself, and, even if I did, Shauna is quite different from me. But I finally got it written, and it's here!

I, personally, loved this chapter. I'm sorry if I skimmed over some things, like Lynn's death, but I really didn't want to make this chapter like, 10,000 words long. It depicts her journey from a broken girl into a girl who's healing, from both her physical injuries and mental distress, despite everything else the world has thrown at her. And that's what this entire story is about!

Also, rest assured, even if this sounds like a good ending, I still have four more chapters to go (which hopefully won't take as long as this one to write!). Shauna's doing better, but she isn't healed yet. And after... the events of the third book, she might experience some setback.

Last thing, the last sentence is absolutely haunting for me. Just think, who thought, "I believe it," in their last moments? :'( Of course, Shauna isn't dying, and it's said in a completely different tone (hopeful, instead of reminiscing), but it draws a beautiful parallel between the one person Shauna believes she hates.

Well, that's it! Watch out for an update on the Fourth Eaton, it's SO close to finished!

Gracias, mi brilliante lectores, por leer! Hasta pronto!