Four lay there for hours, only a thin wall separating him from Beatrice, wondering if he had done the right thing. He had been so sure of her. Sure that she would respond to this better than he'd done, sure that she would be the answer to all the questions he had, sure that she was the right choice. But in her moment of weakness he had failed her by allowing doubt to creep in, and he hated himself for it. He should have comforted her or done a better job of explaining what was going on. He shouldn't have let her come to her own conclusions.

His guilt-ridden mind didn't allow for much sleep, so he did the only thing he knew to relieve the thoughts running rampant in his head ― he got dressed and headed to the Dauntless area of the compound.

It didn't get much use during the night, but he was happy to be alone. He pulled on a pair of gloves, swinging and hitting the bag in front of him until his hands felt numb even through the padding. His arms were exhausted and weak, his torso tender. The only functional things left on him were his legs, and he was grateful for that as he walked back, drenched in the guilt he had tried to shed over the past two hours. He was so focused on the thought of a scalding hot shower to ease away his pain that he didn't notice her door was wide open.

The heat burned his skin, boring deep into his muscles as he arched and stretched the ache away. He planted his hands on the wall and let the water beat down on his head; it ran over taut muscles and ink and scars, slowly relaxing his body and washing away the last thoughts of his night. He vowed to do better, to be there for her the way he had needed someone to be there for him.

He emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel and lamenting the lack of freedom that came with his temporary relocation. In his quarters he didn't have to get dressed in his own steamy bathroom; he was free to walk around naked if he chose. But staying in the dorms presented a whole different array of problems, which he realized as he pulled the towel away to see Beatrice standing there.

She looked lost and out of place in a pair of tight black pants and a red t-shirt. His mouth lifted a little when he saw her hair was still pulled up in its standard bun. "Morning," he said, his voice deep and raspy from lack of sleep.

"Good morning," she replied, with a slight bow of her head. She watched as he tossed the towel aside and ran his fingers through his short hair. She had the urge to do the same thing to her own.

"So, I thought that I would take you around, show you the compound, if you're up to it." She studied his face for a moment, wondering just what his story was. Beatrice hadn't had much interaction with the people here, but even from that limited exposure, she could tell there was a difference between Four and the others. She nodded and followed him as he pointed out their path again.

"Cafeteria," he said as he pointed to a sign on the wall and pulled the heavy door open. Beatrice took in the sheer amount of space in just this one room, wondering how big the Bureau really was. She followed quietly to wait in line with him, and took a step closer to Four when someone came up behind her.

Beatrice was used to oatmeal, plain eggs, plain toast, fruit. She didn't know what to do with the choices laid out before her when they reached the front of the line. "The usual Abnegation stuff is all here, if you want it," Four said, glancing at her over his shoulder. "You should try the French toast, though." She had no idea what that meant, so she just took what he did, albeit in smaller portions.

They found a table in the back that was unoccupied and sat next to each other. She watched as he held up a small white container, peeled the top off, and poured the contents all over what he had called French toast. She did the same, and he paused to watch her take her first bite. She was about to object to being watched, but her eyes went wide as her tongue went into overdrive at the new flavor and sensation.

"That's maple syrup," he said, a small smile on his lips. "Good, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, taking another, larger bite.

She cleaned her plate ― even the eggs tasted better ― and waited patiently for Four to tell her what was next. Someone came by to clear their mess, and again she was acutely aware of just how different things were here.

Four stood and motioned for her to follow him. Her eyes were constantly moving back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. He walked slowly, giving her a chance to learn the paths and watch the people as they went about their daily routines. The further they went, the thinner the crowd became. Generally, only those that worked in research and development were in this wing.

He came to a stop in front of a door, her eyes glancing at the large flames painted on it before quickly making their way back to him. "Four, where am I?" The question had multiple meanings, he knew.

"This is the research and development wing of the compound. As for where the compound is, we'll get to that later. Beatrice, welcome to Dauntless." She felt a small surge of adrenaline as he opened the door with the flames on it.

She didn't actually expect to walk right into Dauntless, but she also didn't expect a large room that was mostly empty, either. She turned her head and waited patiently for an explanation.

"Here at the Bureau, we have teams that specialize in each faction. It's their job to come up with new research to help the city run efficiently. Being that this is Dauntless, the weapons, fighting styles, even the routes they take on their patrols are all tested and mapped out here first."

"Tested? I… I'm not sure I understand."

"You will later, when we visit Erudite." Her interest was piqued at the mention of her other would-be faction.

He walked through the large room and she followed, noting the bags hanging from the ceiling, the tables that seemed to go along with wood blocks on the walls, and the cabinets that were placed throughout. Four went straight to a specific cabinet and opened it. She stopped in her tracks when the gleam of a knife caught her eye.

"At some point, someone in the Bureau figured out that learning hand-to-hand combat was a necessity in the city," he said as he took a few knives out and walked over to a table. Beatrice stayed put. "Wanting to give the so-called good guys an advantage, they also decided that knives were the way to go. Someone spent countless hours researching metal composition, blade lengths, weight distribution. Eventually they came up with this."

Four tossed the knife a few times, alternating between holding the handle and holding the blade. Beatrice was leery of how easy he made it look, like it wasn't a sharp object that he could use to take her life if he so desired. He turned towards one of the blocks that was hanging on the wall, pulled his arm back, and threw. The knife flew through the air, handle over blade, and stuck into the block with a resounding thud. Beatrice's mouth fell open a little before turning up just slightly.

"Would you like to try?" He looked over at her as he picked up another knife; his heart gave an extra beat at the gleam in her eye as she walked over slowly and took the knife he offered her. She watched him throw a few more times before copying his stance and mimicking his arm movements.

Beatrice was nervous; she wiped her hand on her pants before taking one last practice throw. She gripped the handle, took a deep breath, aimed, and let go. She was afraid to look when she heard the thud, but soon realized there was no clatter from it hitting the ground afterwards. She looked at Four quickly before trying to figure out which one was hers.

"That one," he said, walking up to the target. He touched a knife that was close to the center, and he couldn't help but feel elated at the genuine smile that split her face.

"Really?" she asked, and he nodded.

She had wondered what it was that gave her an aptitude for Dauntless. She knew that she liked their freedom from watching them jump on and off the trains at school, but she never thought she might have an aptitude for it because of actual talent. "Again?" he offered, and she took a new knife as he pulled more from the cabinet.

They threw until her arm was sore. She couldn't remember a time when she felt so alive, so carefree. Her life could finally be devoted to something she wanted to do, not something that was expected of her. They pulled the knives from the boards afterward and placed them back where they belonged. Four crossed over to a different cabinet, and she didn't hesitate to follow him.

He opened the first one as Beatrice looked on, her face registering an eager curiosity that quickly faded. Each cabinet's contents became more and more advanced, until she was staring at guns she had seen the Dauntless carry whenever they patrolled the factionless sector. She wasn't sure why, but they made her feel more nervous than the knives. Four could see the discomfort on her face.

"We'll save this for another time."

"No, it's fine," she said. He wasn't convinced.

"Beatrice. It's not a requirement that you know this stuff. We can revisit it later." He closed the cabinets and led her out of the Dauntless room.

She was excited to see what else the compound had in store — what more she could learn about herself as well as the other factions, or if she could begin to figure out what her place in all of this was. They stopped when they reached a set of doors facing across from one another. One had a pair of hands on it, the other had scales.

"Candor and Abnegation," Four said. "Not a lot goes on here these days. The truth serum was perfected ― you can try it if you like, but I don't recommend it ― and Abnegation is, well, Abnegation. There isn't much that's done here except for when laws need revising. They'll update some things in there, though, like new council members or how they interact with the factionless. Rations control, maybe."

He watched her stare at the clasped hands, knowing exactly how she felt. How surreal it was to be an outsider looking in. His father's name was in there, as well as her father's; a small part of him was grateful for that connection. He gave her a few minutes before continuing.

"Now this," he said, gesturing to the few people they were coming upon in the hallway, "Is Erudite." Beatrice looked at the people who were coming and going, most of them dressed in blue. She didn't know if that was meant to be ironic or not. She felt the large eye's gaze on her as the door opened, daring her to come inside and see if she had what it took to be a part of them. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to, however. She remembered her father's vehement hatred for Erudite, and that had to stem from somewhere. Four caught her eye, and offered her a small smile.

"We can't go in there right now because we'd just be in the way, but there's another room where I can show you some things." She nodded and followed him, feeling the eye watch her until they were out of sight.

Four opened a door to a small room ― at least compared to the Dauntless room and what she imagined was inside the Erudite one ― and flipped on the light. The walls were lined with shelves; books and papers covered almost all of them, and there were all sorts of things on the tables that she had never seen anywhere before. He walked to a wall and motioned her over.

"This," he said, pointing to a large, tattered piece of paper, "Is a map of Chicago." She gave him a funny look before turning her attention to it. She wondered if she was supposed to understand what he meant when it suddenly clicked. The marsh they had learned about in school was colored blue instead of green, but she recognized the shape. She traced her fingers down the paper, looking for anything to give her a sense of location. Four motioned to another map, this one with circles and labels.

There it was. Abnegation.

She touched it before tracing a line to the Hub. They seemed so far apart, looking at it this way. She found Dauntless, Candor, Erudite. Even Amity, which was just outside a large red circle she realized must be the wall. There was a second circle around Amity, and even further out was another one. She looked at Four and raised an eyebrow.

"This one is Amity's farmland, what they're allowed to use. Don't worry, they've only used up a small portion of what is available to them. This one here," he said, touching the furthest circle, "Is O'Hare airport. Better known today as the Bureau." Her eyes went wide as she stared at it.

"What is O'Hare airport?" she eventually asked.

Four gave her a small smile. "The best way for you to understand? It's a place that used to be a hub for air travel."

"Air travel?" she said, shocked that such a thing existed. "There used to be air travel?"

"Still is."

Her mind went in a hundred different directions at once. Four could almost see the way her brain was working, trying to process and compartmentalize everything she had learned. Her eyes went back and forth between the maps, trying to visualize the scale of things. He had done the same thing when he first arrived; if he was honest, he still had a hard time wrapping his head around it sometimes. He took a step to the left and pointed to another tattered map, showing her what used to be the United States of America. It was completely foreign and almost unfathomable to her that all of this existed outside her realm of knowledge. She felt insignificant before; there was nowhere near an accurate enough word to describe how she felt at that moment.

"Amity," he said, breaking her concentration, "Is outside." She took another look around before following Four out of the room.

Just as they were passing the screens, a man she recognized ran up to them. "It's Green," Jones said. "I know you're busy with the Stiff here, but he's at it again. Something happened in the Fringe and they're bringing him back. Won't stop upchucking. Briggs is out there alone and Amar was called out earlier today. He's still over an hour away." Four let out a loud sigh. He didn't want to leave Beatrice; he knew how awkward it would have been for him to be left alone so early on. But if one of his guys was losing his lunch over something and another was stranded, he had to do his job.

"Will you be okay for a few hours?" Four asked.

"Yeah," she said, the screens in her peripheral vision. She only just remembered it was Choosing Day, and the ceremony would be starting shortly. Surely they would allow her to check in on her family.

"Hey, Neil," Four called out, and a man sitting in front of a screen turned. "That's Neil. If you can't remember how to get to the cafeteria for lunch, he'll show you, and he won't be a bother." He pointed to Beatrice, and Neil gave a wave and a slight nod. "He can also show you to the dorms if you want to go back there. I'll try to be quick." He gave her a tight smile and a firm nod, and followed Jones back the way he came.

Beatrice stood there for a moment, looking between the screens until she found the one she wanted. She politely inched her way forward and watched as the people began to gather in the auditorium of the Hub, knowing that the Abnegation would be the last to arrive. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Neil.

"Hello," she said, and he gave her a wide smile.

"Did you want to watch?" Neil asked, tipping his head towards the gathering crowd.

"Yeah. Is that okay, or am I not allowed?" She knew there had to be rules, but she didn't have the first clue what they were.

"You're allowed. But there's still a little while yet before it starts, and I don't think you want to stand here the whole time. Besides, you can't hear anything." He held up a contraption; she recognized that some of the people in front of her were wearing the same thing on their heads.

He walked to an unoccupied table that had its own screens and turned one on. After pressing a few buttons, the Hub auditorium was right there in front of her. "There," he said, motioning for her to sit. "Now you can watch and listen. Headphones," he said, smiling as he held them up. She sat down and watched as he put one end into a tiny hole and placed it on her head: she could hear the murmurs of twenty conversations at once.

"Thank you," she said, unaware of how loudly she was talking. He gave a laugh and a nod, and went back to his seat.

Her eyes scanned the screen until they landed on the first familiar face she saw ― Marcus Eaton. She had forgotten that Abnegation was hosting this year. Soon, Abnegation members began filing in, including Susan and Robert Black who lived across the street from her, James who lived next door, and a familiar dirty blonde mop of hair on a familiar lanky body.

"Caleb," Beatrice whispered. Her eyes instantly welled up as she watched her mother and father give him a quick hug before he took his place amongst the others who were choosing. He looked to his right; her heart ached knowing that he was looking at where she should be standing.

"Quiet down, please," Marcus called out, and the auditorium fell silent. Her hands were sweating as she listened to Marcus's speech, congratulating them on their first step into adulthood. When he called out the first name, she leaned forward, not wanting to miss anyone who she might have known at school.

As each name took her closer to Caleb, her heart rate increased. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous; there wasn't anyone more suited for Abnegation than Caleb. Besides, with her death having just happened yesterday, they would surely let him break initiation for an hour to properly mourn at her funeral. She wondered if she would watch that, too, or if it would be too hard to see them break down and cry over losing her.

"Prior, Caleb." She shook away her thoughts and watched her brother make his way to the stage. He looked confident, more confident than she felt sitting there. He took the knife, cut his hand, and her breath caught in her throat as he held his hand over the bowl of water without hesitation.

"Erudite."

She heard the collective gasp as he turned, a proud look on his face. Word travels fast, even between factions, so the half-hearted claps of acceptance from even his new faction didn't surprise her.

His sister was murdered yesterday in a city that was virtually free of that type of crime, yet here he was today, abandoning his parents and his faction. Her eyes immediately flew to the corner of the screen where they were sitting. She could see her mother's hand over her mouth, her father and a few others whispering words of comfort to her. Beatrice felt broken and useless, but most of all, she felt guilty. Her eyes stung as the tears formed.

She didn't know how her parents would get through it: one of their children was dead, and the other voluntarily left them to grieve on their own. Perhaps Caleb wasn't as selfless as she had always imagined he was. Neil appeared in the corner of her eye, giving her a sympathetic smile as a few other heads turned towards her. She watched as he pressed a few buttons, and her parents took up the full screen.

"Thank you," she whispered. She didn't want to cry in front of these strangers, but she didn't want to leave her parents just yet, either. Her mother's grief was more apparent now as she covered her face, the gentle shake of her shoulders giving away her sobs. Even her father, who never showed his emotions in public, was wiping his face.

She felt the tears on her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. How could Caleb have left them after everything? Even worse, how could she have done this to them? Even with her guilt, her parents weren't the only ones to lose something that day. Deep down, she knew: she no longer had a brother.

A/N:

Just wanted to say thank you for the follows and reviews. You guys are awesome, and you put a smile on my face. :D