Four always thought the Fringe was a horrible place. It was dirty and run down, and disease was rampant. The families that lived there all coped as best as they could, raising children in an environment that seemed destined to create more of the same. They were all aware that there was nothing better, though. They knew they shouldn't even try to effect change if they wanted to stay alive long enough to raise their children to adulthood. Four tried to push the guilt he felt aside as he made his way through: living factionless was a luxury compared to life in the Fringe. His stomach tightened on cue, as if remembering the nights when he was cold and hungry.

"It's up ahead," Jones said, breaking into his thoughts.

"Are you sure it hasn't been scavenged already?"

"Yeah. Briggs has eyes on it. Saw Green get hit in the leg, too. In true asshole form, he was laughing as he called it in, making fun of the poor fucker for vomiting on himself. What was he supposed to do? Some Fringe bastard shot him."

Jones and Green were great guys, but Four could do without Briggs. The only reason he was still in his position was because he technically had seniority over Four, even though Four was second in command. Amar had promised that Briggs wouldn't interfere in their missions, but that never stopped him from fucking around in some way. Four had always thought it was growing up on the outside that made Briggs callous, but maybe it was just his genes.

"Eyes on the shooter?" Four asked.

"Negative. Based on the trajectory, they were somewhere to the east." Four knew that could mean a number of things.

The streets had cleared as soon as the gunshot had rung out. It was common for the Fringe people to scatter at the first sight of Bureau Patrol: in the past they were taken and subjected to experiments. That's something that won't ever be forgotten, and Four didn't blame them. Now, however, the Bureau was more interested in keeping tabs on them. Watching their movements, keeping an accurate population count, trying to flush out any Divergents. There was always a risk when they brought out surveillance equipment.

"That's my guess," Jones said. Four surveyed the area and kept an eye on a building that Jones pointed out. Over an hour had passed since he came to get Four. While the equipment would fetch quite a bit of money on the black market, Four thought it wasn't worth the risk for the shooter to sit and wait and possibly be found. The Fringe wasn't actually a free-for-all; there were still consequences, especially for shooting someone from Bureau Patrol.

He stepped out into the open and raised his weapon, using the sight to look into the windows ― there were no shadows and no movements. He took one last look at the surrounding buildings. "Cover me," he said, pressing the button on the side of his helmet. He heard Jones raise his gun behind him, and saw Briggs lean out a window to his left. He kept his gun pointed at the most logical place, and crept forward.

"Fifty yards," he heard in his earpiece. He kept his pace, never lowering his gun. "Thirty." His heart rate increased. "Ten."

He would have to lower his weapon to retrieve the package before turning his back on a potential assailant; it was the only part of his job he hated. Amar he trusted with his life; Amar was there for him when no one else was. He could even trust Jones for a few minutes if he had to, but Briggs was another story. He always struck Four as the type that would turn and run to save his own ass. He should have never agreed to send Green out with him. He would have to send out six- or seven-man teams from now on instead of just four. It was clearly getting harder on the people in the Fringe if they were willing to risk attacking three armed soldiers from the Bureau.

"Retrieving package," Four said. He took a deep breath and let his gun rest on his side. He moved slowly, keeping his eyes up as he gripped the handle and lifted. He took a few slow steps backwards before turning and jogging back out of harm's way.

"Either they left or had sense enough to know they were being watched," Jones said when he got back.

"I would take off, wouldn't you?" Four asked. Jones shrugged. "Come on. Let's get this thing set up so I can get back."

They met up with Briggs who took them to the staging point. Four kept his gun up at all times while Briggs and Jones bolted the camera into the ground. While the Fringe people could easily break the camera to steal it, it would be worth a lot less that way.

"You should have seen Green," Briggs said as they walked back to the vehicle. "Surprised he didn't piss his pants, too."

"Would you shut up," Jones said. Four was thankful he did; he wasn't sure he could keep himself in line.

"Oh, piss off, Jonesy. You were the one who gave him the nickname. I can't help it if he lives up to it every chance he gets."

"Yeah? He was a scared kid who had just watched his mother get murdered by a couple of mercs. You'd turn a little green and puke, too."

"Hey ― I ain't no fucking pansy, Jones."

"Enough!" Four's deep voiced reverberated off the buildings. Jones shot Briggs a look, but he just smiled in return. Jones hated that he had taken the bait and gotten into an argument with him.

Four made the two of them ride in the back. His patience was wearing thin ― it always did when he went out to the Fringe ― and he didn't want to see or hear either one of them. He focused on the road ahead and pressed a little harder on the pedal, eager to get back to Beatrice.

He found her, eyes bloodshot, at the screen bank. She was so engrossed in her screen that she didn't even realize he had come up. Four felt a little awkward watching her observe her parents as they went about their lives, but he wasn't in a hurry to leave, either. He felt calmer now that he was in her presence. She rubbed her eyes and jumped when she saw his reflection.

"Sorry," he said when she took off her headphones. Her face was hard, her demeanor completely different than when he had left. He knew it was too soon to leave her alone. His eyes flicked to Neil, who gave him a look that made him a little nervous. "I didn't mean to be gone so long." He had no idea what to do when she didn't respond.

"Did you get lunch? Are you hungry?" Again she stared at him, and he felt like whatever was going on was explicitly his fault. "Okay, then. Dinner is in a couple of hours," he said, checking his watch. "Did you just want to wait?"

She sprang up, catching him off guard as she walked away without a word. "Beatrice," he called, jogging to catch up with her. "I know the Bureau is scary in the beginning, but I won't leave you alone again. Beatrice―"

"Stop calling me that," she spat, turning to face him. "Just stop."

He didn't know what to do. Her eyes were filling with tears, and her jaw was clenched so hard he was afraid she might break her teeth. Her hands were even balled into reddening fists. He considered offering to take her back to Dauntless to let her work out whatever was going on. "Why?" he asked instead.

"Because Beatrice is dead."

She turned on her heel, determined to get away from him. She didn't want to look into his blue eyes. Didn't want to hear his deep voice. Didn't even want to be in his warm presence. She wanted to be completely and utterly alone.

Four stood there, watching her bring a hand to her mouth just before she turned out of sight. Something had to have happened for her to be this upset. He rounded on Neil. "What happened?" His voice was louder than necessary, and Neil recoiled a few inches.

"Nothing. She watched the screens all afternoon."

He wondered if that was it, if she was simply regretting her choice. It was easy to fall into that guilt; he knew it all too well. But Beatrice was strong. Stronger than he was, and stronger than she knew. But her life up until then had been infinitely better than his. The Bureau was a saving grace for him ― for her it might have been the biggest mistake of her life.

"Just her parents?" he asked.

"Afterwards. The Choosing Ceremony was today."

Four's heart dropped. How could he have been so forgetful? "Her brother," he mumbled, and Neil nodded.

"He chose Erudite."

His eyebrows lifted as Neil continued to nod. Her parents not only lost their daughter, but their son chose to leave them, too. Four closed his eyes for a second, trying to figure out how to help her. How to make her realize that in the end they would be okay. He knew what helped him in his moments of self-doubt, but he wasn't sure she was ready for so much just yet. Or if he was ready to share it with anyone else.

His heart was pulling him one way, while his brain was pulling him another. Comfort, or space? In the end, he left her alone.

"Green," Four said as he walked into the infirmary. He flashed his badge and the nurse typed the name into her computer.

A few seconds later she gave him a confused look. "There's nobody here listed under that name."

"Shit, sorry. Anderson." She shot him a look and her mouth puckered as she typed again.

"Room 8. Still listed as in recovery, though."

"Thanks."

He walked down the hall and gave a light knock. When there was no answer, he opened the door slowly to see Green sleeping in the low light. Four didn't have anywhere else to be except with Beatrice, so he snuck in and sat in the chair in the corner.

When Four opened his eyes, the room was brighter than he remembered. He blinked a few times and lifted his head, rubbing his neck and wondering when he fell asleep.

"Morning, sleepyhead." He looked up to see Amar standing next to a smiling Green.

"Fuck the both of you." Green and Amar laughed, but Four was relieved to see the two people he wanted to talk to the most in one spot.

"How's the leg? Gonna amputate?" Amar asked.

"Nah, just a flesh wound. Gonna have one hell of a scar, though."

"Good. Maybe it'll toughen you up." Four snorted at the indignant look Green gave Amar.

"And what's with you?" Amar asked, not missing an opportunity. "Thought you were supposed to be babysitting the Stiff?"

"She wanted some alone time." It was Green's turn to snort. Four shot a glare at him.

"Hey," Green said, raising both of his hands up. "All I'm saying is, I totally understand where she's coming from. You're not exactly the nicest guy here, Four." Amar nodded.

"Double fuck the both of you," Four said, standing. Amar visibly stiffened.

He contemplated going somewhere else altogether, but Beatrice's circumstances stopped him after two steps. "I need to speak with the both of you." Green looked shocked while Amar looked like he knew this was coming. "Beatrice isn't coping well right now. She was on a screen all afternoon while I was away." He gave Green a pointed look. "She was watching her parents when I got back. But first, she watched the Choosing Ceremony."

"Ouch," Amar said. "How'd that turn out?"

"Her brother chose Erudite, if that's any indication."

Amar let out a long whistle while Green looked between the two of them. He knew how the faction system worked, he just didn't understand why it was such a big deal. People left their families all the time ― voluntarily or otherwise ― out in the Fringe. At least in the city you knew your loved ones were safe.

"What… what helped you acclimate?" Four posed the question to the both of them, even though Green's answer was the one he was most interested in: he was the closest to Beatrice's age when he came to the Bureau. Amar rubbed his chin for a moment while Green motioned for the bag sitting on the floor that contained his things. Four handed it to him as Amar began to speak.

"I guess for me, it was that I knew my family was safe. They weren't in danger anymore once I was pulled out. It was always in the back of my mind that they could be considered traitors if I was found out, even though they didn't know."

Four had never thought of that. He knew that the hunt for Divergents was reaching a level never seen before in previous years, but he never thought about the consequences for others. He knew Beatrice would be devastated if anything were to happen to her family because of something she had no control over.

"This helped me," Green said, handing over his badge. Four looked at him, and he motioned for him to turn it over. There was a picture inside the sleeve of a woman who looked like she was sleeping.

"I know it's kinda morbid, but I didn't have anything to remember her by. I asked the doctor if he would take a picture for me. They must have makeup or something in there because she had a black eye when we came in, but she doesn't have it here."

It didn't quite register to Four at first. But then he noticed the background was silver, and her hair was splayed out behind her. It was a picture of his mother after she died. He looked up, having a newfound respect for Green. He was barely seventeen when they found him two years ago. Their suspicions were wrong, but the Bureau allowed him to stay. It might not take much to make him vomit, but Green was braver than they gave him credit for being.

"She always dreamed of a better life for me," Green continued. "We were trying to save up to get into one of the cities. They aren't much better, but at least there are opportunities there that we would never have had out in the Fringe. Anyway, someone must have found out about the money…" His face fell a little, and Four didn't need him to continue. He knew his mom had been murdered. Green was hovering over her body when they found him.

"Thanks," Four muttered, handing Green back his badge. He looked at it for a moment before placing it back in the bag.

"You know, there's something else. Something the two of you have in common that might make her feel better," Amar said as they exited the room together.

"She's not ready."

"She's not, or you're not?" Four glanced at Amar who only raised his eyebrows at him. He didn't answer. "Stop being such a Stiff, Tobias. Get over your own insecurities and help her out."

Amar left him standing in the hallway, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. He knew Amar used his name to get a rise out of him, but he also knew Amar would never do it unless he was trying to prove a point. Four didn't want to be Tobias any more than she wanted to be Beatrice. Those people were gone and their lives would eventually be forgotten. He let out an audible sigh and headed back to the screen bank.

Neil handed him a tablet and the passwords he would need. It wasn't part of his job, but Neil understood what Four was trying to do, and offered to bring her some dinner.

"Thank you," Four said.

Neil waved his hand. "You don't need to thank me. I think it's a great idea. Just don't stay up all night." He gave Four a hard pat on the shoulder and headed towards the cafeteria. Four watched him go for a second before turning back and entering the queries for Prior and Abnegation.

It was well after midnight when he blinked, eyes burning from the strain, and looked around. The lights were turned down low to conserve power, and most of the staff were asleep. Nothing much happened during the night in the city, and only a few people were required to work the night shift in the screen bank. A few janitors spent their shifts cleaning areas that were too difficult to maneuver during the day, but otherwise the Bureau was deserted. He watched the last file complete its download and unplugged the tablet, stretching and yawning before shutting his screen down.

Her door was cracked open. Four hesitated, listening for any sounds that would indicate sleep. It was silent except for the air circulating through the vents and the beating of his own heart. He knocked softly; no response. He took a deep breath and gently pushed on the door. She stirred and he froze, expecting her to yell at him, to tell him to leave. But she let out a soft sigh, and he smiled. She looked peaceful. Happy, even. Perhaps she was dreaming about a good memory.

He crept further in and placed the tablet on her desk, along with a slip of paper. Four wished he could do more, that he knew exactly what to do to make her feel better, but he shook his head and told himself that she would appreciate it. It was the only thing he knew to try. He watched her for just a moment longer, smiling again when one side of her mouth turned up, and slipped out the door.

As he crawled into his own bed, he hoped his dreams would be half as good as hers.

A/N:

Just wanted to say thank you for the faves and follows and wonderful reviews. You guys are amazing! Also, it was a personal goal of mine to try and write longer chapters for this story, to give you guys more content and to (hopefully) make waiting for new chapters more bearable, and I think I achieved that because this is the shortest chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll see you all on Friday. :D