Tris leaned against the shower wall, a hand over her mouth, the spray melding with her tears. There was so much wrong in the world, and yet David and the people of the Bureau were treating her as if she was the only thing that was right. The boy that had helped her was proof enough that they were wrong. There was good in the world, they were just looking in all the wrong places for it.

It hurt her to leave him there. The Fringe was teeming with people who would harm him in an instant, yet he stayed. He was young and innocent, but he must have felt like he had a purpose there. Tris hoped that there was someone looking out for him, just as he had looked out for her. He didn't deserve that life. Nobody did.

She lay in her room for hours, willing sleep to come, but her churning thoughts kept it at bay. When she couldn't stand lying there any longer, she opened her door quietly, only to see the light on in the common area. She was silent as she walked, peering out from the hall to see Four hovering over a tablet. Butterflies settled in as she walked towards him.

"Hi."

He looked up from his tablet. "Hey." There was nothing but awkward silence for a moment until he looked down at his watch. "It's late. Everything okay?"

She shook her head. "Can't sleep."

He gave her a soft smile and closed down what he was working on. "Me either."

She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. There were so many things she wanted to talk about: the Fringe, the boy, and David and her mother. But she felt that if she started talking, it would come out jumbled into one large question that would have no real answer. She took a deep breath, and tried to focus on the most important thing she learned, something that was stuck at the front of her mind.

"The boy who saved me. He… he was different. He just… helped me. There were three men, and they were trying to pull the clothes off of a young girl. And then he was there, saving me from the same fate, maybe. And he couldn't even tell me why he did it. I tried to get him to come back with us, but he wouldn't. Why would someone choose to stay there, Four? He's too young and too nice…" She trailed off. Her thoughts were coming too fast now for anything coherent to come out.

"Where there is evil, there will always be good. It's something my mother used to tell me." Four closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn't talked about her in a long time, but it felt right to do it now. To start letting Tris in. "We came here when I was eleven. It was winter, and she was sick. They took care of her, got her healthy again. I had someone to show me around, but I was more concerned with my mom, so they left me alone, gave me time to just be with her. When she got better, they assigned someone to her, the way I'm assigned to you. My mother was then supposed to be the one to help me, to guide me and tell me everything she was told, but she was more concerned with the city and what was going on there.

"So, I adjusted on my own. I preferred it here. You know, that odd sense of freedom that you feel compared to the city." Tris nodded her head, taking in every clue he was giving her about his past. "So, when my mother decided she didn't want to stay, she caused a scene until they agreed to let her leave. I hated her for wanting to go back to that life. We fought and argued until I told her I wasn't going back and she couldn't make me. My mother had a hard time seeing the error of her ways; I understand where she was coming from now, but as an eleven year old kid? All I knew was that I was hurt. She left me without even saying goodbye. She was back in the city for close to a year before she was killed."

Tris felt like her heart was being ripped right out of her chest. She couldn't imagine fighting with her parents, or them leaving her or Caleb alone in a place like the Bureau, no matter how upset they were.

"Anyway, it's how I got placed so high in security here. They called me loyal, a fighter for the cause." He fiddled with the tablet in front of him. "Really, it's just because this place felt like the lesser of two evils. It's taken me seven years, but I finally found the good in it."

She felt herself get hot as he looked over at her. His small admission made him nervous, but he couldn't stop staring at her. She had unknowingly ignited a fire in him, and he liked the way it burned. He stopped himself from pulling her closer.

"Four?" He watched her mouth as she spoke. "I think I want to go get lost for a little while."

They walked through the deserted compound, down the stairwells and into the area with the colorful lights and bottles. There were quite a few people scattered between the bar and the tables, and she was hesitant until Four placed his hand on her back. It felt like strength and fire, and it encouraged her forward. She slid into a chair, Four taking a seat across from her.

Tris looked around at the people closest to her. Most of them seemed to be enjoying themselves while drinking, talking, and eating. There was infectious laughter behind her that made her smile. Although she'd never had alcohol before, she had always assumed it wouldn't be for good reasons. At least, that's what she had overheard other people say. A man in the corner, quiet and alone, caught her eye, as if to prove her point. When her eyes landed back on Four, he had a small smile on his face.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she confessed.

His smile widened, and it brought one out of her. "We can eat or drink. Or both. Fried foods usually go best with everything. Maybe something sweet. Alcohol isn't for everyone, so don't feel like you have to drink it."

She nodded. "I think I want sweet."

Four got up and headed to the bar. When he came back, he had a glass in each hand. "Pick your poison." She leaned forward; one glass was full of clear liquid; the other, light brown. She eyed him and took the brown one. It tickled her nose when she smelled it and she raised an eyebrow at him. "It's mixed with fizzy drink," he clarified.

She took a sip, and her mouth puckered instantly. "I don't know what I was expecting," she said, and Four laughed. "I don't! It's both good and gross at the same time."

"That pretty much sums up most drinks that involve alcohol."

"Good to know."

They sat quietly, sipping on their drinks. Tris had an arsenal of questions building up inside of her, but the room was noisy and full of people she didn't know; she wasn't sure what was safe to say out loud. She stood and switched seats, pulling her chair as close to Four as she could. "Can we talk?" Four felt his palms get sweaty. It was an open-ended question that had a million implications in his mind. He swallowed hard and nodded.

"I kind of don't know where to start," she admitted. "There's so much I want to know, but I don't know if you have the answers, or if you're even willing to share." It felt like she had stabbed him in the stomach. He knew his reasons for keeping his secrets were valid, but she had ripped apart that certainty in less than ten seconds.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "If I can answer it, I will."

"What faction were you?" He felt all the air rush out of his lungs; he didn't expect her to jump right into it. He knew he needed to tell her, that he'd already started to, but now that she was asking for it, the words stuck in his throat. It was only when a large piece of chocolate cake landed on the table in front of him that he felt like he could speak again.

"Thank you," he said to the man who had retrieved it from the kitchen.

"You're welcome. Have a nice night!" He waved to the two of them and left.

Four held out a fork, but she only raised an eyebrow. He hung his head for a moment before answering. "Factionless."

She closed her eyes briefly. She wondered if the reason he seemed so familiar was because she had seen him, fed him, or handed him a coat once. It actually hurt her that they might have crossed paths before and she didn't remember it. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She offered him a small smile when he looked up, and held her hand out.

"Fair warning," he said as he placed the fork in her hand, "This cake is life-changing." She flashed him another smile and took a big bite. He watched as her eyes went wide, the smile spreading.

"What is this?" she asked, taking another bite. She truly had never tasted anything like it.

"Dauntless cake," he answered, taking a bite of his own. He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet, rich flavor.

"Man, maybe choosing Dauntless would have been worth it."

"Is that what you were going to do?" It was his turn to ask questions.

She sat there for a moment, thinking about what they both had said. When Four had found her, she was trying to make that decision, running scenario after scenario through her mind. She never got a chance to choose, but a part of her now thought that was exactly what she would have done.

"I considered it," she answered honestly. "And it's probably what I would have chosen."

"Dauntless is hard," he said.

"What? You don't think I could make it?" She gave him a coy smile, one that made him wonder if she was flirting with him.

"I think you could make it anywhere."

They eased into a comfortable silence, sharing the piece of cake and sipping their drinks. She was beginning to understand why people would want to come here occasionally; it was a place to unwind and forget, even if only for a little while. Her eyes roamed the room lazily until she started to notice the same green jumpsuit gathered around most of the tables.

"What do they do?" she asked, tipping her head at a group who were laughing.

"They're GD's," Four said. "They take care of things like cleaning, cooking, laundry. Some are on patrol."

She frowned. "And the GP's?"

"They run this place. Make all the discoveries and make all the big decisions." His voice was hard, bitter.

"Where do you fall in?"

He took a deep breath. The answer always felt like a gray area to him. "GD."

"I don't believe that," she said. Her words were quick, insistent. "I mean, they pulled you out for a reason, then they just go and tell you you're damaged? It's not right. You are not damaged." She hated being different, now more than ever. Tris knew she was different in Abnegation, and she was still different here. She just wanted to be normal for once. She picked up her glass and took a long drink, grimacing afterwards.

"Hey," he said softly. She turned her head to see his eyes flicking back and forth between hers. "My parents were both Divergent. They assumed I would be, too. It's why they saved us." She hated the way he said the word saved, like a small part of him broke just saying it out loud. "Turns out I'm an outlier. I have some perks, but no genes." He slammed the rest of his drink back, and stared into the empty cup.

"I'm sor―"

"Well, what do we have here?"

They both looked up to see Briggs, red and sweaty, glass in hand. Four rolled his eyes; Briggs was a big guy, but he couldn't handle his liquor and it made him even more intolerable. He pulled out the chair closest to Tris and sat down.

"Surprise, surprise. The Stiff and the Golden Boy, out on a date." He took a drink; some of it dribbled down his chin.

"You're drunk," Four said. His voice was deep, firm. Tris knew she should be intimidated, but he wasn't like that with her. She thought he wasn't really like that at all, that circumstances made this part of him come out.

"How astute. See? I can use big words, too, and there ain't nothin' special about me." Tris turned away from him. "Hey! Hey, Stiff, I'm talking to you."

"Enough." Four stood up, drawing the attention of the entire room. "Not one more word."

"Or what? You gonna tell on me?"

"What do you want?" Tris held her hand out in front of Four, staying him.

"Look at me, and I'll tell you." There was a pit in her stomach as she turned her head. "We all risked our asses out there today, and for what? To play daycare for the baby? Jones almost died because of you. Green did die because of you. You're not so special. You're no―"

Four was over the table, Briggs's shirt in his fists as he pushed him down to the ground. He wanted to lose it, to inflict so much damage that Briggs would be unrecognizable to even himself. He settled for dropping to his knees and punching him twice in the face. Briggs let out a wet laugh, blood flowing freely from his nose. Four hovered over him, fist up, ready to hit him again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He let out a stuttered breath at her touch. "You'd better thank her," he said through gritted teeth, "Because she just saved your ass."

Four knew that she would hate him now, that she would finally realize that he was damaged in ways she couldn't possibly understand. He didn't look back as he walked down the corridor, but he didn't need to: he could feel her one step behind him.

"Four." She grabbed his arm softly, and again it was there, that electricity that only she created when she touched him. She held on, her fingers burning a permanent mark on his skin, until he turned around. He felt like she took a piece of his soul with her when she finally let go. "Is that true?" Her eyes were wet; he felt his heart squeeze.

"No. Absolutely not. Don't ever listen to a thing he says. He's just a… a bitter…"

"Asshole?" Four smiled, his eyes alight with something Tris didn't know how to describe.

"You know, it sounds so wrong when you say it," he said, a soft chuckle escaping. She smiled.

He was too wound up to sleep, and he was happy to admit that he wasn't ready for their night to end. Things felt different now, more relaxed. Her arms swung with ease as they walked, her head held higher, a small smile on her lips. When he turned towards the research wing, her smile widened.

He closed the door behind her as she stared at the various objects scattered around the little room next to Erudite. Tris only had a chance to check out the maps the last time they were here, and she was eager to see what else it held. Four passed her without a word, and sat down in front of a screen. His eyebrows were scrunched as he tapped away, wanting to share with her his small escape. He came here often, to either nurse or drown in his feelings. She pulled a stool close and sat down, every last inch of his body aware of her proximity.

He angled it towards her, and pressed on a folder labeled music. She had heard the banjos and the songs the Amity sang whenever Abnegation helped with the harvests, but this wasn't anything like that music. This was sadder, haunting even.

Four's mood had shifted slightly; he was quiet, calm. "Does it remind you of her?" He nodded. Tris was quiet as she thought about what he must be feeling, asking the question as soon as it came to her. "Why do you blame yourself?"

He took a deep breath and shrugged. Four knew he couldn't have done anything more to change his mother's mind, and even if he had gone with her, he couldn't have protected her. He never could protect her from him. He closed his eyes, lost in the horror of watching her face on the screens as she was beaten to death, helpless to stop what was happening.

He felt her hand on his, soft at first, then more insistent as she forced her fingers in-between his, squeezing. He squeezed back just before she let go, electricity pushing his heart into overdrive. "It's not your fault," she whispered.

"I know."

The song ended, and they sat in silence. It was oddly comforting to him, knowing that they didn't want to do anything other than just be in each other's presence. There wasn't any need to fill the silence with words or laughter. Tris was content to sit by and let him have this time, to share in something that he had always kept to himself. It made him eager to do more than just sit, but he pushed those thoughts aside. Her eyes were taking in the things around her; he let out a loud sigh and picked up the object closest to him: a small metal rectangle.

"There are people who work for the government who find and catalog things like this from our past. This had a lot of different kinds of music on it, and pictures, too. It was also a communication device, an early prototype of what we use now."

"There were pictures?" She didn't know why she was so desperate to see more from the past. Four smiled and nodded, tapping on the screen again.

This time it was filled with image after image of a smiling girl with short brown hair. Tris smiled as they looked at more pictures: the young girl laughing with other people, one of trees and flowers, another of a person standing on a stage with a lot of lights surrounding them, even one of a small baby. As Four scrolled through, there wasn't anything about these people that seemed violent or dangerous. Nothing that indicated they needed to be fixed.

"I still don't understand it," she said. She wasn't sure if she ever would. "Do you ever feel like you're being lied to?"

Four let out a loud breath. "Yeah, I do."

"So, what happens now? I mean, I'm supposed to be the answer to everything, right? But I don't have the first clue about what's really going on, or how my being Divergent actually helps anything."

Four shook his head. He didn't know how to answer her questions. The truth was that he had been patiently biding his time, waiting for her ― or whoever ― to come along so he could get that answer for himself. All he had ever heard was that Divergents were the key to everything, and he had gone along with it. Sometimes he felt like a failure for following blindly; he should have been more discerning about every last thing the Bureau fed him. "I guess that's something we'll find out together."

Tris let out a long breath. As he looked at her, her eyes were frantically searching his as she worried her lip between her teeth. His eyes fell, watching as she let her lip loose, her tongue darting out briefly to wet them. He wanted to press his own lips to them, to see if they felt as soft as they looked. His eyes drifted back up: hers were still now, locked onto his. He knew then that this was it; he was going to have to open up to her if he ever wanted his thoughts to become reality. There were enough secrets and uncertainties floating around, and he wasn't helping by keeping his past from her.

"Come on," he said, standing. "There's something I need to show you."

A/N:

When the sins of my father
Weigh down in my soul
And the pain of my mother
Will not let me go
Well I know there can come fire from the sky
To refine the purest of kings
And even though
I know this fire brings me pain
Even so
And just the same

Make It Rain - Ed Sheeran

I've gotten a few asks on whether this story was based on this song, and yep, it is. This is what Four listens to when he's locked away in the little room. There are other songs too, ones I waffled between using. But when all was said and done, this song really connected with the story, and eventually ended up being the title. (I swear, we went through like 7 different ones lol.)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There is still more to Four's story, which will be revealed soon. Oh, and as always, thank you for your reviews!