Skye makes her way to the one place in the compound she knows will be unoccupied: the initiate dorm. Each initiate was assigned a permanent housing unit when they formally became members of Dauntless, and they'll all be spending the night in their new homes, if they're not at the party or going home with someone else.

But when Skye pushes open the door, she isn't surprised to see someone waiting for her. She is surprised, however, that he's wearing black. "Where did you get those clothes?" she asks Lincoln, as he embraces her and she inhales the scent of the farms of her childhood.

"I passed a laundry bin on the way in here. Figured I'd attract less attention if I blended in." His smile is mischievous, like he's a child who's played a prank instead of a newly-made member of one faction who is sneaking into another. "I don't think black's my color, though."

"If there were a single sober person here, you wouldn't have passed for Dauntless no matter what you're wearing," she teases. Lincoln's sensible Amity haircut, his complete lack of piercings or tattoos, and his easy smile and gently mannerisms betray him as an outsider in this world of hard edges and ferocity.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says, then cringes. Her words should be a compliment, given the Amity's distaste for the violent lifestyle of the Dauntless. But that lifestyle is hers now, and the Amity ought to know better than to insult someone else for being different.

"It's okay," she reassures him, seeing an apology jump to his lips. "I understand."

"If it makes you feel better," he offers, "I don't think you'd pass for Amity anymore." He pauses, then adds "You can take that as a compliment, if you want."

She isn't sure how to take it. "So, how does it feel to be a member of Amity?"

"Wonderful," he responds instantly. "It's like my whole life has been building to this. What about you?"

"Strangely, the same," she answers.

He takes her hand. The gesture is an intimate one for the Dauntless, and she has to remind herself that this is a casual sign of affection for the Amity. "Can I ask you something, Skye?"

"Of course."

His fingers run over the long bones in her hand, gently rubbing her knuckles. This means nothing to him, right? "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving Amity?"

"We weren't supposed to talk about our choices."

"Come on, you never once met a rule you didn't break. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What difference would it have made?"

"I chose my faction before you."

"I remember." She can't forget the sight and smell of her blood on the coals, nor can she forget the look in Lincoln's eyes as she turned away from the red-and-gold crowd to face the Dauntless black.

"If I had known you were going to…" he trails off.

She fills in the blank. "Are you saying you would have…joined Dauntless to be with me?"

He doesn't say a word, but his silence speaks for him.

"Lincoln, you wouldn't have survived initiation. You'd be factionless by now if you had chosen Dauntless."

"You don't know that."

"I know the Dauntless initiation, and I know you. You scream Amity from every drop of your blood. There's no place for you in Dauntless, just like there's no place for me in Amity. Trust me: you have no reason to regret your choice. You're gonna live the perfect Amity life. You'll marry some nice Amity girl, and have nice Amity kids, and you'll be happy there."

He shakes his head, and she sees pain in his eyes. "That's just it. I don't want some nice Amity girl, and I don't want any nice Amity kids." He lifts her hand to his face. "I want you."

His lips are soft and hesitant on hers, but his thumb is steady against her jawline. He strokes her hair as he releases the kiss and murmurs "Be with me."

"What? Lincoln, we can't—"

"Take a job as a fence guard. You'll be among the Amity farms all day, every day. It'll be hard, but we can make it. You can have your people, and I can have mine, and we can still be together, Skye."

"Maybe we can," she admits, "but I won't."

"What do you mean?"

"I made my choice," she says. Her conviction lends strength to her voice, and she does not stutter or falter. "You made yours. I'm Dauntless. You're Amity."

"That doesn't mean a damn thing, and you know it!" His voice breaks with a choked-back sob.

"We can't go back, Lincoln. Maybe we're proud of our choices, or maybe we regret them, or maybe both, but it doesn't matter. We can't go back."

He shakes his head, stunned. "When did you get so cruel?"

"This is real life. You can't spend your life moping over what might have been. I love you." He scoffs. "I do," she repeats, "but this is the way things are, and there's no way to change that."

"Love finds a way." It's an Amity platitude, and he says it like a prayer.

She wraps her arms around him, and she feels his tears fall hot on her shoulder. It breaks her heart to say the words, but they need to be said. "No, it doesn't."