A/N: I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. Between being gone for vacation, have family visit here, getting my daughter back to college, having my son start school, being extremely busy at work, and getting sick, it's been a long haul. And my poor beta reader is just as busy, so we're not having much luck coordinating our schedules right now.
Anyway, thank you so much for your patience, and for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate them.
Chapter 4: Tobias – New Direction
Images from my fear landscape haunt me all night, both when I'm awake and in my dreams, until I finally give up on sleep and go to the exercise room.
My knuckles are still swollen and sore from pummeling the bag yesterday, so I opt to practice my kicks, slamming my feet hard into the dummy again and again as I let my mind clear.
I don't like how directionless I feel. For sixteen years, my goal was simple – to get through each day with as few injuries as possible, hoping to somehow be free, someday. When I transferred to Dauntless, I finally had that, only to find it didn't sit well. I felt out of place and found myself planning to leave, even though there was nowhere specific I wanted to go and nothing specific I wanted to do.
Things were different when I was with Tris. I still didn't know where I belonged, but I could face life with her by my side, and I could begin to figure out everything else. She gave me a focus, I guess – I could be selfless and brave and smart for her, and even sometimes honest and kind, or at least loving. It's always been easy to love her, even when it's been most difficult to actually be with her.
I suppose that's part of why it's so hard to let her go. She brought out the best in me, and I don't want to lose those parts of myself any more than I want to lose her.
My heel smacks into the dummy with a satisfying thunk, and I pause to watch it sway back and forth as Kevin's words drift through my mind again. Whatever happens with Tris, I can't let it drive my life. I have to find a way to keep working toward being the person I want to be.
It's hard to face that reality, but I know that Kevin is right. And it's not like I haven't made any progress without Tris. I've grown a lot since I returned to Chicago, and not just because of the support group. It made a difference to build this faction from the beginning, writing its manifesto along with Cara and George and Amar and then repairing apartments for all of us and for our other members as they joined. The whole process helped me figure out how I want to live and what traits I truly value.
I've helped with plenty of other new factions, too, putting in long hours on so many days, even though I don't technically have to work. The "hero's pension" the city gives those of us who went on the mission is enough to cover our living expenses. But the work helps other people, and it feels good to do that. It's another form of progress.
Shifting my stance, I start side kicks, striking with the blade of my right foot.
It would feel good to do something for Tris, I realize abruptly. Even if I never end up being around her again, and even if she never learns about or appreciates my efforts, I would feel better if I helped her somehow.
The question is how…. It can't just be something that makes her happy for a moment. It needs to be something that lasts – something that improves her life into the future. Something permanent.
I pause, steadying the dummy with my hands before resuming my kicks.
Family is important to her. When she was at Dauntless, she struggled with having left her parents behind, and I know how deeply it hurt her when they died. A twinge goes through me as I remember telling her that I'd be her family. I broke that promise. But I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it now. I'm out of the picture, at least for the moment, and she's already become close to the only family she has left: her grandmother, Anna, and her brother, Caleb.
She'll gain more family someday, if she ever gets married.
I kick again, trying to shove the images from my fear landscape away, but they stay anyway. Tris looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. If I push my own desires aside, I know I want that for her. She deserves to have a family of her own someday. To marry someone who will always be good to her, who will love her deeply and truly, and whom she will love. To have children she will care for the way her own parents cared for her.
My next kick connects too hard with the dummy, causing it to spin wildly in circles. I watch it for a moment, and slowly a detail that I didn't notice yesterday slips into my consciousness. The ring that Uriah placed on Tris' finger was familiar. I close my eyes, seeing it on a pawn shop counter in Pittsburgh so long ago. Anna's ring.
And suddenly I know what I need to do for Tris.
"I don't know, Tobias," Kevin says hesitantly. "That sounds more like an attempt to hang on to Tris than to let her go."
I shake my head firmly. "No. It's not for me. I'm not even planning to give it directly to Tris – I'll return it to Anna instead, and she can give it to Tris later, whenever it's appropriate." I rub a hand along the back of my neck, trying to come up with the right words to explain my thoughts.
"It just never felt right to sell that ring. We didn't have a choice, so we did it, but we both knew it was wrong." I look up, meeting Kevin's gaze levelly as I continue.
"Her parents are dead, and the Abnegation don't keep personal belongings, so there's nothing left of them at all. She doesn't even have photos of them. But from everything I know, her grandparents loved each other, and they loved her mom. I feel like that ring connects them, and it's the only heirloom the family has. Tris should have it…for…whoever she ends up marrying."
As my voice falters, Kevin presses his lips into a line, and I know he still doesn't think it's a good idea for me to do this. Maybe it doesn't matter – it's not like I need his permission to go. Still, I want him to understand, so I add my last reason.
"It's my way of making amends."
He lets out a long sigh as he sits back, sinking into the couch and watching me while he thinks. "How do you know Tris hasn't already retrieved the ring?" he asks carefully.
But I just shake my head. "I don't see how she could have. At first, she was injured, and since then she's been running a country. It's not like she could take the time to go after it in person, and it would be pointless to send someone else. The only name on the store was "PAWN," and there was no visible address. It took us forever to find it, and our guide is now dead. So, it would be virtually impossible to send someone there, and even if they found it, they wouldn't be able to pick out the right ring."
I face him squarely as I add, "I really feel this is up to me."
Kevin nods a little, still looking thoughtful. "Okay, then," he says simply. "I'll take some time off work."
Those aren't the words I expected. "Are you offering to come with me?" I ask, surprised and not entirely sure what to make of that idea. There aren't many people whose help I'd want for this, but Kevin is certainly one of them.
"Yeah," he answers slowly, "I think that's only fair. My sponsor went out of his way to assist me with something big once upon a time, so I should pay the favor forward." He nods again, as if he's convincing himself, and then adds, "Besides, I've been curious to see the outside world."
I can't help but smile a little at that. "Bring a nose plug" is my only response.
"I'm going to Pittsburgh for a week or so," I state flatly at the dinner table. I don't really want to explain what I'm doing, but I know it wouldn't be fair to my faction-mates to simply vanish for that long without at least mentioning it. Besides, George, Cara, and I will need to make arrangements to cover Amar's therapy during my absence.
Christina coughs violently, apparently startled enough to choke on the mouthful of food she was in the middle of swallowing.
"Pittsburgh? What could possibly make you want to go back there?" she sputters, wrinkling her nose at the memory of how bad the entire city smelled.
I can feel a slight flush start to crawl up my cheeks at where I know this conversation will go, but I answer anyway.
"We left something there."
Christina narrows her eyes suspiciously. "What something?"
For a second, I just stare at her, surprised she has to ask. But as I look around the group, I see nothing but confusion on their faces, and it finally dawns on me that none of them ever realized Anna gave us her ring. We left the bomb shelter in such a rush, and there wasn't a lot of conversational time after that. Tris and I are probably the only ones who knew.
With that realization comes a second one. I don't want to tell them exactly what I'm doing. They don't need to know, and it feels too private to share.
"We sold something at the pawn shop," I answer neutrally, "that I'd like to get back. It was an old family heirloom."
There's a pause while they digest that. My father did give me my mother's ring while we were in the bomb shelter, and the others might well have observed that act. It's believable that I'm trying to retrieve it.
"You must really want it back," Cara comments, looking thoughtful but not overly suspicious, "to be traveling that far for it. Are you sure they still have it?"
"No," I tell her truthfully, not wanting to think about that possibility. "But the longer I wait, the less likely it is they'll have it, and I need to at least try."
Apparently, that answer appeases them, because the conversation migrates to how they'll cover my share of the faction chores while I'm gone. Currently, I'm mostly working on preparing an apartment for Uriah, and frankly I'm not in the mood for that after yesterday anyway, so it doesn't bother me when Amar and George volunteer to finish that task.
"I can give you a hand, too," Zeke offers, but George waves him off good-naturedly.
"No, we've got it," he says, smiling fondly at Amar. "I think we both enjoy the hands-on work." And that's probably true. Increasingly, they've been helping me with projects in the building, and it seems to be therapeutic for Amar. It's still difficult for him to go out into the city, with all the unpredictable interactions with strangers that leads to, but he gets thoroughly bored being cooped up here all the time with nothing to do.
"What about the Monday and Friday sessions?" Cara asks, nodding with her chin toward Amar. Lately, George has been handling each Wednesday's therapy, but I still do the other two sessions a week. And missing those does make me a little nervous. Amar has been making slow progress, and I don't want to mess that up in my attempt to do something for Tris.
"I'll have them with George," Amar answers Cara, somewhat unexpectedly. "I've been wanting to work more on my Erudite skills anyway."
Cara and I exchange a quick look, and I can tell she's as hesitant about that idea as I am. The Amity pathways in Amar's brain are still enlarged from my broadcast, so we've been focusing the therapy sessions on building up his existing Dauntless pathways, with the goal of getting him to use those more so the Amity ones will gradually shrink. I'm not sure how successful it will be to work on his weaker pathways – Erudite and Candor and Abnegation. They might not distract him enough from the Amity ones.
Cara voices her doubt before I can respond. "I don't think you should experiment while Four is away," she says warily. "It's better to keep the focus on Dauntless for now."
Amar shrugs, looking slightly rebellious, and a sudden suspicion goes through me. I glance at George for confirmation, and the slight blush on his face tells me I'm right.
"You've already been working on the Erudite pathways, haven't you?" George's blush deepens, and Amar's eyes dart away guiltily, while Cara simply looks livid.
"What?!" she all but shouts. "We've been designing and tracking the entire therapy approach in minute detail for months, and you two just go and do something different on your own? Do you know how risky that is?"
For a moment, we're all silent, frozen by Cara's outburst. She almost never loses her temper, and everyone is careful not to yell at Amar, so everything about this feels strange. But the interesting thing is that it's not affecting my former instructor the way I would have expected. He's not backing down, or looking distressed, or losing his fragile self-control. If anything, Cara's tirade seems to have brought out the Dauntless in him. And suddenly it occurs to me that we've been tip-toeing around him too much.
"Cara," I say firmly, drawing her attention away from George, whom she's currently glaring at. "When you think about it, what they did is very Dauntless. They took a chance, even though it was risky and involved breaking rules." My eyes flit to Amar, and the corner of my mouth tugs upward. "And now they're in trouble for it. You can't get more Dauntless than that."
Amar grins at me, and I turn back to Cara as I add, "I don't have a problem with this."
She opens her mouth to protest but then closes it again as she realizes I have a point. "How long have you been doing this?" she finally asks George.
"Five weeks," he admits. Cara's jaw twitches as she bites back a response, but I chuckle.
"Well, then, it's obviously not causing problems," I say in what I hope is a calming tone. "So, it sounds like George can project Dauntless traits on Monday and Friday while I'm gone, and Erudite traits on Wednesday, and everything should be good?"
I quirk a questioning eyebrow at the others. Cara still looks thoroughly annoyed, but George and Amar nod in agreement.
"I won't leave until Tuesday," I add, trying to pacify Cara a bit. "So we can do a trial run on Monday to make sure it'll work."
"Fine," she mutters, giving George a last dirty look before refocusing on her dinner. But personally, I feel a lot better for having learned about this whole situation. It reassures me that George is able to adjust the therapy around his husband's needs – and that Amar is stronger than I've given him credit for.
It frees me up to make this trip work.
A/N: Please take a moment to let me know how this chapter worked. I read and truly appreciate every review, and they motivate me more than anything else to carve out time to write. Thanks!