A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really loved your comments. Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie!

A couple of notes...

1. A reviewer was having trouble finding my "Determinant" story. To find that, click on the "Windchimed" link at the top of this page. That will take you to my Profile page. Scroll all the way to the bottom of that, and you'll see my other stories.

2. Another reviewer asked what my favorite "Divergent" fanfictions and authors are. You can find links to most of those on my fanfiction Profile page as well. There are some additional links on my "Archive of Our Own" profile page. Please check those out - there are some very good stories and authors linked there.

Now, on to the story...

Chapter 9: Tobias – Getting a Micky

I should have known it wouldn't be this easy. But that doesn't stop the bitter disappointment from going through me when we find out that Michael O'Clery has moved. The current resident of the apartment seems to have no idea where he went.

"I think he moved out a month before I came here," she says, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if in thought. "So, at least four months ago."

"Do people register new addresses anywhere in this city?" Kevin asks Lauren, but she shakes her head a little.

"It's only required for certain events – getting married, buying a house, getting a driver's license. Other than that, people rarely bother…particularly if they'd rather stay hidden."

I can't help the frustrated noise that comes out of me in response to that statement. Michael is undoubtedly in that category. He probably has been his entire life – first, because he was resistant to the serum and later because he was committing crimes against NUSA's pet corporations. We won't find his new address easily.

I turn away from the others, running a hand through my hair as I pace a few steps back and forth, trying to think of what we can do next. We've come too far to just give up now, but if we can't find the buyer, how else can we possibly find Anna's ring? It's not unique enough for me to describe it in an ad of any kind, and I don't have a photo of it. And it's not like I can send a broadcast of it to the whole city, even if that's a tempting thought at the moment….

My gaze wanders back to the young woman who answered the door. She's looking between us, her expression wary, and something about her nags at me.

"Has anyone else come looking for him?" I ask her, hoping that a friend or a bill collector – or anyone really – has been by. That would at least give us a starting point for tracking him down.

"No," she answers quickly. "No one." But her response is too fast, and she twines her fingers together as if she's nervous. The nagging feeling gets stronger as the Candor in me seizes on those indicators. There's something she's not telling us.

"Does anyone else live here?" I ask in my instructor voice, knowing it will intimidate her. "Anyone who might have answered the door?"

Her body gives a slight, involuntary twitch at my tone, and she's definitely nervous when she responds.

"My mother and younger siblings do, but they never answer the door. I guarantee they haven't talked to anyone." Again, the answer is rushed, and not very believable.

She swallows, her eyes flitting to Kevin and then Lauren and back to me, and abruptly I realize our mistake. Lauren is still wearing her police uniform, and Kevin and I are big and frightening. If I were trying to protect someone who had broken the law, I certainly wouldn't tell people like us anything.

"We're not here to hurt him," I say as reassuringly as I can. "In fact, we want to make him an offer."

For a fraction of a second, her face freezes in panic as she realizes that I'm on to her, but then she masks it. It's enough to tell me I'm right. She's hiding him.

"I…I'm not…" she begins, but Kevin interrupts her.

"You're his sister, aren't you? I can see the resemblance."

The words startle me, making me stare for a second, and then the feeling that has been nagging at me clicks into place. Kevin is right. This woman's hair is a light brown, instead of the blondish red we saw in the photo, but her facial structure has definite similarities to Michael's. Enough to be his younger sister.

"N-no," she stutters, her eyes growing wide with fear despite her best efforts to hide it. "Of course not. What would make you say that?"

David responds before any of the rest of us can.

"This isn't what you think." His voice is gentle, and he steps a little closer to her, raising a hand in supplication. She eyes it apprehensively.

"We know that your brother committed crimes during the NUSA days," David adds in the same soft tone, "but we don't care about that. We're definitely not on NUSA's side." He turns toward me and places a hand on my arm. I stiffen despite myself. "Look at this man closely. He seems familiar to you, doesn't he?"

Her gaze jumps back to me, and she stares somewhat wildly as David continues. "That's because he's the one who did the broadcast that freed us all. He's certainly not with NUSA." David smiles a little.

The woman's reaction is much like Emily's in the store yesterday, as she takes a half-step backwards and lifts her hands to her mouth. I can't say I like seeing people respond to me this way, but the cynical part of me realizes that at the moment, it could be useful. So, I watch her levelly, giving her time to process my identity.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asks. "And what do you need Micky for?" The words send a surge of relief through me. She does know him.

"It's nothing bad," I answer clearly. "I promise." She keeps staring at me, a type of desperation in her face, and I do my best to make my voice mild. "He bought something that used to belong to the president. I just want to buy it back if he's willing to sell it." I give the most soothing smile I can manage. "I'll give him a lot more than he paid for it."

She's clearly still extremely hesitant, so I soften my voice even more. "Please. It would mean a lot to me. And to Tris."

For a very long moment, our gazes stay locked, and then she swallows hard. Her eyes close as she nods.

"Okay," she says. "I'll get him."

We wait in the apartment, listening politely as Micky's mother tells us about how he bought this place for them a year earlier.

"It was hard after their father died," Carol says. "My income wasn't enough to support five children and afford rent, so we ended up on the streets for a couple of years. It was a blessing when Micky found a job."

She looks around fondly, clearly associating the apartment with her oldest son. "He lived here with us, of course, until he and Luella were married. Such a sweet girl…." She smiles. "And their little one is adorable. I couldn't ask for a cuter grandchild."

I glance around, realizing that the apartment is very similar to David's. Carol obviously considers it to be an incredible luxury, and it certainly is compared with living on the streets. But it would be an extremely tight fit for five people, let alone seven. I can see why Micky wanted a more private location to live in with his wife and child.

Carol gestures vaguely towards the bedroom as she adds, "And now that my second son, Rory, is old enough to watch the young ones, Mary is looking for work too." She nods a little to herself. "So things are getting better."

For a moment, I watch the children playing in the bedroom, their tones hushed. The oldest one can't be much over ten, but I suppose that's old enough to be responsible for his younger siblings in this world.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to eat or drink?" Carol asks solicitously, but we all politely decline. I'm not about to take anything away from this family.

So, instead, we wait and make small talk for what feels like hours, some combination of anxiety and excitement growing steadily in me the entire time. I'm so close to being able to retrieve Anna's ring, but I can't help worrying that Micky will refuse to sell it to me. And then what will I do?

My agitation is interrupted when the front door finally opens. Mary comes in, looking as nervous as she did earlier, and her eyes go instantly to me as if looking for reassurance. She must find it, because she smiles a little as she steps to the side.

There's no mistaking the young man who enters behind her. His hair is longer than in the photo, but he's clearly the one we're looking for. Relief mixes in with the tension in my stomach, and I'm on my feet and across the room almost before I realize it.

He watches me warily, but there's something of awe in his expression, and I know he recognizes me.

"Hi," he says, his voice catching a little. He clears his throat. "I'm Micky."

"Tobias." I extend my hand Dauntless-style, and he shakes it hesitantly. It's rare for me to have the better handshake.

"Mary said you were looking for me?"

"Yes." I nod. "Thank you for coming." But then I pause, suddenly uncertain how to actually approach this issue. I suppose it's better to simply dive in.

"You bought a ring at a pawn shop just before my broadcast." I gesture toward David and add, "From him."

Micky's eyebrows rise, and it's clear he knows exactly what I'm talking about – and was hoping that wasn't it. I'll need to convince him to part with it….

"Tris and I had to sell that ring in order to finance our mission to end NUSA." I might as well appeal to his anti-NUSA attitude. "But we didn't want to, because it belonged to her grandmother." I swallow, meeting his gaze. "And it's the only family heirloom she has."

Clearing my throat, I add, "It means a lot to her. So, I want to buy it back – for twice what you paid for it." I don't know how much money he has left from his last theft, but perhaps that offer will be appealing enough.

Micky's face is conflicted, and he looks away for a long moment. "It's my wife's," he says softly. His eyes flit to his mother for a second, and he lowers his voice to a whisper in what seems to be an attempt to keep her from hearing. "We've had to sell everything else. I can't take that away, too."

And I understand. He only has two things left from the money he stole – his mother's apartment and his wife's ring, and he can't bear to take either of them away from the women he loves.

But maybe there's a way to substitute something of equal meaning.

"I know your thefts were in some ways a rebellion against NUSA," I begin. His eyes shoot to mine. "And I respect that. I'm sure there's extra meaning in that ring because you bought it with money you took from that corrupt system." He hesitates briefly but then nods, stiffly.

I nod, too. My voice is quieter as I continue. "What if I can offer you another way to get that same meaning, while also buying back that ring?"

He furrows his eyebrows, looking at me uncertainly. But he seems willing to listen. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the jewelry that I brought with me from Chicago, and I extend my hand so he can see the pieces lying on my palm.

"I bought these," I say simply. His expression tells me he doesn't understand, so I clarify, "The man whose broadcast destroyed NUSA bought these…using money that came from that destruction." It's a true statement, since I paid for the jewelry from the "hero's pension" that Chicago gives us each month.

A flash of emotion goes through Micky's eyes at that, and his gaze moves between me and the jewelry several times as he processes my words.

"If you and your wife picked one of these," I say softly, "would it have that same meaning? Enough for you to let me buy Tris' ring back?"

Micky opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, staring instead at the four rings in my hand. They vary in style, from fancier than Anna's ring to simpler ones.

"I don't know," he finally says thoughtfully. He looks up at me again before adding, "But maybe, yeah…."

His gaze turns to his mother briefly, and I suspect he's weighing her needs as well as his wife's.

He nods a little. His voice is a strange mix of fatigue and worry and desire when he says, "I'll talk to Luella."

A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. As some of you know from my "Becoming Determinant" story, I'm sick right now (I caught a really nasty cold), so I've been sitting around feeling miserable. Your reviews have been doing a really good job of cheering me up, and I would definitely appreciate more of them! :-)