A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! As I mentioned in my last author's note, this update is Chapter 46 from "Determinant," but from Tris' POV. I'm not going to repeat all of the chapters from "Determinant" like this, but I felt this particular one was needed to transition to the rest of this story. It proved to be a lot of fun to write, though it was a bear to edit because it's so long. If I missed any typos, please let me know. I made a bunch of little changes after Rosalie reviewed it, so I might have introduced some mistakes.

Chapter 23: Tris – Reconciliation

I'm still in the gathering room, standing near the door, when Tobias comes back from his walk. His gaze catches mine, and abruptly I know that I'm ready to talk to him. I've spent months simultaneously dreading and hoping for this conversation – and imagining all the possible ways it could go. But in this moment I know that regardless of how it turns out, I need to have it now.

"Can we go somewhere private to talk?" I ask him.

His eyes shift briefly to Christina with a curious expression, before he answers. "Yeah." His voice is deep.

He hesitates for just a second before taking my arm, the brush of his fingers sending a tingling feeling all through me. It's the same sensation that I've always felt with him, and I can't help but wonder if he feels it too. He used to, I think.

I'm a little surprised when he leads me to his apartment. Given what happened the last time we were there, I didn't expect him to pick that particular spot, but maybe it's just as well. We can't ignore our history.

He smiles faintly as he gestures for me to enter first, and I do, looking around curiously. It's very different than the last time I was here, when it was packed with items to help Tobias survive after he planned to go factionless.

One thing is still the same, though. The mattress that we slept on that night is still in exactly the same place. He never even got a bedframe for it. I let my eyes linger on it, smiling a little at the memory. Realistically, I'm not sure I would have changed it, either, if this had been my room.

The thought makes me feel a little warmer inside, and I turn back to face him. "How are you, Tobias?" I know it's a loaded question, but we have to start somewhere.

"Okay," he answers in a carefully neutral voice. "Busy."

The words remind me of what Cara said earlier, and I feel that same clenching in my stomach at how well she seems to know him now. Better than I do.

"Cara indicated that," I say, nodding as if it's just a statement of fact. But I watch his reaction, looking for any sign that he feels more than friendship for her despite what Christina thinks. There's nothing there.

Clearing my throat, I add, "She said they had to take you out of the cooking rotation because you were always busy."

He shrugs, contemplating that. "It's getting better. Amar doesn't need as much therapy as he used to." He gives an awkward half-smile. "And I don't, either. It's now just a session a week for each of us."

He hesitates, looking at me, before he adds, "I've been in a support group for people like me... People who were abused as kids, and who have a…temper…now."

There's another pause before he admits, "It's been helpful…. A lot more than I expected."

I nod, watching him. I wasn't sure if he'd talk about his support program yet, since he may or may not know that Christina told me about it. But it's good that he did. We need to be honest with each other if we're going to find a way to live in the same faction again.

"I'm glad," I tell him simply. His eyes shoot up to mine, and my breath catches at how intensely blue they are in this light.

"How about you?" he asks softly. "How have you been?"

There's no way to sum up the last year in any kind of short answer, so all I do is echo his own description. "Busy."

Something like shame passes over his face, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah…" he says quietly, "I'm sorry I left you with all that, Tris. It wasn't remotely fair."

The statement stirs up too many emotions for me to answer at first, so I just shrug, moving around the apartment a little and looking at things in order to avoid his gaze.

"I understand why you did," I finally say, sighing. I've spent a lot of time thinking about his actions, and the reasons for them, and I no longer blame him for most of them.

My voice is quiet as I continue. "And realistically, if I'd been the one to reach the Control Computer, you might have ended up as president."

He looks startled, but he doesn't answer. And I'm not sure what else to add, so I keep looking at everything he's changed in this room. My eyes stop at the sight of his computer, sitting on a simple metal desk. I wonder if that's where he worked on the photos of my parents – the ones he put in the album he made for me. My heart jumps a little at the thought.

As if to confirm it, I spot a picture on top of his bureau, carefully framed in wood. It's an image of me, though I can't tell when it was taken. Sometime at Dauntless, I assume, since I'm dressed in black and my long hair is flowing behind me. I look fierce in it – angry, even.

"Interesting choice," I say as I pick it up to get a closer look, curious why he would select a photo where I look irate rather than happy. Maybe it's all he could find. "When was this taken?"

He hesitates, and I instantly know that there's a story behind this that he's reluctant to share. But after a moment, he does, his voice a bit rough.

"When you were leaving Dauntless, after Lauren's fear landscape."

I turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. Out of all the time we spent together, I can't imagine why he would want to frame that particular memory.

"It's a reminder," he says slowly, obviously sensing my confusion. "I really messed up that day, and you were furious with me. And I was terrified when I realized you'd left the compound. I didn't know what would happen – if Eric would figure out you were Divergent, or if you'd be kicked out of Dauntless, or if you'd ever forgive me. Or if I'd even see you again. I didn't see how things could possibly work out…. But just a few hours later, you were safe, and you called me your boyfriend for the first time."

He pauses, his eyes meeting mine again before he adds, "It reminds me that there's always hope, no matter how bad things seem."

The words are more than a little startling. I've never heard his perspective on that day before, and I certainly never thought of it as paralleling our current situation. But it's obvious that he's spent a lot of time thinking about both.

"Tobias," I say softly, "what do you expect to happen here?"

He gives a strangled laugh. "Tris, I don't have any expectations." He swallows hard. "I screwed up. Badly. I don't have words to describe how sorry I am. And I know I don't have a right to expect anything at this point."

There's a kind of desperation in his expression as he continues. "But what I'd like is for us to find a way forward. I've missed you." His voice breaks a little on the admission, and it breaks something inside me the same way. "And I'd like to be around you in whatever way you're willing to grant."

For several more seconds, we just stare at each other as multiple emotions try to push their way out of my chest and into my throat all at once. I finally have to turn away to hide the tears that are threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"You're sorry for what, exactly?" I manage to ask, my voice trembling.

"I think that's pretty obvious, Tris," he answers sternly.

But I shake my head. "I don't think it is," I tell him honestly, forcing myself to turn back to face him again. He needs to understand this.

I take a deep breath, drawing strength from somewhere inside me. "The thing is, my ribs healed a long time ago. But what continued to hurt after that – what's hurt every day since then – is your absence." It's even harder than I expected to finally admit this, but I continue anyway.

"You left. You didn't even let me say goodbye. I didn't know if you were okay. Sometimes, I didn't even know if you were alive. And I had no idea if I'd ever see you again."

The tears refuse to be held back any longer, but I keep looking at him as they start flowing down my cheeks.

"That hurt, Tobias. That hurt a lot."

He stares at me, clearly upset by my words and uncertain how to respond. And in this moment, I feel like he should be. It's hard to move forward after a year of pain.

"I didn't know what else to do," he says softly. It's obvious he means it, but the response makes me angry.

"You could have talked to me," I all but shout, finally voicing what I've thought so many times over the months. "You could have asked what I wanted. Don't you think I had a right to be part of that decision?"

"No," he says flatly. That isn't the answer I expected, and my eyes snap to his, startled. He meets my gaze levelly as he continues. "You would have forgiven me. I saw that in your face as you were blacking out from what I did to you. And that was not what either of us needed."

I open my mouth to protest – I'm not sure against which part, exactly – but he doesn't give me a chance.

Holding up his hand, his palm toward me, he continues forcefully. "No, listen to me, Tris! What I did was not okay. It doesn't matter what triggered it. It doesn't matter that I was aiming at my father, and you just got in the way. The point is I got angry, and I got violent, and I hurt you. And that is not acceptable."

I can feel my brow furrowing. Of course the circumstances matter. Tobias would never have hit me if I hadn't gotten into the middle of his fight with Marcus. How can he think that's not relevant? But again, he doesn't give me a chance to respond.

"Think about it this way," he says, looking desperate for me to understand. "Would it have been okay if I went after Uriah for kissing you, and hit you in the process? Or if God forbid, sometime down the road, we had a screaming baby keeping us up for days at a time and I went after him? Where's the line? What's a 'good' excuse?"

My stomach squirms uncomfortably. I can't imagine Tobias ever losing his temper over things like that. And yet…. I remember the jealousy on his face when I held Will's arm on the pathway to the fear landscape. And the way I didn't want to sit on Uriah's lap because of how Tobias might respond. And how he grabbed my arm at times to keep me from leaving while we were arguing. And there's no denying that I often worried about his shifting moods.

Is he right that he might have snapped at some other event if the fight with Marcus had never happened?

His voice softens slightly as he adds, "Life is stressful. It's full of triggers. I can't react by losing control and hurting the people I love. That's not the person I want to be." He takes a step closer, his gaze willing me to understand.

"I need to be able to respect myself. I need to be a good person. A good son, and brother, and friend. And maybe someday a boyfriend again. And a husband. And a father." The squirming in my stomach increases at the last three – does he imagine those with me, or with someone else?

His eyes are fierce on mine as he adds, "And none of those start with me breaking your ribs and then continuing with my life like it didn't happen."

I'm breathing hard now as for the first time, I truly understand why he left. He wasn't just punishing himself, as I've thought for a year. He was trying to overcome the inner demons that ruled his life. He was trying to free himself of them forever.

"Are you that kind of person now?" I ask him, my voice tight.

"I'm a lot closer." He scratches the back of his neck, obviously considering his words. "Life is a process. We never reach perfection, but we should always keep working toward it." The comment reminds me of our faction manifesto.

He gives me a small smile before adding, "I'll probably always have a temper, but if we were back in Philadelphia again now, back in that same situation, I know I wouldn't hurt you. I might still deck Marcus. I'm not a Saint. But I wouldn't lose control like I did before."

It's hard to know what to say to that, and I find myself just nodding a bit awkwardly. Eventually, I come back with, "Well, Marcus certainly deserved to be decked."

The corners of Tobias' mouth lift. "That he did."

I'm silent for a moment as I try to fit these new realizations into everything I've thought and assumed for so long. "You still could have called, you know," I finally mutter.

He gives a little nod. "I thought about it," he admits, and I look up, surprised. "Quite a few times. But Christina said you almost never asked about me. I figured you must have moved on…." His mouth tightens in pain before he masks it. "And after everything I'd put you through…I wasn't going to interfere if you were healing."

My eyes drop to the floor as I shake my head rapidly. This isn't something I can say while I'm looking at him, but I know it needs to be said.

"I didn't move on," I whisper. "It just hurt too much to ask."

He breathes in sharply, almost a gasp, and I realize that possibility never occurred to him. He's silent for a very long time as he absorbs that reality. His voice is rough when he finally answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Tris." The pain in his tone echoes what I'm feeling, and it makes my stomach tighten even more. "I was so determined not to. But it seems to be all I did."

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in, and then I'm shaking my head again. That's not right. It's not. He did hurt me, yes, but that's certainly not all he did. He needs to know that.

"No," I say fiercely, struggling for words. "That's not true." I take a deep breath, somehow finding enough strength to look up again. He meets my gaze, his eyes intense.

"It's not true at all. I didn't miss you because I'm some kind of masochist. I missed you because of you. Because you stood with me over and over through everything we faced. You saved my life – more than once, I might add – and you helped me recover from the horrible things I had to do during the war…."

For a moment, my thoughts freeze on an image of him limping down a long hallway in Erudite. He turned himself in to save me, and he suffered so much for it. And all I did was betray him again afterwards.

"You tried so hard to protect me," I say, my throat tight. "And you always loved me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I hurt you."

He looks more than a little skeptical, but I continue anyway.

"And before you left, you gave me a gift of sorts…. You let me see myself from your perspective. I thought I was this uninteresting, plain girl…."

He laughs as if he can't even imagine that, and a wry smile forms on my lips. "Don't get me wrong," I mutter, "I knew I had some strengths, but I honestly couldn't figure out why someone like you would want to be with someone like me."

I bite my lip, shrugging a little. "But you showed me why, and it changed the way I view myself. It made me feel strong and capable and worthwhile, and that helped me get through everything I had to tackle in this past year."

My mind turns to Brian Larimer, and to how I was only able to handle what I did that day by thinking about Tobias. I would never have been able to save my brother if it weren't for him.

This time, I'm the one who steps closer. "It would have been easy to be away from you if all you ever did was hurt me. It was hard because you've done so much more than that. Because you were worth missing."

I close my eyes for a moment as image after image flits before them – of everything that Tobias has ever meant to me, and everything he has helped me get through, whether he was there or not. It's a very long list.

Looking at him now, I can see the love and the aching in his eyes, and the way he tortures himself when he shouldn't. He needs to know what he's worth.

"I don't think you ever believed it," I say softly, trying to convey the full truth of my words in my tone, "but I loved you as much as you loved me, and for a lot of the same reasons."

He stands completely still, his expression as stunned as I've ever seen it and his breathing ragged.

"Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely audible. A weight drops through my stomach as I realize how little affection I must have really shown for him to doubt it this much. I allowed my insecurities about myself to hurt him as well as me.

"Yes," I tell him firmly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. If I can only convince him of one thing in my life, it should be this – of how worthwhile he truly is.

He takes a step closer, his eyes filled with more emotion than I think I've ever seen. "Do you…do you still feel that way?" he whispers.

Panic sets in at the question, because I know that my answer will define how we move forward. And that it will change the rest of my life one way or another….

I know what I want, of course. I've known since practically the day I met him. But it terrifies me. It was so hard to lose him. If I allow us to get back together, will I be setting myself up for that to happen again? Even worse this time?

The floor is suddenly fascinating, and I stare at it as I try to find enough strength to answer. And then I say some of the most difficult words I've ever spoken.

"Feelings like that don't go away easily."

A sound catches in his throat, and I hear the movement as he steps quickly toward me. But I don't look up until his hands are framing my face, his fingers tracing my cheeks and running through my hair. His eyes are filled with tenderness as he tucks a few loose strands behind my ears.

"No, they don't," he murmurs.

My throat is too dry to speak, so I just let him continue.

"Tris, I've messed so many things up…. If you need time to figure out how you want to move forward, I completely understand. If you want to try just being friends, I'll find a way to make that work. I swear I won't make things hard on you, no matter what."

He swallows. "But if there's any chance you want to give us another try…you should know that I still love you." My heart beats even faster as I stare at him. "I always will. And I will never leave you like that again."

It's impossible to squeeze words out through the lump in my throat, so I just brush my fingers lightly along his jaw. The contact feels right. "I love you, too," I somehow manage to whisper.

But the words instantly fill me with doubt. Love is so connected with pain for me at this point, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to handle it if we get back together and fail again.

Biting my lip, I ask, "But is that enough? It's not like a lack of love was ever our problem."

Tobias cups my chin with one hand, lifting it gently so I have to meet his gaze again. "That's true," he admits. "But I have to say that still being in love…seems like a pretty good starting point for rebuilding a relationship."

A smile tugs at his mouth, and despite the anxiety that's gripping me, I can feel one starting on my lips, too, as his words sink in. He's right. We clearly haven't gotten over each other much at all, and it would be absurd to ignore that in some vain hope that it will save me from future pain. I have to give this another try. I owe it to both of us.

I nod, just a little, my eyes still holding his. They're dark and filled with love and hope and desire, and they draw me irresistibly to him. I tilt my head up, rising onto my toes at the same moment he leans down, and our lips meet in the middle.

The kiss is beyond amazing, filled with everything that ever tied us together as well as the promise of what can be. My hands move through his hair, holding him close, while his fingers trail down my back, making every part of my body tingle in response. By the time his hands come to a stop on my hips, my pulse is racing wildly. I never want this to end.

But at some point, we pull apart to breathe. Tobias lowers his forehead to rest on mine, and we stand there, our arms still encircling each other, sharing the same air.

"I think," I whisper, "that we should try dating. We never really had a chance to do that."

"Okay," he says immediately, agreeing so quickly I can't help smiling. "I'm available right now, in fact. Does now work for you?"

I laugh, pulling back just far enough to meet his eyes. "Saturday, Tobias," I tell him. "You can spend the day showing me everything that's changed in the city."

He nods, but his eyebrows scrunch together in thought. "That'll take a lot more than a day…" he says a bit doubtfully.

My smile widens. "That's kind of the point," I murmur.

It takes a half-second for him to get what I mean, and then a grin spreads across his face. He leans down, kissing my forehead softly as his arms pull me close again. I wrap my own around his waist. There's no reason to move, so we don't. It's one of the best moments of my life.

A/N: Okay, that was the second-longest chapter in the book, at least so far. The rest of the story will be original, rather than repeats of "Determinant," though there will be references to events that happened in that book. Also, I'll add the details of the Dauntless date that's briefly described in that book.

Hopefully, I'll post the next chapter by the end of the weekend, though it depends on a lot of factors with the holidays coming. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this one. Your reviews always encourage me to write as much as I possibly can. :-)

P.S. I posted the faction manifesto to my "Determinant" story, so if you're curious to read it, you can find it there.