A/N: I'm sorry this is a few days late. It's been an incredibly busy last couple of weeks. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! Your reviews helped me figure out where she and I were seeing the last chapter differently. For those of you who agreed with her, I'll give just a quick explanation:

I see Tris and Tobias as both still doubting themselves severely at times. They've helped each other with that a lot, but having grown up in Abnegation, it's easy for them to fall into the trap of thinking, "everyone else is better and more important than I am," and sometimes they're each afraid that the other will wake up one day and realize that they should be with someone much better. Tris found a very incriminating letter in their private space, where no one else usually comes, and it looked like Tobias' writing, and she fell into that trap. She then spent hours reading and rereading it and obsessing over it and convincing herself more and more, and by the time Tobias came home, she was in way too deep to listen. It also didn't help that she's usually right; that made it harder for her to realize that this time, she just wasn't. But they got past it and are stronger for it. So, moving on...

Chapter 43: Tris – Letting Go

It's taken two months of renovations, but we finally have the apartment next to ours ready for furniture. It's a unique space – not community rooms for the faction or living space for someone else – but I think it will be very helpful to have.

Half of it consists of a two-person office. Tobias and I will both use it as needed – whenever we're working on faction papers or the myriad of other things we do for Anna and the city council. It will give us a dedicated work space, so we no longer have to clutter our apartment up with paperwork or feel like we're dragging our jobs into our personal space at the end of the day.

The other half is a new concept. After the debacle with Dave's letter, Tobias decided that he didn't like having his sponsees come into our apartment in the middle of the night. We both learned from that experience, and he knows that I would never assume the worst again the way I did that day. Still, the more he thought about it afterwards, the more he realized that if he doesn't trust a sponsee to be alone with me, then he doesn't want that sponsee near me when I'm asleep in bed.

So, we added two rooms to the new apartment for him to use with his sponsees: a small living room for counseling sessions with them, and an even smaller bedroom, in case anyone needs to stay the night. That hasn't come up so far, but apparently it happens at times with people in support.

We spend the morning getting the furniture in place, with help from our faction-mates. George and Uriah drive back and forth to the resource allocation center, picking everything up and delivering it here. And Zeke and Amar help us get it all upstairs and into the apartment.

Amar laughs when he and Tobias carry a bookcase in and see Zeke collapsed on the couch we just finished setting up.

"Did you make Tris drag it there with you in it?" he quips as he lugs the bookcase past us.

"Well, duh," Zeke responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "How else could I test its wheels?"

"You could lie on the floor and let it roll over you," Tobias suggests, deadpan, as he maneuvers his end of the bookcase carefully through the office doorway.

"That's Uriah's job," Zeke calls after him. "I wouldn't want to mess with our division of labor."

There's a pause before Tobias and Amar reenter the living room, rubbing their hands to restore circulation.

"Just how did the other women get out of this, anyway?" Amar questions, looking at me.

"Well, it's Cara's turn to make lunch," I say with a shrug, "Christina's at work, and someone has to watch Lionel, so Shauna's with him."

"Wait…Christina's at work on a Saturday?" Zeke asks, his tone a bit incredulous as he shakes his head slowly. "Man, I could've gotten away with that…."

And it dawns on me that he's right. Christina must have requested the extra shift today, if she's even really there. She's still Candor enough to know how to lie well, so on the rare occasions that she does, I almost always miss it. She could be anywhere today.

"Come to think of it," Amar adds, "I don't think Christina has ever helped anyone move anything into this faction."

"She's afraid of moths getting into the moving boxes," Tobias says casually as he walks past me to where Zeke is now taking up the entire couch. In a single, smooth motion, he yanks his best friend up, sending him staggering several feet. With a grin at me, Tobias drops onto the now-vacant couch, gesturing for me to join him.

I do, tucking myself against him and smiling broadly at Zeke as he regains his footing and glares at my husband.

"Moths, huh," Amar responds, nodding and pursing his lips thoughtfully. Zeke launches himself abruptly at Tobias, and I scramble over the side of the sofa to get out of the way as the two of them tumble over the back of it and onto the floor, wrestling in a match that reminds me of Dauntless.

"Yeah, I could see her with a moth kind of fear," Amar finishes, watching his two former initiates with an utterly unfazed expression. "But at least with new furniture like this, we don't have to worry about rats…." He emphasizes the last word so loudly it's almost a shout, and I can't help but laugh as Zeke makes a startled squeak in response. The distraction allows Tobias to throw him clear and get back on his feet. Apparently, large vermin are one of Zeke's fears.

"Ready for the other bookcase?" Tobias asks, straight-faced, as he extends a hand to his best friend.

"Sure," Zeke answers cheerily, letting Tobias pull him up as if nothing happened. I shake my head as I watch them leave. The longer we live here, the more Zeke's style seems to rub off on the entire faction. But maybe that's a good thing.

Amar draws my attention when he sags onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion.

"I thought they'd never leave," he mutters.

Laughing, I drop down next to him. "Are we making them get the rest of the furniture?"

"Yep," he responds, propping his feet up on a box. "They've got it."

After lunch, the others return to their own activities while Tobias and I begin moving our papers into our new office. It's a good opportunity to clear out anything old, since we've accumulated a surprising amount in the four years we've lived in our apartment.

We're sitting on the end of our bed, sorting through stacks of papers, when I come across something that reminds me a little too much of that moment two months ago: a hand-written letter.

This time, though, I don't read it, instead placing it immediately on Tobias' pile. His expression turns serious when he sees it.

"I thought we might come across this one today." He picks it up, looking at it with a bittersweet expression.

"Should I ask?"

"It's one of the support group letters," he states, confirming my suspicion. "But I actually wrote this one." There's a trace of amusement in his voice as he adds, "You can tell because it's in my writing."

I smack his arm lightly, and he chuckles as he pulls me into his lap, kissing the side of my head. "And because it's to you," he murmurs.

For a second, I stare at my husband, but his eyes have already turned back to the letter, rereading something he presumably hasn't seen in years.

"It's the only one I didn't destroy after I finished it." He seems lost in memory. "I had a little ritual for how I'd destroy them. I'd go to the roof of the Hancock building, and I'd burn them while letting the height terrify me. And I'd watch as the ashes scattered in the wind."

He lifts one shoulder. "It was supposed to help me let go of what I'd written, but it worked better with letters to Marcus and Evelyn. With dark emotions in general." He turns the page over to read the back. "This one was different. It was a kind of goodbye, and it didn't feel right to burn it."

I nod a little, biting my lip. "Should I read it?" It seems like that might be why he kept it all this time.

He doesn't answer for a long while, as he finishes rereading his words from five years ago.

"If you want to," he finally says, his voice low. "Though I think maybe Zeke was right about me being a mopey bastard then. It's angsty and rough, but it's where I was at that point in my life."

The back of his fingers brush gently along my cheek. "Don't judge me for that, okay?"

"I won't," I murmur as I take the letter, my hands shaking slightly.

He shifts me off his lap, kissing me on the cheek before he stands up. Gathering an armful of papers, he explains, "I'm going to put this stuff away in the office." It's obvious why he's doing that – he doesn't want to watch my reaction as I read. And that's fair enough; I'm not sure I want to be watched during that process.

So, I let my gaze follow him out the door before I turn to the letter that was written to me and yet was never intended to be sent.

I gave the ring back to Anna today. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Not as bad as sitting in that cell in Erudite while I thought they were executing you – but plenty tough anyway.

It reminded me far too much of leaving you. And it didn't help that I really liked carrying that ring around. I haven't quite admitted that to Kevin, but I'm sure he knows.

I only had it for a few weeks, but it made me feel close to you. The whole trip to Pittsburgh did, but you know that from my last letter. This one is about having something precious for that short time, and then giving it up.

It was kind of like our relationship.

I loved holding it. I could look at it and remember seeing you with it, in the bomb shelter and in the pawn shop. I could almost picture it on your hand, and it gave me strength just to have it with me.

It was in my pocket on Choosing Day, too – not that that's an accurate name for the day anymore, without a choosing ceremony. Anyway, I went to Dauntless then, just to torture myself I suppose. I walked the route I did the first time I met you, remembering how you looked as I showed you your new faction. I never told you how beautiful I thought you were that first day, with your hair in the Abnegation bun and your eyes so fierce and Dauntless. Perfect.

I walked down to our spot at the bottom of the Chasm, to where we kissed for the first time. And I took the ring out and imagined proposing to you. It was stupid, and I know it, but in a different world, if things hadn't fallen apart the way they did, that's where I think I would have asked you. And when.

I'll always wonder if you would have said yes.

Zeke tried to set me up with someone last week. I don't even know her name. I'd told him no dozens of times, so he brought her here, to the faction, for dinner. He claimed she was just visiting Shauna, but it was obvious what they were doing when they tried to get me to sit across from her and talk to her. Maybe I shouldn't have been so rude in response, but they just don't get it. I don't want anyone else – at all. I don't think I ever will.

Sometimes, I don't know how I had the strength to leave you in the first place. I certainly spend plenty of time thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't. Seven months and twenty-five days of wondering so far…. Kevin keeps saying it will get easier eventually, but I don't see much evidence of that.

I do know that it's better this way, though, no matter how much I hate it. Even when I'm asleep, I know that. The dreams always start well, with the two nights we spent together. Those are the best memories I have, and I know that's why I always start there.

But they never end well. I've hurt you so many times in my nightmares, and it kills me every time. Particularly since I'm sure that's what would have happened if I'd stayed. Group has taught me that, as if I couldn't figure it out from Marcus. I just didn't have the self-control then, or the self-knowledge, to stop myself from becoming like him.

That may not be true now. I keep remembering that dream I had in Pittsburgh – the one where you were holding our baby, and Marcus stood beside you and thanked me for making sure the abuse ended with him. It was just a dream, but I'd like to think it means something. That it's my mind letting me know that I've grown and that there's hope for the future.

But I suppose Dad thought that once, too. When I was a kid, I always assumed that he chose to hurt me, but these days, I find myself thinking differently about his life.

He was undoubtedly abused, too, when he was young. Did he try hard not to be like that? Did he hate himself for what he became, and what he did? Or did he embrace being on the other side of it after years of being a victim?

I'll never get answers to those questions, and maybe that's why they haunt me so much. They seem to go hand-in-hand with the thought of you and that baby. More and more, I find myself obsessing over that image, and it's tough to say which I hate more – the idea that I'll never have that, or the thought that if I somehow do, I could still turn into him despite everything I've done in the last seven months.

I always swore I wouldn't take that chance, you know. That I wouldn't get married or have kids. I was fine being alone, until I met you. It doesn't seem like it should be so hard to get used to being that way again.

Some of the guys in group get impatient with me over that. They clearly think I'm just a kid with a crush – a first love that I'll get over as soon as I meet someone else. But I know better. I saw in Pittsburgh how much my broadcast changed people. They love you because I do. If it weren't real – if it weren't permanent – they wouldn't have reacted that way. I wouldn't be reacting the way I have since I left you, either.

A few days ago, I was walking down the hallway when I heard Christina talking to you on her computer. You have no idea what your voice did to me. I froze, and I just stood there, listening, while it simultaneously ripped my chest open and healed everything inside me. I wanted so much to go in there, just close enough to see you on the monitor.

I think about your face every day, and I've dredged through countless hours of security footage to find old pictures of you, but to actually see you…. God, I wanted that. I told myself that if you asked about me, I'd do it. And I waited through the whole conversation, just hoping. But you never did.

Afterwards, I finally dared to ask Christina if you ever talk about me. She tried to be gentle in her answer, but it didn't change the facts. You don't. And I don't blame you.

You've moved on, and the thing is…you deserve that. You should be with someone who loves you, and will never hurt you. Someone who isn't broken. Someone who can have kids with you and actually be a parent to them. Someone who will give you a complete life.

As much as I hate the thought, I know that someone isn't me. And that means I have to let you go. It's not going to happen with time, or by meeting someone else. It's only going to happen if I make that decision.

So, Tris, this is me letting you go. As best I can.

I want you to know that I'm a better person for having known you. You worked your way into every part of my life and opened me up and made me want to improve. To stop keeping secrets. And to start being kinder. Most of all, you taught me how to love.

And even though I know our relationship was lopsided, and that you didn't care as much as I did, it still means the world to me that you loved me at all. No one else ever did – not really – and I needed that more than I can say.

Because of you, I've learned to be a better friend, and I'm trying to build a relationship with my mother and sister. I may never be great at any of that, but I am slowly improving.

I'm making progress on trusting myself, too, a little at a time. It's a long, painful process, and I'm nowhere near done, but I am absolutely determined to get there. I will never stop working to become someone trustworthy, and worthwhile.

Tris, I would never have done any of that without you. You changed me more than you can possibly imagine. More than Marcus did, even, but in a good direction. I will always be grateful for that.

And that means that it's okay for you to move on. I accept that reality, because I truly want you to be happy. I feel like I could live with what I've done if I knew you had that.

So, I want you to promise me that, Tris. Promise on Anna's ring that whatever you go on to do, and wherever you live, and whoever you end up with, you'll be happy. Promise you'll live the life you deserve. For both of our sakes, promise me that.

And I promise you that I will be the best person I can possibly be. If we ever meet again, my hope is that you'll be proud of me. I want to deserve that.

In the meantime, I'm going to say this one last time: I love you. From the very core of my being. I always will.

Live well.

– Tobias

My eyes close as my fingers tighten on the paper, and I sit there in silence for a very long time. I can't even form my thoughts into words. I just feel Tobias' pain and hope and growth and love winding around each other through my heart.

I'm on my feet before I realize it – am standing in our office doorframe, staring at my husband as he looks back at me somewhat nervously. He's sitting in one of the two rolling chairs, a pile of papers on the desk next to him.

It seems to takes no time at all for me to cross the room and to sit on his lap, straddling it so I can face him.

"You're not mopey," I whisper. "You're strong, and amazing, and perfect, and I am so proud of you, Tobias."

An almost shy smile forms on his face, and I can see relief in his eyes. Clearly, he was more worried about my reaction than he let on.

"It was strange to read it again," he admits softly. "I remember writing it, and feeling everything that's in there, but at the same time, it's like that was someone else. Someone who was desperate and alone and miserable." His lips lift again. "And I'm not, now."

"So, you don't feel the same way anymore?" I ask, smiling just a little.

"That depends on which part you mean. I still love you, obviously." He gives a wry chuckle. "But I'd have a hell of a time letting you go again."

I bite my lip. "Do you still feel like you care more than I do?"

He considers that for a long time, his eyes on me. "No," he finally answers. "I was convinced of that then, but now…I think that we both love each other more than enough."

It's a wise answer, and it makes me feel warmer inside. "Do you still worry about turning into Marcus?" Swallowing nervously, I add, "Is that why you don't want to have kids?"

He shakes his head. "There will always be a little of that fear in the back of my mind, but that's a good thing. It helps me remember why I need to keep my temper under control, and it gets me to go to group even when I'm not in the mood. And I suppose it nudges me to sponsor people who need help. I wouldn't want to lose that. But it doesn't keep me from moving forward with my life."

His fingers wrap around my chin, making sure I'm facing him as he meets my gaze solidly. "And I do want kids, Tris. Eventually. Just not yet." He's silent for a little while, his expression thoughtful. "It's hard to explain, but this…." He gestures between us. "Is something I never expected to have. And I love it. I love being with you, and married to you, and…everything about it. I just want to savor that before we change it. That's all."

His expression pleads with me to understand, and I nod slowly in response. Maybe he's right. Children certainly change things, after all. They can bring a tremendous amount of joy, but a relationship is different with them than without. And we're young. We have plenty of time to have kids later. Now can just be about us.

"Okay," I murmur, leaning forward and resting my forehead against his. "I can wait." My mind returns to the letter, and to his words in it, and I add softly, "And I am happy, Tobias. I promise you on my ring that I am very, very happy with you."

The grin that spreads across his face warms my heart.

"I love you, Tris." He kisses me gently.

"I love you, too," I whisper against his lips. "And I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

But he shakes his head. "I'm not." He pulls back enough to meet my gaze. "I had to go through that in order to get here today. It was something I needed. And my life today…is more than worth it. Don't ever feel sorry for me."

For another moment, we hold each other's gaze, and then I ask, "What should we do with the letter?"

He cocks his head as he considers that. "I think we should destroy it together." His voice is decisive. "The way people do in support. We could do that to let go of the year we spent apart. It seems like time to do that."

I nod thoughtfully, a small smile forming on my lips. "I think I'd like that," I say softly.

A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Work and home are both still crazy busy, so it's difficult to carve out time to write, but your encouragement really helps with that! Speaking of which, I want to take a moment to thank the three guest reviewers who have been reading my stories over the last few days and have been reviewing almost every chapter as they go. It is absolutely wonderful when people do that - you make my day more than you could know, and I truly and deeply appreciate the support. So, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has ever done that! :-)