A/N: Thank you, as always, to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to everyone who has favorited or followed this story! Your support really means a lot to me. Thank you also to the guest who caught a typo in "Determinant" recently. I work very hard at having my writing be "clean," so I hate it when I miss a typo; I always appreciate having those pointed out so I can correct them. :-) Finally, thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie, for turning this chapter around within hours of when I sent it to her!

Chapter 44: Tobias – Unexpected

It's more than a little strange to see Peter when he walks into a support session one day in November. I know that he shares the same type of background I do – that he was abused by his birth father for the first half of his childhood. And given what he did to Tris eight years ago, it's obvious that he has violent tendencies himself. So, this group is certainly the right place for him if he wants to do something about that.

I just never thought that he would.

Martin takes him aside for the first hour, explaining the rules of the program and making sure that he's willing to agree to them before letting him join the general session. By that time, almost everyone has finished sharing, but Peter watches the last few people talk about themselves and the challenges they're currently facing.

He stays silent through it, which is common enough for first visits, and I find myself watching him, trying to figure out if he's here for any reason beyond the obvious. It could be my personal bias, but I can't help suspecting that someone ordered him to attend – probably Anna, since he works for her now.

He approaches me at the end of the session, presumably since I'm the only person here he knows. Not surprisingly, our conversation is stiff and strained, but I do my best to answer his questions about the program and what makes it work. He's thoughtful in response – more so than I expected – and I gradually find myself giving him the benefit of the doubt and deciding that he's here for legitimate reasons.

That's when he asks me to be his sponsor.

"That seems like a bad idea," I tell him honestly. "I'm not exactly objective toward you."

"Yeah, I know," he admits, kicking awkwardly at the floor. "But that's kind of the point…." He gives a small shrug. "You won't take any crap from me, and I…sort of need that."

I sigh, looking at him levelly as I debate whether I can handle sponsoring someone who tried to kill my wife. Yes, it was a long time ago, and yes, he did save her life later, but it's still the first thing that runs through my mind whenever I see him.

"Exactly why are you interested in this program, Peter? What happened?"

He shakes his head a little. "Nothing."

It's an obvious lie, and I give him my best withering look in response. But I don't say anything, instead letting the long silence force him to give a real answer. It's a technique I learned from Kevin, and it's far more effective than badgering someone with questions.

"Well…nothing extreme. I got into an argument with a girl I was dating. Apparently, I was yelling too much." He rolls his eyes. "Next thing I knew, someone was pulling me off her."

His expression is defensive. "It's not like I beat her up or anything. But everyone in the UCA is hypersensitive to abuse." He stops short of blaming my broadcast for that, but he's clearly implying it. "You can't even have a normal fight there, and I'm sick of not being able to date because of it."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. My voice is cold when I ask, "How many times did you hit her, Peter?"

For a solid ten seconds, he glares at me, but I return it with my hardest instructor look, and eventually he flushes. "See, that's why I need someone who won't take any crap," he mutters.

"The number, Peter."

"I slapped her," he admits in the quietest voice I've ever heard him use. "A couple of times." He stares at his feet for another long moment before adding, "Maybe more. I was furious, and I…lost track."

The words strike a nerve, and it's impossible not to picture his hands around Tris' throat, holding her over the chasm. After he touched her. Did he lose track then, too?

It takes a huge amount of effort to force myself past that thought, but this conversation isn't about me or Tris – not really. It's about whether or not I'm willing to help Peter, and anyone he might date in the future.

"You're in Chicago – what, half time?" I double-check, my voice stiff. I know he travels with Anna now, so he must be in Philadelphia at least half of each month.

He nods.

"You realize that Anna will have to be your female advisor?" I ask. "She's the only one who will be around you regularly enough. Are you willing to give her that kind of control over your life?"

He pales as he thinks about that for a long time, and I understand why. It was extremely difficult for me to let Christina serve that role for me, knowing that she wouldn't overlook anything and that she would force me to stay true to the program. But ultimately, that's exactly what I needed, and I'm glad I picked her over Cara and Shauna. I can definitely see Anna working out the same way for Peter.

He apparently arrives at the same conclusion, because he gives a rough nod. "Yeah." After a moment, he adds, "I guess Adam will have to be my male advisor. He's the only guy who travels back and forth with us."

"Are you okay with him in that role?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Peter answers somewhat dismissively, and I immediately know that Adam must have too mild a personality for this. Peter wouldn't be that comfortable with him otherwise. But Anna will definitely not go easy on him, and if I take him on as a sponsee, I certainly won't, either. Maybe that's enough to balance the team.

"You'll have to do extra sessions every week you're in Chicago," I insist, "to make up for the ones you miss the other weeks. And you'll have to really stick to it. I'm not taking you on if you're not serious about doing the work."

Something flares behind his eyes – some mix of anger and determination that I recognize. For maybe the first time since I've known him, I actually believe him when he answers. "I'll do what it takes."

"I'll think about it, then," I tell him. Looking him straight in the eye, I add, "But Tris will have to agree, too. I'm not putting her in the position of being around you without her agreeing in advance, not after what you did to her."

He scoffs, looking away. "Whatever. We worked together for a year, so she'll be fine."

The answer sets me even more on edge. He has had a vicious attitude toward Tris from the very beginning, and in this moment, I realize that I need to know why before I can remotely consider sponsoring him.

"You know, I've always wondered," I begin, working very hard to keep my voice level, "why you went after Tris the way you did during initiation."

He shrugs, clearly not wanting to answer the question, but I wait as I did before.

"I needed someone to distract the others," he finally admits, "from my scars."

His mouth turns down at the corners. "And she was the smallest, and a Stiff, and I figured she was going to wash out anyway, so what did it matter?"

For a few seconds, I evaluate him, before deciding that it's not quite a lie but certainly isn't a complete answer.

"The Stiffs kept you alive when you were factionless," I point out, "so I would have thought you'd feel some gratitude toward her."

"No," he snaps, clearly angry. "They kept me with the man who did this!" He gestures toward his torso, which I know is covered with cigarette burns and knife scars. And as his expression twists with hatred, I understand a different perspective on the faction of my birth.

I always thought of Abnegation as the only ones who stood up for the factionless – providing them with food and clothing and keeping the Dauntless from killing them in an attempt to "protect" the factions from them.

But that wasn't nearly enough to make their lives bearable. They didn't have medical care, or heat, or electricity, or decent houses. Their children couldn't attend school, and absolutely no one interfered when they were hurt.

The selfless faction had all of those advantages – outside of my house, anyway – but they didn't share them. They didn't even adopt factionless children – arguing instead that the government should support those families and help them keep their own children. It was the Candor who did most of the adopting, feeling that it was honest and just to give every child a chance to go to school and to select a future regardless of their parents' failures.

From Peter's perspective, it would have been better if Abnegation had done nothing. Then, his parents would have been forced to give him up for adoption much earlier, instead of keeping him in hell for a decade.

I nod a little, feeling the full failure of our faction system the way it was. It's not nearly enough to make me forgive Peter for what he did to Tris, but it does help me understand why he hated her so much, when she'd done absolutely nothing to him.

And why he got angrier and angrier when his attempts to put her down didn't work and she instead kept proving herself to be more Dauntless than he was…. It was worst of all, I suppose, when she saved his life, leaving him indebted to the faction he hated.

The absurdity would make me laugh if it hadn't caused so much pain.

A long sigh comes out of me as I run a frustrated hand up the back of my head. "I'll think about your request," I tell him, "and let you know."

For once in his life, he looks almost grateful.

I get home before Tris, since she's helping Anna with some negotiations today and planned to stay there for dinner. Occasionally, I think life would be easier if we both worked regular jobs, but we like variety too much to settle for something mundane.

Everyone else in the faction has already eaten, so I grab some leftovers from the refrigerator and wander into the gathering room, where Amar and George are having a quiet discussion while the others have fun in the game room.

"Really, is it any different than what the Amity do?" Amar is asking as I take a seat on the couch opposite them, balancing my plate on my lap.

"Maybe not, but I don't think that's fair, either," George counters. "It was one thing when NUSA was out there, and this city had a distinct purpose, but people should have free will now."

"What's going on?" I ask, a bit startled by that snatch of conversation.

"You won't like it," George comments, leaning back and looking at me with his Erudite expression. When I just cock an eyebrow at him, he shrugs and continues. "Some people in Candor want to get the law changed so they can start using Suggestibility Serum again. They want to include it in a drink for their members."

"Why?" comes out of my mouth immediately. After decades of NUSA and Chicago both being controlled by that serum, I can't imagine anyone choosing to use it again – well, except Amar during his therapy sessions.

My former instructor is the one who answers. "Well, as you can imagine, people aren't as attached to the faction ideals these days." He gives a humorless smile. "Before we stopped adding the serum to the drinking water, it was always in our systems, and it made most people suck up the beliefs they were taught. And want to live them." He shakes his head. "Without it, they're essentially all Divergent."

George looks a bit sour as he adds, "The purists are saying that it's ruining our society."

"So, they want to brainwash the next generation instead of accepting change?" I ask, disgusted by the thought. There's a damned good reason Tris put strict laws around that serum.

"They say it would be optional to drink it," George answers, "and that they would label it. But yes, I think that's what they're basically trying to do, particularly since parents would decide for their kids." His expression shows his frustration. "I suppose that's my biggest objection to it, though I also know that realistically, people would end up being pressured to drink it. And then there's the whole slippery slope problem – it's much too easy to abuse that serum."

"I completely agree," Amar states, meeting his husband's gaze. "Trust me, I'm as wary of that serum as you are. But I still have to ask how it's any different from Amity adding peace serum to their bread?"

Peter is clearly still on my mind, because the question makes me think about Tris being drugged back in Amity, after she fought with him. For those few hours, the injection changed her personality considerably more than anyone should be allowed to do. Is that really any different than using Suggestibility Serum to alter someone's thoughts and behavior? And if not, then what should we do about that?

"You might be right," I tell Amar, an uncomfortable feeling working its way into my stomach. "The Amity voted it in themselves, but that doesn't necessarily make it fair. And it's almost as easy to misuse. Maybe we should restrict it the same way."

"But then what about Dauntless' fear serum?" George asks. "Or Candor's truth serum? Why should those be allowed?" He doesn't mention Erudite, of course, since their use of serums has been tightly controlled since the war.

"Maybe they should all be outlawed," Amar suggests. It's hard to tell from his expression if he means it seriously or is expecting us to object. Either way, it makes me think.

Both of those serums certainly have the potential to be weaponized. I've seen it. Why should they be permitted?

"You have a point," I admit, leaning back and letting my dinner sit untouched as I think about what it would do to the factions to eliminate all serums. Would it harm them, or push them to live more truly to their ideals?

"Yes, you do," George agrees slowly, looking deep in thought. "Maybe Tris should take it to the city council."

I don't bother to ask why he's suggesting my wife for that task. If anyone stands a chance of getting people to listen, it's Tris.

A tired sigh comes out of me. "I'll add it to the list to talk to her about. Right after we discuss Peter."

For a moment, they just look startled. "The Peter who went on our mission?" Amar asks uncertainly.

I nod. "He came to group today. And asked me to be his sponsor."

We're silent as they digest that. "Good for him," George finally says. "I'm glad to see he's facing his issues."

Amar, though, doesn't look nearly as pleased. "It may be good for him. But I don't know about you sponsoring him, Four." He meets my gaze, and I can see the hesitation in him. Whatever he wants to say, he's not entirely sure he should.

But after a few seconds, he shrugs off his qualms. "If you take him on, that pretty much means you and Tris won't be having kids anytime soon, since I doubt you'd want him around her while she's pregnant." He frowns. "And don't you think you've waited long enough for that already?"

The words are more than a little unexpected, and I sit up straight, my dinner forgotten as I stare at him. He has never once talked to me about children, so I have to wonder where this is coming from.

"Has Tris said something about that?" I ask, feeling a flood of strange emotions going through me. I don't know why the hell she would be talking to Amar about this subject.

His face is stern as he shakes his head. "No. She's not one to complain." He looks me right in the eyes. "But I've been connected to both of your minds on a regular basis for eight years now. And you're not nearly as good at limiting what you broadcast as you think you are."

Cold spreads through my entire body as his implication sinks in. How did it never occur to me that he could hear more than what we deliberately transmit during his therapy sessions? Tris and I used exactly that ability to find the person who did NUSA's broadcasts. And Micky used it to find Tris in Greensburg. Amar is Divergent – of course he can do the same thing.

God, what has he heard?

"That was a creative use of the Dauntless training room, by the way," he quips, confirming the suspicions that are just starting to emerge in my brain. There's no way to hide the deep flush that rises up my cheeks in response.

George doesn't miss it, either. "Um, this sounds like a private conversation." He practically leaps to his feet before starting toward the game room. "I'm going to hang out with the others while you have it."

A smirk plays on the corner of Amar's mouth as he watches his husband leave. "And the therapy room," he continues, shaking his head in mock seriousness. "I have to sit in that chair, you know."

I'm certain that my face has never been redder.

"Just in case you have any doubts, by the way," he adds, drawling a little for emphasis, "Tris thinks that you are very good at that particular skill."

Seriously, there should be another word for this level of red.

"So, no, she has no complaints. But you need to make up your mind. You've been waffling back and forth about kids for over a year now, Four. Exactly what is stopping you?"

Even if I could get words out past the knot of embarrassment clogging my throat, I'm not sure what I would say. For a very long time, I felt I had good reason for delaying – initially, because I was afraid of being like Marcus, and later because I just wanted to enjoy being with Tris. But Amar is right – for the last year, I've found myself still thinking not yet, but without a clear reason why.

"I know you're not afraid of turning into your father anymore," Amar says, apparently taking my silence as an invitation to speculate. "I've felt you grow past that. Besides, you know the rest of us would never let you get away with it."

He cocks his head, evaluating me in an almost Erudite manner. "And I'm pretty sure you know you'll love the kid." His lips tug up a bit at the corners. "There was a stretch when I would have doubted that about you, personally, but Tris changed that aspect of you quite thoroughly. There's no way you couldn't love a child you had with her."

The words are oddly comforting, even though I never consciously thought that I wouldn't love a baby of Tris'.

Amar watches me for another moment, and I see his eyes light up in sudden understanding. "You're afraid of losing Tris, aren't you? That she'll die in childbirth, like you thought your mom did, or that she'll love the baby more than she loves you and will leave you." He doesn't add like your mother really did, but the unspoken words hang in the air anyway.

The reaction inside me is instant. The part of me that is beyond tired of having my life be messed up by my childhood wants to insist that he's wrong – that I'm not afraid of that at all. But a different answer becomes clear in the way my stomach clenches painfully tight.

"Well," Amar says more quietly now, "let's talk about that, then." He leans forward, meeting my gaze solidly. "You are literally married to the most famous person in this country. On top of that, you're the second-most-famous. I can't even fathom the level of medical care that Tris will receive, but there is no way in hell that they're going to let anything happen to her or the baby if they can possibly prevent it. And given how rare it is for someone to die in childbirth in Erudite, they clearly can prevent a lot."

A smile plays across his mouth. "Besides, we happen to have a doctor living right here in our faction. You saw how much Cara helped Shauna through her high-risk pregnancy. She can certainly manage a normal one with Tris."

He makes a gesture with his hand as if waving away any danger. "Frankly, Tris is much more likely to get killed trying to get Dauntless to give up its serum."

The last part catches my attention more than I'd like, and I swallow as I debate just how dangerous that effort will be. I'm not far into the train of thought before it occurs to me that Tris would actually be safer doing that if she were pregnant. It's one thing for a Dauntless member to go after someone in a fair fight – but to attack a pregnant woman? Very, very few would do that.

A small smile flits across my face with the realization. Amar seems to take it as a signal to continue.

"And you're just plain nuts to think that Tris will stop loving you." He arches an eyebrow at me. "Surely you've learned by now that when you love one person, that makes you more likely to love another. That's certainly been your experience, hasn't it?"

He gives me that challenging look that he's always managed so well, and again I find myself considering his words. I never had friends while I was growing up, during the time I lived with my father. I made some unsuccessful attempts when I was young, and my mother was still with us, but I gave up entirely after I thought she'd died.

That made it difficult to open up, even a little, once I transferred to Dauntless. But Amar helped pull me out of my shell, and gradually I connected to some degree with Zeke and Shauna. Those relationships, in turn, made it easier to imagine being with Tris when I met her.

And the way I felt about her certainly helped my other relationships. I became willing to give my mother another chance, and I joined support – where Kevin became a guiding force in my life. And all of that strengthened my friendships and helped me form new ones.

Amar is right. We don't contain a finite amount of love that needs to be spread among the people we know. We build more of it the more we use.

The side of my mouth lifts as I nod slowly, feeling my lingering doubts dissolve. Change is always a little frightening, but I've seen that it can be a very good thing. It's time to take that chance again.

I'm sitting on the small couch in our apartment when Tris comes home, looking exhausted and yet exhilarated at the same time. She and Anna must have had a productive day.

"Hi," she murmurs as she leans down to kiss me. I return the greeting, pulling her into my lap before she can sit next to me. I want her close.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck and snuggling against me as my own arms go around her waist. "Glad to see me?" she whispers.

I breathe my response into her hair. "Always."

But it's not quite time for this yet. So, I force myself to focus and add, "Besides, there are a few things we need to talk about."

She draws back enough to meet my gaze, her expression changing from quizzical to serious as she considers that.

"Okay…."

It's suddenly difficult to begin, and I clear my throat as I debate the best starting point. "Peter came by support tonight."

She nods. "I thought he might. Anna asked about the program – she didn't say why, but I suspected it was for him, given his background." She looks lost in thought for a second. "I'm glad he's finally willing to get help."

"He asked me to be his sponsor."

That clearly surprises her, and her eyebrows climb up her forehead as she stares at me. "Wow." Her voice is soft. "That's either really dumb or really dedicated." I chuckle, knowing that she's right – I certainly won't go easy on him.

"I said I'd talk to you about it."

She thinks about that, her mouth flattening as her eyes go distant. "I'm okay with it," she says after a while, "if you are. But I know how he gets to you sometimes – or at least how he used to. Don't agree if he's going to get under your skin."

It's a fair statement. "Do you think he's changed much since Dauntless?" I ask curiously.

She nods slowly. "I haven't been around him a lot since that first year, but he definitely matured even during that time, so yes, I'd say so. He's also…very focused on doing well at anything he decides to do. That's not always good, but in this case, it should be. I doubt he'd join support if he didn't want to make it work."

The thought is encouraging, but it's not the main thing I need to know. "Would you feel safe having him come to our faction in the middle of the night?"

She gives me a pointed look. "I'm not afraid of him, Tobias. I never was, really, and I'm certainly not now. I don't particularly like him, and I'll probably never entirely trust him, but it doesn't bother me to see him." She gives a half-smile. "Besides, Peter has always been motivated by what's best for him. And it certainly wouldn't be in his best interest to hurt his employer's granddaughter, or his sponsor's wife. Or the former president, for that matter. He won't try anything."

I nod a little, reassured but also uncertain how to say the next part. Finally, it just comes out. "You wouldn't worry even if you were pregnant?"

Her brow furrows as she stares at me again. "How likely is that, Tobias?" Her voice is guarded.

Our eyes hold each other's, and I find my voice in the changing colors I see there. "I was thinking it might happen tonight, personally."

Her mouth opens a bit, and her pupils widen, and for a few seconds, she sits there, breathing hard. "Just what did Peter say to you?" she finally asks, her voice strangled.

I can't help chuckling. "I certainly didn't decide that because of him, Tris." My fingers shift a little, holding her more tightly. "But Amar raised that concern, and then we had an…interesting conversation. And I realized that I'm ready. If you still are."

My voice is low as I add, "So, take that into consideration when you think about Peter being here."

"I…." She shakes her head to clear it. "They're two separate issues, Tobias. Make your decision about Peter based on whether or not you want to sponsor him. It's not a problem for me." She leans closer, pressing her forehead to mine. "I'm much more interested in the second issue."

Her mouth is only inches from mine as she adds, "Because it's already tonight, you know. And I'm definitely still ready."

A smile works its way onto my face as nervous energy starts to buzz through my body. "So," I whisper against her lips, "are you saying that tonight means right now, Tris?"

I feel her grin more than I see it as she breathes her answer. "That is exactly what I'm saying, Tobias."

A/N: It hasn't really been intentional, but my chapters seem to be getting longer lately. Hopefully, that's a good thing... Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this one. The next one will probably be posted in a week, though you never know - I might be able to get it done sooner.